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that-one-fandom-vore-blog · 4 years

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it’s because he’s afraid (exactly)

Wow. This is a monster of a fic and I have absolutely no apologies for writing it (nearly 30 pages of absolute angst!). First fic installation of the shifter ‘verse! Just to clarify, this happens later in the story, after all the boys know about Davey’s identity as a shifter, though they aren’t exactly... excited about it. Warnings up here for: panic, mentions of fatal (doesn’t happen), vore, a little bit of blood/injury, and fearplay. Hope y’all enjoy!

The cellar was cold.

More than cold. The darkness of the room was nearly suffocating. The air was damp and tasted of mould, and the harder Davey tried to focus on the sliver of light filtering in from beneath the heavy wooden door, the more his vision seemed to swim in and out of focus in a way that made his head spin. Everything around him was hazy. He could feel concrete under his palms and pressing against his back, and with every breath he forced himself to take in the darkness, the more painful the throbbing in his head grew. Inhaling, choking on the stagnant air, Davey balled his hands into fists. His shoulders shook.

How long has it been?

He didn’t know the answer.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.

Long enough for the gash on his cheek to scab over and for the small pangs of hunger to turn to a constant ache. Every noise echoed. His heartbeat sounded far too loud, muffling the noises of footsteps and voices coming from upstairs to a point where they sounded like they were coming from another world, and they may as well have been. Not a single person had come down to see him since he’d been tossed into the dark, dank prison, not to ridicule him, not to bind him, not to—

His stomach growled.

A choked little moan wound up from his throat. Shifting his weight, trying in vain to curl up on his side rather than continue kneeling with his back pressed up against the ceiling, Davey managed to curl up tighter.

The fact that they’d gotten him into the cellar in the first place was his own fault, he knew, but he’d clung to that stubborn hope that maybe, just maybe, if he obeyed their commands they’d let him off easy, keep him with the other boys. Crutchie had said something about it, something about bunks crammed so tightly together you couldn’t see the floor, and Davey could’ve sworn he’d seen some of them as he’d been dragged through the refuge’s doors, but he couldn’t quite recall it. It had been a mess. A mess of colours and shapes that didn’t make sense, and it had been near dark when he’d been hauled in, anyway.

All he remembered was his heart beating out of his chest and the sound his shoes had made as they dragged across the floor. He remembered talking in a hushed voice, remembered giving up on struggling, remembered trying to talk down the pair of thugs that had him by the arms.

And that had gone so well.

One of his eyes was still swollen shut from being thrown down the stairs, and as he’d been thrown into the suffocating darkness, his cap had been snatched by one of the Delanceys.

One of his hands came to tug at his hair. It brushed against the ceiling, trembling slightly as it grabbed a fistful of mussed brown curls, pulling on them until they slid past his fingers and he was left with yet another dull ache on his head.

I’m such an idiot.

Crutchie had told him, he’d told him not to do it with such desperation painting his face, told him not to step in, but by then, they’d both known it was too late. It had been too late once he’d felt that familiar prickling over his skin and anger had pooled in his stomach in a thick, molten sludge, the kind of anger that words wouldn’t fix, and from there it had been a blur. A blur of bruises. A blur of that shifting and changing, of his hands gripping the fabric of someone’s shirt, pinning them down against his better judgement and hissing at Crutchie to run.

His breaths were growing shaky again. He could hear it with every ragged inhale, and try as he might to fight back the choked, desperate sobs trying to escape his throat, little whimpers pulled from his lips.

How long has it been?

Came the question again. Louder.

How long until they come beat you black and blue?

How long until Les realizes his brother might not be coming home?

How long until Jack—

He sank his teeth into his lip, scarcely realizing that he’d drawn blood until the taste of it made him gag.

Don’t think about Jack.

It was easier said than done. He knew he’d wasted that first day crying out pathetically, begging for a second chance every time he saw shadows block the line of light, asking why they’d done this, asking what gave them the right to lock him in a filthy basement just because he was a freak, and do you know who I am? Do you know who’s on my side? They’ll bust me out of here, you’ll see.

He clung to those words, still. He’d clung to them until his throat was hoarse. He’d clung to them afterward. He’d clung to them as his eyelids had grown heavy and he’d succumbed to sleep’s siren song, halfway convinced he’d wake up to see a certain newsie standing there with fire in his eyes and telling him to get his sorry ass in gear.

And then he’d woken up.

Breathed— more like choked on— the stale air and shivered in the damp cold that had settled in the night under his checkered shirt and dirty vest.

Heard the noise of voices upstairs.

Realized that Jack hadn’t come.

Curled up tight against the sudden urge to sob.

He’d stayed like that until that itching, tingling feeling had made his skin burn and his back brush against the ceiling. He’d stayed like that until the support beams started to creak in indignance at Davey’s increasing size. He’d stayed like that until his legs had gone numb and his fingers were pressed tightly against the heavy door as if he could force it open.

Not that he could. He could barely force his eyes to stay open, and any movement he made only made the ache in his limbs worse.

Stop thinking like that.

Piped a voice that sounded eerily like his own.

Don’t lose hope.

How many times had he told Jack to do that same thing? How many times had he grit his teeth and been the one telling all the other sunken-faced boys to lighten up? He was the only one who hadn’t paid a visit to the refuge’s stone keep, and the other boys had all come out okay. He’d be fine.

Trying to regulate his breathing with the rational thoughts, Davey closed his eyes and furrowed his brow.

It’s been two days, right?

He’d fallen asleep twice.

So this…

This is day three.

A stone settled in his empty stomach.

Three days of waiting for a rescue that isn’t coming.

He was stupid for thinking it. Crutchie must’ve gotten nabbed, that would explain it, though both of the Delanceys had pounced on him once he’d gotten himself back to normal and tried to talk them down, and they’d been occupied with dragging him back to the refuge, which would’ve given Crutchie plenty of time to get him some help—

Help that didn’t come.

A voice in his head hissed.

Help that didn’t come even though you were looking for it and shouting for it at the top of your lungs.

Help that isn’t coming because Crutchie couldn’t be bothered to tell Jack—

Or maybe he did tell Jack, but Jack couldn’t be bothered to—

He didn’t realize he was crying until a hiccup caused him to bump his head against the ceiling and tears made his eyes sting. He didn’t try wiping them away. His hands were both by the door, and they quivered and twitched weakly with every wavering breath he managed to take.

Would you just focus?

If they were here, they wouldn’t know you’re in the cellar, and if they were smart about it, you wouldn’t know they were here until that door opened and—

A creak sounded from the staircase.

Davey’s breath caught in his throat. His whole body stiffened, freezing up without so much as a warning, the constant ringing that had filled his ears for the past three days suddenly disappearing, giving way to another creak from the stairs, followed by some grunting and the scuffing of boots.

Don’t get your hopes up.

It’s probably the Delanceys.

Here to throttle you and toss you out on the streets once you shift back.

His heart was starting to race. The voices were growing less and less muffled by the second, sounding less like nonsensical mumbles and more like—

“Wouldya get your stinkin’ ‘ands offa me? I’s goin’!”

No.

The beating of his heart— that noise that had filled his head— stopped as his heart lurched in his chest. Although his throat hurt and the air was grimy, he couldn’t stop a terrified, strangled noise from escaping his lips.

A name.

“Jack.”

It didn’t sound like him. It sounded raspy. Broken. Desperate. The second after he croaked it out, Davey clamped a hand over his mouth and tried to back away from the door, his heart thrumming louder by the second in his veins.

“Ya happy now?” Came another voice— Oscar— or maybe Morris— “like we said, we’s takin’ you t’yer pet, alright? So stop—“

Jack ignored them. Davey could hear his footsteps increasing in volume, thundering down the rickety stairs with a sudden burst of force. “DAVEY! DAVE, WHAT HAPPENED—“

A thump that sounded more like a shove made Davey suck in a sharp breath through his teeth, his body beginning to quiver as the footsteps grew louder. He opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by the noise of another shove.

“Nothin’s ‘append! We haven’t touched ‘im!” promised the other brother— that one was Oscar.

“‘Cept for when we threw ‘im down there,” piped Morris.

“An’ roughed ‘im up on th’ way...” Oscar added, earning a chuckle from his brother.

“OH, and we definitely punched ‘im at least three times.”

More than that.

He had bruises to prove it. His swollen eye had been bad before the tumble down the stairs, and the nasty gash on his cheek hadn’t been from the first, second, or third blow. Pressing one hand to the slit in his skin, Davey tried to ignore the pained noises that were growing more and more audible. Jack’s pained noises.

What did they do to you?

As much as he wanted to cry out, he knew there wasn’t a point. Jack knew he was here, and his voice was so broken and shredded from that first night that he knew it would do far more harm than good. It would just encourage the Delanceys, though Oscar and Morris didn’t seem to need any further encouragement. Davey had practically tuned their mocking voices out. The cacophony of his panicked thoughts and rasping, laboured breaths coupled with his thundering heartbeat made everything sound like it was underwater. Everything except for Jack.

“Get OFFA me!”

“We said we’s takin’ ya to ‘im! Said it twice,” a dull crack of a fist against a jaw punctuated the statement, “so it’s in your best interest ta can it!” Oscar’s voice was dripping with malice. Davey could see it so clearly in his mind’s eye that it hurt, see the two brothers with Jack hanging between them as he was forced down the rickety staircase.

“Bastards,” Jack spat through his teeth, “when I get outta here—”

Shadows crossed in front of the door, and before Jack could finish his sentence, he crashed against the door with a thud. It had to be him.

Swallowing, Davey tried to summon his words despite the fact that his hands were trembling profusely. “J-Jack—” He began, though he was quickly silenced by the sound of a hand connecting with the door, the noise of the locks jingling following shortly after.

“Dave?”

His voice was so close that it hurt.

Davey’s heart lurched. With his body moving without his permission, he found himself with one hand— one massive, monstrous hand that pinned down Oscar like he was nothing, did you think of that, Davey?— inches from the door.

“Jack,” he choked, voice turning desperate, the sudden reality hitting him upside the head with enough force to send him reeling.

The Delanceys are with him, which means this isn’t a rescue.

Choking a little on his own breath, Davey’s tone turned urgent. “You— you shouldn’t be here, you—“

“Aw, gee, Dave, I’m touched,” came a snappy reply, though it was quick to break into a yelp followed by a sharp crack of a body connecting with the door.

“Sheesh, if ya wanted t’see your boyfriend so bad, why’d you fight us the whole way down?” Morris sneered over the rasping, heavy noises of Jack trying desperately to inhale.

Another crack. From the light under the door, Davey couldn’t tell who’d been hit, though the pained moan that followed no less than a second after caused him to draw away from the noise. Had things been different, he knew he would’ve cried out. He could’ve pried the door off its rotting hinges and flung himself into the fray as though it was Les in danger, could’ve tried to reason, could’ve gotten Jack out of the way, could’ve done anything other than cower back further.

Cowering made his ribs feel like they were going to snap, but it didn’t stop him from drawing into himself, numb to everything but his heartbeat pounding through his veins and the shadows slipping under the doorframe, numb until—

With a bang, the door flew open, and before Davey could truly process what had happened, his hands shot forward to catch something that tumbled into the cellar with him. Something warm. Something breathing.

