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theyluvlyss · 3 months ago

Text

𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲...

...wishing there was a yellow font color😔...

𝐄𝐚𝐬𝐲 𝐎𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬

《 ♡ 》 headcannons

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 :

while it's always fun to imagine (haha, get it💀) what it'd be like for him to be your best friend or your boyfriend, there's times when you yearn for that tension. that something in between that's more than a platonic relationship, but just short of being a lover. and I'm here to revive that feeling of what it'd be like for vance hopper to have a crush on you...

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 :

fem!reader x vance hopper - she/her/her pronouns!

𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞 :

70s-80s - the grabber doesn't exist

𝐓𝐖/𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 :

cursing (lots of it though, it ain't just me this time) - mentions of aggression/violence/fighting (it's vance, y'all, get serious lol) - vance also being kind of a menace as well, ngl💀 - some angsty themes/scenarios - good ending tho, dw lmao.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

Vance even finding somebody attractive just in general sense, no deeper emotions than that, feels like the end of the world to him. Like, on one hand, he knows these feelings are natural, and there's not really shit he can (or will) do about them, but GOD is it torture for him.

He hates the butterflies, the nerves, the stress-sweats, the inescapable urge to look his crush’s way, all of it. It's gross and uncomfortable, and if he could turn off the ability to feel attraction on a whim, he would.

Butttt,,,, at the same time, he is also a teenage boy. There's no way where SOMETIMES he doesn't mind maybe, POSSIBLY having a lil' hallway crush. Getting to check them out when they're not looking or seeing them outside of school; a pleasant surprise.

And I think just that alone could be a potential reason for why and how he'd be crushing on you. One of those things that, kind of like in Robin's case, just sneaks up on him without realization until it's “too late”.

It was obvious and amused scoffs at your outfit choices (because it's not like you or anyone else is gonna say shit about it lmao). It's him - like I said - checking you out when you're not looking and sometimes even shamelessly. It's him suddenly growing more and more ready to see you every day at school, lowkey trying to make sure you see him.

Walking past you a bit slower than his average stride through the halls, purposely tapping his pen against the desk louder than it to just be written off as "habit", other things similar that would leave you not wondering in the slightest because each "move" he makes is more subtle than the last (not on purpose, he just doesn't know what he's doing lmfao💀).

Leave him wondering why it even mattered to him if you did just give him the smallest morsels of your attention … until you did give it, and then he forgot how to think and he was fighting down the heat steadily rising to his cheeks and he just…

He'd get so pissed tf off, I just know it😭💀. Not at anyone in particular, but he's highstrung, okay, we know this😭✋🏽. And he never knew if that factor about himself was a good thing or a bad thing, because while chasing you off meant that these "gross" feelings would subside, it also meant losing the good aspects of all of this, too.

He'd be a little upset to see you look at him - not with curiosity like you had been - but the same way everyone else did. With fear and nerves. Or even not look at him at all, just a head and a set of eyes drooping straight to the floor or the nearest wall or wherever, anywhere to avoid his gaze. He wouldn't admit it, not even to himself, but if you did it, it'd sting a little.

But, regardless of everything I just said, no way in hell is he making any of the first moves. Not because of lack of confidence or anything, but the guy has no clue where he'd even begin to approach someone romantically. You'd just be another faded crush added to the pretty short list of faded crushes.

But, for the sake of these headcannons, let's say you were the one to nonchalantly approach. He'd go through that little routine he has with anyone he wasn't “cool” with, a glare up and down your person that, if didn't send you away on it's own, came right along with a snarky, “The fuck do you want?” leaving his lips.

“You're Vance Hopper, right?”

“Who's asking?”

“I am. I actually have a question for you.” … “How come you play that pinball machine so much?”

“That's none of your fucking buisness, unless you're tryna’ beat me or something.”

“‘Course not, I don't even know how to play. But…you know, it is the only one in town…”

“...And?”

“You should teach me.”

“Why in the hell would I do that? You're out of your mind; move.”

“Like I said, the machine you play on is the only one in town. You're hogging it.”

“The fuck'd'you just say…?”

“And since you're hogging it, you might as well teach me. Not like anyone else can…”

“tch, Please. Fuck off…”

And say, for the sake of these headcannons, you didn't fuck off, and that you showed up a random afternoon to the Grab'n’Go and bothered Vance anyways until he agreed to teach you (just as long as you didn't come close to his high score).

Or anything relating to this could definitely work. Maybe you pestered him about a specific comic you saw him holding. Or maybe where he'd gotten his jean-vest. Or just any one of his interests, really. If you have enough patience and he doesn't completely decide to push you away, he'll find himself reluctantly flattered at the way you persisted in learning more from him.

Let me repeat.

From him.

Wouldn't you know it? It's quite literally that easy. With a little bit of confidence and persistence without getting too pushy and insane amount of luck, you too can have your very own "Pinball" Vance Hopper. Ka-chow😎.

Once again, he won't say that, obviously, but it's true. It's the thing of now he can't help but let the crush get worse now that you've taken such a wanting interest in him. Actually hoping you come up to him in school, or smile when he checks you out without a care in the world, or actually agree when he's asking- well,,, more or less demanding you to go somewhere with him…

“After school, we're heading to the diner; I'm fuckin’ starving…”

“You ate your lunch and mine, what are you talking about😭?”

"Right, which means your ass is probably hungry, too, so we're going.”

And god forbid if he's ever jealous. Fuck his world ending. THE world ends, ain't no saving the person who's causing these riled up emotions within him, not when he's already as temperamental as they come😭💀✋🏽. Hell, it doesn't even have to be a person! As long as your time isn't occupied by him or being with him, he's salty as fuck.

And hey, don't get me wrong. He knows better than to let it bubble over and affect whatever’s going down between you two. He wouldn't want to come off as controlling or toxic. Chase you away, just like the rest. But that doesn't mean he still won't let it be known, especially when it's all over his face.

Brows furrowed and lips pulled down into a frown. More curt than usual, and strangely, there's a lack of curse words rather than the normal “fuck” “shit” or “ass” flying from that motor mouth of his.

But sometimes, he thanks whoever above when it isn't something as trivial as homework or a job or anything else inanimate keeping your focus. When it's something reasonable, like a family member holding up your time, or a close friend, maybe even a teacher…

He thanked the heavens when it was another guy - someone who he was well within rights to scare off, a viable reason to release some of those jealous tendencies under the thin guise of, “The dude was looking at you like goddamn meat, (N/N).” or “Fuck him, the guy’s a shitfaced manwhore looking for his fifth girlfriend…”

To be honest, it's kind of why it's rare that you're ever the jealous one. Or rather, rare that he notices you being jealous. Not that he doesn't pay attention to you, of course that's not the case. But it's also not really something he considers, you being envious, because (and this is, once again, definitely him talking), “What the fuck would she have to be jealous about?”

It's actually kinda nice having him to act as scary dog privileges. And while maybe sometimes he might get a bit too antsy, you're lucky he likes- oh, I'm sorry, in his words, "respects" you enough to cool it whenever you advise him to. Not in a - dramatic, "Stop fighting, look at me, this isn't you🥺" - way (he'd probabaly laugh and actually physically move you out of his way if you ever did some shit like that💀✋🏽), but more in a - mildly vexed, "😒🙄Don't bother with that guy, it's not worth it..." pinching the bridge of your nose and sighing - kind of way (while he might still ignore this sometimes, at least it isn't pure cringe lmao).

And to be fair, he's right in the sense that he's rather loyal, whether either of you realize it or not. Again, it's not like he's purposely going out with the intentions to woo other folks, but from time to time, a girl or two won't shy away from ogling him and even being bold enough to approach (such as you did, but that's neither here nor there so it doesn't count lol😆).

And in these moments, kind of resemblant to Finney, you can't help but be a little taken aback yourself because… Who the fuck is this girl talking to right now? With you standing right there, no less! The disrespect and audacity of these hoes…

“Sorry, he's busy later and doesn't like talking to…*looking up and down* people… But I can take a message.” As if Vance ain't standing right behind you, putting his things away into his locker and pretending not to listen to this entire interaction💀✋🏽.

“Oh, well, maybe you could just give him my number for me? I'm Anne, by the way, so if you could just tell him to cal-”

“-Ooo, aaahhh, see… I would but, like I said; not much of a talker. Plus, he already has mine, so, sorry😬😆…”

And as you're nearly tugging Vance away, he's very alarmed at the sudden cattiness you've displayed seemingly unprovoked.

“...The fuck was that?!”

“Nothing.”

“That wasn’t nothing, you were mean as fuck back there…!”

And once he clocks that jealousy in you, omg he doesn't know HOW to feel lmao😭. It's like this odd mixture of annoyance, pride, and adoration is suddenly coursing through him, and all he can do is laugh because “What the hell…”

I feel like, after maybe a few more interactions like this, plus some more close proximity, it wouldn't be long before he started trying to pull away. Not because he dislikes you, quite the contrary. Bro’s just,,, scared, really. He doesn't quite have a grasp on these feelings he has for you, and you don't seem to mind, but you're also not giving him the clearest insight either. Not to mention his past and what he's previously been through…

To sum it up, I think this could lead to the classics we all know and love. He pushes away, you persist and maybe even get a little too forceful for his liking, he snaps, it hurts your feelings or whatever, he (in an attempt to salvage what he's about to lose) angrily confesses, you hit him with the, “You're so stupid, omg🙄😽…” And tell him you've felt the same way all along, ya smooch, the end.

Y'all are now the new power couple in school, and anyone who doesn't like it can suck shit (once again, probably his words🤭💀).

𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐬😽✨️!!

again, I wish tumblr provided a yellow color font, cuz that's what I would use for him, so unfortunately, I had to just bold his name/dialogue, but oh wellll💛🪩🙃.

next up is bruce !!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 :

@in3rci4

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 :

1,896 words

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 :

none :(

223 notes · View notes

willshipanything-blog · 1 year ago

Text

Breaking the Rules- Chapter 21

Penultimate chapter!! (Besides a couple little epilogue things I have planned). Al has just revealed his plan to confess his crimes- how will y/n ever stop this mad scheme?

Full tags, as well as the fic if you prefer, is on AO3 here. As usual, minors please DNI!

Full Tumblr chapter index can be found here.

Hope you enjoy lovelies! 💜✌️✨

Chapter 21- The Depths

“Take that mask off.”

The fire in your voice was low and rumbling, a biting warning that you hardly thought yourself capable of. Your initial reaction at his affixing the mask had been terror, but a scorching fury had lit inside you at the audacity of Al to try this, after all this time. You’d had enough of this.

Of Al attempting this confession, of him even thinking about throwing everything -throwing you- away after all this time. The warning had little effect and Al, wearing the familiar horns and expressionless face, came closer.

“I’m serious, Al. Take. It. Off.”

Another step towards you.

Al remained undeterred, his eerie silence reminiscent of nights spent watching silently as you cried yourself to sleep on the mattress. If he was trying to evoke those memories, it was working. Cruel bastard. You slammed your good hand on the table, but as you used the force as leverage to stand, an agony speared through your arm. Al had reached you, had gripped your hand before you could stand. The tight grip had provoked the still-tender muscles in your dislocated finger and you jolted, an electric current tearing through your bloodstream. A sibilant hiss escaped through your teeth at the pain, which had forced you back onto the chair.

“I’ve got to finish this, Y/N. To pay for my crimes.”

