theabandonedchurch

[theabandonedchurch]

Part 2

☆The Black Phone☆

☆Yandere Ghost boys☆

☆WARNINGS: fear, kidnapping, unhealthy behavior☆

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Link to first part☆ https://www.tumblr.com/theabandonedchurch/699770259511607296/the-black-phone?source=share

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ You were beginning to realize the man who kidnapped you was the least of your problems. The boys had been comforting for you. In the cold of that room, in the dark, there had been times you thought you would never recover from being here. You laid awake at night, paralyzed with the fear that your kidnapper would come back. What he would do to you when he did. But the boys took care of you. They tried to keep you occupied. They asked what your favorite things were, and what you liked to do. They took turns with you telling stories, and making out pictures from the cracks in the walls. But it was still uncomfortable there, no matter how hard the boys tried to comfort you. It was always cold. Sometimes The Grabber didn’t feed you. You kept wondering how your family was, what they were thinking. And while the boys didn’t feel hunger, or cold, and their families already knew what had become of them, they hated the way it affected you.

But it wasn’t long before something changed. The boys started to bring you food. Then other things too, like blankets and books and board games. The doors remained locked. Only this time, The Grabber was never waiting on the other side.

You lay against Robin’s chest. On one side lay Bruce, and Billy on the other. Vance sat on the foot of the mattress. ”What if he comes back?” You asked. Your mouth was dry, and every time you spoke the cold seeped inside and stung your teeth. The boys hovered around you, but without any blood, without any flesh, they didn’t give you much warmth.

“ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴡᴏʀʀʏ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ.” Billy said. He and the other boys frowned. They didn’t like it when you talked about The Grabber. But how could you not? You had been eaten alive. You were in a strangers basement and you were terrified of what could happen.

You felt a worried expression growing on your face, though you did your best to hide it. “But I don’t understand. Where is he?”

“ᴏᴜᴛ.” Vance said. His tone was low and short. You were beginning to think your kidnapper had already been killed. They had told you they had a plan. But they never told you what it was. They never said you were going home.

Vance moved closer to you and carefully lay across your legs. Robin gripped you tighter from behind and rested his chin on your head. Bruce held one of your hands, and Billy leaned against your shoulder. They were angry boys. It had been with them since death. Every now and then, one of the boys would take you aside. He would hold your hand, or wrap an arm around your waist, or gently cup your face. He would ask:

“ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴄᴀʀᴇᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴜꜱ?”

“No,” you would shake your head. “Of course not.” But that was a lie. And it scared you even more that they might know you were lying. Only if they did, they didn’t say anything.

“ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʜᴜʀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ, ʀɪɢʜᴛ?”

“Yes,” you would say, but this time you meant it. You couldn’t imagine a single one of those boys hurting you on purpose. Not even Vance, who had been known for his temper. Not even Robin, who had been known for fighting. Not any of them, even with all their anger. Maybe a grasp that’s too tight, or the raising of a voice. But nothing more than that. Once you had gotten sick from the cold, and the boys had watched over you as if you were dying. They didn’t want to see you suffer. You were sure they would never hurt you on purpose. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? They wouldn’t do it on purpose. And you knew very well, with how much they seemed to love you, that they would do anything to have you as theirs.

Keep you in places you didn’t belong. Hide you away. They loved you too much, you thought. You didn’t understand why, either. But you suspected their deaths had left them with only one thing- the need to kill The Grabber. And then you had come along, and that changed. Because now they had something else to think about. Something else they wanted. Now something else existed in this place, separate from the mold, and the cold, and the damp, and their own misery. But it didn’t make a difference if the love was there. You were still trapped in a killer’s basement. They were still dead.

“ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ, ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ?” Robin asked. Sometimes when they talked to you, when you were laying down or too far from the phone, their voices didn’t come from the black phone but were whispers in the back of your head. Like it was always coming from right behind you, no matter where the boys stood.

