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youaintnothinbuta · 5 months

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Hi, love your writing

I would love to see more Jack Kelly images and little bulbs, fluff, smut literally anything.

Maybe one where reader and Jack just spent time cuddling in jacks penthouse, trying to hide from the other boys cus they keep tease them.

“they won't find us in here” — jack kelly x reader

Summary: you and Jack are hiding away in his room, trying to have a little cuddle, which the other boys always like to make the centre of their amusement

Pairing: jack kelly x fem!reader

Word count: 556

Warnings: none, fluff, maybe typos if so sorryyy <3

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The dingy light of the Lodging House barely reached Jack's room, casting a warm, golden glow on the worn-out furniture and scattered newspapers and clothes. You and Jack, seeking a quiet escape from the high energy of the other newsies, found solace in his bedroom. The laughter and banter of the other boys still echoed through the air, but Jack had expertly tucked the two of you away, hidden from their teasing eyes.

As you settled into the cozy space, Jack draped an extra blanket over his bed, creating a makeshift nest. The soft sounds of hushed laughter and the muffled chatter of the boys outside filtered through, creating a comforting background noise.

Jack motioned for you to join him on the bed. “They won't find us in here,” he whispered with a mischievous glint in his eyes. You couldn't help but giggle, realising the absurdity of the situation. "Is this really how much effort it takes, just for us to have some cuddle time?" you teased.

Jack chuckled, a sheepish grin playing on his lips. "I wouldn’t say this is a lot of effort- they're just nosy."

With a playful roll of your eyes, you nestled into the blankets beside him. Jack pulled you into a warm embrace, the scent of newsprint and a hint of cologne enveloping you. The soft touch of Jack's fingers traced patterns on your back, a rhythmic motion that seemed to synchronise with the beat of your hearts. “This is nice,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. You couldn't help but agree.

As you rested against him, the teasing banter of the boys outside became more audible. The distinctive voices of Race, Albert, and the others echoed in the hallway, their comments gradually becoming more pointed.

“Where's Jack?”

“Probably off being bottle fed!”

“Whispering sweet nothings I bet.”

“Can't believe he turns into a softie around a girl.”

Jack, his brows furrowing, shot you an apologetic look. “Sorry about them. They're relentless.”

You laughed. “Hey, I’m not the one they’re insulting. They just don't get to see this side of you often."

He smiled, the warmth in his eyes deepening. “You're right. It's our little secret.”

Jack's fingers idly played with a strand of your hair, continuing their gentle caress. The quietude of the room invited a sense of relaxation, your words slipped out almost as a murmur.

“You’re so comfy. I could just fall asleep.”

He grinned, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You can do that, sweetheart.”

With a sigh of contentment, you allowed the gentle embrace of sleep to envelop you, feeling the rise and fall of Jack’s chest as he held you. Jack listened to the fading banter with a mix of amusement and exasperation. As the night unfolded, Jack carefully adjusted the blankets around you, ensuring your comfort. The usual mischievous glint in his eyes instead softened into a tender gaze as he watched you sleep peacefully.

The creak of the door signaled the return of the newsies, their laughter now reduced to tired murmurs. Jack, ever protective, shot a warning glance at the doorway, silently urging them to keep their distance. The boys, catching on to Jack’s mood, exchanged knowing looks and dispersed, respecting the unspoken boundary around Jack’s room. Eventually, he allowed himself to drift off to sleep too.

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loving-jack-kelly · 1 year

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

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

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

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

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

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

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meteor-moon · 1 month

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k so we've heard of jesse tuck as crutchie but what about jesse tuck as racetrack?

i know why we did the whole jesse/crutchie thing, so here there's no connection but i think they're very similar. they look similar (in my mind at least), they have very similar personalities, they're in the same age range, and jesse doesn't have to fake a limp (unless you go with one of my favourite routes where the water wears off). don't get me wrong, i love the crutchie is jesse au, but i also think this one's kinda neat

#idk why this popped into my head #but imagine jesse saying “the woild... is yer erster”#very silly #random stuff from my brain #jesse tuck #crutchie morris #racetrack higgins #tuck everlasting #tuck everlasting musical #newsies

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clevereverest · 25 days

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@newsiesficchallenges An incorrect quotes post for Day 4 of the current event week!!

