#black phone fanfic

[willshipanything-blog]

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

[possumteeth147]

Hopefully this reaches the right people

I've literally been so obsessed with this movie its not even funny😭

#black phone #black phone fanfic #the black phone #the black phone fanart #the grabber #the grabber fanart

[dancingisdangerouss]

Al be like:

Chapter 8 is now up! Find it here: X

#drama queen 🙄 #into the black #black acres #the black phone 2022 #black phone #black phone fanfic #the grabber x reader #x reader #the grabber #the black phone #grabber

[babbybruh]

All you Albert Shaw/The Grabber freaks... check this one out 🖤

#albert shaw #the grabber x ofc #the grabber x reader #the grabber #grabber #the black phone fanfiction #the black phone fanfic #black phone fanfiction #black phone fanfic #black phone #the black phone #ao3 #ao3 tags #ao3fic #ao3 fanfic #read on ao3 #screenshot #fanfic #fanfiction

[valcazaara]

new chapter, coming out of the oven, literally hot

#the grabber #the grabber x reader #the grabber x you #the grabber x y/n #albert shaw #albert shaw x you #albert shaw x reader #black phone #the black phone #the black phone fanfic #black phone fanfic #fanfic #archives of our own

[starboardharpy]

This is basically what happened, right??

Psst, hey! @bilan-igg , it's the Gay Doritos :>

#that one moment where calling your best friend a pet name in a dif language comes back to bite you in the ass 😔 #may you RIP Robin Arellano #he gay panicked too hard #Robin's dying and Paperboy is just: 🧍 #the black phone #robin arellano #finney blake #vance hopper #billy showalter #fanart #fanfic fanart #digital art #sketches #rinney #finbin #Mako's art #artists on tumblr

[svnraez]

shoutout to artists and fanfic writers, you guys really are the entire backbone of every fandom ever and i love you for it.

#fanfic #fanfiction #art #fanart #artists on tumblr #ao3 #archive of our own #now onto fandom tags to boost this shit bc i want all of you to see it you mean the world to me #stranger things #south park #young royals #it 2017 #the black phone #dead poets society #luca 2021 #mcyt #lego batman #super mario movie #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #jujutsu kaisen #percy jackson #heroes of olympus #magnus chase #the kane chronicles #trials of apollo #insert literally every other fandom ever here i cant think of things help #oh yeah #harry potter #the marauders

[bosinclairsgff]

Slasher's reacting to their s/o on their period

Yeahhhhh I just felt like writing about it because I am in fact on my period, anywho! Enjoy :)

Includes: Bo Sinclair, Corey Cunningham, Patrick Bateman and The Grabber

Warnings: Mention of kidnap, implied nudity and just some of them being mean..

Bo Sinclair

Bo woke up to you saying his name and shaking him softly. You had just started your period and you had bled through your underwear onto the sheets. At first, he was a little annoyed that it had gotten on the sheets but then he looked at how bad you felt and calmed down.

He would still be an asshole, but he would be a nicer asshole.

I think he would offer taking a shower with you to help wash you off so you would feel better.

If you asked him to buy pads, he would say yes but REALLY complain about it and be a bit pissed off. When he gets to the store and sees how many different types there are he gets STRESSED. He would grab you a random one and hope it's the right one.

If you asked him to buy tampons he would make some weird joke about using them. He would buy them for you though, still annoyed. Again he wouldn't know if there is a right size to get or what. So just be thankful for whatever you get.

Corey Cunningham

Corey had taken you out for a ride and you guys were having so much fun. But when the ride as over and you stood up to get off, he noticed a small blood stain on your pants. You were so embarrassed, but he assured you it was totally fine, that its normal and nothing to be embarrassed about. He gave would give you his jacket to wear around your waist.

He would be so sweet about it and would buy you all the chocolate in the world.

Corey would run you a nice bath then when you got out, he would cuddle and watch your favorite movie.

