“You think I don’t wanna run to you.”

seen from United Kingdom

seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from China
seen from Japan

seen from Italy

seen from Türkiye
seen from Italy
seen from Venezuela
seen from Russia

seen from Italy
seen from United States

seen from Italy

seen from Germany

seen from Malaysia

seen from United Kingdom
seen from Canada
seen from India

seen from Switzerland
seen from United States
“You think I don’t wanna run to you.”
The Greatest oddities
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/Qnr7YHN
by Nadiahilkerfan
We all know about P.T Barnum. About Mr. Carlyle and Anne wheeler. About Charles and Lettie. Chang and Eng. even about W.D and the Lord of Leeds!
Mr. Barnum loves his circus as if family. Their are so, in a matter of ways. And although certain acts may be highlighted, no one is ever overlooked.
This is a story about those background characters that never speak and are barely given names.
(Mainly the Albinos. But will contain smidgens of others)
Words: 1399, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Series: Part 1 of The random abandoned and unfinished fics i somehow am able to post
Fandoms: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: F/F
Relationships: The Albino Twins & The Albino Man, Thr Albino Triplets, P. T. Barnum & Other(s), Phillip Carlyle/Anne Wheeler
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/Qnr7YHN
Take my hand. Will you share this with me?
Phillip x Anne first date
He takes her to the theater again, and this time, he doesn’t need Barnum to get the tickets for them.
This time, nobody stops them on the stairs, and if anybody looks at them as if they don’t belong, he doesn’t notice, because all he can look at is her.
This time, they get to see the show, and she’s enthralled, and he tries to watch too, but he can’t stop looking at her, and when he sees tears in her eyes, he reaches for her hand. She glances at him and shakes her head as she gives a short, silent laugh, lifting her free hand to swipe at her eyes. He just smiles and squeezes her hand, pleased to see her so happy.
This time, he walks her home, listening as she goes on and on about the show, and he thinks he may cry too, simply because he’s so happy that he was able to help her do something she’d always wanted to do.
This time, they stop outside the door of the tiny apartment she shares with her brother, and she smiles as she turns to face him, taking his hands. He kisses her, and can’t resist lifting one hand to her face, his fingers sliding into her hair as he wishes he was taking her back to his place.
Next time, she whispers over his lips, as if she could read his mind, and the corner of his mouth rises as he kisses her once more. She squeezes his fingers and gives him one more smile before disappearing inside the apartment, the door closing softly behind her.
Next time, he thinks, his smile widening as he starts down the hall.
(AO3)
Anne: *gasps loudly*
Lettie: What? What is it?
Anne, dropping everything and running: I FORGOT TO TELL PHILLIP HE LOOKED CUTE TODAY
Not to be extra or anything, but
Anne Wheeler and Phillip Carlyle deserve the world together and death itself is gonna die before their love for each other will
She’d never know, how much he loved her. He kept his heart hidden, for fear of hurting her with his love. But he truly would rewrite the stars for her. Credit GIF @zac-zendaya.
Fitting Together Our Broken Parts
By: piperholmes
Thank you so much for the kind reception for Costumed.
I started a multi-chapter story that can be read on AO3
Or you can read the first part under the cut!
Phillip asks Anne to marry him…a few times. Phillip has to learn it isn’t as easy as he thinks it is and Anne has to be willing to believe that hope can be powerful when built on love. This will be in a few parts.
I wasn’t sure of the timeline but I am going with 1888 since that is the year Zac Efron used in an interview. I have researched marriage laws for New York in 1888 so I am trying to make this as accurate as my amateur research can make it. This isn’t beta’d either so I apologize for any mistakes.
Part 1: The Release
The first time he asked her to marry him it had been a bitterly cold, quiet night.
The snow had fallen heavily on New York, creating a glimmering, soft, silver wonderland that would be a sludge of brown by mid-morning as the busting city came to life. But for now, as the moonlight fought for prominence against the street lamps, there was a stillness and beauty that defied the biting chill.
The circus sat silent for once.
No crowd pushed for entrance, no one willing to ford the flakey powder that buried the city. It was easier to stay at home, warm by the fire, and pretend. Pretend to believe that the ephemeral world around them offered a sense of contentment. No one was fooled by the soft, delicate nature of the icy, deadly blanket they were all settled beneath, however, and so there was no audience to entertain.
It wasn’t often the performers got a night off so many had gathered together in small groups, around fires, playing cards, drinking, singing, laughing, anything to help stay warm.
W.D., however, sat silently, ignoring the glare from Lettie.
“Let it go,” the older woman advised. “There’s nothing that’s going to stop the boy from loving her.”
He scowled, but said nothing.
W.D. had, in the beginning, argued with his sister, warned her against spending more time with the young man. A young man who knew more privilege and freedom than either of the acrobats had ever dreamed of enjoying. He feared for his sister. He feared what such an association might do to her. What the world might do to her. What the dissidence of two different understandings might do to her. But in the end, he gave up. He’d seen the look in her eyes. The same look when she let go of the safety of the bar and flew with courage and skill above the danger below. She was used to life without a net.
None of the other performers spoke about it to him. They left him stewing when his sister would disappear into Carlyle’s office, or when the ringmaster would take her to places that professed to beauty. To W.D. such beauty was counterfeit, hiding the ugliness behind diamonds, because beauty, true beauty should be available to all, not to those of a certain skin color and wealth. Anne would never see such beauty but on the arm of an affluent white man, and W.D. struggled with the happiness he felt for his sister to experience such a world and the heartbreak at knowing the price she paid.