I’ve done it for Finch and Redfinch, so I wanted to post for my other favorite ship today! I know it’s not inspirational, but I do think it’s cute and fits Sprace quite well :)

Race: Do you like me?

Spot: Yes.

Race: Really? (*pouts*)

Spot: You really think I would keep up with all of your bullshit if I didn’t love you?

Race, blushing: Oh my god, you just said you loved me.

Spot: We’ve been dating for three years.

#newsies #newsies event weeks #newsies incorrect quotes #racetrack higgins #spot conlon #sprace #I have a bunch of these imagine your otp prompts saved #it’s kinda ridiculous /pos but I love them

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cryingevanafton · 4 months

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

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

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delulu-enough-for-you · 11 months

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

Race: I'm the king of New York!

Diner staff: what the fuck-

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

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auspicious-manner · 1 year

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

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

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

female reader x race

warnings: none

Natural Talent

•

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“well i know that, i can see him.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

race didn’t reply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i-i’m race,” he asked nervously.

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

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

he sighed. “it’s just a nickname.”

there was an awkward silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

she blushed again. “you’re cute.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“it’s quite alright. where were we?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N sighed. “it’s alright, i-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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skitskatdacat63 · 1 year

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2005 Chinese Grand Prix - Fernando Alonso(ft. Flavio Briatore)

#not pictured but: CRYING LAUGHING AT THE FACT THAT NANDO SET HIS OWN CAR ON FIRE BY REVVING FOR FUN TOO MUCH 😭😭#and the commentators saying 'well kids will be kids' abt it ^ im having a moment 🥺🥺🥺#not pictured: NANDO SINGING WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS ON THE RADIO 🥺🥺 I DIDNT REALIZE IT WAS FROM THIS RACE IM CRYINGNGGGG #all of the nando/flavio moments....if i speak-#theres just so many things i am staring intently at #SCREAMING CRYING THATS HIS BOY!!!! HIS BOYYYYY!!!!! LOOK AT THEM!!!!!!#im glad no one is around me when i watch race podiums bcs i make so many embarrassing squealing noises AHJDKFLFLLF #hate this podium(/s) bcs its peer-pressuring me into watching 2006 next...ahhhhh i might..#renault nando is just so....hes just sooooooo...he is my blorbo and i want more of him but ahhhh....#its really really so cute to imagine that zhou is somewhere at the racetrack watching nando win the wcc #apologies to ralf and kimi who are also on this podium but not pictured here but this is fernando's podiums theres too much good content #i hate to cut down these gif posts to 10 but then again i cant just post all 20 gifs i did make #speaking of gifs that didnt make it into this post theres one of him holding up '7' which will be included in a dif post!!#anyways im v sad that this journey is over but proud of myself for finishing it and posting all of these #tysm to everyone whos been here since round 1!! its been a lot of fun and i appreciate your support sm heheh #but worry not! the grind never stops! 2005 may be done but theres so many seasons i wanna watch #fernando alonso #fa14 #2005 chinese gp #2005 chinese grand prix #renault nando #renault #flavio briatore #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #we do a little bit of f1 #(2005: 19/19 races watched)#<- well that was satisfying to type out! :D

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collecting-stories · 11 months

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November 29 - Racetrack Higgins

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

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

Broadway Masterlist

✰✰✰✰

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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miryum · 1 year

Text

A Roll of the Die (Spot Conlon x Reader)

New York was divided into levels. Levels that made up skyscrapers and classes of wealth. There were the rich people- the top tier of New York City. Then there were the people directly under them, middle class who were their assistants or worked away at the bank or as a maid and butler. There was also the lower class. The people who had two or three jobs, scavenging away for the smallest scrap of money. Maybe seamstresses, factory workers, or newsies. And then there was the lowest of all of New York. The street rats. The homeless. The scabbers.