“Jack…” He whimpered, cupping his hands around the battered boy. He couldn’t see much— his vision was covered in spots of purple from the light that was still flooding in, but Jack wasn’t moving. He wasn’t fighting the handling. He wasn’t moving at all, was he even breathing? What if was dead, what if he’s—

“Shit, he’s a big one,” Morris hissed, causing Davey’s gaze to snap upright to the silhouettes of the two thugs standing in the doorframe, “maybe that story ‘bout that Conlon kid ain’t as bullshit as we thought…”

His stomach dropped.

They’ve heard.

Of course they’ve heard.

His discomfort must’ve shown on his face, because Oscar grinned. A wide, toothy, mocking sort of thing, and he spoke with enough malice to make Davey’s blood turn to ice in his veins and draw the limp form of Jack closer to himself. “Hope it’s not. It’ll make this more interestin’ for Kelly…”

Blue eyes widening in a mixture of shock and terror, stomach churning at the implications, Davey opened his mouth to say something— anything, but—

The door snapped shut, dousing the cellar in darkness once more.

The silence left in its wake lasted about three seconds, but three seconds was long enough for Davey’s addled mind to finally snap into the present.

“You—“ he started, looking down at the dark shape of Jack in his palms, the gravity of the situation crashing down on him like a tidal wave, “—you’re joking.”

It wasn’t what he wanted to say, but it was all he could get out.

You’re trapped, too.

Even in the dark and squinting through one eye, he could see the gleam of Jack’s eyes, the reflection of the light filtering in under the door make it look like they were glowing. “This is the part where you say ‘thank you’, Dave.” The other boy huffed, flatly, “but thanks for the sentiment. ‘Preciate it.” Catching his breath, Jack pressed one of his hands heavily against the surface of Davey’s palm and hissed: “now would’ja quit shakin’? You’s rattlin’ my brain around in my head, and if “I’s gonna get us outta here—”

It was then that Davey stopped paying attention. “Where were you?” He hissed, unable to keep his voice from cracking pathetically. His eyes were growing damp, and try as he might to keep from letting his anger boil over, his words were turning to a hiss as he bore down on the other boy in his palms. He was uncomfortably close and he knew it, and normally, he would’ve been able to calm himself down, but he found himself drawing Jack closer to his face to better see him in the low light. “I— I’ve been down here for three days, Jack!”

Jack winced, but before he could even try to respond, Davey plowed forward. He’d been alone in the dark for three days, and try as he might to regulate himself, to keep his calm— those words had had longer to build up in his head.

“I thought you’d just left me here!” He snapped. “I— what, am I just not important to you? Do you even care?”

“Hey, Dave, e-easy—” Jack tried.

Davey barely heard him. His fingers were starting to curl around Jack’s sides, and when Jack tried to shift, their trembling grip tightened, silencing his sputtering. “I didn’t think anyone was coming! I waited, Jack! A-And if I’d tried, I could’ve escaped, b-but I didn’t— I didn’t want to cause a scene, and I thought— I thought you’d come!”

It sounded even more pathetic when he said it out loud. The wobbling of his voice didn’t help anything, either.

Through his teeth, he continued, struggling to keep himself from shouting. “I spent that whole first night thinking that I’d get w-woken up because you were there, but you weren’t, and I thought you’d f-forgotten I was even—”

“We did NOT forget you!” Jack snarled, his ferocity catching Davey off guard enough to make the taller break into a sharp gasp. “So get that outta your head right now, Jacobs!”

His eyes were stinging, his bad vision blurring even further in the dark, leaving him with just vague shapes. He could see Jack— still feel his weight and warmth on his palms— and as he tried to inhale past the knot in his throat—

“Dave, breathe.” Jack ordered.

Davey choked out a bitter laugh, the noise coming out in a garbled, breathy sob. “What’s it—”

Jack’s hand hit the surface of his thumb. “You ain’t breathin if you’s talkin’!” He snapped, and when Davey went to respond—

He was out of breath. When he inhaled, it was raspy and made his throat feel raw. It sounded like a wheeze. “I— I thought you weren’t g-gonna—” He began, stopping to choke down another ragged gasp and use a free hand to swat at his watering eyes. “—I thought you didn’t c-care enough to— t-to—”

Jack gave a small noise of frustration. “I did!” He hissed, “two days ago, we came in through the window!”

Davey’s mouth shut abruptly. Watching as well as he could, fighting back a small sniffle, he could make out the shape of Jack tugging at the hair that had snuck out from beneath his cap. “Two days ago,” he repeated, the anger just beneath the surface of his words alone enough to keep Davey quiet. “It would’a been sooner, I swear it, but Crutch needed help an’ I wasn’t about to leave ‘im alone, and the other boys, once they heard what happened…”

A stone settled in Davey’s stomach when those glimmering eyes flicked away from his own.

“They didn’t want to go alone… did they?” He finished.

Jack didn’t look up. When he nodded, it was slow, as if he didn’t want to be doing it. “They just didn’t wanna find ya like this,” Jack explained, patting the surface of Davey’s palm beneath him for emphasis, “an’ after the whole thing with Spot… just bad timin’.” He explained. He still wouldn’t meet Davey’s eyes. Shifting, coughing slightly to clear his throat, Jack gave a dismissive shrug. “So we waited. Waited for morning, an’ the second the sun was up, you knows what we did?”

This time, it was Davey who looked away. Jack’s eyes looked dark. His teeth were grit, too, and although he was small in Davey’s hand, he certainly wasn’t powerless.

“Jack—”

“We came to get you outta this mess, only you weren’t there! We came in through the window— four o’ us. Specs, Albert, Racer and me, and you wasn’t there! Combed through everythin’ we could find, we did—” He stopped, suddenly enough to make Davey’s brow furrow.

“What?” He prompted, concern lacing his words.

“Found something ya might miss, is all. Just gotta…” Sticking a hand into one of the inner pockets of his vest, Jack pulled a dark item into the light, and before Davey could even ask what it was—

It connected with the side of his head with a soft thump before flopping lifelessly to the floor next to his hand, falling into the light filtering under the door.

My cap.

Turning his eyes to Jack, shifting so his hands were steadier, Davey moved to thank the other boy, but Jack spoke first.

“That’s all we found upstairs,” Jack mumbled, “an’ we took it as a sign that’cha busted out, but then Les said ya hadn’t been home and that you’s folks was worryin’.”

Jack took his own cap in his hands and leaned so his back pressed further against Davey’s fingers, fiddling with the clumsily stitched hem. “We didn’t know what to do. Crutchie felt the worst, I think. Kept on ramblin’ about how it was all his fault, which is some bullshit if I’ve ever heard it. He kept on tryin’ to think of any rooms we could’a missed when he got real quiet and mumbled somethin’ about a cellar.”

Davey swallowed hard. His hands were starting to tremble again, jostling the other boy in his grip. Jack swatted his thumb.

“Hey, I said t’cut that out,” he tried to joke, though it fell flat, leaving an uncomfortable silence in its wake. It was almost quiet enough to hear the rustling of the other boys upstairs— the ones Davey had been dragged past in the darkness— beginning to softly chat. Bedsheets rustled, and if Davey really, really strained to hear it, he could almost hear laughter.

Delanceys must’ve left the room.

Awkwardly shifting, trying to breathe steadily, Davey carefully lowered his hands to the ground. “Sorry.” He murmured, hollowly, uncurling his fingers from around Jack.

Jack took the hint. With as much swagger as he could muster in the enclosed space, he slid his way out of Davey’s grasp and stood. “S’fine. Ain’t like I’s usin’ these here brains for nothin’, anyway.”

The best Davey could manage was a weak snort. It made his chest ache, Inhaling, opening his mouth to agree, Davey managed to get out the beginnings of a quip before his head started to spin. The world around him blurred together in a mess of dark shapes and colours that didn’t connect, and as he screwed his eyes shut against it, he was made aware of a low, whining sort of groan filling the air.

It was only when Jack’s hand tapped on his cheek that he realized it was pulling from his own throat.

“Shit, Dave, what’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing,” Davey bitterly replied, still stubbornly refusing to open his eyes, “and that’s the problem.”

The noise of Jack inhaling was sharp. Already, he knew the other boy was going to ask for clarification, but before he could even deliver the question—

A muffled growl sounded from his middle, sudden enough to make him flinch and open his eyes, coupled with a hunger pang that made him shudder violently.

Jack stiffened. “Oh.” He mumbled, suddenly making Davey painfully aware of the space between the pair of them. Something in his chest pulled taut.

“Yeah.” He managed to get out. His throat felt tight. His eyes tracked Jack’s movements as the other boy began pacing, an almost predatory precision falling over his face. Subconsciously, he licked his lips. It had been easy to ignore the small twinges from his stomach when he was alone. He could focus on something else. Daydream. Retreat into his head like he always did when things got bad, but Jack’s presence was keeping him locked in the present, bringing to mind thoughts of how easy it would be to—

He swallowed, suddenly aware of the fact that his mouth wasn’t painfully dry anymore.

Jack took his cap in his hands. If he noticed Davey’s sharp gaze, he didn’t show it. “You means that this whole time… they was starvin’… you was starvin’...” He trailed off, blowing out a heavy breath through his teeth. “Shit, Davey, I’s sorry I took so long to come, but I didn’t wanna get caught—” He broke into a harsh laugh, the noise sudden enough to make Davey flinch. “—though I guess that didn’t matter none either, huh? Fuck.”

Jamming his cap on sideways, pacing growing quicker, Jack turned his attention to the door and slammed a fist against it, repeating himself, louder. “Fuck!”

“Language, Kelly,” Davey weakly intoned, earning a halfhearted glare from Jack.

“Whatever.” He hissed, attention flicking back to the door. We’s gettin’ outta here, now.” His hands began to pry at the door, scratching, searching for something to grip onto with a noise that made Davey close his eyes again.

“Can’t.” He rasped, quietly.

The scratching didn’t stop. If anything, it grew more dogged. “Shit, there’s gotta be a loose board or somethin’—”

“Jack.” A little louder this time.

Jack’s hands continued to scrape across the wooden door. “All I need’s a loose board. I’s gotten outta the refuge before, once we’s upstairs, we’s just gonna creep out th’ window an’ then—”

Inhaling sharply, opening his eyes as well as he could manage, Davey set his jaw. “Jack, I can’t.”

The scrabbling stopped as Jack whirled on him. “Why not?” He snapped. “You’s big enough ta be doin’ this part, jus’ get that there door open an’ get yourself back to normal, then we can bust outta this joint!”

An irritated little moan worked its way out of Davey’s throat. Gesturing as well as he could, fingers bumping up against the floor, he lowered his head slightly. “I can’t,” he hissed through his teeth, trying to ignore a small twinge from his gut.

Jack’s eyes narrowed. “The hell ya mean, ya can’t?” He asked, incredulous. “You’s big enough ta scare the shit outta the Delanceys an’ you’s tellin’ me ya can’t—“

“I’ve been down here for three days!” Davey shrilled. Trying to shift his body so he was closer to Jack, he twisted his torso as well as he could despite the fact that he was wedged firmly in place.