“That wasn’t you. It was-”

“The Grabber?” he asked, a theatrical air of incredulity heavy in his voice. “Not Albert Shaw? They’re one and the same, sweet. You need to stop pretending those are two different people,” he leaned closer, “It’s all me.”

No. You’d seen the change, that almost physical manifestation of the otherness that enveloped Al like a black shroud of fog in the past. In the past, though. He might be using the same mannerisms and voice, but this was all an act. The mask wasn’t some summoning device; it didn’t automatically call on the Grabber to appear like an evocation of some paranormal being.

“It’s NOT you, Al,” you hoped the repetition of his name might break the mad spell he was trying to hold himself in, the lie he was telling himself to make all of this seem justified. Did it make it easier to betray you like this if he played such a role?

“Stop kidding yourself. Look who I am-” here, Al nudged open the wooden box with a knuckle, plucking out an item at random (the blue choker necklace) and shaking it wildly in front of you. “Look at what I’ve done! You want me to tell you how I killed each of them? Why not read that note again, huh? Or I could tell you all the details I didn’t put in that confession.”

You’d already looked away by this point, eyes scrunched closed and head shaking, trying to refute Al’s words by purposefully ignoring them. But you knew them to be at least somewhat true- your shameful averting gaze was in part because you had no retort, no justifiable defense for what he was saying. You felt the tears start at the outer corners of your eyes, tumbling down your cheeks before a much rougher sensation met your skin.

“Look at me!” Al roared, gripping your face between his thumb and forefinger, the course fingertips digging into your cheeks as he forced you to face him. Your eyes stayed closed. His voice again, softer but infinitely more lethal, spoke:

“Look at me, little bird.”

You opened your lids slowly, discerning those still-blue eyes behind the mask. Heavenly, you might have thought that shade, had they not been sitting beneath literal devil horns. Deep blue, with no trace of that hunger or feral rage that signified the Grabber. Al was angry, perhaps at what he thought to be a hopeless situation, but those emotions were Al’s alone. Not the Grabber’s- no matter how much Al pretended to still house that monster within him.

“Please take off the mask, Al.” It was more desperate and pleading now, spoken through hiccuped breaths, your tears still tracing downward paths down your face. You knew Al’s hardened resolve had already set like cement; unyielding. He didn’t answer you as he released your face from his grasp, finally letting go of your injured hand too.

You shook the pain away from your hand, looking up at Al, who stood silently over you. He sighed heavily and rolled his shoulders, as if sloughing off the last remnants of himself. His eyes closed behind the mask, and as he opened them, he spoke. The voice was barely an imitation anymore, any attempts at theatricality and grandeur erased by the hoarseness, that clear distress of his words.

“You gonna be my good girl one last time?”

You had no time to react before he pounced.

Quick hands had grabbed and lifted you from your seat before implausibly strong arms wrapped around your body. You’d been so numbed, paralyzed by his cutting words about that fragile dichotomy between Al and the Grabber, that his sudden lunge towards you had blindsided you.

“Let me GO!” You roared, your legs kicking wildly in front of you, your arms squashed too tightly under his grip to help you wriggle free.

“I- am letting- you go,” Al huffed from behind the mask, his winded breath the only sign of a struggle; his strength seemingly carrying you with ease across the kitchen, towards the wooden door waiting for you in the corner of the room. Once there, his arm had to reach out to twist the doorknob, yet with just one arm around your torso you were hopelessly outmatched. You pried an arm free, desperately clawing behind you, as if the possibility of ripping off that demonic mask might snap Al out of this madness. Your frantic mauling only served to bend your injured finger out of place once more, tearing a howl from you. With the wooden door open, Al’s free hand moved to muffle your groans.

All too much. The pain shooting through your arm, the tight grip around your body, the suffocating hand stifling your shouts, the dizzying ordeal of being carried back towards that prison you’d spent too long in. And the worst part of all of it: that Al had planned this, wanted- thought he needed this to happen.

It wasn’t the sick perversion of actually wanting a victim in the basement, carrying down your unconscious body like he had done nearly a year ago. It wasn’t the heated passion like he’d shown just a couple of nights ago, where he’d nearly dragged you down those stairs in a sudden burst of fury. This was an entirely different purpose. A kindness, in Al’s eyes- to keep you there one last time, to present you as the Grabber’s unwilling cohabitant. A short stint in those depths, to save you from a lifetime of being with him.

You felt your body still, felt the damp air, and realization hit. The realization that Al had already kicked open the metal door at the bottom of the stairwell. The realization that you were already in the basement. The physical pain of your injury, along with the growing hopelessness of the situation, meant that you’d not fought hard enough to stop this insanity. Another sickly sensation as you felt your body teetering, discerning that Al was leaning forward, dropping you to the floor, his weight on your back pinning you to the cold stone. Hands retracted, but the weight holding you to the floor only allowed a thin rasp of a breath to plead with Al. You’d always used your words before, unable to match the bestial strength on full display now, so you choked out your plea.

“Al, don’t. Please-”

“Enough.”

The coldness of that voice from behind was a steel blade in your back. He wrestled your hands behind you, though the pain of your twisted finger paled in comparison to the agonizing realization of what was happening. With both your wrists clasped in one of Al’s, you heard a fumbling and then a staccato rip of duct tape. The noise was enough to spur your body into a fresh convulsion beneath Al. The sudden struggle seemed to catch him off-guard, and he had to pacify you with a forceful grip on the nape of your neck, pushing your cheek into the cold floor. Still reeling, your ragged breaths unable to scream but your last bit of strength still pushing against him, and Al loosened his grip on your neck, only to push down even harder a second later. Your head collided with the floor, a dull thunk followed by a high-pitched buzzing in your ears. It was just hard enough to daze you, and when the buzzsaw in your brain came to a halt, Al had already tied your hands behind your back.

A more intimate sensation now, as Al held your bounds hands lightly. If it seemed a kind gesture, that fallacy was erased a moment later as he pulled at the ring on your finger. His ring, the gold band he’d given as a promise, was pried from you. Your finger felt suddenly cold, exposed. He’d gifted you the ring as a promise to keep you safe. But what good was that when Al saw himself as the danger? What good was any of it when you were drawn to that danger like a moth to a lethal flame?

“No more of my broken promises.” In saying that, Al couldn’t see the cruel contradiction that leaving you would be the biggest betrayal of all. Still, if he cared about promises at all, didn’t that show that he was still Al beneath that mask? Maybe there was time to stop this ill-conceived scheme.

Your body jolted again, this time with a pressure on your arms as Al grabbed them, heaving you across the room. Your bare legs scraped against the grimy floor as you were jostled before Al tossed you onto the mattress a few feet from the floor where he’d wrestled you. The familiar feeling of the damp, worn bed as Al threw you down was a sickening déjà vu. Instinct had you scrabbling back towards the wall, feet slipping on the dirty fabric until your head and hands hit stone behind you. A scene you’d seen dozens of times lay before you- Al standing there, fully masked, looking down at your weak, helpless body on the mattress. Somehow, knowing Al’s intention to give himself in, knowing you’d soon be without him, made this more terrifying than any of the earlier encounters. With the spool of tape still in one hand, Al retrieved something from his back pocket with his other, pulling out his small switchblade. Your pleas, desperate wriggling and heavy tears weren’t enough to stop his advance, and he strode over the mattress, dropping down with his knees astride your thighs, eye level with you.

“He’s not there, Al. You’re just pretending. Don’t act like the monster we both know is dead.” you croaked.

Blue eyes in the mask’s shadow looked back at you silently. The slight tilt of Al’s head had you wondering whether Al was still embodying those impish mannerisms, or whether he was really considering your statement.

“It’s who I need to be right now, dove.” His admittance that it was an act was little comfort when his refusal to give up that role was so evident, and you crumpled as he said those words. Perhaps he wanted to console you with a soft touch, but his resolve won out, and he got to work quickly as you cried to an unresponsive audience of one.

Some of the work was already complete: your bruises from Naughty Girl, taken willingly, would tell a different tale than your twisted game. The handprints still red and visible on your buttocks would be unexplainable as anything other than abuse to those outside of this room. The dirt and grime from your writhing on the basement floor was an extra little touch, more evidence of mistreatment. But Al had other lies to tell, and worked quickly to write the false tale. Your shirt first, Al tearing it at the collar, creating rips with his small blade. When he was done, there was more skin exposed than covered by the remnants of the cotton material. Your underwear next, which he whipped down your legs, discarding to the side. That image would leave no doubt for whoever found you, deducing what vile acts the Grabber inflicted upon you in this room. Hell, you even had his seed inside you from this morning. Who would believe that such an act was consensual, given the state of you now?

He seemed to think twice about his next move, before slow hands approached with the switchblade. You held your breath as Al drew near, the indecisive knife hovering over your neck, then chest, before Al chose the spots carefully. A couple of skillful nicks on your upper arms and thighs shocked more than hurt, the shallow cuts bursting with small patches of fresh red on your skin. A few fresher wounds that the Grabber had inflicted, giving more credulity to the fabrication that you were still a captive. The cuts barely even hurt. Not compared to everything else.

“Go deeper,” you sobbed as Al made a small incision above your knee, stopping when he heard your words. “If you’re really doing this, I’d rather be dead. Cut deeper.”

“No more killing,” Al said, folding down his knife and retreating it back to his pocket. “You’ll appreciate this one day, dove. You’ll see it was the one good thing I ever did to you.”

No retort you might muster would be enough to sway him, your mind too jumbled and shocked to form any sort of coherent argument. Your stomach lurched at the inescapable truth; that Al’s confession was coming to fruition, that he was about to lock you down here, and end it all.

“Shit-” Al had risen, looking towards the metal door before turning to you again. “Sorry dove- I broke the door lock. Can’t have you going anywhere until they find you.” In an instant he was on you, another stretch of duct tape unwinding with a cracking rip before he quickly wound a length of it tightly around your ankles.

“Al!” you pleaded as he secured your legs, running out of energy, out of ideas. “I won’t be able to stand it, seeing you go to jail. Everything that will follow-”

“You might not see me do any of that,” he explained as you gave a pained, confused look, “If I put up enough of a fight, if I’m a big enough threat, they might just shoot on sight.”

That dizziness returned without a fresh bump to your head, the idea of not just being away from Al, but him not existing at all…. It felt like you had no more cards to play. What else was there to say to persuade him apart from your true feelings?

“Al, don’t do this. I love-” a swift shadow lunged at you. Al’s hands moved to silence the tail end of your admission, one over your mouth and the other cupping the back of your head. He knew the pain of those words, what pain it would cause for him to hear those three words on your lips one final time.

“NO!” he cried, bringing the masked face close to your own. “You think you love me. After this, you’ll realize you hated me all this time. Then you’ll forget me, and that will be the happy ending you deserve. You don’t need me for your happy ending.” You stilled beneath him, even as the tears dripped over his fingers that covered your mouth. It really was over.

Through your tear-soaked lashes, you looked up at Al and nodded, showing him you were pacified, and he moved his hand in understanding.

“If you’re going to say goodbye, do it as Al. Don’t let my last memory of you be of this- this thing that I don’t see you as.”

Al tore the mask away from his face, obeying your final request. His eyes matched yours in their tearful state.

“Thank you, dove. For not seeing me as the monster.” And then he rushed at you. His lips crashed against yours, harsh and desperate and so full of love and loss. You returned the kiss, straining against your bonds to try and hold him there forever if it meant never leaving. But after a moment, he tore himself away and you released a keening wail. A quick rip of tape and Al covered your mouth, muffling your cries beneath the gag.