Y/n hated the levels of New York. As she was on the bottom, her opinion would make sense. Y/n made a living as a scabber. She worked many small jobs- wherever she could find them. Most of the time, she sold newspapers alongside the newsies. She wasn’t officially a part of the newsie ranks, nor did she ever intend to join them, but it was a somewhat stable job that helped her maintain enough money for her and her family to eat, so in her book, it was a mighty fine job.

However, Y/n got wind of a strike that was stirring in the newsie ranks. Her scabber friends, Mark and Joseph told her that the newsies were upset at the raise in price and were deciding to do something about it. Apparently, the newsies had stopped Mark and Joseph from buying papes yesterday while Y/n was off sewing clothes with her sister.

“You’re kidding me, right?” Y/n groaned once she heard the news as the trio slowly made their way to the circulation centre. “You let them stop you from buying papes? What about your day's work? And now you’re telling me I should stop getting an honest day’s pay?”

“They’ll beat you up if you don’t.” Mark warned.

“Like they’d beat up a girl.” Y/n chuckled. She hopped down onto the street, a carriage barely missing her. Joseph pulled her back onto the sidewalk.

“I heard that they even got Spot Conlon on board,” Joseph gossiped.

“That little guy?” Y/n rolled her eyes. “What’s he gonna do to me?”

“You’re not scared of him?” Mark laughed incredulously.

“No.” Y/n shrugged. The three of them got to the gate of the circulation centre and as Mark and Joseph joined the growing ranks of newsies, Y/n nonchalantly stepped up to the counter.

“Hi Weisel.” Y/n grinned, “200 papes please?”

Weisel raised a brow. “Really? You of all people not joining the strike? Thought you scabbers would wanna change the laws.” He then turned and yelled, “200 papes for the girl!”

“Not so loud!” Y/n hissed, “the newsies can’t know I’m buying.”

“Looks like they already do.” Weisel smirked and nodded to the crowd around her.

Y/n sighed and reluctantly turned to face the throng. She was surrounded by angry and expectant newsies. Mark and Joseph looked worried from the back. Weisel slid the pack of papes towards her and gestured for his money. Y/n slammed her coins down and Weisel happily took them.

“What are you doin’?” The lead newsie asked. It didn’t sound like a question.

“Buying papes,” Y/n snorted a laugh. “Obviously.” Life on the streets had shown her to act indifferent until the first punch was thrown.

“Haven’t you heard about the strike?” Another newsie with a cigar hanging from his lips asked.

“Yeah.”

“You can’t buy papes,” another said. “We won’t allow it. For the strike to work, no one can sell papes.”

“Yeah, but some of us need to eat,” Y/n pointed out. She took her papers and started out the clump of newsies. They blocked her and Y/n stepped back into the middle of the circle. She squared her shoulders. Y/n didn’t like being surrounded. The odds weren’t in her favour and it made her feel trapped.

“You can’t sell papes!” The first newsie argued. He seemed to be their leader. “We’re in this together. I know you wanna get your money, but just cause we make pennies doesn’t give them the right to rub our noses in it. Are you gonna roll over and let Pulitzer pick your pocket? They need to respect your rights! All we ask for is a square deal. I told your buddies this yesterday, and Imma tell you this today: for the sake of every overworked kid in this whole city, I beg you. Throw down your papers and join the strike.”

Y/n rolled her eyes. “Real nice speech you got going on there. Worked on my friends.” She jerked a head towards Mark and Joseph. “But… it’s not gonna work on me. I need this. More than any of you. You know nothing of my life and how hard it’s been. I need to get my money. I need to feed my siblings. No one else will feed them except me. And without you lot on the streets, maybe I’ll actually be able to buy some food for myself. Ever think of that?”

Someone pushed through the crowd. A teenage boy stopped in front of her. He was maybe fifteen or sixteen with a cap pulled low over his dirty blond hair. His blue eyes pierced hers. “Listen… goil,” he finally decided on before continuing, “do you know who I am?”