“Yeah, you’s said,” Jack snarked back, his volume rising, “so fine. I’ll take th’ door, then you shift back an—“

“Do you have any idea how much energy it takes to shift?” Squaring his shoulders as well as he could while on his hands and knees, Davey lowered himself so his chin practically touched the floor. “I— Jack, I’m running on empty! I’d probably… I dunno, pass out or something, and then I’d never get out. I’m stuck like this!” Bringing one hand up to his head, he jammed it between the ceiling and his hair, curling his fingers in with his scruffy brown locks. Desperation was flickering to life in his eyes. “Even if I could change back, it’d be useless. I can barely even move without everything spinning— I can barely move at all!” He gave a bitter laugh. “Shit.”

Jack gave a weak laugh. “Language, Jacobs.”

Davey rolled his eyes and huffed. Taking a moment to gather his words, he couldn’t help but track Jack’s movements when the other boy began pacing. “I… I read about shifting when I first found out, and it… it takes a lot of power to change. Usually I’d have it all pent up, but now…” He broke into a huff. Raising a hand to shakily run through his hair, Davey exhaled through his teeth. “I’ve got none. A-And some shifters can get stuck, it— it just happens, Jack, we can’t— we panic, and then it kicks in like a defense, and then—”

A hand connected with his own. Had he been more in his right mind, he might’ve yelped in protest, but instead, all he did was stop talking and warily meet Jack’s eyes.

“Geez, you’s really out of it, huh?”

“I’s... it’s fine.”

Jack’s brow furrowed, though Davey barely saw it through a blink that took a little longer than normal. His eyes, however, were focused almost too sharply on Jack’s face.

“No, you’s not fine,” Jack was saying, though Davey barely registered it, “you’s talkin’ like me, that’s— that ain’t a good sign!”

When Jack started pacing again, pacing the small strip of the ground that wasn’t covered by Davey’s quivering shape, Davey felt another small twinge from his belly and a surge of saliva puddling on his tongue.

Don’t.

He swallowed. Shifted his weight.

“Does it matter?” He tried to banter back, squinting through his swollen eye. “Les isn’t here to hear it, so he can’t make… he can’t make fun of me.”

When Jack turned back to face the door, Davey swallowed again, trying to move so the ache in his legs was lessened. Anything to distract him from the newsboy standing in front of him.

“Okay, well, we ain’t stayin’ in here,” Jack grumbled.

Davey inhaled. Already, his mouth was open to speak, but—

“Don’t argue with me, Jacobs.” Jack’s hands were back on the door, nails scratching away at the wooden surface, looking for a lock or loose board that Davey knew wasn’t going to get found. “We’s just gotta think of a plan, s’all. You’s all about that shit, ain’t’cha?”

“Jack. It hurts to think.”

His vision was blurring again. The scene before him looked all smudgy, like when he’s once tried on his father’s glasses.

“How the hell is you alive, then? What, with all that thinkin’ ya do. Ain’t it what fuels ya?” Jack fired back as Davey slumped forward. His chin brushed the ground. If Jack noticed, he didn’t react. “I mean, what, you got all them big ole words in there, like what— ass-piss—“

Davey tried to laugh despite the fact that it made his ribcage feel too tight. “Auspicious?”

It came out almost slurred. He could feel something hot on his lower lip, and as he tried to lift his head and swatted at it—

You’re drooling.

—a gasp caught in his throat. He managed to clap a hand over his mouth before Jack turned his head, his smile a little more guarded. A little more wary. A little more like it had been after a certain incident with a certain Spot Conlon.

“Hey, what’s’a matter with you?”

Davey swallowed numbly. “I— it’s just—“ he tried, lowering his hand just a little, “—I dunno, pick something. I’ve been down here three—“

His stomach growled. Loudly. Loud enough to silence him mid-sentence and make his eyes fix on the floor in silent shame.

The silence was heavy. Too heavy. Heavy enough to make him feel almost queasy as he shakily inhaled. “Sorry.”

Are you?

Are you really sorry?

Another question he didn’t want an answer to.

“It’s fine,” came Jack’s response, and although there was a teasing edge to it, it was less gentle than normal. Harsher. “Just don’t go gettin’ any ideas.”

“Again, head hurts too much for that.” Davey huffed.

“Right, so long as it ain’t makin’ it so ya can’t think clearly, ‘cos I don’t want to end up in a certain spot that a certain Spot has visited, underst—”

“YES,” Davey hissed through his teeth with a voice sharp enough to echo a little in the enclosed space, “Jack, I got it! I— I promise you, that is the last thing on my mind!”

“Then why’s you droolin’?” Jack was getting closer to him, now. Even in the dark, Davey could see the way his shoulders were starting to tense.

“I’m not—” Something wet on Davey’s lower lip made his sureness falter, if only momentarily. He swallowed. Hard. He couldn’t stop himself from salivating, though, and to his horror, it only seemed to be getting worse. His fingers twitched as he raised his hand, clamping it firmly over his mouth. “—shit.” He finished, weakly, his voice coming out in a sharp wheeze. “J-Jack, you know— you know I wouldn’t— n-not to you…” He trailed off almost desperately, the noise of Jack sighing one of the few rising above his own heartbeat throbbing away in his ears.

“Sure.”

It didn’t sound like he believed it. The silence that hung in the room was heavy as could be, though it was quickly broken by another mournful groan from the direction of Davey’s middle and a pang of hunger sharp enough to make Davey screw his eyes shut and give a choked off little whine. He didn’t look at Jack. He didn’t need to— shouldn’t, not with his instincts going absolutely ballistic. Already, he wanted to apologize, though for what was beyond him. It wasn’t his fault, not really, that they were in this absolute mess of a situation. Maybe if he’d fought back, things would be better, but—

Jack interrupted his thoughts. “The boys’ve gone quiet.”

Davey blinked. Wiping his mouth with his hand, disgustedly, he felt his lips tugging into a sharp frown. “What’s that got to do with anything?” He questioned, watching as Jack began to back away from the door.

“Means they’s not alone. Crutch says they never shuts up unless—”

A thump sounded from the stairs.

Davey’s heart sank. What was left of his hope was starting to disappear, and as much as he wanted it to be a familiar face— god, did he ever want to see Race or Romeo, Buttons, Specs, any of the other boys— he knew in his heart that that wasn’t the case. These weren’t footsteps that were trying to be quiet. They were loud, thumping down on the squeaky steps as though they hadn’t a care in the world.

“Five to one, ‘e’s dead.”

“You’re on.”

The Delanceys…

Something in his shoulders tensed at the realization. Their words were making his stomach twist. He could almost guess the reason why the bet was in place, though before he could come to any sort of conclusion, the door swung open, and there the brothers stood.

It was, thankfully, dark, save for the lantern the two carried, but it still stung Davey’s eyes to keep them open enough to see the rest of his dingy surroundings. He found himself squinting against it, already tensing, ready for another fight that he knew he didn’t have the energy for. How could he?

“Damn,” Morris grumbled, “why the hell’s they both still ‘ere?”

Jack bristled. “The hell you mean, why’s we both here? We’s here on account’a you throwin’ us down the—”

“We wasn’t expectin’ shifty over there to be gone, jackass.” Oscar’s words were dripping with a false sort of charm as he leaned down over the step, his eyes sparkling with an awful sort of glee in the lantern’s flickering light. “But durin’ feedin’ time at the zoo? The tigers sure as shit eat up the goats.”

“When’s you ever seen a tiger?”

Davey blanched.

They couldn’t mean…

They can’t mean—

Again, his frantic mind began to draw a conclusion that made him feel sick to his stomach, and again, he was interrupted.

“What’s that mean?” Jack’s voice wasn’t as sure as it normally was. The bravado was starting to waver. Break. Fall away. It left without warning, and as Davey listened, Jack’s tone changed to that of someone more than a little unsure of what the future may hold. “The fuck are you on about?” His shoulders were square. He looked about ready to throw himself at the Delanceys without a moment’s pause, but as he inhaled to speak again, Morris cut in.

“We was told t’get rid’a ya and to be creative,” he announced, somewhat proudly, “so we figured we didn’t need nobody knowin’ about no body gettin’ found an’...” He grinned, pausing for dramatic effect in a way that made Davey’s heart sink. “We figured out exactly how t’do it. Just needed your dumbass boyfriend to get himself caught, then we got ‘im nice an’ starvin’.” He shrugged, clearly disappointed. “Thought you’d be somewhere warmer than a cellar by now.”

Davey's heart was starting to thunder out of control, and when his gaze turned to Jack, he could see the other boy looking at him with a mixture of apprehension and abject terror. “You… ya want Dave to…”

“Get rid of you, once an’ for all.” Oscar finished, somewhat proudly. “Comes with th’ added bonus that he won’t be goin’ back t’see your boys, after what he’s done, so the union fails, too. Win win.”

Nausea washed over Davey. “No! That’s— that’s disgusting!” He sputtered, frankly unable to believe his ears. “I’m not— I’m not an animal, I won’t—“

His stomach growled again. Louder, this time, and Davey came to a stammering halt. Shit, this was bad. Worse than bad, and as Davey tried to force himself back into as small of a ball as he could curl up into, it didn’t sound like it was getting better.

“That’s right, he won’t.”

Jack’s voice caused Davey to look up, only to see him get shoved. Hard. He’d gotten too close to Oscar, and the brother had reacted quickly. “Well, that ain’t an option. If he don’t, we throws you off the Brooklyn bridge in a carpet, an’ we leaves this bastard ‘ere to die.”

“How come I die in both?” Jack sputtered, “what— whaddid I do t’you?”

Davey barely heard him. His thoughts were starting to race, panic churning through his mind at a million miles per hour. He was supposed to be the rational one, for christ’s sake! But his mind was far from a rational place, and the exhaustion clinging to him in a thick shroud didn’t help him in the slightest. It made it so much harder to focus. He kept his eyes trained on Jack as the rate of his breathing quickened to harsh little wheezes that stung his throat. The other boy’s tense stance didn’t help, either.

“I’d say it’s warranted, wouldn’t you, Morris?” Oscar asked, jabbing his brother in the ribs afterward and earning a swat on the shoulder.

“Absolutely. You’s been nothin’ but trouble, Kelly, with all this union bullshit. S’not gonna work, alright?”

“Was workin’ fine,” Jack snapped back, “‘fore you took one of my fuckin’ friends an’ locked ‘im up down here!”

Davey’s heart stuttered.

The union?

“S-Something’s wrong with the—”

“Not the time—” Jack began, though, before he could finish—

Morris jumped off the last stair and shoved him hard in the chest. “Make a choice, smartass,” he hissed, bringing his fist back to strike, “an’ you’s dead either way. Both is just as fun for us.”

Oscar was quick to join his sibling, and despite the fact that Davey was absolutely monstrous compared to them, he found himself shrinking back reflexively. “C-Can’t we just talk this out?” He tried, somewhat desperately. “This is murder! You wouldn’t— you wouldn’t kill us, and when you get found out— th-the other boys, they’ll come for us!

Morris grinned. It was a twisted thing, sharp enough to make something in Davey’s chest tighten. “Think we care? Either we lie about this one snappin’ ya up, or we say it was an accident that’cha fell off the bridge. Nobody’ll find your body, and d’ya really think this one’ll say a fuckin’ word?” He hissed, gesturing to Davey with enough force to make the larger boy flinch.

“Guys, this ain’t funny—”

“You see us laughin’?”

As the pair stalked forward, Jack began to back up, causing Davey to pull even further into the corner despite the pressure it put on his ribcage.