He kissed your temple before rising, walking briskly towards the door as if scared he might change his mind about the whole confession. You moaned desperately through the tape as he retreated. One last, lingering look and a final goodbye.

“I’m sorry, dove. I love you.”

And with that, the metal door closed.

If the closing of that metal door felt like a death sentence, it was the least he deserved, Al thought as it shut with a dull clang. But she deserved so much more, so much better. Even from behind the door, he heard the muffled screams of his love. It broke him to know how much she was suffering, even if she’d been through worse at his hands in the past. But the quicker he worked, the sooner she’d be free from her restraints and from the basement. From him, too.

He strode briskly through the house to the bedroom first. The first scene to set up. From the bedside drawer, he pulled out the handcuffs he’d been chained in just yesterday. One bracelet he looped through a headboard slat, the other left open on the rumpled sheets. The very picture of an unwilling bed partner. From the box in the closet he pulled out a few more things he scattered on the bed; some lengths of rope and some toys they’d played with during the game. Along with some risque underwear he’d bought her as a suggestive gift (also thrown on the bed), it painted a sordid, disgusting picture of the things he’d subjected this innocent girl to over months and months of captivity. Al could already picture the scandalous headlines he’d probably never live to read.

In the kitchen, Al placed the duct tape and knife from his pockets on the table with the mask he’d thrown on there minutes earlier. The confession, the wooden box and the alternate faces of the mask still sat, waiting to become evidence once Al finally did what was needed. He removed the pink-jeweled ring from his pinky finger- her ring, which he’d taken early in her captivity. First, as a cruel taunt that no one was coming to save her. Then later, as a promise that he’d be the savior she needed. What a hollow promise that turned out to be. Al put the pink morganite ring in the box with the other trophies, the silver band hitting the base of the box with a sad clatter. He put his own gold band inside too, not wanting to mar the ring his little bird had worn for so many months. That ring was an empty promise too, a past relic now. Al didn’t deserve to wear such a thing. It joined the other ring before Al closed the box.

He collected the photographs of him and his dove from the kitchen fridge and the frames in the living room- a few snapshots that he’d need to dispose of. Over the sink, he held a match to the small polaroid of her and him in an intimate, comfortable lover’s embrace, watching the edges blacken and disintegrate. Wisps of the photo fell into the sink, followed by tears as he watched it burn slowly.

As the orange flame began to eat away at his image on the polaroid film, Al thought about what was coming, and how he deserved every punishment. But to have gotten her so deep in this web, to give her hope of a future after he took her old life away, only to throw her back into the unknown, was just as callous an act as kidnapping her the first day he set eyes on her. Still, he hoped that one day, she would move on. She might mourn him a little, but in the end they’d be wasted tears.

The fire had all but erased Al in the image, moving to devour his dove next. It was his greatest magic trick he’d ever performed, Al thought. Though truly, more hypnosis than real magic. What was more incredible- that she’d fallen for him in the first place, or that he was pathetic enough to believe it could last?

The last scraps had burned out, and he scrubbed the sink of any sooty remains to finish his task. Al went to the white phone in the living room, picking it up and carrying it with him to his armchair, the corded wire taut, but just long enough for him to use the phone from his chair. One hand lifted the receiver to his ear, whilst the other hand reached towards the rotary dial.

#the grabber #the grabber x reader #the black phone #albert shaw x reader #black phone fanfic #albert shaw #the grabber x you #albert shaw x you #the black phone fanfic #black phone

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staggersz · 9 months ago

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YALLLLL GUESS WHO POSTED THE FIRST CHAPTER

LMK WHAT YOU THINK IF YOU READ 🫶🏻

#the black phone #tbp #tbp fandom #tbp fanfic #the black phone fanfic #taking what’s not yours #twny #ao3 #fanfic

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dancingisdangerouss · 10 months ago

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Chapter 7 of Non Compos Mentis, A Descent into the Maelström, is now up here: X

#penny for your thots #chapter 7 #non compos mentis #the black phone #the black phone fanfic #fanfic #fan fiction #Albert shaw #Albert shaw x reader #the grabber #the grabber x reader

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redroses07 · 2 years ago

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Real First Date//Vance Hopper

Vance Hopper X Fem!reader

Summary: Vance and reader are best friends and he asks to hang out after school, but she thinks he wants it to be something more

Content Warning: swearing, kissing

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: Y'all...I don't know how I ended up writing this, but I actually really like it. Sorry if there's any typos, I wrote this whole thing in like a day (that's a record for me). And I apologize if anything seems out of character, it's really hard to write for Vance since he had like six minutes of screen time, so like 75% is based on head canons. Anyways, this is already too long, so I hope you enjoy the fic!!! Happy belated New Years!!! 🥰

You looked into the mirror, your critical reflection staring back at you. You looked like a mess. You sighed loudly, letting your face fall into your hands.

"My god, why the hell do I care so much?" You complained to yourself. After all, you were just going to hang out with your best friend...it's not like you hadn't done this a million times before.

Right?

No.

For some reason, this time was different. It all started after school. You met up with, Vance, your best friend after class. Although this wasn't unusual, you did this every day. Vance was extra quiet, which concerned you cause he usually never shut his mouth.

You asked him if he was okay. He shrugged in response, avoiding eye contact.

"Actually, can I ask you something" He huffed.

You said yes, and he proceeded to ask you if you wanted to go rollerskating with him after school.

"I know it's stupid, you don't have to say yes." You remember him saying.

"Of course I'll go, why would I say no?" You replied

"I don't know...I just thought never mind, see ya later." He said before turning to walk the other way.

You spent the whole walk home, and several hours after thinking about how weird the exchange was.

Why was he so nervous? You had never known Vance Hopper to be nervous about anything. It wasn't unusual for you to hang out after school...in fact you did almost every Friday.

Maybe it wasn't just a regular hang out to him, maybe he wanted it to be something more.

You thought about how Vance seemed to have a soft spot for you. Of course the boy had anger issues, he couldn't go a week without getting into a fight, sometimes even with his friends.

But with all the times you had gotten on his nerves, or done something that should make him angry, he had never lost his temper on you.

You used to brush that off as simply a friendship thing. After all, most people don't like to fight with their best friends, but maybe...you weren't just his best friend. You didn't know why but that thought made your heart skip a beat.

You decided to push the thoughts aside as you got ready to leave.

But now you found yourself sitting here, with a knot in your stomach. You looked at the clock next to your bed and realized you had to get going, so you gave your hair one last comb through, put on your shoes, and headed out the door.

The roller rink was within walking distance of your house, as were most places in your small town.

The wind whipped through your hair, making the extra brushing you had done pointless. You sighed in annoyance and continued walking.

When you finally approached the florescent lights of the roller rink you saw Vance waiting near the entrance.

You quickly combed your fingers through your hair, and walked up to him.

"Hey." you said happily.

"Finally, what took so long? I've been waiting here for like twenty minutes." Vance complained, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I think someone needs to learn some patience." You snapped.

"Shut up, asshole." He shoved you slightly, a small smile tugging at his lips.

You mindlessly grabbed his hand and pulled him through the door. The place was crowded, as to be expected, it was a Friday night after all. The music was at full volume, the bass echoing off the walls of the building.

You looked down and realized you were still holding Vance's hand, you shook it off and shoved your hand in your pocket nervously.

You saw Vance side eye you, and he looked almost embarrassed...

"Come on, let's go rent some skates." He said, beginning to walk towards the front desk.

After the two of you paid for your skates you put them on, and made your way over to the rink.

"Is now a bad time to mention that I've never been skating before?" You said nervously, this was something that hadn't crossed your mind until now.

"Seriously?" Vance said, rolling his eyes.

You smiled sheepishly, blushing slightly.

"It's easy, here, I'll show you how." Vance exclaimed as he stepped into the rink. He extended his left hand, and you took it.

As you stepped onto the rink, it felt like you were standing on a giant slippery magnet and your shoes were made of metal.

It was a fight to stay on your feet as you held on to Vance's hand for dear life.

"Oh my god, how the hell do people do this." you complained.

"Well you've gotta stop moving around so much." he said in annoyance, taking his remaining arm and wrapping it around your waist to support you. You felt your heart rate increase as he did this, and you realized this was the first time you had ever been this close to him.

Despite the nervousness you were feeling from the fact that you could barely stand, his presence seemed to calm you.

"Isn't moving around what you're supposed to do?" you shoot back.

"Ugh, shut up and just listen to me." He snapped, tightening his grip on your waist.

you stopped moving, and regained your balance. You took a deep breath and tried to move forward, you rolled a couple feet without error.

"There you go." Vance said letting go of your waist.

You began to feel confident and sped up.

"Do you think I can let go now?" Vance asked as he loosed his grip on your hand.

"Yeah...yeah I think so." You didn't want to admit it, but you would've held his hand longer. Although, not because you needed it for balance.

As he let go you decided to skate ahead of Vance. In overconfidence you decided to turn around so you could face him.

"Hey look I'm-" You started, but you lost balance again and rolled straight into Vance.

He instinctively reached his arms out and caught you, preventing you from falling flat on your face. You gripped his shoulders tightly, as he was the only reason you were standing upright. You looked up and found your face inches from his.

Your face turned red with embarrassment.

"Sorry." You mumbled.

He smiled softly, his icy blue eyes pouring into yours. And for a moment you thought he was going to kiss you.

"Move it, love birds." Some guy yelled at the two of you. You tore your eyes away from Vance's, and realized that you had been totally blocking people's path.

"We are moving, asshole." Vance yelled.

You moved forward and faced the front again, balancing yourself. You grabbed Vance's hand and intertwined your fingers. He looked at you, slightly confused.

"I think I'll need this for a little while longer." you said softly.

The two of you spent the next hour skating and talking, without a care in the world.

When you were done, you put up your skates and headed out the door. The early spring air was perfect, not too warm and not too cold. You took a deep breath and took in your surroundings.

"Wanna take a walk?" Vance asked, running a hand through his messy blonde curls.

"Always." you replied.

You followed him as he walked towards the park. The two of you walked in silence, which was uncommon. The park was pretty much empty due to the time of day. A few dim streetlights illuminated the sidewalk, making it easy to see where you were going.

"Here, do you want to sit down." you suggested as you approached a bench.

He agreed and sat down next to you.

"So..." he began, turning to face you.

"So?" you replied with a smile.

"Listen...there's something I've gotta say." Vance began. He took your hands in both of his, and you hoped he was going to say what you were thinking.

"We've known each other for a long time...and...I...oh my god this is fucking stupid I don't know what I'm doing." He sighed, this was one of the few times you had seen him falter. He always knew what he wanted to say or do, and seeing him be so unsure was a strange experience.

"Vance." you said, removing your hands from his and reaching up to cup his face.

His breath hitched as you made contact, and he looked down at you. There was a moment of silence as you contemplated your next choice of words.

You took that moment to study his every feature. The way his eyes looked at you with pure admiration, the few blonde curls that had fallen over his face, his slightly parted lips.

Well...you thought to yourself, actions do speak louder than words.

You took a leap of faith and connected your lips with his. The kiss was soft and short, but your lips seemed to fit together perfectly like two pieces of a puzzle.

When you parted, you couldn't find any words to fill the silence.

"I think you read my mind." Vance chuckled.