His forced his gaze away from the office above them, finally giving into Lettie’s attempts to engage him in a game of Cinch.
He just hoped his sister knew what she was doing.
Phillip sat at his desk in his office, reviewing accounts, grateful for the fire roaring in his small cast-iron stove, the smoky scent of the burning wood covering the oft pungent aroma of elephants and zebras. He’d wondered at the idea of expanding his space, but knowing how hard it was to fight against the cold had always deterred him. For now, especially as Anne sat so near him, her legs crossed beneath her on the cot he’d set up in his office for those nights when he wouldn’t make it home, he knew he’d never give up this tiny space for anything bigger.
Phillip leaned away from the account logs, tired of adding and subtracting and feeling like it always came up short, and just watched her. Sometimes that was all they could do. The nightly performances were exhausting, and it was enough to just be together, silent. Anne would often fall asleep on his cot as he worked into the wee hours. Her body aching from exertion. He’d eventually slid up alongside her, pulling her tightly against him so he’d have enough room, then fall into a dead sleep. Other nights they would sit and talk, legs pressed against each other, fingers entwined. They listened and shared. Exploring worlds neither could imagine; her wonder and amazement at the places he’d been, the people he’d met, the life he’d lived, his awe and adoration at the cruelty she’d endured, the fights she’d survived, the family she had created.
It seemed impossible, like two stars forever trapped in one orbit, destined never to touch. Yet, somehow, they’d broken free and fallen together.
He watched her now, as she sat with her eye close, her arms moving to music only she could hear, dreaming up some new routine. Her face free of any paint, hair lose about her shoulders, looking younger than either of them felt.
He felt happy, and warm, at home.
Without much thought he simply said, “Marry me.”
His voice sounded rough and gravely from disuse, the deep tones almost difficult to hear but he saw her arms freeze before lowering as her eyes opened to meet his.
She looked at him.
He pushed away from his desk, moving to kneel in front of her, his hand coming to rest against her knee.
“Marry me,” he repeated.
Her brow lowered as her lips pressed together.
“Anne,” he whispered, his eyes unwavering from hers.
They sat like that, wordlessly looking at each other, before she leaned forward, her hand cupping his face, pulling him gently towards her until her lips met his. Again, and again, her lips pressed, welcoming him, deepening the kiss. One hand slip to the back of his neck, her fingers burying themselves into his hair, the other hand fell to his shoulder, then chest, then beneath the brown jacket he’d yet to shed.
She felt the warmth of his body, and delighted in the way his breath hitched against her lips when her fingers pulled his white-button up from the waist of his pants before slipping beneath his undershirt, her chilled fingers connecting with the heat of his skin.
They had kissed like this before, engaging in the prelude of a deeper connection, but Phillip always stopped them before too many clothes had been removed.
“I won’t ruin you,” he’d swore. “You are more to me than one night.”
Her love and fear of him had grown with that promise. She’d loved him for how he loved her, but she knew that there was no true hope in the world allowing them to be together the way Phillip dreamed.
She used her weight to leverage him up, forcing him to fall forward onto her and the cot, her lips never leaving his.
“Anne,” Phillip warned, his hands pressing against the cot, surrounding her, pushing his face away, his breath panting against her face.
“Shh,” she soothed, beginning to pepper his face with small kisses before slowly moving to his jaw, then just below his ear, until she was gently sucking at the skin of his neck.
She felt a low moan begin in his chest, and knew he’d fight harder to pull away.
Her leg came up, wrapping around the back of his thigh, pulling him more fully on top of her.
“Don’t,” she pleaded when she felt him stiffen. “Don’t pull away from me.”
She had whispered the words into his ear, her cheek now pressed tightly against his. She could feel him against her where she cradled him between her legs.
“Make me your wife.”
Phillip’s head snapped back, blue eyes colliding with dark brown, both searching, both pleading, both hopeful.
With a groan, he allowed his weight to settle more fully against her, his lips meeting hers with a fervor neither had been willing to express before this moment.
They had worked to remove clothes, moments of laughter merging with the passion. It was awkward and tender, learning and exploring, embarrassment and pleasure delicately interwoven.
He’d been gentle and careful, and she’d teased him.
Both did a poor job hiding their nervousness, and an even worse job at keeping quiet.
Phillip laughingly shushed her, claiming his fear of W.D., until Anne scolded him for mentioning her brother to her at such a time, then promptly rolled her hips in such a way that Phillip could only swear loudly.
And nothing could be done about the squeaking protest of the bed bearing their weight.
Afterword, after they had shyly helped each other clean up, as they lay tightly wrapped together beneath the old blanket Anne had brought to him long ago, claiming if she was going to fall asleep in the office the least he could do was have a soft blanket, both breathing hard, hearts pounding against each other, finding a perfect rhythm, Phillip kissed her brow.
“You are going to marry me, right?”
She lifted her head, her chin resting against his chest, a small, sad smile on her lips. She leaned up to kiss the corner of his mouth before resting her head back against his heart.
“We already are.”
He wanted more. Wanted her to give him a clear answer, but he knew that was all she would say tonight. He knew because he knew her, body and soul.
Because he loved her.
Yes, they were married, their vow to each other sealed tonight, two becoming one.
But Phillip was determined to tell the world.
He would marry his wife one day.