I have to do something.

Anything would’ve been better than watching as Jack stumbled away from the brothers with their hands curled into fists.

“You’s grinnin’ like a hyena!” He sputtered, stepping more and more into Davey’s personal space. He was standing just in front of Davey’s face, and when he looked over his shoulder, his face paled. “And you’s makin’ it worse!”

Davey sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth before he realized that he was drooling again. Shit. His heart was thumping wildly. His hands were starting to tremble, his fingers twitching uncontrollably, and the worst part of it was that his senses were starting to kick into overdrive. He was painfully aware of how close Jack was to him, and it only worsened when Jack’s back brushed against his chin, touching up against the saliva he couldn’t bring himself to wipe away.

“Looks like we’s gonna do this th’ fun way, then,” Oscar crooned, stepping forward with a fist raised. Despite Jack’s fighting stance and glare that Davey knew was fearsome, the thug didn’t stop advancing, Morris cracking his knuckles a step behind him. Jack couldn’t take them both. It was only when Oscar moved to swing that Davey suddenly sprung to life.

Without thinking, he closed his hand around Jack and yanked the other boy close to himself, guarding him fiercely. “You’re not going to touch him!” He snarled, his voice losing its wobble as though he was back on one of the discarded boxes out in Newsie Square, rallying the other boys. Inhaling, ignoring the surge of the world spinning around him, he tried to speak, but—

His stomach gurgled.

He bit his lip, not finishing the rest of his statement.

The silence that followed left him painfully aware of the fact that his heart was beating out of his chest. He could feel Jack in his hand beginning to try moving, and although it made him feel physically sick, he tightened his grip on Jack. All eyes were on him. His lungs felt too small as he hastily choked down another breath. “I-I’ll…” He swallowed, pretending not to notice the way Jack tensed at the noise.

I don’t want to.

“I’ll do it.”

He was vaguely aware of Jack making a strangled, choked little noise as he adjusted his fingers and shifted his weight, his eyes growing damp. It looked almost like they were glittering in the low light. There was something of a haze falling across his vision, and although he could blame it on the wetness of his eyes, he knew there was something more to it. It was familiar. Something he knew. Something that had fallen over him once in Brooklyn, and now here in the cellar as dust clogged his nostrils.

Jack’s voice was shaking almost as badly as he was. “D-Davey— you— you ain’t gonna— you’s— you’s not—”

Davey tightened his grip further. Before he could talk himself out of it, he lifted the other boy off the ground with a jerk of his wrist, earning a sharp gasp.

“Dave, hey, this ain’t— this ain’t funny—” Jack started to protest, though he was cut off by Davey tightening his grip. “—ey— ey— sn-snap outta it, you can’t— you’s not gonna—” There was poorly disguised panic flashing across Jack’s face as he squirmed a little in Davey’s careful hold, looking up at his captor somewhat confusedly. Although he gave a little laugh, it was riddled with anxiety. “—you’s not gonna…”

Davey’s lips curled back in a grimace. Although he wanted nothing more than to explain, his words were sticking in his throat along with his breaths that weren’t coming quite right. Looking at Jack was only making it worse, and as Davey forced himself to look down to the Delanceys, he found his grip on the newsie tightening.

Look scary.

It wasn’t as though he needed to try; he was huge. Still, he inhaled and tried his best to hide his shaking by clinging to Jack tighter. It was met with a wheeze.

“D-Davey, David— we—”

Davey’s stomach growled.

Jack blanched.

“Shit, Davey, ya can’t just— ain’t we friends? You said— ya— ya PROMISED!”

It was killing him to keep his face expressionless. Davey clamped his teeth down hard on the inside of his cheek as he lifted Jack closer to himself, completely tuning out Jack’s struggles. He had to work to keep his hands from trembling any more than they were as he swallowed back the apologies threatening to spill from him.

I’m sorry.

I’m so sorry.

Forcing himself to tighten his grip, to shift Jack closer still to his mouth, Davey puffed himself up. “I’ll eat him,” he hissed through his teeth that were only grit to keep his lip from quivering any more than it already was. It came out in a near growl.

The two brothers looked ready to bolt.

C’mon…

Davey silently willed them as he shifted his grip on Jack yet again, trying to keep the other boy from hyperventilating or panicking too badly. It wasn’t working. Jack’s breathing had turned to rasping barks, and although he was silent, Davey knew that wasn’t any better. When Jack was quiet, it meant he was out of words. Out of smart-mouthed remarks. Out of curses. Out of words spat through his teeth. The only thing Jack had left now was panic.

Davey’s thoughts were spiralling.

If they go, I don’t have to…

I don’t have to…

He bared his teeth, trying his best to look like the monster they thought he was and bristled, and although Oscar stumbled…

Morris squared his shoulders. As much as there was fear in his eyes, there was also defiance as he raised his chin in Davey’s direction and snarled out two words in a wobble of a voice. “Prove it,” he hissed, stepping forward on wobbling legs.

A halfhearted smack to Davey’s fingers caused his attention to shift down the the young man in his grasp. “Davey— c’mon—“ Jack pleaded, though he was cut off by Davey bringing him a good foot off the floor in his quivering hand. He was running out of space between his hand and the ceiling. Jack was inches from him, now, every one of Davey’s panicked breaths causing his hair to ruffle on his head and his cap to tip back.

I’m sorry.

His heart was beating so fast it sounded like a constant, thundering drone, and as he looked to jack with a helpless, terrified expression finally piercing through his mask—

“I knew it,” came Oscar’s wobbling voice, “he ain’t gonna do it, ya owe me five, an’ we’s gotta find a way t’get rid of them—“

“I said I was gonna do it!” The force of his own words surprised him, and moments after Davey said it, he felt his stomach lurch dangerously.

“Yeah?” Morris tried, “well, you’s all talk—“

He was cut off by Davey opening his mouth. Wide. As wide as it would go, actually, which normally wouldn’t be much to think about, but now, Davey was all too aware of the implications.

Moving quickly, not thinking too hard about what he was doing, trying to block out the strangled cry that escaped Jack’s throat when he shifted his grip, Davey pinned the other boy’s arms to his sides with his fingers as well as he could manage and lifted him closer to his gaping maw.

Jack was trembling. “Davey,” he hissed through his teeth, giving his legs an experimental kick despite the fact that Davey was keeping him from moving too much, “Dave, I get that you’s bluffin’, but now’s a good time t’stop— sh-shut yer trap an’ put me down before—”

Davey moved him closer. Close enough that he could practically taste him already.

“—N-No, Davey— Davey, don’t, I know you ain’t gonna— you’s not—” His words were coming faster, now, and his struggling was getting harder, hard enough that it was making him almost hard to grasp. “—no, n-no! You’s not— you CAN’T!”

Davey forced himself to meet Jack’s eyes.

That was a mistake. The betrayal shining in them was impossible to miss— there in the fact that they seemed watery and in his knit brow— but beneath it was fear. Genuine terror— terror he’d never seen on the fact of Jack Kelly, and terror he never wanted to see again. Jack was as stiff as a board in his grip, and as he looked down on Jack, Davey couldn’t stop himself from closing his mouth.

The relief that washed over Jack was painfully visible. He looked like he’d deflated in Davey’s grip, and with a breathy laugh, he leaned his head against Davey’s skin. “Geez, Dave, ya really had me goin’—“ he managed to say despite the fact that his voice was wobbling. “—really— really thought you was gonna—“

Davey moved before Jack could finish. In one smooth motion, he opened his mouth, screwed his eyes shut, and stuffed Jack in headfirst. His teeth clipped up against Jack’s waist, and as he jerked his head back and swallowed heavily, a noise that sounded almost inhuman sounded from the confines of his maw.

“NO! DAVEY— DAVE—”

Jack’s legs— hanging past his lips— flailed wildly, smacking up against his chin with a surprising amount of force. Davey swore he could taste blood. Blood and something else. Something human. Something dirty, sure, but also something that tasted panicked.

The struggles grew more frantic, and as Davey struggled to inhale, he was made aware of one thing.

It hurt.

Jerking his head back, trying to pull the rest of Jack’s thrashing body into his mouth, trying to remain deaf to the muffled pleading and cursing, trying to do anything other than spit Jack out like he wanted so badly to do, Davey gave a short, sharp swallow and snapped his mouth shut. It didn’t do much, but it earned him a terrified shout and the feeling of something connecting with the back of his throat, prompting him to swallow again.

“DAVEY— DAVEY— SPIT ME OUT, C’MON!”

The voice was so desperate, so awful sounding that Davey could barely place it as Jack’s.

Jack scrambled to get a grip on the surface of Davey’s tongue, and when Davey tried to pin the scrambling newsie to the roof of his mouth, he felt the sharp pain of Jack’s fingernails digging deeper into the flesh around him. He was fighting hard. With every painful second that passed, Davey was made painfully aware of Jack’s terrified state through kicks and slams to the inside of his mouth that made him lock his jaw tighter.

“YA PROMISED!”

Came a muffled cry.

“YA PROMISED YA WOULDN’T—”

Another harsh gulp sounded, and this time, the pain was enough to make Davey gasp and bring a hand up to his throat. He regretted the action as soon as he made it.

He could feel every little struggle and kick from Jack under his fingers, and when he swallowed again, harder, he could feel that, too, the contraction of muscle that forced Jack past his collarbone and out of sight. His chest felt tight. His heart was beating so fast he felt that it might pop, and as he struggled to catch his breath, his eyes burning from tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks, he could feel Jack’s struggles falling lower and lower, slipping into his chest.

Jack’s cries were muffled completely, now. The squirming had grown minimal as he was forced further and further into Davey’s inner workings, though he was certain that it wasn’t because he’d wanted to slow down. Swallowing again, resisting the urge to gag, Davey screwed his eyes shut and pressed a hand flat against his stomach, trying his best to ignore the sensation of Jack squirming down the length of his esophagus. His breaths were coming sharply despite his attempts to act like he didn’t care— like it didn’t matter.

You’ve done this before.

You’ve done this TWICE.

But it hadn’t been Jack.

His whole body jolted when Jack made the final drop into his empty stomach, jolted to a point where he slammed his head against the ceiling and made the support beam give a sharp crack. Dust rained down on his head. And in the midst of it all— in his raging panic— Davey kept his face as blank as he could manage.

I just—

Did I really just—

A kick from his stomach confirmed it, coupled with the weight of something shifting under his skin, moving to fight and claw and kick and—

“Holy shit, he— you’s— you really—”

The Delanceys—

Davey’s eyes shot back open, falling to the brothers before him—

Where did they—

—who were standing on the stairs, gawking.

The second his eyes fell onto them, they both stumbled back a step. Oscar had his fists at the ready, and although Morris also looked ready to spring into action, his eyes kept darting between Davey and his middle. He looked pale, like he’d seen a ghost, and he only grew paler when Davey bared his teeth. When he spoke, his voice was dangerously soft— as if he was telling off a child. “Get out,” he stated, calmly, calmly despite the fact that his heart was beating in his throat, “or you’re next.”

His hands were shaking. Twitching. Sweat was beading on his forehead, and as he glowered down at the Delanceys with his jaw set, he squared his shoulders. One of his hands twitched.

The door slammed shut faster than he could react to, plunging him into complete and absolute darkness once more with a sharp bang.