“No.” Y/n deadpanned.

“Spot Conlon. King of Brooklyn.” The boy smirked.

“Am I supposed to be impressed by that?” The newsies all fell silent. No one had ever talked back to Spot Conlon before.

Spot huffed. “If you weren’t a goil, you’d be on the ground, bleeding after the soaking I gave you.”

“Then do it.” Y/n challenged. “I’ve been beaten up before.”

“Listen,” Spot ignored her comment, “I didn’t come all the way from Brooklyn for this strike just for some scabber to mess it up.”

“Sorry, Spot Conlon,” Y/n pushed him aside and the newsies gasped. “but I gotta go.”

“Did you just… push me?” Spot gaped.

“Yeah. What’re you gonna do about it?”

“Leave us,” Spot Conlon waved everyone away. His newsies pushed all the other boroughs away to leave Y/n and him alone. Y/n felt a stir of panic in her chest. What was about to happen?

“So,” Spot laid an arm around Y/n shoulders. She shrugged him off and replaced him with her papes. “Where do we start?”

“What?”

“I’ve never sold in ‘Hattan before. Where do you sell?” Spot asked.

“What are you doing?” Y/n squinted at him. “What’s your angle? Your tactic?”

“No tactic, doll, just wanna help you sell.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Where do you sell, doll?”

Y/n rolled her eyes at his insistence. “Fine. But the first sign that you’re manipulating me, I’m ditching you.”

“Fine by me.” Spot stayed at her side as she walked to her selling spot, seeming to take it all in. He seemed relaxed, hands in pockets and looking around casually. Y/n’s wariness of the boy hadn’t gone away, but after a while, she felt herself loosen up a bit and step into the newsie role.

Y/n had one of the best days selling. With no other newsies around, people flocked to her to get their hands on the news. Some asked her where the others were and Y/n replied with, “they’re on strike.”

If her customers had been poorer, they would’ve looked on with confusion and disdain, wondering and judging her for not joining her friends to try for a better life. However, her patrons were richer and simply complimented her on staying true to business and even tipped her extra.

At the end of the day, Y/n’s bag was brimming with coins, leaving her smiling proudly. This would certainly provide a couple meals for her family.

Y/n had expected Spot to try and disway her from selling, but he just found a bench to lounge on, watching her and the passerby’s intently.

“You’d make a good newsie,” he commented lightly after the day had passed.

“I’ll never be a newsie.” Y/n said hotly, as if taken personal offence. “I’m a scabber.”

“Do you ever do work in Brooklyn?” Spot asked, looking at her as they walked.

“Not usually.”

Spot hummed. “You should.”

“Why’s that?” This time, it was Y/n’s turn to look at him inquisitively.

“I’d get to see you more.” Spot smiled softly. A group of young men passed them and Spot instinctively took Y/n’s arm, guiding her carefully past them. Once they were gone, Spot’s demeanour eased up and offered Y/n his arm. Y/n shook her head and pushed him away.

“This is all a ploy to try and get me to join the strike,” Y/n said dismissively.

“How is me wanting to see you going to get you to join the strike?” Spot chuckled lightly.

Y/n was silent for a moment before replying, “I don’t know, but I know you’re smart enough that you have an endgame.”

“Aw!” Spot nudged her. “You think I’m smart.”

“Listen, bud.” Y/n rolled her eyes. “I’ve heard plenty of stories about you. I know your true colours. I know not to trust you. I’m not joining the strike and I’m not working in Brooklyn. End of story. Goodbye.” Y/n then turned on her heel and walked up a set of stairs that led to her family’s apartment.

A week had passed when Y/n’s sister shared some interesting news with her. “Y/n, can you do me a favour?”

“Anything,” Y/n instantly replied, looking up from her mother- mandated sewing.

“Well, there’s a job opportunity that pays really well that’s been offered to me.” Her sister said hesitantly, a large smile growing over her face.