If you asked him to grab you pads, he would say yes but internally panic. He wouldn't know which brand to buy, or if it had to be a certain size. I think you'd get a text of a picture of the isle asking you to tell him which one to buy. Same thing with tampons.

Patrick Bateman

You were sitting in his bed just talking about your day when you stood up to use the bathroom. Once you got up, he sees blood on your panties and on the sheets. He. Was. Pissed. Patrick would defently yell at you for getting blood on his sheets. He would say something like "don't you know when you're going to start your period? You should be prepared. You have made such a fucking mess".

He would make you take a shower while he changed the sheets. Then he would ask if you even had the things you need.

He would you out and grab you whatever you choose to you and be really mad about it.

When he gets back to the apartment he would toss the pads in the bathroom and not say a word to you for the rest of the night.

The Grabber

He's not used to being around people who have periods so he would be so awkward.

One morning while giving you your breakfast he noticed you weren't eating, and you looked like you were in discomfort. He would ask once wrong and shyly you told him you had started your period. He would freeze. The Grabber hadn't even planned to keep you for this long so now that you had started your period, he had no idea what to do.

He would ask you if you needed anything or if you could just stuff toilet paper in your panties and that would do. When you explained it's better to have pads or tampons, he tried to not cringe while talking about it. This stuff made him so uncomfortable.

The Grabber would tell you he would be back in 30 minutes, and he was going to get you pads. Of course, he had no idea what to buy.

One of the older ladies working their noticed how long he had been standing there staring at all the pads. So, she helped him get what she thought would be best. His face was bright red the whole time talking to her.

Once he gets home, he would go downstairs with a few wet paper towels so you could clean up the best you could. No, he would not give you privacy and would watch you.

#horror #horror fan #horror movie #horror movies #horror films #the grabber #the black phone fanfic #the black phone #house of wax #bo sinclair x reader #texas chainsaw massacre #american physco #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman #corey cunningham #corey cunningham x reader #halloween #slasher fandom #slashers #slasher x reader

[mirrorballshiningjustforyou]

Vance Having a Crush On a Quiet Reader

Vance usually hates people like you, quiet, introverted, and he surprised himself.

He tries to tell himself he doesn’t like you

He even misses multiple days of school just so he wouldn’t see you, not in a bad way, he just has such a big crush on you

but then he sees you at school one day and he can’t stop staring.

He stares so much, and sometimes he doesn’t look away when you catch him staring. He gets zoned out just thinking about you.

You’re sure Vance doesn’t like you. Maybe he just has a staring problem. he seems like the type of guy to bully people like you. But you’re wrong. Like, dead wrong.

His friends think that he has a crush on you he does but he doesn’t wanna admit it

They make fun of him for it, he doesn’t have crushes a lot.

I honestly think his friends are the type of people to yell out “Vance likes you” whenever they see you.

Overthinks asking you out a lot.

He’ll legit walk up to you ready to ask you out, and when you face him he’ll run away.

#vance hopper fanfiction #vance tbp #vance x reader #vance the black phone #pinball vance #vance hopper #tbp vance #vance hopper x reader #tbp headcanons #mcr tbp #tbp incorrect quotes #tbpdfw #tbp fanfic #tbp fanart #tbp x reader #tbp fandom #tbp #the black phone #the black phone x you #the black phone x reader #the black phone 2022 #the black phone icons #17teen #the eras tour #taylor swift #fanfic #black phone fanfiction #fanfiction #imagines #tbp imagines

[peaceesells]

Cuddles 'n kisses

Vance hopper x gn! reader

Warnings:

I literally just came up with this

not proofread

This is basically like my head over heels story but whatever

ooc vance

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

You ran your fingers through your boyfriends curly blonde hair, his head rested in your chest. His eyes were closed and you were unsure if he was asleep or not, he looked so peaceful which was unusual for vance.