For a moment, he was still. Completely and utterly still. The noise of footsteps thundering back up the stairs was the only sound that he could hear, and when he finally dared exhale—

A sharp jab from under his skin made him gasp.

“J-Jack—” He started, though he was cut short by another hit to his insides that made him clap a hand over where the internal pressure had come from, pressing down hard enough to feel the shape of Jack starting to throw his weight around.

“SPIT ME THE HELL UP, WHY DON’TCHA!?”

The fighting only got harder when he shouted. He put his whole body into it, pitching to a point where Davey had to bite back a gag. His stomach turned dangerously, and as he tried to catch his breath, tried not to focus on the lingering taste in his mouth, the thrashing only grew more violent.

“Jack, I—” His explanations turned to a whimper at a sharp jab to where his hand was pressed.

“STUFF IT!” Jack roared. Although his voice was heavily muffled, Davey could still more than make out the anger it held. “You— I can’t believe you just— you ATE ME! You picked me up and ya just— ya just—

“I’m aware of that,” he managed to huff out, “and I’m sorry, alright? B-But would you just—”

Jack wasn’t listening. The kicking and scratching got worse. Davey choked on a breath as Jack slammed his weight against his hand.

“—ya fuckin’— what, is that all this was to you, then? Was I just— is this all I am? Just— Just a light snack t’ya, ya hungry bastard? How long have you been wanting this? How— How long have you—”

“I didn’t want to—” He started to protest, though Jack kicked him hard enough to pull a gasp from his throat.

“DID I SAY YOU COULD SPEAK?” Jack snarled. “‘COS I SURE AS HELL DON’T THINK I DID! YA GOT SOME NERVE, JACOBS!” He stopped to breathe, and although Davey could barely hear it, he could see it so perfectly in his mind’s eye as Jack heaved and struggled to form words. He kept interrupting his sentences with gulps of air and other jabs to the flesh around him. “Can’t— can’t believe ya just went an’—”

He broke into a yelp as Davey shifted his weight.

I was SO STUPID for trustin’ you— after that stunt with Spot, I thought— Crutch said ya ain’t a monster—”

“Jack, listen—”

“—He said t’give ya a chance! Said ya didn’t mean it, but I guess that was stupid’a me ta believe—”

“Please— J-Jack, c’mon, you— you’re fine—”

When Jack’s voice met his ears, it was past the point of shrill, coming out in a muffled scream. “YOU FUCKING ATE ME, DAVEY!” It was followed by a barrage of kicks and jabs to his stomach lining that left him clutching tighter to his middle.

“I— I’m aware of that,” Davey whimpered, struggling to keep his tone even, “now can we move past it and focus on—”

“The hell do you mean, ‘move past it’?”

With every muffled curse and thrashing, jerky movement, he felt hot bile rising in the back of his throat and forced himself to gulp it back. At least he was feeling less groggy. He was wide awake, now. His hand trembled as he pressed it harder against where Jack was kicking him, trying to bring the other boy’s struggles to a stop.

“You just WAIT, Dave! Wait ‘til the other boys hear about this, they’s gonna—”

Something in him snapped.

Slamming one hand down on the cellar floor, Davey jabbed at Jack’s shape angrily. “The other boys AREN’T going to hear about this,” he hissed, “because YOU’RE not going to TELL THEM!”

The silence that fell upon the room afterward was enough to make Davey aware of the fact that he was panting heavily. His heart was thrumming away in his ears, and as he swallowed back a little gasp, he slumped defeatedly against the nearest wall of the cellar. His vision was swimming. The exertion had cost him. Woozy, keeping his hand over Jack, he let his eyes slip shut just for a moment.

And then the implications of his words hit him.

Oh… that’s… that’s why he’s gone quiet...

Eyes opening despite the fact that it didn’t change much, Davey sank his teeth into his lip and winced. “...Jackie?” He tried, his voice coming out wobbly.

Jack was trembling, now. He could feel it against his stomach lining, and with every little twitch from the other newsie, he felt his heart sink. “J-Jack, I didn’t mean—” He started, though he was interrupted by a bitter sounding snarl.

“Save it for someone who cares.” Jack snapped, his voice, though muffled, more than conveying his betrayed feelings. “I thought— damn it, Dave, I thought we was friends—”

“We are!” Davey protested. “I— I’m not gonna— why would I hurt you?”

“I’ll tell ya when I figure it out!” Jack snarled, though there was a quiver in it that Davey couldn’t ignore. The next hit to his innards was weaker, though still pointed and hard enough to make him wince. “I can’t believe you’s… so this is it, huh?” The bitter laugh that followed it made Davey’s heart twist. He kept quiet, though. “This is just… this is all any of it meant, huh? I— we’s— just like that, huh? I knew— I knew that thing wit’ Spot was just the beginnin’ of all this! I knew ya was just gonna snap an’—”

“You— Jack— hold on a second!” Davey’s tone was turning sharper. He couldn’t help it— the nausea was making his head spin. “You’re not going to die in there, okay? N-Nobody has, a-and nobody will, s-so would you stop kicking me and LISTEN?”

He hadn’t meant to shout. Gasping for air, the adrenaline fading into more of a shocked feeling that left his eyelids heavy, Davey worked to keep his breathing even.

Another impact to his stomach lining made him grit his teeth and inhale sharply, though… another hit didn’t come.

“I’s listenin’,” came a small voice.

Davey winced. A soft gurgle from his middle sounded as he tried to adjust his weight, keeping his hand over Jack despite the jab it earned him. “Right,” he breathed, “okay, look, I know it seems bad, but I promise, it’s completely safe!”

Jack gave a harsh laugh. “It seems bad?” He sputtered, weakly, his accent seemingly a little thicker than before. “Dave, ya— you jus—”

“Can we not dwell on it?” The pressure of his hand over Jack intensified. “Jack, I— I’m sorry, and you can be mad at me later, b-but I need you to stay there, okay?” He prodded Jack’s shape on the word “there” for emphasis, earning himself a sharp noise of protest.

“Like hell I’s stayin’ in here! You’se made a BIG mistake, once I— once I gets outta here, I’s gonna—”

Davey’s heart sank.

He’s not getting it.

Struggling to keep his tone even, Davey gnawed on the inside of his cheek. “You aren’t getting out of there until I let you out,” he stated, matter-of-factly. Already, he was feeling less tired than before— though he knew that Jack was having the exact opposite experience. It was a part of his anatomy— shifters could draw energy from pretty much anything, and Jack Kelly was no exception, if the pleased little gurgles resonating from the direction of his stomach were anything to go by.

“That…” Jack trailed off, and Davey could feel him struggling again, though the movements were sluggish. “That sounds like a th-threat,” he pointed out. “Why— Why’s I so damned… t-tired, why’s I—”

It was happening faster than it should’ve. Maybe it was the starvation kicking in, but as Davey began to sap Jack’s energy at a ridiculous rate, he could feel the other boy growing groggier. It was all too obvious that Jack was tiring himself out. The kicks and punches were growing clumsy.

“—Dave, what— what the hell?”

“I promise, you’re going to be fine,” Davey tried to reassure, though it came out a little strained. His stomach hurt. Jack had done a number to the lining there, that was certain. “Just… don’t panic all that bad, alright? I’ll get you out, just… give me a minute.”

Jack’s nails dug into the muscle surrounding him, the pressure enough to make Davey flinch and bite down hard on his lip. “Why don’t you sound sure of that?”

“What?”

The pressure on his stomach lining ceased, though another sharp kick to his innards made him give a small whimper. This wasn’t going well. This wasn’t going the way he’d wanted it to at all. Why couldn’t there have been a proper rescue?

Guilt painted across his face, Davey kept his hand over Jack as the other boy struggled to find his voice.

“Like you’se just—” Jack started, though he slumped further against the nearest wall with a groan. “—shit, why’s— m-my head—”

“I’m just taking energy—” Davey tried to explain, though he was cut short by a muffled, panicked wail of:

“You’se digestin’ me? S’that it?”

A groan of discomfort and frustration escaped his throat at the sensations of Jack trying to right himself— the scrabbling of hands against his stomach walls enough to make him gag. Jack wasn’t exactly a lanky guy, but Davey was hyper aware of the space he took up under his skin. “I— No! Jack, that’s— that’s disgusting, I— I wasn’t lying when I said you were safe, just trust me, okay?”

Jack’s accent was thicker than ever. The struggling had stopped— and although it was a momentary relief, Davey felt a stab of guilt pierce his chest at the next set of words.

“Why would I trust… someone like you?”

And with that, Jack went completely limp, leaving Davey in silence, save for the gurgling of his stomach and the sharp, laboured noise of his breathing.

Shit.

#David jacobs #davey jacobs #jack kelly #newsies #javid #g/t vore #sizeshifter!davey #angst fic #soft vore #safe vore #fearplay vore #fearplay #sizeshifter #i'd apologize but i'm not sorry #part 2 coming soon #promise!#gotta get some good ol' jack kelly pov

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audreyareese · 3 years

Text

Musicals reviewed by someone who knows absolutely nothing about musical theater

Newsies: Yes that 30 year old man is definitely a 17 year old boy

Dear Evan Hansen: Wait did he really just use the death of her brother to get in her pants?

Be More Chill: oh my god we get it he masturbates

Heathers: don’t you just hate it when your boyfriend turns out to be a sociopath

Mean Girls: It’s literally Heather’s but less blood and a hotter villain

Legally Blonde: the only musical ever I do not take criticism

Phantom of the Opera: Dramatic ass bitches the musical

Hamilton: absolutely not, this musical fills me with rage and I cannot explain why

Spring Awakening: don’t have sex, because you will get pregnant and die

Beetlejuice: oh my god we get it they’re dead

Les Miserables: hon hon hon oui oui baguette also I guess there’s a revolution? I don’t know I’ve never seen it

Wicked: Wizard of Oz but Lesbian flavored

Into The Woods: oh my god we get it they’re in the woods

Waitress: there is no joke it’s a lovely show highly recommend

Fun Home: Daddy issues but lesbian flavored

Hairspray: am I the only one who thinks the way Link talks about her is kinda weird???

Six: Hamilton wishes it had what this has

Little Shop of Horrors: I cannot belive this show ends with all of the main characters getting vored

Shrek: literally no one asked for this but it somehow exceeds all expectations

Sweeney Todd: the music is honestly great but we need to talk about how bad the blood looks in the movie oh my god

West Side Story: I can’t think about this without thinking about “POISON BOOTS” also holy shit the percussion in this show deserves its own production

Hadestown: this is the alto and bass representation we needed

Frozen: I am not and will never be emotionally prepared for Frozen 2 the musical please don’t make me

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hailwatcher · 3 years

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hello!

i'm a broke college student who loves to write for fandom and for others so i figured i would combine my loves and open fanfiction commissions! to view my work, please check my ao3: idkspookystuff!

FANDOMS:

watcher/shyan/steshyan

worth it

phan

dear evan hansen

be more chill

hamilton

newsies

THINGS I WILL WRITE

pretty much everything!! rated g - e, no kink is too much! angst, fluff, au, canon, etc. i will write self insert!