"Yeah..I'm good about that, with you at least." You said, looking towards the ground, trying to hide your beet red face.

"Hey." Vance whispered. He brushed his fingers under your chin, and tilted your head up to face him. He softly touched his thumb to your lips before tackling you with a second kiss.

This kiss was harsh, passionate, and just better overall. He placed his hands on opposite sides of your face. You rested your head in his hands, increasing the effect of the kiss.

You broke apart slowly, and continued to lean into him.

"I should be getting home soon." You said reluctantly.

"That's okay, I'll walk you." Vance offered as he stood up.

You rose from your seat and stood next to him. He put an arm around your waist, and the two of you began to walk down the sidewalk.

You couldn't help but smile to yourself, this had been a real date after all.

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pinkdrunk · 2 years ago

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#the black phone #finney blake #elraptortheblackphone #the black phone fanfic #eltelefononegro #digital art #art #gwen blake #robin arellano

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mariedreamlove · 2 years ago

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Feeding into the sibling headcanons of my newest fic ( a second chance (I'll take it no matter what)):

Finney and Gwen:

- their bond is even closer, they understand eachother without words

- if someone even tries to pick on either of them, the other comes to the protection, if verbally or physically is actually more or less depending in what condition the other sibling is.

- Gwen would literally travel through time for Finney, and does so.

- Finn's main goals are simple: protect the boys, make sure the Grabber doesn't even realize Gwen exists.

- They have disagreements. Quite often actually, though they still have the mentality : we can't be against one another if someone is against us two (either their dad or the Grabber)

- Finney still eats Gwen's ice cream, and she drinks his grape sodas if she gets the chance.

- she also likes, if the situation let's it be, to pick on Finney's crushes. (Donna First, then Robin.)

- tho Finney acts like he doesn't like it, he enjoys buying Gwen sweets or magazines or anything she likes.

- they always are there for eachother, and know of to clam the other one down I'm case of a panic attack.

- Gwen always tells Finney everything, and he tells her almost everything.

Donna & Billy (they are siblings in this AU)

- They don't have a great relationship ( constant fights, sometimes getting physical with shoving and when they were younger even hitting)

- after Billy was kidnapped, Donna fell into some kind of trance and just acted like.. nothing happened. She couldn't quite grasp what had happend and that her brother didn't return from his paper route. After his killer was dead though, she fell into a kind of realization and now only wants to make things better, change the past and save him to get the chance to at least tell him how sorry she is for him she treated him.

- Billy always left, though the siblings mostly were cold to eachother, a chocolate bar before Donna's door if they had a fight to say he was sorry. He doesn't know how to say sorry really. Sometimes it annoys Donna but she also appreciates it.

- Billy is a year and a half older than her, and is constantly acting like he is absolutely superior to her because of this ( he is only a few inches taller than her, and in the future Donna would have grown taller than him).

- tho they absolutely act like they despise eachother or don't know eachother, they can grow quite protective of eachother. Of course this grow into fights sometimes.

- Billy has terrible fears of storms and tornados, after he survived a bad storm on one of his routes. (A tree he was driving under was hit by lighting and a branch almost fell on him, but he survived with only a few bruises and a broken toe) Donna then either told him stories or just slept in the same room as him. Neither of them talk about it, but it happens.

- they do have to go through a lot of therapy before they can say to eachother that they love and appreciate each other. (Yet Donna traveled back in time to save him from the Grabber.)

Vance & Griffin

- Griffin used to sit right next to Vance and watch him with Vance's other friend break his Highscores and was having the time of his life while doing so, because oh my god the Vance Hopper is my brother and he lets me watch!

- Vance is a terrible comforter, and Griffin is a emotional kid. Chaos ensues everytime Griffin comes to his big brother crying and he just tries to clam him down. He often just offers to buy him ice cream or go catch bugs with him.

- While Vance likes to fight, while not in any sport, and to play pinball but this irrelevant for this rn, he wouldn't do it in front of Griffin. Not because his brother doesn't like violence nor not to scare him. Griffin just gets way too much of a big mouth and tries acting like Vance, while being build like a stick. ( How easy his back was to break.. like a stick.)

- the two curse a lot around eachother, and Vance tries to talk Griffin out of trying to beat people up. Because he can't, and Vance is terrible at patching himself up. Let alone his little brother!

- their dad isn't around a lot, so Griffin looks up to Vance. He gets a lot of his humor from Vance and his attitude sometimes.

- tho sometimes having different opinions, they two always stick together.

- Griffin loves bananas while Vance despises them like he has personal beef with them.

- as ghosts, while Vance was in the basement, Griffin knew he knew Vance from somewhere. Vance called out to Griff, but Griffin never realized they were brothers. When Vance died, he hugged Griffin so hard and cried harder than ever before, even while dying he didn't cry so hard. He apologized for leaving him alone that day for not walking him to school and anything. Griffin just asks who Vance is.

- normally Vance walks Griffin to school ( on the day of his kidnapping they had a fight.. Vance stayed home while Griffin walked to school. We know how this one ended.)

- Griffin is someone who overhears, through being almost unnoticeable to his peers, everything. Meaning Vance knows exactly what someone said. Because Vance is the one Griffin tells everything.

Bruce & Amy

- don't get always along, kind of rivals in things to impress their parents.

- when they were younger, they had a similar situation as Billy and Donna, but they grew over it. They still have tension but get along way better.

- Amy is more antisocial than Bruce, and unlike him she tells when she doesn't want something.

- Amy loves sweets, while Bruce likes more spicy snacks and less sweet deserts.

- Amy is at every Baseball game of Bruce, and he goes to every soccer game she has.

- After Bruce disapeared, Amy's grades really got low. So low, she had to repeat the year, because she was so distraught by her big brother dissapearing.

- for that reason she didn't like Donna. They were in the same situation and shoes, their big brothers being gone, and Donna acted like.. nothing happened. After Finney disappeared she and Gwen got to be friends, and later she warmed up to Donna too, after realizing that was the way she dealt with the trauma.

- Bruce tells Amy all about his problems and is the only person he is like half out to, and she does so too.

Robin and literally everyone.

- the literal only only child in the friend group.

- he acts like a big brother to the younger siblings (Griffin, Gwen and Donna, sometimes Amy if Bruce brings her along) and like the annoying younger brother to Vance and Bruce and Billy, and to Finney he's his soulmate.

- he one time snuck all of his friends in his uncle's truck to the cinema without him knowing

- he got the best lunches, because either his mom or his uncle make them.

- look at his friends the wrong way and he'll make you pay. Bare you nice, he'll be nice

#the black phone #finney blake #robin arellano #billy showalter #bruce yamada #griffin stagg #the black phone fanfic #vance hopper #donna tbp #finney x robin #angst #almost everyone are siblings #time travel fix it #amy yamada

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beehindblueeyes · 1 year ago

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I may need to get back into it, purely from how good my writing was for this fandom? I don’t meant this in a bragging way but holy shit I don’t know what possessed me when I was more into it.

There’s a sequel coming out, dunno what the hell they’re going to do. Ghost killer seems to cheesy but idk, or maybe a separate situation in the same universe?

#I’m deadass - some of the best stuff I wrote it just needed to be formatted better #the black phone #black phone #the black phone 2022 #the black phone fanfic #writing

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headrant · 1 year ago

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𝓣𝐇𝐄 𝓢𝐄��𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝓢𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝓞𝐅 𝓐𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐋

𝑉𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝐻𝑜𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑟 𝑥 𝑂𝑟𝑖𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟

❝ 𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑏𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝑡𝑜𝑜 𝑚𝑢𝑐ℎ, 𝐻𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑆ℎ𝑎𝑤 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑟𝑢𝑛 𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑉𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑈𝑛𝑐𝑙𝑒 𝑀𝑎𝑥'𝑠 ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑒. 𝐿𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑑𝑖𝑑 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐴𝑙𝑏𝑒𝑟𝑡'𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑒𝑔𝑜 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑠. 𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑙𝑢𝑑𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑎𝑏𝑢𝑠𝑒, 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑟𝑢𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑦, 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑘𝑖𝑑𝑛𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑚𝑢𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑟. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑏𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑎 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑠𝑒𝑡 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐻𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑦 𝐻𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑛! ❞

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 ?? 🚫🚫

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 💬💬

As Albert left his daughter alone, the blonde shaking and hurt from her father's sick games, Hunter glanced over at the bright orange phone that rested on her wall.

Her eyes lingered on the tangerine colored chord before finally untangling herself from the ball she had formed herself into, Hunter stood up and walked over to it before immediately placing her index finger in the plastic hole to dial.

She had his phone number memorized, she didn't even have to look in her address book. Vance Hopper was her safe space, her comfort. Two outcasts, but they seemed to suit each other…

And honestly, their once hypothetical plan made sense… Get out of the town where a kidnapping serial killer was at large, get out of a town where all Hunter knew was abuse from her father…

Durango. That's where she was going.

"Hello?" A voice came on the other line of the phone, Hunter soon turning with her back to the wall as she slid down to sit on the floor.

"Hello? Mrs. Hopper?" Hunter began, trying to keep her voice as soft as she could.

"It's Hunter Shaw… Is Vance available?" She asked, holding onto her orange phone with both hands before glancing over at her door to make sure her father did not come back in.

"Oh, Hunter! Of course, give me one moment… Vance! Phone!" The voice on the other end yelled, a bit of background noise of footsteps and running echoed through the speaker before Hunter heard the voice she was desperate to hear.

"What?" Vance answered, always straight to the point as Hunter brought her hand up to her mouth before gently biting down on her fingernails.

"Hey… I was hoping to talk to you for a bit…" She said, her tone slightly muffled from her hand covering her mouth as Vance let out a soft chuckle.

"Stop chewing your nails… What's up?" He asked, automatically knowing Hunter was stressed as she dropped her hand back down onto her lap.

"Remember when we talked about going to Durango?" She asked softly, glancing again at her door before whispering into the phone.

"I'm ready…" Hunter added only to be greeted with a moment of silence.

"Vance…?" She whispered again, hearing a soft chuckle on the other end.

"When are we leaving?" The boy asked, his tone now much softer as they formulated their plan.

"I have to pack… and I have to make it seem like I'm not leaving, yanno?" Hunter said softly, Vance letting out a soft hum on the other end.

"Okay… How about Sunday?" He asked.

"My parents will be at church, I'll make up an excuse. Your dad usually works on that stupid train thing until around eleven, right? Like right before lunch?" Vance asked, wanting to confirm everything so this could go smoothly.

"Yeah… then he goes back down in the evening. He hasn't been working on it too much lately, though… he said he is waiting for some more parts to come in." Hunter said, glancing back at her door again before moving the phone closer to her mouth.

"Church is over at eleven, right? We will leave in the morning…" She said, her body beginning to shake as the realization hit her that they were actually going to run away.

"Okay… That's what? Hold on…" Vance said, the sound of the phone clinking against the table rang through the speaker as Hunter listened to the boy get up for a moment only to return a few seconds later.

"Had to look at the calendar… It's the second Sunday of April. We will meet at 9:30?" He asked, Hunter glancing back up at her door again.

"9:30. Behind the Grab N Go." She told him, smiling softly as she felt a sense of comfort and freedom wash over her.

"Alright… The second Sunday of April at 9:30 behind the Grab N Go. We will get snacks." Vance said, Hunter unable to hold her laughter back as she quickly covered her mouth.

"Shit, I gottta go. I think he heard that." Hunter said, quickly standing up and hanging up the phone before grabbing a book and sitting next to her bed.