You smiled softly to yourself when you heard him mumble something tiredly, his eyes still closed. "What'd you say babe?" You hummed quietly, looking down at his sleepy face.

"I'm tired.." He said softly, nuzzling his face into your chest, you moved some of his blonde curls out of his face and kissed his forehead gently.

"You can take a nap if you want vance.."

After a few minutes you felt him relax even further, and he was snoring softly. You kissed his head again, you continued to gently play with his curls as he slept.

He shifted slightly, his blue eyes opening to meet yours. "Y/n.. what are you doing.." He asked, his voice was groggy and you could tell he wasn't fully awake, you giggled softly "what do you mean?"

"I don't know.." He layed his head back down, hiding his face into your neck placing a few soft kisses onto your skin. "I love you y/n.." "I love you too vance.."

#x reader #fanfic #dating headcanons #vance hopper x reader #the black phone #the black phone 2022 #vance hopper

[0tt-3r]

The Black Phone characters reactions to having a s/o that actually throws fists at their bullies:

Including: Vance, Bruce, Finney and Robin

Tw: none except that you are a badass I guess 🤷

Author's note: Hii everyone!! Just a quick reminder that English isn't my native language so please be kind if there's some mistakes! <3

Bruce Yamada:

- Bruce will be probably in complete shock after seeing you hit your bully square in the face-

- Actually he never thought that his sweet s/o would be capable of fighting back, he's usually the one protecting you!

- "Where did you learned that technique ?" "Can you teach it to me?"

- Lowkey impressed 🤌

- One time he deadass cheered on you when you were fighting with some girl in the school's hallway 💀

- If you get hurt he'll definitely patch you, adding a sweet little kiss where your are patched.

Vance Hopper:

- Vance would be impressed, not like Bruce though, but I think he'll just raise his eyebrows and maybe laugh a bit when he'll see you beating up your bully.

- He secretly thinks that fighting makes you look hot-

- He's the one teaching you some of his secret technique, and he finds it cute when you're copying step by step his moves--

- Unlike Bruce, when your throwing fists he will not just stay there 🧍 bc nobody has the right to touch his precious s/o

- "Calm down, you'll never be as strong as me"

- Sometimes you'll fight him as a joke, but you'll always end up on the floor 💀

Robin Arellano:

- One time he heard that you got into a fight so he immediately rushed to save you, but when he saw you pining down a grown ass eighteen years old boy, he felt really proud

- Like super proud-

- Eventually he'll try to explain to you that you don't have to fight your bullies, that you can tell him who's messing with you and he'll beat them right away

- But gosh he's proud. Like, he has that soft smile when he's patching your knuckles, caressing them lightly 🥺

- "If these dickheads keep on bothering you, I'll beat them for you"

Finney Blake:

- Shocked since the day you slapped the life out of one of his bullies 💀

- Some says that you can still hear the sound of the slap if you concentrate enough--

- Finn's really amazed by your fighting skills and will ask you to teach him some of them!! <3

- Expect a lot of love when you just finished a fight. Like he will litteraly shower you with questions like "Are you okay??" And "Are you hurt??"

- He's a pro at patching you. He will even buy special band aids with cute characters on it just for you😭

- Even Gwen wants to learn your fighting techniques!!

#the black phone #finney blake #robin arellano #vance hopper #bruce yamada #the black phone headcanons #tbp fanfic #billy tbp #robin arellano x reader #finney x reader #vance x reader #bruce x reader #griffin x reader #billy x reader #billy showalter #imagines #miguel x reader #the black phone 2022 #finney shaw

[willshipanything-blog]

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

[ellemfaoh]

Robin Arellano Confession/Dating HCs

A/N: I’m working on writing fic requests I’m sorry I’m taking so long!!! Please forgive me!!! I have homecoming and theatre shows coming up so I’m slow, I deeply and sincerely apologize. Please take these headcanon’s as an apology. Sorry it’s short, I’m literally exhausted

——————————————

You and Robin knew each other since you were kids

Both your moms were friends when they were younger so naturally you two will be too

Call it cliché childhood friends trope, idc it’s adorable

Anyway-

You and Robin used to play pretend a lot as kids. You’d be the royalty needing protecting and Robin would be your knight in shining armor

He’s the Romeo to your Juliet basically, but less creepy

He asked you out one day when you and him were in your room chilling on your bed

You were laying on your stomach reading something and he was laying his head in the dip in your back

“Estoy enamorado de ti” (I’m in love with you)

“What?”