THINGS I WILL NOT WRITE

non-con, dub-con (CNC is okay!)

underage

vore/gore

suicide/self-harm (referenced past self-harm is okay!)

abuse/manipulation

PRICES

$10 for 1K with each additional thousand being $5!

please dm me on here (hailwatcher), my twitter (rosegoldphil), or on my discord (virge#9189) to discuss your fic! payment is via paypal and all prices are in USD!

if you can't afford to/don't want to commission me (which is okay!), please consider giving this post a reblog to spread the word!

have a lovely day!

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thefanciesttiny · 2 years

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About

Hi there everyone and welcome to my blog. Many of you may already know me as thefanciestborrower and yeah, I’ll be posting from here now due to loosing access to my old blog due to some technical difficulties. But I’m back and ready to post some more art!

What is this blog?

This blog is gonna stay pretty similar to what it was before, so basically just a place for me to post all my vorish stuff without fear of judgement lol. You‘ll mostly be finding vore of the soft, safe, and G/t variety, but sometimes you might find some samesize and reformation every once in a while. Regardless I still intend to keep this blog clean and a safe place for people to enjoy my art and writing without fear of harassment :)

Do you have any other blogs?

As a matter of fact I do! My main blog is @acuppatea, but shhhh don’t go spreading that around too much lmao. There will be absolutely no vore posted there. Just some G/t and normal fanworks. Oh! And I have my newsies ask blog up and running now as well at @thesnakesanswer so fill free to pop on by and ask our favorite scaly lads any questions your heart desires

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ellavorer · 3 years

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What did you think...? (1/2)

Okay, so this monster of a fic has been in the works since March and I finally got the inspiration to finish it a few days ago, with me finally finishing it last night.

Now, I was initially apprehensive about writing a vore fic for this fandom because it's a very small fandom. But, if no one else is gonna write vore for them, I will. So, if any normal fans of Family Ties find this on their dashboard, I am so, so sorry.

I might do a Part 2 of this fic if I get a good enough response.

I'd also like to give partial credit to @that-one-fandom-vore-blog, as I took inspiration from a Newsies vore RP we did back in the summer. I also took a little inspiration from their LSOH Shifter!Fic.

If any of you want to watch Family Ties (hope you don't mind me giving you a free commercial), the complete series is on CBS All Access with your subscription. I'm not sponsored (obviously), I just really want you guys to watch Family Ties. Ellen Reed only appears in Season 4 and in the Season 5 finale (because it was actually of a held-back episode from Season 4), but I think she should've become a main character in Season 5.

Okay, so warnings for vore, panic, mention/fear of accidental fatal vore, mention of possible belly kink.

Hope you guys enjoy!

Alex shut the door behind him as he ran into the house. His breathing got more shallow as the seconds passed. He un-did his neck tie in a fruitless attempt to help himself breathe better, but it didn't help.

His stomach continued to growl loudly as he stumbled across the room. He hadn't eaten for... eight hours? Ten? He didn't know. The pangs in his stomach just got worse when he tried to remember how long he had gone without food.

"No, I can't! Not tonight! Not tonight!" Alex shouted as his height began to fluctuate.

He hated being a shifter.

Alex was thirteen when he learned about his... ability. He had missed both breakfast AND lunch that day: breakfast, because all three of the kids were late for school and lunch, because he was too distracted by an extra school assignment he gave himself. One of the held-back eighth graders was bothering Skippy and he had tried to defuse the situation. It was just about to get physical when something in Alex snapped. He felt his height grow until he hit the first floor ceiling of the building and he shoved the eighth grader in his mouth in a nervous attempt to scare him. But the eighth grader kept moving and kicking and fighting, causing Alex's reflexes to kick in and swallow the kid.

He did immediately cough the eighth grader up and a teacher quickly got involved. His parents were called and he spent the rest of the week at home, but he still remembered how awful the next few months were at school. Everyone trying to avoid eye contact with him, the looks on their faces whenever his stomach growled in class, and...

But he couldn't do it tonight. He had promised Ellen that he would--

He didn't have time to think before his height was fully set in his giant form. He cried out in pain when his head hit the ceiling.

I reiterate... he hated being a shifter.

It was a constant meticulous planning of where to go to shift so that it wouldn't flare up at an inconvenient time. He was lucky that his parents and siblings were out of town at the moment.

It was even harder to try to hide it now that he was in a relationship.

How would Ellen react if she knew that he was a monster?

She would leave him, she would... she would...

There was a knock at the door.

"Alex?"

He jolted at the sound of Ellen's voice, causing him to once again hit his head against the ceiling. "Ow!"

"Alex? Are you okay?" Ellen asked from outside.

"Yeah, I'm... m'fine," Alex called.

Of course she had to come now. Well, it was their plan for the night, but the original plan didn't involve his abilities flaring up.

The pain in his chest increased as he saw the door open and Ellen step in.

"St-- stay there! D-- don't come in!" he warned.

Ellen didn't listen as she turned on the lights. Her gaze followed the sound of Alex's voice, her heart leaping in surprise when her eyes finally landed on him.

"Alex?!"

Alex whimpered, curling up as much as he could into the corner. Another hunger pang hit and he rubbed at his stomach in an attempt to calm it. "Y-- you need to leave. Please," he whimpered. "I-- I-- I don't want to hurt you, Ellen."

Ellen's brows furrowed in confusion and concern. She walked closer to Alex, which only added to his anxiousness. "Alex, what happened?" Ellen asked, placing her tiny hand against the back of his hand, rubbing her thumb against the back of his hand. "And what makes you think you could hurt me? It's still you, even if you are a shifter. How come you didn't tell me?"

Alex quickly jerked his hand away, panting as he felt his heart speed up. He wiped away at his tears, not wanting her to see that he had been crying. Guilt swept through him as she asked her question about him not telling her the truth.

I lied to her.

"Nothing happened, Ellen. I-- I-- I just..." he stammered.

He finally gathered courage to look at her, revealing his blue eyes had turned cloudy.

Ellen also felt guilty, seeing the look on his face. She should've known not to ask such a question when he was clearly hurting. "I'm sorry, Alex. I just need you to look at me... just focus on me, can you do that, please? And I need you to take some deep breaths, okay? Like this."

She demonstrated for him, inhaling through her nose and exhaling through her mouth. Alex tried to join in, but his breaths came out shaky as he kept thinking of his fears of hurting her. Ellen kept reassuring him, though, alternating between calming words of encouragement and taking deep breaths with him. She reached for his hand again.

"Alex, it's okay. Just focus on me and keep breathing, okay? You're doing great."

"But I-- I could hurt you--" he wheezed.

"No, you won't. I'm not scared of you," she told him sincerely.

She's not scared? Alex thought, confused.

"But..."

"There's nothing for me to be scared of," Ellen said simply. "It doesn't change the fact that you're still the same man I fell in love with."

With a shuddering sigh, Alex felt himself begin to calm down. Though, he tensed up slightly once again as Ellen climbed up onto his stomach and began absentmindedly tracing circles against the fabric of his shirt.

There was a part of Alex's subconscious that told him he needed to get her off of him before he hurt her or felt the urge to snatch her up and gulp her down.

But... she was finding just the right spots where his stomach was hurting from the emptiness, and her little body was so, and he was feeling so warm...

He barely noticed when he let out a noise that could either be interpreted as relief or pain.

"Do you want me to stop?" he heard Ellen ask.

"N-- no," he answered. "It actually feels good, and I ha--"

He trailed off as Ellen resumed rubbing his belly, this time unbuttoning his shirt just enough to expose it. He kept himself from shivering as her ice cold hands made contact with the warm skin of his stomach.

"How does that feel?"

"Good," he sighed contentedly, finally relaxing. "But, why are your hands so cold?"

"My car broke down on the way over here," Ellen began. "I had to walk two blocks to find a payphone so I could call a tow truck, and now my car has to be in the shop until tomorrow evening because they were just about to close when I called. The tow truck driver offered to give me a ride over here, but I told him I could walk. Then I took a wrong turn, so I had to walk back... it was a nightmare."

Alex ran his thumb up and down her back comfortingly, then cupped his hand around her to try to get her warm. He finally got a good look at her since she arrived at the house. Her usually fair-colored cheeks and nose stung red from the cold, and her hair was messed up from the wind.

"Well, you're here now. And you can stay the night if you need to," he said, giving her a genuine smile that she echoed.

"I'd like that."

They spent about a minute and a half in silence, Ellen rubbing Alex's stomach while he kept her as warm as he could. It was just what the two of them needed after they both had relatively stressful days.

Alex's eyes began to close when the both of them heard his belly growl angrily having been empty for so long. It was so loud that the both of them were pretty sure the whole neighborhood could hear it. It vibrated under her hand as she continued rubbing it. She looked up at him with an expression that Alex couldn't read, but he was certain was fear.

"Sorry... I.. I missed lunch and... it's just a bad habit from high school I pick back up when I'm stressed," Alex apologized. "I'd never-- not you. Never you. I wouldn't-- I love you too much to..." He wanted to stop himself because he was afraid he might burst into tears again. And he honestly didn't know if he was telling the truth.

"Alex, it's okay," Ellen reassured him. "Something as normal as your tummy rumbling isn't gonna scare me."

As if responding to being mentioned, another hollow rumble erupted from Alex's tummy. Ellen laid her head against it, picking up some of the quieter growls. "You really need to take better care of yourself, Alex."

Alex only coughed awkwardly, kept his hand to Ellen's body. "I-- I will. I promise."

Ellen frowned, knowing very well that he wouldn't. "Alex... well... I've walked eight blocks in freezing cold weather, and you're... you're pretty hungry..."

Oh, I can't even say it without getting flustered, she thought to herself. Just spit it out!

"You wouldn't mind if... I asked you to...?"

Alex waited intently for her to finish her sentence, though he already had a good idea of what she was going to say.

"And I know it's safe. I know I'd be okay--"

Ellen was interrupted by another rumble from Alex's stomach.

"I'm asking if you can eat me," she finally blurted out quickly.

Alex's face paled.

His first instinct was to say, "No!"

Well, it wasn't exactly his first instinct.

His belly grumbled again, as if it were telling him, "Just snatch her and gulp her down, Keaton! You know you want to!"

Instead of acting or instantly disregarding her request, he weakly asked, "Do you mean it? You're not just joking?"

"Yeah, I mean it," Ellen said. "I know that it's safe, I know you'd never let anything happen... at least on purpose.

And, of course, Alex's stomach rumbled loudly again, probably at its loudest. Ellen awkwardly patted it, trying to put him at ease with the idea. She looked back up at him, making direct eye contact with him.

"And I trust you."

Despite the protests from his middle, Alex shook his head. "No. J-- just, no. It's too..." he murmured. "I don't want to risk you like that, Ellen. You're-- you're too important."

Looking down at Ellen, unable to look away from her piercing gaze, Alex tried to push her off his belly. "I'll be fine. Really. And even if I'm not fine, it... it really isn't your problem."

Ellen gripped onto the fabric of his shirt. "It is my problem, Alex! And besides, I wouldn't be in there for that long! You'd just keep me in there until you've drawn enough energy from me! And don't act like you're not starving! Your stomach could probably be heard by all of Columbus right now!"

Alex winced. He wanted to protest-- wanted to tell her she was being absolutely ridiculous, but... she was right. Why did she have to be right? With each little grumble, another pang of hunger hit his belly like he was being punched. And he could still feel her shivering against his hand.