The house was silent… Hunter swore she heard something as she kept her eyes on the door for a moment.

In the kitchen, Albert clutched onto the phone as he held it to his ear. The call was already over, but he felt a wave of anger and rage wash over him as he stared down the hallway at his daughter's bedroom door.

He knew who his next victim would be…

Opening her eyes to the brightness of the springtime sun, Hunter smiled softly as she rolled over to wrap her arms around a still sleeping Samson.

It was at that moment her heart sank… Her alarm hadn't gone off and it was already quarter to eleven.

Quickly getting up from the bed, Hunter quickly changed her clothes and grabbed her bag before running out into the living room.

"Come on, Samson!" She called out in a loud whisper, taking the leash and hooking it onto the dog's collar.

It was then she heard the door to the basement open as Hunter quickly stood up to see her father.

"Where are you heading?" Albert asked, walking over to the sink to wash his hands as Hunter felt her heart sank.

"I was taking Samson for a walk… We were gonna go to the park, I packed some toys and stuff." She said, holding her bag tightly with hopes her father wouldn't try to investigate.

"Alright. Be safe." He said, Hunter's eyes going wide at how easy it seemed. She couldn't help but just stand there for a moment before nodding.

"Yeah. I will." She said, walking out of the house.

Downstairs, Vance saw Hunter walk by the glass window as he tried to run towards the wall, hoping to climb up and break it.

"Hunter!!" He shouted, his voice barricaded by the soundproof room.

It was then the door opened, Vance ready to charge the man before The Grabber pinned him up against the wall.

"I warned you, naughty boy. Now I'm gonna make you stay away from my daughter."

#Spotify #the black phone #vance hopper #vance x reader #vance hopper x oc #vance hopper x reader #angst #angst with a sad ending #fanfic #the black phone fanfic

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bosinclairsgff · 8 months ago

Text

Slashers reacting to self harm scars

MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING FOR SELF HARM

Warning: talk of self harm, Otis’s is kinda dark, kidnap

Includes: Baby Firefly, Otis Driftwood, Bo Sinclair, The Grabber, Amanda Young

Baby would be laying down with you in bed one night. She loves cuddling you and covering you in kisses. The kisses would start at your neck and go the way down to your hands. That’s when she feels scabbed over cuts on your arm. Immediately she sits up and grabs your arm. “Sugar, what happened?? Are ya okay? Did someone hurt ya?” She asks frantically. You would have to explain to her what happened. She’s heartbroken at first, not understanding why you would do that to yourself. Baby loves you so much and wants you to see how amazing you are. “Oh sweetheart, you don’t have to do that. It’s okay ya know I’ll take care ya.” She says sympathetically, pulling you into a tight hug. “Please don’t do that again sugar, come to me, I’ll help you.” Baby says. You nod in response, maybe she could help you.

Otis wanted to take a shower with you, which you wouldn’t pass up the opportunity for getting him clean. The only bad thing was you had just relapsed recently. You did not want him to see that right now, not knowing how he’d react. Otis went ahead of you and started the shower, getting in first. You slowly followed behind him. “What the fuck is taking ya so god damn long girl, I don’t have all fucking day.” He shouts. You pick the pace up, undressing and stepping into the shower with him. Immediately his eyes fall to your arms and thighs. “What the fuck happened to ya?” He says reaching out to touch your arm. You wince and pull back. “I asked what the fuck happened.” He states in a darker tone. Taking to long for his liking he grabs you by the neck and pushes you against the wall. “You think it’s okay to harm yourself like that mama?” Otis questions again. You shake your head, struggling to breathe. “You ever pull some shit like this again, and I’ll show you real mother fucking pain bitch.” He growls into your ear.

For the past few days you’ve been walking around Ambrose in a long sleeve shirt, keeping it on day and night. Bo starts to notice after the first day. How you avoid him touching one of your arms. Even at night when you usually sleep in one of his oversized shirts, you’ve stuck to a tight long sleeve. So, he confronts you one night. “Darlin, why are you wearin that damn long sleeve shirt in the middle of a Louisiana summer?” Bo questions while tilting his head to the side. It catches you off guard you thought he hadn’t noticed. “Oh I’m not sure. I didn’t even realize I had been wearing a long sleeve shirt. It does keep the sun off me though so that’s good I suppose.” You try to laugh it off. He looks down and chuckles, before grabbing you roughly and the wrist. You yelp in response. Before you can protest he harshly shoves your sleeve up your arm, making you wince in slight pain. His eyes widen at the sight. “Baby, why would you do that? I never want to see this shit again. You understan me?” He barks out like an order, gripping your wrist tighter. “Okay! I promise I won’t do it again, please let go.” Satisfied, he lets go.

It was the third day you had been taken and kept in this hell like basement. You knew it was The Grabber who had taken you. Sometimes when you woke up, you found him sitting near the mattress, just watching you sleep. It scared you but also brought almost a sick comfort. This time he came downstairs he had a small cardboard box in his hands. “I brought you a….new shirt and new underwear. So I can wash your pants.” He says smiling. You say nothing in response, just nodding. He sat down the box in front of you, watching, waiting for you to make a move to look into the box. Scared, you move forward and taking the shirt and underwear out of the box. “Where can I change?” You say, just above a whisper. The man chuckles darkly. “You’ll change right here dove.” His dark smile growing larger. Not wanting to make him mad you take your shirt off, revealing your arms to him. His eyes stay emotionless but intrigued. “Oh my little dove, why do such a thing? Your skin is so beautiful.” He says in almost a kind, caring voice. “I don’t know, it helps me calm down. The world can be so much to handle.” You respond putting the shirt over your head. You couldn’t hide your arms as it was a short sleeve shirt. It was however just oversized enough to hide your most precious parts from his eyes as you changed underwear. Sliding the cardboard box back over to his feet with the dirty clothes you look up at him. He squats down, now eye to eye with you. “What will you do now to handle the world?” He laughs darkly, getting up and leaving you alone in the dark basement.

#horror #horror fan #horror movie #horror movies #horror films #slasher x reader #slashers #house of wax #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair #the grabber x you #the grabber x reader #the black phone fanfic #otis driftwood x reader #otis driftwood #baby firefly x reader #baby firefly #bosinclairsgff #dark fic

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theyluvlyss · 7 months ago

Text

"...𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐈𝐭, '𝐏𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞'..."

《 ♡ 》 headcannons

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 :

no real summary, just some loose thoughts I have, per the request😙.

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 :

fem!reader x finney blake - she/her/hers pronouns!

𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞 :

70s-80s (🤷🏽‍♀️) - the grabber doesn't exist - finney's dad isn't a p.o.s.😃

𝐓𝐖/𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 :

FLUFFFF - I think I cussed just a little😆🤏🏽 - finney being the best boyfriend you'll ever have in your life - short/small mentions of bruises/scars - me getting carried away

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

It's true, they did. Not that either you or Finney could deny such a claim because that's exactly what it felt like. What it was. Innocent, blissful, doting puppy love.

Who's "they", you ask?

Well, literally everyone. Your parent(s), his father and sister, your friends, his friends, other peers/classmates... hell, even the strangers that looked at you two long enough, observing, could tell- No, feel the love radiating from you two at what seemed like all times.

Which you found surprising, seeing as you two were under the impression that your relationship was kept rather private to the naked eye, but I'll get to that in a second.

Even before you two had made it official, the mutual crush was painfully obvious to any and everyone around. It was in the way your eyes would find their way over to him whenever he walked into the classroom, worry filling them to the brim should he adorn any bruises and/or scars from any bullies of his.

The way he'd fidget whenever you were in his line of sight, biting his thumb at his desk if you sat close enough to him or clicking that space-themed pen over and over again when you breezed by him in the halls.

God forbid you said hi to him when you did. Poor thing would just melt, remember he had to respond back, and then go, "H-...hi...!" when you were already long gone😭.

And oh my god, you'd better believe Gwen and Robin were getting an earful, damn near every topic of conversation somehow circling back to you. Vice versa for Donna, knowing it was no use trying to pry any other subject from that brain of yours because it was all muddled with "Finney this..." and "Finney that..."

So yeah, though elated when you two finally became an item, nobody was shocked. Not even a little.

But anyhow, dating Finney is so sweet, and quiet, and peaceful (if that makes sense). It's just very loving and calming, with LOTS of a reassuring being done between the both of you. I feel as though Finney is just a naturally semi-anxious person but he also masks really well, so for the first while of your relationship, you spent it gently poking and prodding away, letting him know he could trust you fully with any and everything.

It's lots of sweet touches - hand holding, you rubbing his shoulders/back/arms often, him moving hair from out of your face or shooing away small bugs/dust from your person, face cupping - little things that bring about butterflies, even if it's been months (maybe even years) into the relationship😭.

AND THE KISSESSSSJFJEKDO omg- (sorry I just💀🥴-) He's such a huge fan of little pecks, I mean, sure... an actual KISS-kiss or a makeout sesh is fun-cool-awesome whatever, but bro actually forgets how to breathe for a second when you randomly peck him on the cheek or lips. The biggest grin in the whole world just spawns on his face if you bound up to him and the first thing you do is, "Hey, Finn!" and give him a lil' kiss right there on his nose.

And forehead kisses are something sooo special to him. He gives those out left and right, yes he does😌. There's something about them that just makes him feel like he's cherishing you and that he's just pouring all of his love and adoration into you, y'know? Plus, he loves the way you'll watch him carefully each time, too. Like, not saying he's the biggest fan of being watched at all, but in this instance, he doesn't mind and actually wants you to see/prepare for that special kiss he's delivering.

Which, speaking of, he's not fond of PDA. If anything, the most he can tolerate is hand-holding and just a short/small peck when you greet each other. But anything more, he's pretty inclined to reserve it for when you two are alone. Or at most, amongst well-known/close friends/family. Although, he won't shy/pull away if you want to hold his hand under the table/desk. And he won't move away if your legs or shoulders are touching if you two are doing/working on something together.

Cuddling/hugging? Bed and/or couch activity only, and can not - I repeat - CAN NOT be interrupted, or he'll be so salty about it. Again, it's a very special thing for him, getting to hold you, feel you, hear your heartbeat (or vice versa if you're laying on his chest). He gets to just sit and admire you, whether it be in comfortable silence or if you two are quietly talking, using this time to memorize each and every single feature on your face over and over again (hoping you're doing the same for him). So yeah, Gwen waltzing right on in without knocking, or your parent calling you two down for dinner definitely kills that vibe for him.

You might giggle at the way he goes, "mncht..." and rolls his eyes, but baby, he ain't laughing at all💀.

Hell, even you two talking with each other is pretty intimate and soft. He's never once raised his voice at you (even if he's upset), is always asking your opinions/thoughts on things and what the vibe is before moving forward, and the only time you've ever spoken over each other is when you guys are hyperfixating on a common topic and are getting really excited.

WHICH ‼️‼️ omg if you're an astrology girly, lord knows this boy... You got him, he's hooked, he's never leaving you alone. Fate - sealed. While yes, he's an astroNOMY guy, which is more science-based and leans towards a more logical outlook, he loves that with you/astroLOGY comes this inate belief and spiritual outlook. He LOVES that you've attached meanings to the stars and space-stuff that he already really fucks with. Like, star signs and shit? He might not fully understand it (will definitely strive to, though), but oh my god, he practically foams at the mouth when you start listing them off, giving definitions, pointing out the connections between yours and his, etcetc.