You shook your head and smiled. “No. Just thinking.” You needed to get out of here. And you had a feeling the boys wouldn’t let you go willingly.

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The next day you spent all morning gathering your courage. You told them you hadn’t slept very well, and attempted to act sluggish. You pretend to zone out, and made yourself yawn. You moved slowly, and didn’t talk much. Then before long you flinched, perked your head up, and narrowed your eyes at the door. Bruce was the first one to notice your concern.

“ᴡʜᴀᴛ’ꜱ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ?” He asked.

“I think I heard something,” you mumbled. You blinked, unmoving. You were to hoping to come off as tired. Paranoid.

“ɴᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪᴅɴ’ᴛ.” Vance said immediately. Despite the sharpness to his voice, you knew he was trying to be comforting.

“I did!” You insisted. You forced a fearful expression on your face. “What if it’s The Grabber? What if he’s back?!” You thought it sounded a bit dramatic when you said it, but none of the boys seemed to notice. They looked all uncomfortable.

“ɪᴛ’ꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ʜɪᴍ, ᴍʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ.” Robin said gently. Despite the softness in his tone, it was still stern.

“Please check. Please unlock the door so I can see.”

“ʜᴇ’ꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ʜᴏɴᴇʏ.” Bruce reassured you. The boys were trying to convince you not to worry, trying to tell you they didn’t need to open the door because The Grabber was gone. But you could tell they were beginning to cave.

“Please! Please open the door so we can look!” You blinked, trying to force yours eyes to water. Shallow tears threatened to fall, and that’s when the boys exchanged an uncertain glance. After a few minutes, they finally turned back to you. Robin sighed and stood with his arms crossed. Vance rolled his eyes, but he didn’t look mad. Billy was nervously wringing his hands, and Bruce kept looking between the door and your own frail form. They all sort of had this guilt in their eyes. They felt bad for how afraid you were. They weren’t the ones who brought you here, but they were the ones who kept you.

You carefully approached the door. You made yourself walk slowly, no matter how bad you wanted to sprint for it. The time had to be right. You had to be close enough to make it out before they could close the door again. Robin was the one who unlocked it. Bruce and Billy stood on either side of you, and they were constantly looking over at you. Vance stood right behind you. If he had any breath, you would have felt it on your neck. Carefully you stepped forward, just enough to get a better view.

When you broke into a run, Vance wasn’t quick enough to grab you. Bruce and Billy reached for you, and Robin tried to stop you, but none of them had been prepared. They had still believed you were tired, still believed you were certain your kidnapper was alive and prowling somewhere upstairs.

You took the steps two at a time. It was horrible on your legs and yours lungs, considering you had been locked away. Your body was burning but the ghosts were right behind you, they were chasing you like a pack of feral animals. Running through the unfamiliar space was a nightmare, knowing you had been taken here away from your life, away from your family, and now you were trying to leave without a clue of where you needed to go. The whole house was dusty and emitted a dull, tense horror. An evil man had lived here, and then he had died here. The boys were right behind you, their fingertips kept brushing your skin and they kept yelling after you- “ʜᴏɴᴇʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ꜱᴄᴀʀᴇᴅ!” And “ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ?!” And “ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴛᴀʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴜꜱ!” And “GET ᗷᗩᑕK ᕼEᖇE!”

You came to a door with a small round lock and a passcode. Luckily the boys had already told you the code to the lock when The Grabber was still alive, when you still thought they were going to help you. Your hands were trembling so bad it was difficult to turn the lock in your hands, and those seconds you spent just barley ahead of the boys, desperately trying to put the code in, time almost seemed frozen. If they caught you, what would happen? Vance was the closest to you, so he would be the first to grab you. His arms would wrap around your stomach from behind and pull you tightly, harshly, against his chest. Bruce would come in front of you and lovingly, possessively, cup your face in his hands. He would look at you, both relieved and upset. Robin and Billy would grasp each of your arms in their cold hands. They would press themselves against you as if they were more desperate than you were, to keep you here with them. They would all be around you as a swarm. All the boys would want to have a hand on you, to say something to you. Maybe they’d ask what they did wrong, why you ran, or maybe they would lecture you, tell you that you needed them, you were better off here anyway (even if you didn’t belong here). You thought for sure they would tell you they loved you. And they would tell you they needed you. Then they would lock the door, and you would not be going home.