“Really?!” Y/n set her sewing down. “That’s great! When do you start?”

“Tomorrow. But, there’s a catch,” her sister sat down next to her. “It’s in Brooklyn and I would need you to walk me back and forth.” Y/n’s brows tightened and her sister quickly exclaimed, “But you could come back to ‘Hattan during the day to work and all I need is someone else to walk me so I stay safe! It’s really not that far away. With the pay increase, maybe I could catch a trolley some days? Or you could get a job in Brooklyn too.”

“I’m really happy for you and what this means for the family,” Y/n started, “so yes, I’ll walk you. But how did you get the job?”

“Well, see, that’s the odd part. A kid just came up to me one day and said that he knew someone who was looking for workers. He introduced me to the guy, and here we are!”

“Who was the kid?”

“Um, I think his name was Spot Connon? Or something?”

“Spot Conlon?”

“Yeah! That’s it! Do you know him?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

It seemed too big of a coincidence for Y/n as she marched next to her sister, walking her to work. And when Spot Conlon was seen selling papes on the next corner over, it felt too bad to be true. After she had ushered her sister inside to her new job, Y/n strode up to Spot and jabbed a finger in his chest, disrupting the few customers around him. “What the hell, Spot?!” She cried.

“Geez, Y/n,” Spot grinned. “Came all the way to Brooklyn just for me?”

“Why’d you get my sister that job? How dare we even talk to her! Stay away from me and my family and stop trying to get me to join the strike!”

“The strike’s over, doll.” Spot chuckled, waving his papes in her face. Y/n stood for a moment, processing his words. “Now, would you like to apologise for storming over here and disturbing my sales?” His words were coy and made her want to slap him.

“Just, come here!” Y/n growled, pulling him away from the customers.

“An impromptu make out session?” Spot teased, “I’m down.”

“Shut it, Conlon.” The girl turned to face him. “Why are you doing this? I don’t understand.”

“Y/n, I think I’ve made it pretty clear,” Spot’s demeanour changed drastically. “I wanna be your friend. I like being around you. If you didn’t hate me, I might even ask you out. I should be asking you the question of why don’t you like me?”

Y/n bristled, startled by his confession. “Because,” she hesitated, “because you were trying to get me to join the newsies. All my life I’ve had to look out for me and my family. I’ve had to scrape along the bottom of the barrel just to survive. It doesn’t seem fair that instead of working hard and being unhappy and burnt out, you guys earn the same amount of money but you’re happy while doing it. You have friends. You’re loved.”

Spot tilted his head. “Doesn’t your family love you?”

“They’re too busy.” Y/n muttered, shaking her head. “Mom and dad work two jobs each just to pay rent so it falls on me to earn money for food and clothes. It’s not fair.”

“Nothing about life is fair.”

“Could you offer some sympathy instead of truth?” Y/n asked snarkily.

“Isn’t truth better than wool over your eyes?” Spot retorted easily.

After a moment, Y/n muttered, “how did you become so smart?”

Spot grinned. “I’ve always been smart, doll. You’ve just been too dumb to see it.”

“I have the same street smarts as you,” Y/n said. “It’s not my fault if I don’t have proper schooling.” Y/n’s hands balled into fists and she glared harshly at him. Spot noticed and gently took one of her hands in his. Y/n jumped back, but kept her hand in his. Her jaw tightened and Spot slowly reached up to cup her face, running his thumb over her tense jaw and then moving his hand up to her eyebrows, thumbing the space between them, making her relax.

“You’re right,” Spot whispered. “None of this is your fault. It’s a bad roll of the dice. But we can make the best outta it. We can make friends and family outta it. You can’t spend your life in misery, especially if you have people looking out for you.”

“Are you looking out for me?” Y/n was hesitant in asking her question.

“I thought I’d made that perfectly clear,” Spot said, cocking his head slightly. “Why else would I seek you out or try and help your family? It’s not everyday I see a pretty girl. I wanna hold onto her while I can.”