“Don’t worry about it”

He didn’t know that you started learning Spanish from his mom and uncle

“¿Qué tienes, mi vida? Estoy enamorado de ti también.” (What’s wrong, love? I’m in love with you too)

He shot up so fast

When you turned to look at him his face was red and he was pulling his bandana over his eyes

“When did you learn that?! You little hechicera.” (sorceress - think of it like you’ve enchanted him)

You giggled and sat up, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him down into a kiss

He’s so protective of you after this

Moose better say his prayers if he even looks at you funny

If you two are at school he’s bound to be behind you

He’s always touching you somehow

He’s got an arm around your wait, an arm on your shoulder, pinkies hooked together, you make it

He gave you his favorite bandana and made sure you’re always wearing it

(It rests around your wrist like a watch and he loves to see it)

If you’re doing something in front of him and he feels particularly bold or is craving you, he’ll pull you by your belt loops against him with a shit eating grin

You melt at his touches

Somehow you guys are hanging out with each other even more than you did before

Best believe he sneaks into your room at night to cuddle you

He’s so gentle with you

He’s always the big spoon, no debate

Will climb over you and stuff to make sure he’s always the big spoon I’m not joking

Kisses you and runs his fingers against your scalp when you’re both trying to sleep

Absolutely LOVES kissing you

Literally addicted to you

PDA fan, mainly so he can show people you’re his

He always has a sort of woodsy and natural scent to him

He loves resting on your head and takes a deep breath when he can smell your hair

He’s so in love with you it makes him feel crazy

——————————————

#asks open #brady hepner #ethan hawke #finney blake #finney blake x reader #mason thames #miguel cazarez mora #robin arellano #robin arellano x reader #the black phone #the black phone x reader #the grabber #vance hopper #vance hopper x reader #bruce yamada #bruce yamada x reader #fanfic #pinball vance #the black phone x you #tristan pravong

[bittersweet-honeysuckle]

Me when Robin said “my dad didn’t come home. and i’m not coming home either”

#the grabber #tbp era #tbp #tbp x reader #the black phone cast #the black phone spoilers #the black phone fandom #the black phone incorrect quotes #the black phone imagine #the black phone robin #robin tbp #robin x reader #robin arellano #finney x robin #the black phone headcanons #the black phone fanfic #the black phone vance #vance hopper #pinball vance #vance x reader #finney blake #finney shaw #finneyblackphone #finney x reader #bruce yamada #the black phone billy #billy tbp #arthur tbp #im cryin

[jayfortheday]

hola! i really love your Vance writings! sooo soo good. so I had this idea,,, i was wondering if u could write one where vance and y/n are like making out (in a very inconvenient place) and just as it’s getting good the two get caught and in trouble like detention or something lolllll

Edit: someone has expressed discomfort at this post, please read the prompt for your comfort before interacting

Caught (Vance Hopper)

Pairing: Vance Hopper x GN!Reader (romantic)