The lock hit the wooden floor with a loud, echoing clunk. They didn’t get to you in time. You pried the door open with relief, with fear, with the ghosts right behind you but not close enough yet to touch you. It didn’t matter though. The door was open, and the cool night air was drifting into the house, a contrast to the damp space you had known for the past few weeks. You were shocked to see another boy standing right outside, blocking your escape. He had curly hair and soft eyes, and although you couldn’t quite say who he was, something about him seemed awfully familiar.

“Please help!” You cried, but before you could say anything else, he had already grasped your shoulders.

Robin yelled from behind you-

“ꜰɪɴɴᴇʏ!“

The boy’s grip on you tightened. You suddenly realized why this boy seemed so familiar to you.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

☆𝑯𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒐 𝒎𝒚 𝑭𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔, 𝑰’𝒎 𝒔𝒐 𝒈𝒍𝒂𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚! T𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈! 𝑰 𝒎𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒃𝒆 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒅 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕, 𝑺𝒐 𝒌𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒚𝒆 𝒐𝒖𝒕. 𝑫𝒐𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕? 𝑨𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒊~

𝑨𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔,

𝑪𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒎𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒉☆

#the black phone #finney blake #robin arellano #vance hopper #bruce yamada #yandere the black phone #yandere x reader #yandere

[theabandonedchurch]

The Black Phone

☆The Black Phone☆

☆Yandere Ghost boys☆

☆WARNINGS: fear, kidnapping, unhealthy behavior, briefly includes The Grabber☆

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

It had been dark. It wasn’t like waking from sleep, but a sudden realization of consciousness. You were standing, engulfed in black. But then the world turned, and the darkness cleared away, and it abruptly hit you that you weren’t standing up, but laying down. A frown spread over your face. The mattress you lay on was off colored and stained. Everything was foggy, unclear. This room was dark and damp. It made you think of a mouth. Your head throbbed. It was a thick pulsing pain that seemed to blot out your other thoughts. The only one that completely pushed through was the vague memory of a man pulling you backwards- the action had been desperate, rushed, and the man had emitted a specific feeling of violence, like an old and angry dog- into a large black van.

You flinched as a heavy, metallic scrape filled the room- the opening of a door. A man stepped in. His face was concealed by a gray mask. Horns protruded from the top, and engraved by the mouth were long square teeth. His eyes gleamed darkly from the holes. “Hello,” he said. His voice was low. Your eyes were still blurry. Your tongue was dry against your teeth. You wanted to ask What are you going to do to me? but the words wouldn’t form. You were shivering, from your fear and from the temperature. It was cold, wherever you were. The dampness reminded you of somebody’s stomach- maybe the wet and hungry stomach of a dog-

“I know you’re scared,” he told you. “But you don’t have to be.” He came closer now, stopping less than a foot in front of you. You dug your nails into the mattress. You forced yourself not to flinch. Along with your head and it’s pulsing pain, an intense fear was clenching around your heart. Your chest ached. The room was quiet- all you could hear now, in this man’s silence, was your own beating heart. Your eyes blurred further as tears slowly began to run down your cheeks. “Stop that!” He snapped. You gasped and jumped back, your movements stiff. You wondered how long you had spent laying there. “Don’t cry,” he said. He lowered his voice again but there was still a certain sort of sharpness to it, a certain sort of violence. “Don’t act like I’m a bad guy. I’m not a bad guy.” You sniffled. You had to bite your tongue to keep from sobbing. After a moment he lowered his gaze and turned back the way he came. “I’ll be back later,” he said quietly. The door closed behind him with another piercing scrape.