Y/n exhaled a laugh, looking away from Spot. He frowned and tilted her chin toward him, forcing her to meet his eye. “Why’re you laughing? Do you think you’re a joke?” He asked, “Do you think I’m joking about you being beautiful?”

“Spot,” Y/n gently pushed his hands away from her face. “I’m a scabber. I know daughters of CEO’s might be a little outta your league, but anyone would be lucky to have you.”

“But I don’t want just anyone,” Spot muttered. “I want you.”

The tension in the air held the words aloft. Did he really mean it? Slowly, waiting for Y/n to stop him, though she never did, Spot stepped closer to her. “Is this okay?”

Y/n nodded. She couldn’t trust her words. Before Spot’s lips could brush hers, Y/n wondered, “are you sure you want to?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything, doll.” Spot smirked slightly. And then he kissed her.

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newsiesimagines · 10 months

Text

Newsies Imagines #45

#newsies #newsies imagines #92sies #newsies 1992 #1992sies #racetrack higgins #jack kelly #mush newsies #boots newsies #barbie #bumlets newsies #newsies crutchy #crutchy morris

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youaintnothinbuta · 5 months

Note

Goodness Gracious, you're so good at writing Jack hurt/comfort! If you're still taking requests, may I please request one where the reader gets a mild concussion and Jack makes sure she's ok?

Thank you!! You absolutely can, I looove writing hurt/comfort 🥺

“Have you been in pain this whole time?” — jack kelly x reader

Summary: you get a concussion from banging your head, jack looks after you and you share a little treat from Medda together

Pairing: jack kelly x fem!reader

Word count: 1183 (sorry didn’t mean to write a novel)

Warnings: none! Fluff, comfort, probably typos

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Earlier in the day, you and a couple of the other newsies had finished up selling your papers and were heading back to the lodging house. Turning sharply around the corner of a building, you entered an alleyway. Unexpectedly, a scaffold met your head with a resounding force.

How embarrassing.

Jack pleaded with you from the moment it happened, trying to offer you any sort of care. “Are you alright? Maybe we should get some ice on that. I don’t feel right letting you walk around.”

Not wanting to make a fuss, you argued with him, “I’m fine, Jack,” though the throbbing pain in your head suggested otherwise.

“I don’t think you are, Y/N. You hit your head pretty hard back there.”

“It wasn’t that hard.”

Jack dropped the conversation as you both made your way back to the lodging house. Unwilling to admit the pain you were in, you retreated to your bed, blaming your discomfort on the morning’s particularly exhausting paper hawking. Convinced that a little rest would fix it, you closed your eyes, hoping the pain would dissipate, that was, until hours passed, you only felt worse.

You hadn’t moved from your bed in hours, yet your head was becoming increasingly sensitive to light and all the noises going on around you. Not to mention, the raging headache you had going on. You figured it might be best to actually tell Jack, even if it meant swallowing your pride and proving him right.

You lifted your body up with a heavy sigh, placing your feet on the ground, taking a moment to gain some strength as you stood for the first time in hours. Slowly, your trudged your way through the corridor and across into Jack’s room, bringing your fist up to the door to knock.

“Come in.” You heard Jack’s voice call, being greeted by the door opening before you could even get your hand onto the handle.

“My head,” you muttered with a small cry, meeting his eyes with a plea for help.

“Oh, honey,” he enveloped you in a gentle hug, “have you been in pain this whole time?”

You nodded, the admission surfacing as you allowed yourself to lean into his comforting embrace.

“Should have said something earlier, sweetheart. I knew that sounded like it hurt,” Jack remarked with a mixture of concern and understanding.

Jack gently guided you to sit on the edge of his bed. With a reassuring smile, he disappeared momentarily, returning with a small bottle of medicine and spoon in hand.

He settled beside you, handing you the spoon. “Here. It’s for kids, so maybe take three spoonfuls instead of two.” A light chuckle escaped him, injecting a moment of warmth into the room. Accepting the medicine gratefully, you mustered a weak smile. Jack observed you closely as you took a few spoonfuls, reclaiming the bottle with a nod of approval before stepping out once again.