"But... what if I hurt you?" he asked nervously.

"Hey," Ellen placed her tiny hand on top of his giant one. "I trust you. And... and if I feel like there's something wrong, I'll let you know and you can cough me up. Okay?"

Alex mulled over her words. With his stomach gurgling loudly beneath Ellen, he made one more check with her.

"You're sure you wouldn't mind?"

"I wouldn't mind at all," Ellen gave him a reassuring smile, trying to keep herself from seeming too eager.

And with that, Alex carefully wrapped his fingers around her waist. Struggling to keep control of his nerves, he lifted her up to his face. "So... how... how do you want me to do this?" he asked, his voice wobbling.

Ellen quietly giggled as Alex lifted her closer to his face. "Well, you just... lay me down on your tongue and... I'll let you know when it's okay to swallow."

Alex's belly let out another impatient rumble that Ellen couldn't help but giggle at. "Well, I'm ready if you are."

"But... but you'll say something if... i-- if anything's wrong, right?" Alex asked. "Like i-- if, my stomach acids don't..."

"I'll let you know if something goes wrong," Ellen reassured him. "I promise."

Alex gave her a nervous smile, noticing her kicking off her boots. It was somewhat off-putting to see how eager she was. Why hadn't she run away when she saw him? Why hadn't she...?

"Alex, you're drooling."

Alex snapped out his thoughts, wiping at the drool that had pooled on his tongue and dripped from his mouth. Wanting to get it over with, he opened his maw and closed his eyes.

Wait... my teeth!

He quickly snapped his mouth closed to ask her something.

"I'm sorry, but... could you... could you just crawl it? I'm afraid I might bite you on accident."

"If that's how you want to do this. Alex, you're doing great," she reassured him.

Alex opened his mouth again, allowing Ellen to crawl in and turn onto her back. As soon as he felt her out of the way of his teeth, he delicately yet quickly closed his mouth, sealing her in the darkness.

Ellen felt saliva pool around her, Alex's tongue shifting around her little body.

Is he... tasting me? she thought.

It wasn't that she bothered her. It was actually kinda pleasant... and maybe a little ticklish.

Alex could hear her muffled giggles as he realized what he was doing. He tried to push those thoughts out of his head because he knew that if he dwelled on it, he'd lose his nerve and spit her out.

"Whenever you're ready, Alex," Ellen said.

Alex hesitated, rubbing at his eyes and trying to convince himself to swallow. He began to tip his head back. Feeling the little body on his tongue slide encouraged his instincts to kick in. He was moving slowly, sure, but after a moment, he decided to shoot his shot.

With a deft backward flick of his head, Alex pressed a hand to the outside of his throat, closed his eyes, and swallowed.

Feeling his finger trace her path from his throat, Ellen slid down into Alex's belly as it growled around her. As she situated herself, she gave a gentle nudge to the stomach wall. "Hi, Alex," she greeted softly to let him know she made it down okay.

Alex gasped when she finally spilled into his gut, then when he felt her touch his stomach lining. That felt... strange... but it wasn't a bad feeling. He pressed back at her. "Hi, Ellen," he murmured back, unable to suppress a smile. "Did you make it down okay?"

Ellen shyly smiled back, even though she knew he couldn't see it, when she felt the pressure of his hand against her own. "Don't worry, I'm fine," she answered.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Just a little moist."

Alex laughed a little, but it made the chamber containing her shake just enough to make her almost fall onto her side.

"What about you, Alex? I'm not giving you a bellyache, am I?" she asked.

"No," he reassured her, sounding like he was going to laugh again before curiosity struck him. "What's it like in there?"

"It's... warm, and... surprisingly comfy..." Ellen began, before she was interrupted by a few of the ambient gurgles around her. "A little noisy," she teased, tracing circles on the stomach lining to put Alex at ease.

Alex could feel his cheeks heating up. "Sorry," he murmured. He knew he didn't have control over it, but he still felt like he needed to apologize.

"No, I don't mind it. It's kinda relaxing, actually," Ellen confessed. Most of the time she spent nights with Alex, she would lay against his bare midriff as it either growled in the morning for its breakfast or gurgled while digesting dinner. It was a nice stress-reliever for her after her dance classes, and he liked having her so close to him.

Now they were closer than ever.

"So... what do I taste like?" she asked, half out of curiosity and half because she kinda liked seeing Alex a little flustered.

He felt his cheeks grow even warmer at her questions, licking his lips to try to gather what remained of her flavor.

"Cookie dough," he replied, sounding a little sheepish.

Wow, she made Alex P. Keaton sheepish. Ellen laughed, already feeling a little tired as his body pulled energy from her.

"Thank you," she lightly teased, snuggling into a corner of the chamber, taking in how incredible this was. "You wouldn't mind if I spent the night in here, right?"

Ellen wasn't the only one tired. He had only filled his belly a few minutes ago and he already felt his eyelids drooping. He continued kneading at his stomach.

"Well, if you don't mind... I'd like that."

And with those words, Alex kept absentmindedly rubbing his belly as the both of them drifted off to sleep.

Maybe they could try this again sometime.

#family ties #ellen reed #alex p. keaton #alex keaton #apk #ellex #soft vore #safe vore #g/t #g/t vore #size difference #sizeshifter!alex #angst fic #hurt/comfort fic #sizeshifter #mention of belly kink #belly kink mention #extreme cuddling

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atonement2007 · 7 years

Note

I BET JACK AND RACE MAKE VORE JOKES

why would u send me this

#anonymous #answered #caps //#cursed ask #actually #i was making vore jokes earlier so i probably shouldn't talk tbh #newsies anon

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ellie-r2 · 5 years

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Newsies characters as things said in discord part 1

Race: penis (10x)

Davey: sorry I can’t hear you I’ve the sound of my SMOOTHIE

Les: I’m just a lonely boy and you’re all fucking gay

Spot: i mean i guess I could put my dick in that

Romeo: dessert and squirt

Albert: I piss on my own accord

Jack: I wanna fuck Santa Fe

Finch: vore the rude

Elmer: i got a fuckin ring pop, life is good

Tommy Boy: setting fires is exhilarating!

Crutchie: dance on your fucking feet

Buttons: bitch im washing me in me clothes + ok but WHERE ARE THE PRETTY BOYS

Sniper: I started a new crime

Jojo: im a whore you idiot

Smalls: I’m the appendix of this group

Graves (because he deserves it) @ spot: that gay emo bitch has my heart

Henry: i’m a four braincell kinda guy

#newsies #racetrack higgins #spot conlon #crutchie #jack kelly #davey jacobs #les jacobs

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sugar-salt-n-spice · 5 years

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newsies as things i’ve said or heard pt. 12

elmer - hey what’s the password to your phone?

spot - the password is uh, put it down

sarah - you know, i could probably get you something to help with those dark circles?

davey - no, they’re part of my aesthetic now

~~~

medda - what’s wrong with you?

jack - what?

medda - you look like you’re in crisis over something

jack - that’s just my face

~~~

davey - why do you still wear your ex’s clothes?

sarah - girl i broke up with him not his flannel

~~~

finch - can you guys stop shaking your dicks at each other and just get in the fucking uber?

~~~

race - i love milk tea

jack - this isn’t milk tea

bubble tea lady - it’s milk tea

race, slamming his cup onto the counter - give me your fucking wig jack

~~~

elmer, shaking his tea cup- just me, sipping my dumb bitch juice

still elmer - *immediately chokes on a tapioca pearl*

~~~

spot - i’m gonna stab your eye out with my bubble tea straw

albert - that’s possibly one of the least threatening threats i’ve ever gotten

~~~

elmer - *watching a tom harlock video*

tom - if you don’t know what vore is, me neither, but i thought that’d be a fun thing to learn about today

elmer, shaking the laptop screen - TOM NO

~~~

crutchie, talking to his hamsters - id fucking die for you two. you hear me? i’d take a bullet for the both of you without hesitation

~~~

race, slowly leaning over to try to whisper to albert - the lyft driver can definitely tell that i’m a little high right now

albert - well considering that you practically shouted that, yeah i’m pretty sure he’s got a pretty good idea that you’re some sort of fucked up right now

~~~

romeo, completely unprompted - ya’know i think edger allen poe was a sub

davey, setting his book down and sighing loudly - why would you say that out loud

~~~

davey - i think i like you

jack - oh no don’t do that i’m an idiot

~~~

romeo, who regretfully has control over the aux - oh this next song is a BOP

the song - juice, sauce, little bit of dressing

albert - FUCK

finch - NO

race, gleefully delighted - ICE, WRIST, LITTLE BIT OF FLEXING

~~~

race - *plays the edit of sexyback where it reverberates like you’re in a sewer over the houses speakers*

spot - this is why i don’t go to fucking house parties with you race

~~~

random drunk college kid on the street - hey do you guys know cheyanne?

albert, whipping his head around to face him - fuckin WHO

random drunk college kid in the street - cheyanne!

race - we don’t know a fuckin cheyanne!

#newsies as things ive said or heard #newsies #newsies musical #racetrack higgins #newsies 1992 #jack kelly #albert dasilva #david jacobs #spot conlon #crutchie morris #elmer kasprzak #finch cortez #sarah jacobs #romeo newsies #medda larkin #incorrect newsies quotes #newsies quotes #newsies as

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that-gt-and-vore-stuffs · 3 years

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Two Snakes and a Rat

Alrighty! Y’all asked so here’s my QuickFang story!

For those who don’t know the QuickFang AU is an au in which Vore exists. Davey is a mob boss known as QuickFang who is feared by all of Manhattan. This takes place some time into the plot and doesn’t touch on past plot points but they’re there I swear! I can expand if y’all want later. Anyway, here we go!!

Also this is shippy and Jack decides to be....Jack so uh yeah. Have fun!

Vore under the cut :3

——————

“Those fucking idiots.” The words were growled, slowly gaining volume and morphing into a yell as the door slammed against the wall. This was the last straw for him. “First the stunt pulled at the most recent brawl, then those imbeciles getting arrested and almost giving away our location, and then them letting a spy in! Why I ought to put a bullet through their heads the moment they’re shoved through that door.”

“S-sir!” A female voice called, the young woman in question running after the man as he entered the room. At least she wasn’t tripping over a skirt in the suit she had been gifted after having accepted her job as one of the man’s own spies.

“That’s- nevermind.” The man growled, anger barely showing for the first time in hours as he walked to the back of the room. One of the cabinets opened, revealing a multitude of dishes, silverware, and glasses. He grabbed the nearest wine glass and sighed. This. All of this. It was all at risk. All because of those bafoons.

“Ah! Right! Sorry, Boss-Sir.” The young lady corrected as a few more goons as well as a second man with a silver broach that separated him from the rest walked in. She made her way to the side. Standing against the wooden wall, a strand of her bronze hair that pulled itself out of the tight bun it was styled in blowing softly in the breezes made my the movement of the others in the room. Four goons, varying in height and muscle, stood at her sides in the same position as she. Hands together behind their back, standing up straight, with the straightest expression they could manage.

“I’d watch Yer words there, pretty lady.” The man with the silver broach hummed as he closed the door. “The boss doesn’t have the clearest mind while like dis. I’d say keep yer mouth shut.”

“Oh give me a break, Wits,” her boss, the man with the golden broach, growled as he filled his glass with the bitter red liquid from the wine keg he kept on the table behind his desk.