You raised a trembling hand and wiped your eyes with your sleeve. Still sniffling, you decided to take this chance to look around the room. The edges were dark. There was a small square window, barred and far too high up for you to reach. And there was the dirt-stained mattress you sat on now, with your knees against your chest and your head tucked against them. Abruptly you were startled by another sound. It was loud and shrill, bouncing off the concrete. You cried out, snapping your gaze to the wall. A black phone clung to the wall like mold. It was still ringing. Hesitantly, you walked towards it. You grasped the cold plastic, held it tight until your knuckles turned white and began to ache like your chest. At first you thought it must have been your captor. But the voice that reached your ear was that of a teenage boy-

“ᴄʀʏɪɴɢ ᴡᴏɴ’ᴛ ʜᴇʟᴘ ʏᴏᴜ.” A cold chill ran over your body. The voice from the phone was low and rough. Questions sat on your tongue like a bad taste, but none of them would leave your mouth. “ᴀʀᴇɴ’ᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ꜱᴀʏ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴ’?”

You blinked. Your frown grew. You opened your mouth, and closed it again, and carefully asked “Who . . . Who is this?”

“ɪ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ᴍʏ ɴᴀᴍᴇ.” The boy’s tone changed. His words became louder. Sharper. You could feel his teeth through the phone. “ʜᴇ ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ᴍᴇ. ᴛʜᴀᴛ ꜰᴜᴄᴋᴇʀ ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ ᴋɪʟʟᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ ʜᴇ’ʟʟ ᴅᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴀᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ.” You froze. Your grip loosened around the phone. You debated putting it back on the wall- it was still sitting there like black mold it was still rotting there in that room like you were- and it didn’t make sense. You couldn’t be talking to a murdered boy. This phone shouldn’t have even worked, considering how old it looked. But the boy was still on the other line, his anger was still soaking in through the receiver. So instead you took in a long, trembling breath, and said “I . . I think I’ve seen your missing posters. Are . . . . Are you Vance Hopper?”

“ʜᴍ. ʏᴇᴀʜ, ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅꜱ ʀɪɢʜᴛ.” He fell quiet for a moment. In this silence that fell again, you realized how odd this room was. Aside from the high gray walls, and the awful brutality painted with suspicious spots and violent marks, there was something else. A presence. Just around the corner. Just on the edge of you. Like old dust, like dead skin. Despite the obvious emptiness, you did not feel alone. Finally, the boy on the phone spoke up. “ᴡᴇʟʟ, ʙᴀʙᴇ, ɪ’ᴍ ᴠᴀɴᴄᴇ ʜᴏᴘᴘᴇʀ. ᴀɴᴅ ɪ’ᴍ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ʜᴇʟᴘ ʏᴏᴜ.”

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

You had no clue how long you had spent trapped there- days, or weeks, or even months. But in your time spent quivering in that cool, damp, darkness, several other boys called after Vance. The phone would ring from its place in the wall, it’s black shiny house. It would gleam in your hand, still cold. Then the voices would come from the other end. Aside from Vance, there was Bruce, Robin, and Billy. You learned they were all boys who shared two things in common- death, and revenge. They constantly shared soft words and advice. The things they told you were always comforting, unnerving, and often with an edge of violence.

“ᴡᴇ’ʟʟ ɢᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏꜰ ʜᴇʀᴇ, ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴡᴏʀʀʏ.”

“ʜᴇ ᴡᴏɴ’ᴛ ꜰᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴅᴏ ɪᴛ. ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ.”

And the more time you spent there, in that dark room- in the stomach- the worse it all seemed to get.

“ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴡᴏʀʀʏ, ʟᴏᴠᴇ. ᴡᴇ’ʟʟ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴀꜰᴇ.” “ᴡᴇ’ʟʟ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ ʏᴏᴜ.”

“ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ꜱᴄᴀʀᴇᴅ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ.”

“ᴡᴇ’ʟʟ ᴋɪʟʟ ʜɪᴍ.”

And it wasn’t only in the things they said. You had been catching glimpses of these dead boys more frequently. First fleeting, and vague. A boy in the corner, or to the side of your eye. Walking across the room or lingering beside you. Always far away feeling, like morning mist. But now they were . . . Sharper. Their presence was right in front of you, undeniable. There was hardly ever a moment without at least one boy visible in the room with you. They stood beside you, and sat on the edge of the dirty mattress.

It hadn’t been long before you realized they were capable of touching you. You would often wake up with someone’s arms wrapped tightly around you, rarely knowing which one it was. They brushed your hair with their fingers when you were afraid, and carefully held your hands. It was almost comforting. You certainly didn’t want to be alone in a place like this, with a man as horrible as the one who had taken you. But you had a feeling it wasn’t good to be with these boys, either- especially since they were dead.

You jumped when the phone rang again. You never got used to the sound. It was too high pitched, and it echoed too deeply against the concrete. It reminded you of a cry.

“ʜᴇʏ ᴀᴍᴏʀ.”

You recognize the voice as Robin’s. He was looking at you while his voice came from the phone, both acting as separate vessels. His mouth opened but the words were from the black phone. This was also something you hadn’t gotten used to. “Hello.”

“ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ-“Robbin stopped. He glanced towards the other boys, who all shared the same look. They were all present, all circling around you in their torn clothes and broken bodies, like the rust stained bars of a cage. You felt very uncomfortable. You smiled.

“You were thinking . . . what?”

Billy nudged Robin. Vance and Bruce were glaring impatiently. “ᴍʏ ᴏʟᴅ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ ꜰɪɴɴᴇʏ ɪꜱ ᴀʟɪᴠᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ.” Robin said finally. “ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴅᴀʏ ꜱᴏᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜ’ʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴀʙʟᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ʜɪᴍ.”

You frowned. “You’re . . Talking about leaving.”

“ʏᴇꜱ, ᴀᴍᴏʀ,”he said slowly.

“Do you . . . Do you have a plan?”

“ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴜʀꜱᴇ, ʜᴏɴᴇʏ.“ Now the voice on the phone was one you recognized as Bruce. You turned towards him and watched a smile spread over his face. It made you uneasy.

“Well, what do I have to do?”

“ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴡᴏʀʀʏ,” said a different boy. You recognized this one as Billy. “ᴡᴇ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɪᴛ ᴀʟʟ ᴡᴏʀᴋᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ. ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪꜱ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ.”

“ʏᴇᴀʜ,” Now the one who spoke was Vance. “ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴡᴏʀʀʏ ᴀ ʜᴀɪʀ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʜᴇᴀᴅ.”

“We have a plan,” you said slowly. You felt the words leave your mouth with disbelief. Your eyes grew wide. “I’m- I’m going home!” You exclaimed. The relief of this statement didn’t wash over you. In fact, your heart was still beating just as fast. You were still just as afraid. You shouldn’t have been.

“ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴜʀꜱᴇ . . . “ Robin said. There was thrill behind his eyes, and something else. You could see the brightness of love, and the darkness of determination. And there was something else there, an emotion you couldn’t identify. A sort of dull discoloring. It suddenly occurred to you that you might have been trapped with something much worse than a dog.

“ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴜʀꜱᴇ.”

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

☆𝑯𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒐 𝒎𝒚 𝒈𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒔, 𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆. T𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈! 𝑰 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒅 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕, 𝒔𝒐 𝒌𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒚𝒆 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕. 𝑷𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒊𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖’𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒇. 𝑨𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒊~

𝑨𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔,

𝑪𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒎𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒉☆

#the black phone #yandere x reader #robin arellano #finney blake #vance hopper #bruce yamada #horror #the black phone x reader #yandere the black phone #billy showalter