Returning, he held a damp cloth, cool water soothingly soaking through. He laid down on his bed, inviting you to get comfy in his arms and placed the towel on your forehead. The soothing sensation provided a welcome relief, and as you nestled against him, his arm draped protectively over you, the remaining tension began to ease.

“Thank you, Jack.”

“It’s alright, just promise that if you’re hurt, you won’t go hiding it from me, okay?”

“I promise.” You spoke quietly, nodding slightly.

“That’s a girl.”

The room, dimly lit by the soft glow of daylight filtering through the curtains, held a quiet tranquility. The rhythmic sounds of the city outside seemed to fade into the background as Jack, with a tenderness you hadn’t fully expected, continued to offer comfort.

He murmured softly, “Just rest. We’ve got nowhere to be right now.”

As you closed your eyes, the pain in your head dulled to a distant ache. The steady rise and fall of Jack’s chest became a calming lullaby, and the touch of his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your arm added an extra layer of reassurance.

Time passed in a hazy blur, and before you knew it, you had drifted into a peaceful slumber. Jack, careful not to disturb your rest, continued to hold you close. As time went by, you began to wake from your much needed nap. Sensing your awakening, he gently removed the damp cloth from your forehead. He smiled, his fingers gently brushing strands of wet hair away from your face. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

You took a moment to assess yourself. Surprisingly, the throbbing pain had dissipated, leaving behind a lingering sense of calm. “Better. Thanks to you,” you replied, offering him a grateful smile.

Jack chuckled softly. He helped you sit up, ensuring you were comfortable before standing up himself. “Hungry?”

The mention of food reminded you that you hadn’t eaten much throughout the day, and the prospect of a meal sounded enticing. You nodded, “A bit.”

Together, you made your way to the dining hall of the lodging house.

“Don’t tell the others,” Jack reached into the refrigerator and grabbed an inconspicuously wrapped food item.

Jack, with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, stood by the stove, carefully arranging what you could now see was two slices of Miss Medda’s blueberry pie in a pan. The aroma promised a delightful treat.

You watched as he wrapped up the rest of the pie and hid it back in the fridge, clearly not wanting the other boys to steal it. Suddenly, he wrapped his arms around you from behind. His embrace was firm yet gentle, and the warmth of his body added a comforting weight around you, holding you steady. Nestling his face into the crook of your neck, he sighed contentedly.

“Smells good, doesn’t it?” he murmured, his lips tickling your skin as he spoke almost against them.

You chuckled, savoring the intimate moment. “Better than good. Where’d you get it?”

Jack shook his head, “Miss Medda. She made it for me.”

“Aw, how lovely.” You smiled.

Jack took one last inhale against your skin before standing up straight and placing a fingertip against the centre of the pie, feeling for warmth.

When the food was ready, Jack moved the two slices on a single plate. He handed you a fork and grabbed one for himself, his eyes never leaving yours. The unspoken connection between you two deepened as you made your way to the dining hall.

Jack, having seamlessly transitioned from caregiver to fellow newsie, caught your eye and grinned. “Feeling better?” he asked, and you nodded in affirmation. The boys around, seeing what was in front of you, got rather excited about the prospect of a nice homemade pie being available. Jack, unfortunately, let them down, saying Medda had only given him the two pieces, giving your side a gentle pinch as he lied.

You and Jack enjoyed the pie together, sharing glances that spoke volumes as the lively chatter of the other newsies filled the room. After finishing the dessert, you both cleaned up your dishes and headed back up to Jack’s room.

#reader x jack kelly #jack kelly fluff #jack kelly hcs #jack kelly x reader #jack kelly headcanons #jack kelly smut #jeremy jordan jack kelly #newsies jack kelly #jack kelly newsies #jack kelly drabble #jack kelly x reader hcs #jack kelly #jack kelly x reader smut #newsies #newsies broadway #newsies imagine #racetrack newsies #race newsies #jeremy jordan newsies

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