Word count: 546

Description: Vance sneaks into an empty classroom to make out with Y/N

Tags: making out, biting, being caught

~~~~~~~~~

“In here,” Vance whispered out to you from a door to an empty classroom. You pushed the ajar door open and entered. You heard the door shut behind you and turned around to see Vance with a gleeful smile on his face. 

“Hey stranger,” you chuckled, approaching him with your arms crossed. 

“Hey yourself,” he responded, meeting you and wrapping his arms around the small of your back. “You know, it sure is hard work to sneak into your side of the school. Maybe I should get a kiss for my troubles.” He grinned as he looked into your eyes. You could see him trace his tongue along his top row of teeth. 

“Oh you do now?” You smiled, leaning towards him but still leaving space. 

“Oh I do,” he said, putting on a flirty tone. 

“Well then you better come here.” you giggled as you pulled on Vance’s vest to bring his face to yours.

You brought his lips to yours, inhaling deeply as he leaned into you. You raised your arms and brought them to wrap around his neck. Your fingers played with the hair on the back of his neck as you smiled against him. You pulled away a couple centimeters to speak.

“Well, it appears you got your kiss,” you hummed, waiting for him to object. 

“Oh, I think you can do a little better than that,” he purred softly. You laughed out loud as he picked you up and brought you over to a table in the room. He placed you down roughly and leaned into you again. 

This time, your kiss was more passionate. You pressed your body against him as you held him. You felt Vance run his tongue along your lip and you opened your eyes slightly as you opened your mouth to him. Vance lept at the opportunity and thrust his tongue into your mouth. His tongue tangled with yours as an intense blush came across your face. The feeling of his tongue was always a little strange, but it was a welcome feeling you sought after frequently. You hummed quietly as he ran his hand through your hair and pulled your head back. He detached his mouth from yours and began to kiss along your neck.

His tongue ran in a stripe from your collarbone to the base of your jaw, sucking spots along the way. The slight sting of his tug on your hair heightened the feeling of his mouth on your neck. You felt Vance pull away and chuckle quietly before he came back to your neck, just below your jaw. You felt his teeth graze your skin before he bit down into you. You gasped as he bit you. Any other time, you might have considered it painful, but the mood Vance had set turned the pain to a more mild feeling. He didn’t bite hard enough to draw blood, but you could feel he left quite a mark, one he knew you would struggle to cover. 

Suddenly, you heard the door knob begin to turn and you pushed Vance away quickly. He straightened as he heard the door knob. When the door opened, a teacher stood in the doorway. 

“Out,” she said with an exasperated tone. “Detention, both of you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Hope you enjoyed! I've been hesitant before but I kinda just said fuck it this time. I know it's kinda short but I feel the length doesn't negatively affect it so

#vance hopper #vance hopper x reader #the black phone #fanfic #fanfiction

[justasimp1]

Vance Hopper x F! Reader

Protective and Fluff

Bronze Medal

The arcade's lights glowed on the dark walls. Vance snuck glances at you while maintaining a strict focus on his game, his knuckles turned white as he jerked the handle to the pinball machine. He was so close—just one more pull and he would be bragging about breaking another high score.

"What the hell" His nose scrunched in disgust as he looked at you again. The grip on the machine faltered, making him lose his process. The group around him let out sly snickers and gasps. Vance looked back at the game, pushing out a string of sore loser curses. But he couldn't be completely mad– especially not when a 5'4 idiot was talking to you.

Vance grumbled, shoving in another token, restarting his technique, making slow affirmations that you'll be by his side in a blink of an eye. He rapidly climbed the point system, and more kids wandered up, silently praying for his downfall.

"You live around here?" The shaggy brunette pushed his hair back. You shooked your head, trying to get a peak at Vance between all the crowded bodies. "Maybe after we get to know each other, I could walk you home?" He smiled, the neon lights made his braces shine.

You awkwardly laughed, biting the inside of your cheek. You didn't want to hurt his feelings but you didn't want to lead him on. "I'm sorry, I already have someone walking me home" You made a gesture towards Vance, who had his tongue poked out the side of his mouth in concentration.