And on the flipside, he loves that you let him pop off about whatever he's got in the tank. Black holes, other planets outside our solar system, the possibility of extraterrestrial life, rockets,,, whatever he's spitting, you're all ears without even a shred of judgment.

Plus, like I mentioned, there's a lot of healthy communication/checking in between the both of you. Lots of, "Are you okay?" "How are you feeling?" "Did you eat today?" "What'cha thinking about?" "I'll call you later today/tonight, okay?" type of stuff, along with the silly, all over the place topics and the long, "today was shit" rants, of course.

To try and sum it up/ball up the millions of other things I have running through my mind (I'm trying not to make this longer than it needs to be💀✋🏽), he's basically a huge sucker for the love between you two. Loves that you listen and loves listening to you, loves knowing that you're there (especially physically, like, again, not a huge fan of PDA but really, truly can't get enough of your touches and calming rubs and cute little pokes/boops soooo😗... *cut to Finney wayyy too eager to get to either yours or his house so he can shut his brain off and cuddle with you*). He loves loving you and being with you, like...

AUGHFHSJH and he LOVES making you happy, finding every and any new way to impress you. He likes taking you to go get snacks from the Grab'n'Go; I'm talking the second this man gets a LITTLE bit of change from who knows where, the first thing on his mind is, "What should I get (Y/N)?" Or taking you along with Robin to the drive in when they go see movies, or to the diner to get milkshakes...

In all honesty, anything - spending time with you outside of school - is a date to him. Y'all could walk circles around a small ass park fifty-million times, and he'll drop you off at home like, "I had fun today. Thank you for letting me take you out :)♡." Like what a sweetie😭.

But if it's an "actual" date you're craving, he'll come up with and spend hours prepping little makeshift ideas that he'll enlist Gwen to help him with. Some of his best have been stargazing (with all of the stops, of course - snacks, drinks, books to read and flashlights, blankets and pillows, etcetc.), library dates where you guys spend nearly the whole day skimming through each and every section to look for new interests and topics, 👹CRAFTING!!!👹...

Finney is a craft king, argue with the wall😐.

Point is,,, Finney Blake loves you to the moon and back, and is still in mild shock that you feel the same way (y'all could be married with twins, a dog, and two cats and bro will wake up next to you in the morning like, "...She loves me🥹🩵??"), and if allotted, I'd go on forever and ever.

But I won't😻!

If asked one of these days, though, I would totally be down for writing general headcannons about all of the boys +Donna and Gwen +Max and other adults and characters that aren't canon but might as well be canon in my head because I have SO many thoughts😃...😀...*eye twitches*...

soyeahanywaysBYE👋🏽✨️.

𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐞𝐬...

for both the long wait and the fact that I went a little crazy at the end, but it's fine xD🩷. I really enjoyed writing this, and I hope it satisfies. I feel like there's some parts where I fell off a little bit and then got back into the groove, but yeah...

good news is, I can only improve from here, so don't be shy to request more :)!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 :

anon

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 :

1,563

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 :

none :(

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willshipanything-blog · 10 months ago

Text

Breaking the Rules- Epilogue 2 of 2

Here we are. The final, FINAL piece of this fic, and the culmination of two stories and nearly two years of writing.

As always, I hope you enjoy, and thanks as always to my dear friend Abracadabras (Aly) for reading and making suggestions that are always so valuable and nuanced!!

Read on AO3 here

Full story index here

Epilogue (2 of 2) Would It Be A Sin?

The months succeeding the would-be confession, that terrible showdown between you and Al, were perhaps the most bittersweet you’d faced. The cocooning cloud of happiness and relief offset only by the occasional thunderstorm of guilt and sorrow. The long winter nights balanced against a new year, a symbolically fresh start.

There were some hard truths you both had to answer, ghosts you had no choice but to confront. But now, you would descend those depths together. Literally- there were two basements that the two of you needed to visit. First: the house across the street.

Each of the boys’ little trinkets were placed atop the dirt near the bottom of each makeshift grave. Al had carried the wooden box, had held it out to you and opened it in a sort of ceremonial fashion, wherein you’d taken each item out with care. Four small items-seemingly innocuous, workaday trinkets-but heavy in your hands as you lay them down. They were placed on the corresponding graves with a silent reverence. Stepping back, Al had closed the box with a quiet, echoing snap before putting it aside on a table towards the back of the room. You’d both been quietly penitent, as if unsettling the dust beneath your feet might be a dishonor to any presence still in the basement. There were no words spoken, no eulogy- they’d already been said in private ceremonies by families speaking to empty coffins. You would receive no forgiveness from any remnants of those boys. So you stood there beside Al with a silent solemnity and an unspoken promise that it was over. Neither of you had spoken much that night, even after leaving the second house.

The basement in your house was next. Despite everything that had happened in that stone room, you found the staircase easier to descend. Hardly surprising, given the task you were to perform. There was no reluctance in destroying it beyond recognition- ripping out features that had resided in that stone cell for decades. The mattress dragged out and loaded into Al’s van; the sturdy brackets that had held the bed in place unscrewed and hauled off to the van, too; the metal grate on the window torn away and discarded. And when Al took a sledgehammer to the black phone bolted to the wall- when he swung hard, the thing shattering with a final broken jangle of notes- you thought you caught a satisfied glint in his blue eyes. Not enjoying the violence per se, but snatching just a little joy in destroying those final few traces of his past self, and demolishing any trace of his father’s crimes before him. Al had promised the basement would just be an empty room someday, after he’d freed you from its confines. Now it stood truly empty and that promise, like all promises these days, had been fulfilled.

For a little while, Al had been loath to play any of your usual games, even suggesting the masks be thrown in the garbage. But to you, they didn’t signify any danger or threat anymore. Their meaning had adapted, sculpted itself to be unrecognizable from the fear and uncertainty they once possessed when worn by the Grabber. When you’d taken the two halves that made up that deep frown, brought them out and held them out to Al, he’d acceded your request, and you fixed the mask overtop of that smirking, devilish smile. You slipped back into those salacious games easily: as smooth as the silk sheets that Al tossed you on before going in for his wicked, killing blow, happy to oblige his little dove’s request, eager to make her scream and writhe under him.

The aftermath of the thankfully-failed confession had caused some truly polarizing moments in its wake. The grief and guilt of it all sat like a poisonous lead weight in the pit of your stomach, unable to be digested, insisting on being carried and unforgotten. But it brought some of the most affirming moments, too. No more secrets. No more lies. The burden of guilt had been alleviated; shouldered partly by another, lightening that load. Your love had cemented itself in the very foundations of the house you both had learned to call ‘ours’. It felt like an ending, in a way- but in the same breath, it was a whole new story yet to be told. And rules of the story be damned - from now on, you and Al would write that plot together.

_______________________________

With a final flourish of crimson lipstick, you were nearly ready. And not a moment too soon; as you spritzed a cloud of jasmine and peach-scented perfume, you heard the familiar sound of the van pulling into the drive, practically skipping to meet Al as he walked through the door.

“Heya, dove, h-,” Al stalled as his eyes fell on you, standing there with a smirk at the immediate effect you’d had on him. “Holy sh- I mean, wow! You look…breathtaking, sweet.”

“What, this old thing?” you mused with mock incredulity, brushing your hands down the flared skirt of your new cocktail dress. You feigned surprise, knowing that little coquettish act rivaled Al’s own theatricality, knowing it charmed him as much as any provocative outfit.

Al’s eyes darkened, and he stepped towards you, his work boots nearly toe to toe with your black heeled pumps. You looked up through heavy lids, the lashings of mascara and flick of dark eyeliner an extra little effort, today of all days. Al’s eyes darted quickly to the bare expanse of skin exposed by the daring bardot neckline, but it was the faded lines of pink, that indelible mark on your skin where he’d craved his name across your heart, that had dragged his gaze downwards. AL. Still, you were sure he sneaked a peek at the cleavage and the suggestive trail of love bites along your neck before those cerulean eyes snapped back to your face.

“Really, dove. You look perfect. So beautiful.”

“You know Al, I’m still waiting on my birthday kiss.”

Who was Al to deny your command? He cupped the nape of your neck in his palm and drew you in close. A deep, electrifying kiss, sending a buzz skittering down your veins. He pulled back, a soft, warm smile settling on his face as he wished you a ‘happy birthday’ with sweet sincerity.

“My girl’s special day,” he beamed, hand still clasped softly around your neck, fingers laced through the soft waves of your hair.

“Not just mine, Al. You know it’s been a year since our first real date?”

Al’s knitted eyebrows had you wondering if that was a little too raw to be mentioning. A bizarre thought (perhaps even a little morbid) that last year, your last birthday, had been spent as Al’s prisoner. Your date had begun in the basement, being made to dress, being escorted upstairs, being made to sit, to eat, to dance. Still a captive by definition. But one thing hadn’t been forced that night. That night, you’d taken Al’s hand in yours, and asked him to take you to his bed. He’d finally admitted his feelings towards you, and though you hadn't echoed the same sentiment, it was still there. Concealed, but barely contained inside of you, ready to burst like a black balloon. Your mind snapped back to the present. Worried, you backtracked somewhat, not wanting to dredge up any memories of the past. Not tonight.

“Sorry Al, do you think it’s a little…strange to be celebrating that?”

“Aren’t we a little strange?” Al mused. You replied with a small laugh huffed through a smile, your tense shoulders relaxing when you realized Al wasn’t worried at all. He continued. “Okay, our special day, then.” Another lengthy kiss followed before you pried yourself away from his ravenous grip, shooing him to go get changed into something more suitable for the occasion.

As you ate dinner, eyeing Al across the table, you wondered if your gaze looked as hungry as Al’s. He’d mirrored you; his jet black shirt and trousers matching your dark dress; the blood-red cravat at his neck echoing the color you’d swept across your lips. Even his woodsy scent of cedar and tobacco seemed to flirt with the sweetness of your perfume across the dinner table. After you’d finished eating, when Al had asked you to choose some music while he freshened up, your dreamy, carefree mind didn’t question when Al bypassed the bathroom for another room entirely.

Your fingers rifled nimbly through Al’s record collection, as if already playing a soft melody on invisible piano keys. Figuring an older tune would match the evening’s mood, you grinned when you pulled out the Elvis record to see the singer donned in a Hawaiian shirt on the album cover, reminding you so badly of Max. You really couldn’t get away from either of the Shaw brothers, could you? Slipping the vinyl from its sleeve, you put the record on the turntable, dragged the needle to the outer grooves, and set it gently down.

When Al strode into the living room, giving you another amorous glance as he did, neither of you needed encouragement to dance. You reached out to each other silently, spurred on by the dulcet tones of the King singing about fools in love. The song coaxed you into a slow sway, Al’s arms so natural around your waist, your head leaning against his chest as you were lullabied into the reverie. Al’s thumping heart provided a strong backbeat to the music, though perhaps its pace was a little faster than normal. The excitement of the evening, maybe.

As you swayed in unison, you couldn’t help but silently answer Elvis’ melodic questions:

Shall I stay? (yes)

Would it be a sin? (yes)

If I can’t help falling in love with you.

You couldn’t help it. You’d traversed every emotion imaginable before reaching this point with Al. Disgust, rage, hatred, confusion, trepidation, attachment. And now, you’d opted for love. Opted, because it was your choice. Your want for him, need for him, had rooted itself deeper than your guilt. In the annals of your mind, you thought about the situation as you swayed softly, silently to the music as Elvis sang of rivers flowing out to sea. You’d sail into the darkness with Al and drown in the oblivion. But that was further down the line. For now, you were content to drown yourself, bask in the warmth of the two of you, bodies pressed close.

