Newsies Imagines

Imagine Striking with Buttons and Race

"I can help you!" you insist. From the moment your brother John (aka Buttons) told you that he was going to strike, you planned on being a part of it. Your brother, however, thinks otherwise.

"No way am I letting you go out there today, (y/n). It's too dangerous," he declares, looking worriedly at you.

"But I'm a newsie!" you remind him. "I'm part of the union. I gotta strike!"

"You's all I got left, (y/n)," he desperately exclaims. Ever since you lost your parents two years ago, it's just been you and your brother.

"We're in this together," you tell your brother and smile. You take his hand, trying to reassure him that you'll be fine. For pity's sake, you've been living disguised as a boy newsie for over a year now. You know how to fight. You'll be just fine.

"Alright," your brother reluctantly agrees. "But ya gotta listen to me, got it?"

"Got it," you reply. Even though you are older than John/Buttons, he still takes care of you, like a true gentleman. It's sweet to see how much he cares about you.

You rush downstairs to join the other newsies. Race's eyes widen as he sees you. You like Race. He seems tough when the other guys are around, but underneath that, there's a whole new level of his personality.

"You ain't gonna strike, are ya?" Race asks in disbelief.

"I surely am," you firmly declare.

 

"Buttons knows?" he asks. You nod. While it's nice to be cared about, sometimes you wish that people would worry less. You know that you can handle yourself.

 

At first the strike seems to be going your way. The Delancy brothers and Weasel have disappeared. Papers fly everywhere. You even got a picture taken for the paper!

But suddenly, the Delancys and Weasel are back, and they brought friends. Police officers and rough looking men with big sticks flood into Newsies Square. You cry out as you see your brother punched in the face. You attack your brother's assailant, knocking him to the ground.

Around you, Crutchie is being dragged away in chains. Jack has run away, leaving you newsies alone to fight without a leader. Boys are taking brutal beatings. Davey has a bloody nose, and Les is in even worse shape.

'We're losing,' you realize, shocked. A fist lands on your cheek. You're knocked to the ground, but the blows don't stop. Your attacker kicks you in the stomach and lands blows wherever he can.

"Get (y/n) outta here!" you faintly hear your brother cry. You put your arms in front of your face, trying to protect yourself.

The blows stop abruptly. Someone picks you up, throwing you over their shoulder. You screw your eyes shut. The pain is almost more than you can bear. Finally, you are set down, your back against a cool brick wall. You open your eyes and see a dimly lit alley. Your savior is Race. He crouches next to you.

"You wait here, okay?" he says, concern in his eyes. "You're in pretty rough shape, (y/n), worse than some of the boys."

He starts to stand, but you catch his hand, breathing hard. He looks you in the eyes. You can see the start of a nasty bruise on his right eye, and he has various cuts and scrapes in other places, too.

"Just... don't die," you say, trying to make a joke and laugh through the pain. You end up grimacing instead. He laughs a little, but then he notices how you're hurting. He leans in and quickly kisses your lips. Then he's gone, a new energy in his step. He's off to find your attacker and beat him into a pulp.