“I’s just sayin’, Mr. QuickFang!” The silver broached man said, hands up in a nonchalant surrender as he paced closer to the desk. “Yer mind, see- it does this thing when You’s is mad. It’s like you’s a bull and all you see is-

The brunette- legal name Marcell, mob name Scarlet- squeaked as her boss whipped around, pointing a blade directly at the throat of his right hand man. Dear god-

“Watch. Your. Mouth. Wits.” QuickFang growled, grip on the blade tightening to the point where his hand began to shake.

“Hey, is that not how I got my name? What about you, Mouth~?” Wits cooed in return, a cocky smile sitting on his face with eyes to match behind his mask.

“I- you fucking ass.” QuickFang grumbled, arm jerking to the side and the knife going flying. A dull thud sounds as the blade sticks itself right in the wall mere centimeters above Marcell’s head, drawing another squeak from her as she stares up at the knife. Oh sweet Jesus.

“I thought you loved that part of me though, baby~” Wits cooed, cupping QuickFang’s cheek in his hand for a second. The mob boss’s eye twitched, a growl forming in his throat.

“I do. You fucking know I do. Right now though I want to tear your vocal chords out with nothing more than a dull, rusty old spoon,” spat the man, slamming a hand on his desk as he took a sip from his wine glass. “Damnit. Where are they?! They were supposed to be here-“ he pulled up his sleeve, checking his watch, “-two minutes ago!”

Just as his sentence finished the door clicked open and in were shoved three men, each with their hands tied behind their backs and their mouths filled with fabric gags. Wits moved around the desk, leaning against the bookcase behind his boss now. His boss in question setting his wine glass down in favor of pulling yet another blade out of his pocket.

“Well well well. Look what we’ve got here~” he cooed, a sick smile spreading to his face. “Two traitors and a pathetic excuse of a spy.” He slammed the blade down into his desk, the metal cutting into the wood enough to make it stick upright.

The three on their knees stared up with wide eyes as the man known as QuickFang circled around his desk to stand over them, glimmering blade in hand. This- oh no. No no no. This is bad.

“Now, give me one damn reason why I shouldn’t gut you three like fish and roast you over an open flame for the next dinner party I host.”

The three on the ground shivered, eyes shaking as they stared up. They couldn’t speak. Oh god they couldn’t speak. They couldn’t give him a reason. He was gonna-

The man in the middle froze, feeling the cold tip of the metal blade press into the nape of his neck. Not enough to cut, but enough to remind him it was there. No. No. Nonono.

“You’re lucky I care about my carpet and floor. Blood is awfully hard to clean, you know,” QuickFang growled, removing the blade favoring to twirl it in his hands as he paced around them yet again. “Though I must do something. Letting you three go would be a death sentence to me and my group here and that’s the last thing I want. One of us has to go though to keep our little secret safe.”

There was a mumble of something under one of the three tied up’s breath. Something that sounded an awful lot like an insult. Something that relit the white hot rage in QuickFang’s core.

“Ah so you have a death wish!” He snapped, whipping around and pressing the blade into the man furthest to the left’s neck, Slicing a thin line. Not deep enough to kill, but enough to leave a little trail of blood dripping down. The crazed look in his eyes was something that would burn into those who saw it’s brains. “Those always make things more fun~! How do we start, hmm?”

Before he could do anything else, Wits rushed in behind his boss, arms wrapping around his waist and face burrowing into the crook of his neck. He breathed softly, feeling the tension in his lover melt away. Taking deep breaths, he cooed, “Good….good boy…..”

“Mmggh….baby….not here..” the taller groaned as he melted in the embrace, “...not now. You gotta- mmgh….wait….”

“Shhhh. I know. My mind is on something else though, darling~” the second in command cooed, gently placing a kiss to his boss/lover’s jawbone. He shot a glare to the five against the wall, a growl in his tone when he spoke. “Out. Now.”

And out they all went, Marcell closing the door behind her.

“What’s with the boss and Wits?” She asked, rushing up beside one of the older goons. Surely he knew.

“Those two have been inseparable since the day Wits joined. He stuck to the boss like glue and became his right hand man soon after.” The goon explained, voice rough. “He was captured once. Taken hostage and put in danger at one of the fights in the square. I’ve never seen the boss so mad. The only time he calmed down was when that boy was back in his arms and spoke to him once more. In short, the boss would end the world for that boy. Don’t cross either.”

“Ah. I see…” Marcell hummed, walking off to the spy’s quarters. Surely there was something for her to do there.

QuickFang groaned softly, lidded eyes looking to his partner. “Jackie….what are you planning?”

“Shhh...you’ll ruin the surprise if ya keep askin’ questions, Dave.” Wits, more commonly known as Jack, cooed, letting go of the boy in his arms. “Now be a good boy and go sit in that throne o’ yer’s, kay? Let Wits handle this~”

Davey groaned, stumbling his way to his chair and falling limp into it. “You’re a man of mystery, Jack Kelly. I’ll never understand how you do it.”

“Do what?” Jack asked, poking another one of the three men on the floor. Well, two now- oh! Only one.

“Make me melt like that. I don’t- mmgh- get it.”

“Heheh oh. That. Well Dave,” Jack cooed, smiling as the third man seemingly disappeared as he tucked them between his arm and his chest. “Telling you would ruin the fun~! Now, from how your belly felt my little baby is hungry. Is that the case? Does my little darling want a nice squirmy meal to fill his tummy~?”

Davey’s eyes locked on the three men in Jack’s hold. Oh. Oh boy. A squirmy meal did sound very very nice. But...he wanted to tease a bit. Just a bit. He looked to Jack with pleading eyes, cocking his head just a little. “Please?”

“Hehehe awe. Look at that~” Jack cooed, setting the three on the desk. Next to them he set the knife, blade glimmering in the light. With a grin he stepped back, hands up again in surrender. “The floor is yours, baby~”

Slowly but surely that same evil grin pulled itself across Davey’s face. Oh yes~ He was quick to grab hold of the knife’s handle again, twirling it for a second before stabbing the blade down in front of the three tinies. His weak state was wiped from his mind, being replaced with the confident, sinister mob boss who had a grip on all of Manhattan known as QuickFang. “And once again the games begin~”

The three tinies on the table felt a shiver shoot up their spines as the knife came slamming down in front of them, narrowly missing one of their feet. Sweet Jesus. What was he getting at?!

A low evil laugh rang in the boy’s throat, the knife being pulled from the table to be placed under one of the tinies chins and tilting it up to face the evil, icy blue eyes of the boy.

“Now now. Why the long face~? I thought you three liked to play risky~” he cooed, twirling the knife in his hand. QuickFang’s eyes burned holes in the three on the table. Oh how stupid they had been to have pulled this stunt. “I’m not gonna….pull anything~”

At his own words, Davey promptly grabbed one of the tinies by their bound hands. He brought them to eye level, stomach growling as he stared them down. A sound that struck fear in the hearts of the other two.

“Now you must know that by now I’m positively starving and in desperate need of a good meal.” The calm tone in the boy’s voice was enough to rattle the three tinies to the core. How could one be so calm while talking about something so….so…..terrible?! A Yelp, muffled by the gag, sounded from the poor tiny who was being dangled by his arms as the warm, squishy muscle of the boy’s tongue dragged itself up him. It repeated. Again, and again, and again until-

*clack*

Those on the desk still froze as their friend was closed in behind the pearly white gates of Davey’s teeth. They watched with drowning horror as the caught spy was pushed around, sucked on, and even nibbled at by the man. It was torture to see. Seemingly impossible to bear. Until things got worse-

Ulp~

Way. Worse.

They’re forced to watch as the spy slips further and further down the young man’s gullet, squeezing and slipping past the wet, soft, squishing muscles. To watch as the squirmy lump that was the man side down down down until it was out of sight. Oh but the gurgle from the boss’s stomach let them know where he was.

“Ahh~! Much better. One right where he belongs~” QuickFang hummed with a sigh. Oh to have something squirming fill his belly. The taste of vanilla sat on his tongue as he licked over his lips, a glob of thick warm drool dripping onto his desk. His gaze snapped to the two on the table once more, his grin turning sinister yet again. “And how lucky I have two more~”

The two goons on the table tried to wiggle away in hopes of escape. In hopes of living another day because they knew the moment they entered their boss’s gut they weren’t leaving. Ever. This was terrifying as is, even more so when they were seconds too late and were grabbed up in a tight fist back to back.

“Ah Ah Ah! Now where do you think you’re going~?” The man with the golden broach cooed, grinning at the two like some crazed lunatic. His teeth parted to reveal a soaking pink, plush tongue and shimmering fangs along with the dark, unforgiving tunnel of his throat. As if things couldn’t get worse, the slimy muscle of his tongue pulled itself up their tiny bodies as they squirmed in the leather glove’s grip.

“Mmmm….oh my. Tell me, why do people lacking the most brains taste the best~?” His signature grin spread on his lips, a thick layer of saliva coating his teeth as he licked them over. A low rumbling growl sounded from his gut, the tiny inside squeaking. “Oh who am I kidding. Look at me. Talking to my meal. Heheh. Oh I must be losing it. Well, down the hatch before I get worse!”

The jaw of the predator opened up like a gate, throat twitching at the end of their path. Their end. The thought made them shiver as they landed roughly on the slick surface of Davey’s tongue. Their shoulders dug into the taste buds as they skidded back. Back further and further until-

Glp-

Glk-

Glrk~

Down they go.

“Ahhh~ Oh...oh that’s good~” Davey sighed, a pleased tone to all he said as he fell back into his chair. Now that was good. His hand came to rest over his stomach as the two remaining snacks slipped in, causing a small bump to form under his shirts. A light blush dusted his face, a shudder coursing through every cell of his existence as the small bodies continued to writhe about in the dark, deathly confines of his gut.

“Awww heheh. Good job, baby~” Jack cooed, walking up behind the boss in the chair. He grinned, gently cupping the boy’s face to turn him to face him. “Awe. Dat’s the face of a full, happy lil Pred, now ain’t it~?” He slowly drew his hand back, drinking in the sight of the mob boss following it as if begging for more contact. A warm chuckle bubbled from his throat as he reached for the glass, holding the rim to Davey’s lips. He hummed small instructions to drink, giving praise once the action is done. With a smirk on his face he turned to leave, a hand grabbing his and stopping his movement.

“Oh? What’s that, Dave?” Jack asked, cocking his head. The most he got in response was a groan. “Dave. Words. Or you don’t get what you want~!”

“Mmmghhh…..Cuddles…..now….” the boy groaned, pulling at Jack’s hand weakly. A smile spread onto his face as Jack came to sit in his lap. He wrapped his arms around the boy, nuzzling into his shoulder.

“Heh someone’s snuggly~” The boy’s voice was smooth, calming to the boy who’s lap he sat in. A gentle kiss found it’s way between their lips and they relaxed in the room. Before long soft snoring sounded from the boy with the golden broach, pulling a small laugh from his right hand man. “Sleep well, Dave. Yer belly’s got a job to do. I’ll run this joint for ya while ya sleep. I’ll see ya when you wake up~”

#implied fatal vore #g/t vore #newsies vore #QuickFang au #I’m back for a bit bitches!!!#get ready for some writing once more!

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