“D’ya want to play a game?”

“Huh?” you asked, pulled away from your blissful introspection by the unexpected question. Not that you would deny such a tempting offer. Your heart picked up speed to match Al’s quickened pace. “What kind of game were you thinking?” Your voice had instinctively taken on a sultry tone, already enthusiastic to play.

“Oh, it’s a long one.”

“How long?”

“A lifetime, hopefully.”

Any question about to slip from your lips was shoved back in your mouth when Al made his next move. He fell to his knees- no, he fell to his knee, reaching into a pocket and pulling out a small velvet box. Looking up at you, his blue eyes entreating, he opened the box, his hands clutched together like an oyster, the contents of the box a precious pearl at its center. But no- not a pearl. On closer inspection, the ring nestled in the box was gold and red, a single, pear-shaped jewel sitting atop a simple gold band. Like a teardrop. Or, given its sumptuous color, a single drop of scarlet blood.

“Will you be mine, dove?”

Not ‘will you marry me?’. No chance of such a formal, legal proceeding in the real world. But in this world of yours and Al’s own making, such a gesture would amount to the same thing. A bond, a forever promise. You held out your left hand, trembling slightly, though Al’s tender grip on it steadied you, warmed you as he slid the thin band on your fourth finger. He looked up, eyebrows raised as if in expectation, and you realized you’d not replied to him. There was only ever going to be one answer to his question.

“Yes. Yes, Al, I’ll be yours. Always.” You already were, had been for a long time. Longer, probably, than you dared admit to yourself. As Al rose from his knee with a slightly strained groan, you flung your arms around his neck, crashing your lips into his; Al met with a matched enthusiasm. You could feel his smile mirror yours through the kiss, and when you pulled back, the happy tears gathering at the corner of your eyes were duplicates of the watery blues staring back at you.

Gripping each of Al’s shoulders, your glance fluttered to each of your hands in turn. To the promise band on your right hand, then the jeweled red stone on your left. Those small gold bands like tiny manacles binding you to Al. There had been no choice at first, then anguished choices that would end in your shame or your demise. But then- those choices had shifted, had freed you. Freed you to be with Al unburdened by shame or sorrow. You felt complete.

You thought Al was complete now, too, looking up at him with an enraptured smile as he brushed your cheek softly, took your left hand and pressed a fierce kiss to your knuckles. Once, it had been the Grabber shadowing Al, that overbearing dark side that irrevocably connected the man and the monster. But the monster had been slain. You slipped into the gaps left by its absence, clawing into each crevice of Al, until he had been remade into a complete whole.

“It’s a garnet, the gem in the ring. It was my mom’s,” Al said wistfully, hand brushing your knuckles still warm from the touch of his mouth. “For a long time, it was the only thing of real value I kept in the house. Until I kept you.”

That wording. It was twisted, morose and sick. But then, why did you find those possessive words so charming, perhaps even a little beguiling? You could only hope that the melancholy expression on Al’s face as he looked from the ring to you signified his continued penitence of all that had come before. Otherwise the happiness you both found would feel hollow, undeserved. You thought so. You hoped so.

“I’m glad you kept me, Al.” If his wording was fucked-up, you’d match it with your own skewed viewpoint. It was a strange comfort, knowing you weren’t alone in your madness.

A dog barking from somewhere out on the street turned both of your heads to the window. A heavy feeling, like packed dirt on top of a coffin, descended, only the white noise of the record player filling the silence like a ghostly static. It was as if fate brought about the reminder of the past, the house across the street dominating the landscape out of the front window. Fluorescent orange street lights threw the shadowy silhouette of the tree across the house, dark branches reaching across the mottled brickwork. Thin fingers prying at the door to let those secrets out.

It was a steep price, shouldering a portion of Al’s heavy burden. Knowing that staying was not the moral course, that each day spent inside this house with Al was a day your soul became a fragment more tainted with blackness. Al’s price was steeper yet: memories of the Grabber he would never scrub from his soul. Of his unforgivable killings, and his treatment of you. Even the torment of never quite knowing if one day, you might snap out of some daydream- the hypnosis worn away like a frayed rope- and escape him.

They would all be powerful reminders: the memories, the house across the street, the ever less frequent news bulletins about the Grabber and his crimes. You and Al wouldn’t- shouldn’t- forget. Couldn’t forget what Al had done. Couldn’t forget that your relationship was fucked up. How you had broken the rules which dictated how normal people ought to live their lives. But only through playing that twisted game with Al had you found love. And right now, you wanted to play. You allowed yourself to forget, for a little while.

“You know, Al- I got you a present, too.”

“You got me something?” his voice cracked a little in surprise, turning from the window to look at you.

“Well, yeah. I thought black lace would match the dress pretty good.”

It took two beats for Al to work out your meaning, the small, confused gape of his mouth morphing into one of lustful knowing. That trademark smirk, dimpling his cheek slightly, always did bring out his playful, rakish side- his most handsome, you thought. Somewhere in the last few moments the music had ceased, the needle scratching the dead wax of empty space, as if ceding its song to allow Al to command the room.

“Naughty girl, keeping secrets from me,” he tutted, lathering on the dramatics as his arm snaked around your waist, yanking you close as he began to unfasten the dress. The sudden movement hitched your breath, stealing your speech. No noise apart from the slow, growling zziiippp as Al glided his hand down your back, savoring every inch of the undressing. His finger brushed the small of your back as he finished unzipping you, letting the dress pool around your feet with a soft fwhump as it fell. He stepped back, perhaps a little stunned, or perhaps to get a better look at you in the provocative black lace panties and bustier you wore.

“Fuuuuck,” he growled under his breath, but seemed to collect himself for his next words. “You’re coming me with, Mrs. Shaw.”

“You gonna grab me?”

“You’re damn right I am.”

And with a sudden lunge, he made good on that promise, hoisting you over his broad shoulder as you shrieked wildly, a half-laugh, half-scream of pure pleasure. You pushed your arms against his back, lifting your head to speak into his ear as he carried you down the hallway.

“I’m all yours, Al.” you whispered.

Al turned his face, a flash of that crooked smile as he replied.

“And I’m yours, dove. Always have been.”

The record was left spinning on the turntable, the needle forgotten and left tracing the run-out groove.

Sometimes, it was ok to forget.

#the grabber #the grabber x reader #the black phone #albert shaw x reader #black phone fanfic #albert shaw #the grabber x you #albert shaw x you #the black phone fanfic #black phone

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lumaxmayclair · 1 year ago

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TBP Fic rec

As I promised @be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie

the shirt off my back by YumKiwiDelicious

Word count: 4,683

Summary:

When he finally found his voice again, he’d grouched, “I can’t fit into your clothes.” Robin frowned like he’d heard something annoyingly stupid. “Not my pants. But you can wear your jeans and then take one of my dress shirts. I’ve got tons.” OR || 5 times Finney wears Robin's clothes and 1 time Robin wears his ||

Notes: No Grabber AU, just Finney realizing his feelings for Robin via clothes swapping. Very cute!

Finding Home by AstralAlmighty

Word count: 15,639

Summary:

The one where Finn got taken first, and Robin and Gwen team up to find him.

Notes: Pretty long, but worth it. Finney gets rescued around 20% into the story, and the rest deals with the aftermath. More specifically, how Robin helps Finney and grows up in the process.

Finney has had this dream a 1000 times. by 3sAr0undUs

Word count: 1,707

Summary:

Ten years later, Finney Blake wakes up screaming.

Notes: Very fluffy, until it's not. I'll let you find out why.

Blood Forever In My Mouth by the_names_of_those_who_love_the_lord

Word count: 11,078

Summary:

Not two sides of the same coin, but different denominations of the same currency.

Notes: Canon-compliant that focuses on Bruce and Vance. Explores a what-if where they were best friends by the time that Vance got kidnapped. One of my favourite characterization for Bruce, as the author said it in their tags: I see your soft Bruce headcanons and respond with piece of shit Bruce headcanons,seriously don't babify this kid. Starts pre-canon and includes a (kinda) prank war between Vance and Bruce. Part of a series but can be read on its own.

#special mention for that dreams fic #if i have to suffer then you do too #and check out their other fics!#everyones so great at writing tbh #tbp #fic recs #the black phone #the black phone fanfic #finney blake #robin arellano #bruce yamada #vance hopper #zi's

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dancingisdangerouss · 9 months ago

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Chapter 8, Limerence, is now available!

#I’m still nitpicking it but #here ya go!#also this picture seemed fitting for the chapter heh #non compos mentis #update #ao3 #the black phone #the black phone fanfic #Albert Shaw #albert shaw x reader

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anarchy-n-glitter · 2 years ago

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Copycat

Summary: After receiving a mysterious offer, a police officer drives to a remote location in the middle of the night to trade the notorious Black Phone off to an unknown buyer.

CHAPTER 1

He could lose his job for this. That was all he could think as he stared out at the slick roads glistening in the glow of his headlights. The rain continued to pour without any signs of slowing, which was unusual for that time of year. Though he was lost in thought he kept a keen eye on the road, trying his best to see through the haze of the rain. Headlights glaring from the other side of the road helped him, as did the brake lights of the cars in front of him. They took it slow. He couldn’t afford to take it slow.

He had to wonder what else could happen if he were caught. Would they charge him? Did this count as tampering with evidence even though the case was long over and solved?

His foot unconsciously pressed harder on the gas pedal. His hands tightened on the steering wheel - his knuckles turning white as he sped through the worsening weather, weaving through traffic with little concern for those around him. It wasn’t the greatest choice he could make. He took a moment to glance at the clear plastic evidence bag on the passenger’s seat with a weary eye. No amount of money should be worth it to do this… yet there he was.

The buyer, who simply identified themselves as “Charlie” in their voicemail, seemed like one of those true crime freaks. She seemed way too interested in the phone - that stupid phone that winked tauntingly at him under the street lights, like it knew he was anxious. It made him feel dirty. Guilty.

That damn thing gave off the worst energy when he was around it, like something was attached to it and that thing wanted to hurt him. He was honestly surprised it didn’t ring while locked up in the evidence locker. His hands shook when he unlocked the locker, and when he collected the phone, frightened it would ring and give him away to whatever lurked in the darkness of the closed precinct. The cop couldn’t help but wonder why anyone would willingly go near it, let alone buy the damn thing.

“Charlie” said she was a writer trying her best to understand the horrors of the Denver Grabber, and that explanation made enough sense and solved the mystery of the missing mask. She definitely bought it off of another cop, which meant he probably had nothing to worry about when it came to keeping his job. Getting rid of the mask and now the phone felt like a relief to the officer, who truly wanted nothing to do with the items now that the case was over, and giving them to a writer seemed like a better option than auctioning them off to some rich freak years down the line.

The rendezvous spot was an old, decrepit building just outside of the suburbs. It was an old warehouse just off of the main road in the middle of what was now a blossoming field filled with long grass and most likely all sorts of snakes and rodents. Even further behind it was a forest with dark, looming trees that he wouldn’t be caught dead near. The warehouse itself was built in the thirties and quickly renovated into a factory to build aircrafts and such during World War II. Sometime in ‘65 it was converted back to a warehouse for a quickly sinking company, and then it was closed officially in ‘73 and never sold. The vandals and drug addicts got to it quickly, leaving behind broken windows and knocked down doors as well as graffiti mosaics on the concrete.