"I'm sure he'll understand" He didn't get the hint...? He leaned forward, placing an elbow on the space next to your head to prop his head up. "We could always go somewhere else to get to know each other" He smirked, his lips parting while his eyes flickered go your lips.

You started to subconsciously chuckle, your brain panicking for the nearest exit. "I'm not interested in you, I have a boyfriend who would definitely not understand" You placed a hand on his chest, hoping to nudge him backward.

"I'm known to change female's mind" But he didn't—instead he leaned in closer.

It was an instinct for Vance to check on you or look at you for support whenever he was about to beat another score. He grinned, watching the ball hit sounds and blinding lights. However, the cocky ego was shot down multiple pegs when he saw the same guy with you, and he was kissing you.

He didn't wait for a second, pushing past the nosy children, marching over towards you. The many groans and protests fell behind him. You felt a harsh force pull you to the side. You yelped, clutching on the closest would figure. "What the fuck" By his pale knuckles, gripping your waist, you could tell Vance was holding back.

You looked up, an apology is already on tongue. You were his girlfriend, you shouldn't have let the situation develop as much as it did. Yet, he was burning holes in the boundary-crossing boy. The boy held his hands up in defense, his smirk dropping down to a quivering smile. "She didn't say she had a boyfriend"

You frowned, your eye twitching as you were about to argue against his statement. Vance let go of you, stepping up to the guy, he wrapped his hand around his collar. The boy's body made a thump when it connected to the wall. The group that was once admiring Vance play was now frozen, muttering about the scene.

"Don't fucking lie to me, dip shit" Vance swore, his fingers twitched closer to the guy's neck. Your brain took a long moment to process the slight choking noises. You were all for letting Vance beat up an asshole but getting kicked out of another place wasn't on your to-do list.

He leaned in, whispering something in the boy's ear. "—you understand me?" Vance applied more pressure on the blabbering male. You squeezed your eyes shut, hearing a connection between flesh happen. Vance pulled back his arm again, swinging it forward. The wide bruise on the boy's cheek grew, and his body suddenly limp.

Vance dropped the boy, his body crumbling to the ground. He was in the middle of kneeling and hitting him again when you spoke, "Let's go". You knew he heard you by the way his shoulders tensed, and his scarcely head turned. Vance's arm was still in the air, his fist clutched above the guy's face.

You sighed, turning around, and making a beeline to the door.

The cold wind hits your face. Your hands wrapped around your abdomen, bile scratching the side of your esophagus. The arcade's door chimed, and Vance slammed through, a deathly sneer on his face. He was already lettering something along the lines of "Someone had to teach that prick a lesson"

You huffed, kicking stranded pebbles across the concrete. You began to walk down the sidewalk. "I saved you from going to juvie" You chuckled, the heel of your shoes scratching on the pavement. His knuckles brushed past yours.

He started a few angry grumbling. You hide your laugh by readjusting your voice and intertwining your fingers. Vance's hand was calloused and rough but felt sweaty while being held by yours. He paused his furious breathing, allowing silence to consume the moment.

Distant barks of dogs echoed down the sidewalk. The branches of trees tussled, a few leaves drifting to the ground. "Did you..." Vance's voice gets lost in his throat. His hold on your hand got tighter. "Did you let him kiss you?" The words sounded forced, making the angsty sentiment evaporate.

You looked up at him, cocking your head to the side. "He didn't kiss me. And I would have never let that happen" You deadpanned in confusion. His long dirty blonde curls were stacked on his face, so you couldn't study his facial expression. Vance looked at you, the corners of his lips curling into a smile. You would've passed the movement as relief but you knew Vance way too well for that.

"What did you do...?" You hesitated, remembering Vance didn't immediately follow you after you left the scene.

"I thought he kissed you—" He darted his tongue over his lip, bringing your closed hands to his mouth. His lips moved over your skin, a grin plastering on the back of your hand. "—so I busted his lip"

Masterlist

#fanfic #x reader #fluff #angst #vance hopper x reader #vance hopper #the black phone #finney the black phone #vance the black phone #the black phone fanart #the black phone x reader #vance x reader #vance hopper fluff #the black phone fluff #vance hopper angst