And now the cop was driving up to it with an offering. He felt dirty. He felt guilty.

“Charlie” was leaning against a black 1972 Chevy Nova with her back facing the approaching vehicle. She was parked under the mostly intact awning in front of the dark maw of the building. The awning was leaking water through small tears in its fabric and it landed on her car, splashing in the puddle that was no doubt forming on the roof. She remained dry though, nonchalantly checking her watch even though she knew that the cop was there. The headlights cast large shadows across the concrete walls of the building. A larger than life shadow for a larger than life person.

The woman herself wore a large leopard print coat with the collar pulled up around her neck, undoubtedly to combat the quickly dropping temperature. Her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail. On her hands were black leather gloves that beckoned the officer to come closer. She hadn’t said a word, nor had she really acknowledged him besides the slight hand wave. In that moment he realized he was handing the phone over to a freak, regardless of occupation.

This is wrong, the officer thought to himself, this is a murder weapon. He believed the monster got what he deserved in the end, but handing off the phone to the first person who calls and is willing to pay felt wrong. Not only was it a murder weapon, but it bore witness to the murder of several children, and he wasn’t sure how he could handle looking at the thing knowing that. He had to wonder if there was something wrong with this “Charlie.” She’s probably seen worse, he rationalized as he got closer to her.

“Are you Charlie Myers?” She still didn’t look at him. Her hand came up to her face before she spoke.

“Yes sir, I am.” Her voice was higher than he expected, and it sounded a bit muffled too. He wondered if she truly was the person who left the voicemail. It made him want to stop in his tracks.

“You have the money?” He continued on, holding out the phone as he inched nearer. Her shoulders stiffened for a moment.

“Oh yeah, give me a sec I’ll get it.” Her gloved hand reached into her handbag, sending nervous chills down the officer’s spine. He knew something wasn’t right. His hand immediately shot to his right hip where his gun holster sat. His instinct told him to turn around and return the phone - his instincts told him this woman was no good.

“Actually ma’am, can you do that facing me? Can’t be too careful these days.” The hairs on the back of his neck stood straight as the woman froze. Her hand was still firmly inside the handbag. She slowly turned around to reveal a ghostly white, porcelain mask. Black eyes stared at the officer as he froze in fear, unsure of what to do now that his suspicions were confirmed.

“Sure thing officer.”

This was a copycat killer.

He moved quickly to draw his gun, but he wasn’t quick enough. From her black clutch, the buyer produced a handgun and fired three times, hitting the officer in the shoulder twice before hitting its mark: his chest. The officer let out a groan and fell to the ground in a matter of seconds. Despite everything she still wasn’t entirely used to how quickly they fell.

Calmly, methodically, the woman stalked over, giving a horrifyingly closer look at the mask she wore to conceal her true identity. Through blurry eyes the officer saw the familiar porcelain, with reddish-pink cheeks to simulate blush and long painted on eyelashes. The lips of the mask were small and black and curled slightly upward in an unsettling smile. It looked almost clown-like, though not overtly so. She could be seen as a doll.

The woman stared silently as the officer wheezed, choking on his own blood as it filled his lungs and throat. She tilted her head like a dog observing a squeaky toy, listening to his suffering. Her gaze shifted from the dying man to the phone that laid a few feet from what would be his final resting place. She looked back at him and pointed the gun at his head as the officer began to weakly sputter out cowardly pleas, clutching his chest and panting. His face was wet with rain and tears. The rasp in his voice was disgusting to her.

She pulled the trigger to finally silence him. No more rattling. No more pleas.

The patter of rain echoed louder in the suddenly still night, along with the running engine of the dead officer’s car. Her gaze was focused on the phone. That damn phone. He used to yell about it - about the ringing, about the voices. When she was allowed near it she couldn’t hear anything, and it didn’t ring when she picked it up. That damn phone.

It was hers.

_____________

It was fall when they met. She remembered the chilling weather and dying trees well. She remembered the clothes she wore, how her hair was done. She often could recall trivial things like that, especially when it came to meeting new people.

She knew Max, and he considered her a friend. He came to her after losing his job, and while she knew the reason for it, she actually didn’t mind. Max not having to work meant that she could be around him more often. Yet, her selfish desires didn’t stop her from helping him. She considered that to be her best trait - her fierce loyalty and protectiveness. If there was a problem bugging someone she cared about she’d fix that problem.

Max was rambling on and on in an anxiety-induced stupor as he tried to figure out what to do. No one would hire him with the record he now had, and on top of that he had to go to meetings mandated by the court. All she could do was watch, wait, and think. He eventually told her that he contacted his brother, and while he still had to look for a job, his brother would be taking him in. His brother who lived in Denver.

Denver.

Those words weighed heavily on her. It sunk into her chest and weighed on her heart - it ached. She didn’t like that at all.

He must have wanted to leave her, like everyone else did. She didn’t like that.

“Denver? Denver? That’s like, six hours away. I can’t hang out with you if you’re six hours away.” She wondered if she came off too strongly. Her hands were sweating.

“To be fair, I am going there to get better.” He wasn’t even looking at her.

“And I can’t help you with that?” She asked, not caring about how she came off anymore.

“Look, you’re my best friend and I do love hanging out with you but I think it’s best for me to start fresh for a few months and then see-”

“I thought you said your family was fucked up. You said you wouldn’t ever go near them ever again.” She couldn’t believe that she ever took him seriously when he said that. The concerned look on his face turned grim.

“They… you know who I mean when I say that. My brother’s helping me and I’m sure he managed to get help, unlike me.” She felt he was saying this to placate her. His demeanor had changed, and she didn’t like that. It felt like he was shutting down, growing colder as he shrugged off her comments.

“What did I do wrong?” She couldn’t help but ask him. He furrowed his brow.

“What? Nothing, I’m just -”

“If I didn’t do anything wrong then why are you leaving me?” She raised her voice slightly, feeling her heart ache and race at the same time. “I thought you liked me!”

He wasn’t sure how to respond. He did like her, she was his best friend. She had been there for him even at his lowest. She was sweet and kind but at the moment she was scaring him. He didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t upset her further. The look on her face was reminiscent of a madman, and part of him was afraid of what she’d do next.

“You can drive me there if you want, come see the place and help me move in.” He offered, hoping that would be enough to make her feel better. Her expression softened for a moment, but she was still worked up.

“Let me come with you. For the whole time. I’ll look for a job there and an apartment. Don’t cut me out Max, I’ve seen what you do. You just leave people behind and I won’t let you do that to me.” He nodded along, letting her get her thoughts out, hoping she’d calm down soon. He’d seen her worked up before but not like this.

“Sure, we can do that.” He agreed half heartedly, watching her calm down at his reassurance.

She remembered the day she met him, it was fall. She drove him to the small suburban home in Denver, brought his boxes of various items inside, and for the most part it seemed she wouldn’t be meeting Max’s brother.

Then he stepped out of the basement.

He was tall, with shaggy, greying hair that dusted his shoulders. She wasn’t sure what to think as she froze in her tracks. He didn’t seem to want to speak with anyone, and as he avoided eye contact with her as he made his way down the hallway she thought she had gotten the hint.

“Oh, you must be Max’s brother.” She mused in a tone that hid her anxiety. Dark eyes stared at her for a moment. His lips were thin and a look of seriousness was chiseled into his features, as well as tiredness. His eyes, though. His eyes seemed to hold some sort of life. He looked as if he were sizing her up, waiting for her to make a move or say something. She shifted the box around in her arms, freeing one of her hands as she held it out for him to take.

“I’m Tanya.” She introduced. Much like moments earlier, he stared at her for a moment before gingerly taking her hand in his. Tanya wasn’t sure what to think just yet, but he was able to take Max in, and while he was a bit weird she was sure he was a good person.

He glanced over Tanya, as if looking out for something, as he muttered his own name. “Albert.” His voice was much higher than she expected, and softer. She smiled, ignoring the changing expression on her new acquaintance’s face. He hadn’t let go yet.

Albert wasn’t exactly thrilled about his brother coming to live with him. He didn’t care about the drugs Max would undoubtedly bring into the house, nor did he really care about what happened to Max. He cared about who Max might be bringing around. The girl in front of him could have been a good solution to Max’s problem, and even then he didn’t know why Tanya was there. He watched her with a distrustful eye from the basement window as she brought each box inside from her car. He wanted to know who she was and why she was there. She obviously knew about him, so what was she hiding?

“Sorry about this being kinda last minute, Max didn’t even tell me he was doing this until yesterday but… it’s really cool that you’d do this for him.” He tugged her forward by the hand she so graciously offered, causing her to drop the box of clothing. The pull itself wasn’t that hard, she was caught off guard by it. The noise it made was loud - loud enough to draw attention to what was happening assuming Max wasn’t outside.

Even a mere inches from his face she was unafraid, still staring into his eyes unyieldingly as her breath caught in her throat. She felt her nerves building, unable to break the feeling she had earlier when she first set her sights on him. It was a familiar feeling she felt before, one that had her cancel plans to drive Max out there in the first place. She could feel the way her heart shifted, the way she felt about Max changing in an instant.

She couldn’t do it again. She couldn’t throw everything away like that again.

“He couldn’t stay with you?” He asked, whispering the question in her ear like it were a dirty secret. Tanya snapped out of her thoughts, taken off guard.

“No… we talked about it though, tried to make it work.” She answered truthfully and out loud, though she made no effort to hide her displeasure with the situation. Her new, oncoming fixation with Albert wouldn’t erase the hurt and betrayal she felt from Max moving anytime soon. His grip on her hand tightened for a moment as he scoffed. “Again I’m sorry if it was last minute, I know he does stuff like that and-”

Albert backed away, suddenly smiling. She wondered if Max was behind them and checked over her shoulder, only to see no one was there.

“It’s nice to meet you, Tanya.” Her heart fluttered at the sound of him saying her name. He crouched down to pick up the clothes that slipped out of the box when she dropped it, and all she could do was watch.

“Thanks.” She muttered, trying to take the box back from him.

“I got it, don’t worry. You should get going, it’s a long drive back to Durango.” She couldn’t help but furrow her brow at that. Did he know how she felt? Did he know she hated the idea of living that far away? She brushed a stray strand of dark hair behind her ear.

“Oh I’m actually moving to Denver soon. I want to keep an eye on him.” That wasn’t entirely true anymore. Six hours was a long drive to come out to see someone she barely knew. He nodded halfheartedly. She wondered if he was actually listening to her. “It was nice meeting you too.” She continued, hoping to get a bigger reaction out of him, but she was met with nothing but his back walking away from her.

“I see you met Al.” Max said, startling Tanya. She looked up at the face of the man she’d loved for months, and found her obsession was fading. He was a good friend.

“Yeah, I did. Seems like he’ll be a good influence.” She remarked almost coldly. Her heart was set on someone else now, that much she couldn’t deny. He was odd and cold, but that never seemed to stop her before. She couldn’t do it again.

She couldn’t do it again.

She knew she would do it again, and she was ready to sacrifice anything to get close to him.

#the black phone #albert shaw #the grabber #the grabber x oc #the grabber x reader #the grabber x you #albert shaw x reader #albert shaw x you #albert shaw x oc #the black phone fanfic #max shaw #implied max shaw x reader

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