#ive almost completely stopped engaging with the tags and this is like 60% of the reason why

[violentviolette]

one day the cluster b tags on this site will be filled with people having real actual discussions about our disorders and mental health and the ways it effects us and coping mechanisms and paths to healing instead of 900 vapid note grabs that say shit like "ur so valid!! i know everyone hates u but *i* dont so u should give me praise for saying absolutely nothing of value or use! i dont even have one of these disorders or understand them at all but ur absolutely not all monsters! this is in no way just using ur disorders as a ploy for attention and my own sense or moral superiority!" like girl go home. no one cares. i dont give a shit if someone thinks my existence is ""valid"" i'd like to read something of actual substance that shows op knows even the tiniest bit about what they're talking about. i know asking for an actual thought that requires work and nuance and complexity is asking a lot on this site in this day and age but a guy can hope

[purplelupins]

Sweet Dreams

|The Black Phone|

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V

Part VI

Grabber/Albert x fem!reader

Summery: Getting away from her life as a human punching bag took her somewhere she never could have imagined. But it seemed that even a basement with a masked man watching her could become home.

Warnings: depictions of physical and verbal abuse, manipulation, pet names, power imbalance, sexual tension, mild swearing, mentions of medical trauma, nsfw

Note: PLEASE READ

This is a nsfw DARK story so if you are a minor DO NOT ENGAGE. If you are offended or triggered by the mentioned material, DO NOT ENGAGE. Simple as that. Please note that I do not condone what the Grabber has done in cannon, and I am only using him as a character in my story. If you message me with negativity or harassment, I will not respond. This is Tumblr, not Twitter. Please block the Grabber x reader tag if you are disgusted.

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The first few days went the same.

He would bring her breakfast, she would talk and ask non-invasive questions, and then he would leave for the day. She could tell that she was starting to grow on him judging by how he stayed longer in the evenings and how his shoulders weren’t so ridged. She was glad he was feeling more at ease.

By the fifth day, he gave her a book.

By the eighth day, he gave her a tennis ball, which she used as her exercise.

By the ninth day, she had pestered him enough to know he grew up during the Second World War, and preferred music from the 50’s and 60’s over the newer age. He wasn’t married, and had a liking for listening to the news. He enjoyed driving and walks in the woods, and he also didn’t sleep a great deal.

On one Monday, she had had a fairly uneventful day. It was all very much the same as it always was, but there had been something nagging in her mind. That evening when he brought her dinner, she had a burning question that she had to know the answer to. A question she honestly only half wanted answered.

The man placed the tray of dinner on her lap and sat beside her like he did almost every night.

“Did you have a good day?” She asked him a little absentmindedly as she built up the courage to ask him that question.

“It was hot…think I got a sunburn on my arm.” He glanced down at his veiny arm that was indeed pinker than usual. She found herself staring a moment too long at the limb before going back to the food on her fork. He noticed.

“You should put some ointment on it.” she murmured then sucked in a breath, “Can I ask you something, Mister? It’s not about you this time.” She joked lightly having asked him millions of questions.

“Go ahead.” He said patiently in a sing-songs tone. At this point they both knew that if he didn’t want to answer the question, he wouldn’t.

So she took a deep breath.

“Has…has anyone been looking for me? Is there a search?” She asked. Of course it sounded pathetic, but she wanted to know.

The man seemed to think about it for a moment. He contemplated telling her that no one was looking for her. That she was on her own. But he knew she wouldn’t believe him, and having her trust was of upmost importance if she was going to be his completely.

“For the first four days. It was called off six days ago.” His blunt honesty was a surprise to her. She had figured he might have sugar coated it or just said he didn’t know. Regardless, she was glad they had stopped looking, but she worried that her father would still try and find her on his own. And that meant no police and no police meant unlawful measures to find her.

“Can I…can I stay a little longer?” She whispered, afraid of his answer.

What if he was tired of having to entertain and feed me?

She already started to form a way to brush off her own question, ready to tell him that she would be fine on her own if he wanted her gone, but his answer stopped her in her tracks.

“Of course you can, bunny.” He cooed, rubbing her back. She looked over at him, and couldn’t help but lean into his touch; something that did not escape him. “All done?” He nodded to her empty plate.

Y/n breathed out a sigh of relief, and felt the sting of grateful tears in her eyes.

“Yes. Thank you.” She placed her fork down.

The older man patted her back a d took her tray as he stood. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” He said.

The more he cared for her, the more she noticed how much she enjoyed him treating her so childishly; it had been something she missed out on. If he offered to wash her she probably wouldn’t object. She followed his direction and just as she always did, she kept close to his side. Only this time, after wanting to for over a week, she took his free hand as they walked up the stairs.

She was afraid of him telling her to not touch him or yell at her, but he had been fine with touching her; he stroked her hair, rubbed her back and would squeeze her hand sometimes. So that night, she metaphorically bit the bullet and held his large hand.

The man paused on the step he took, and looked down at her little hand in his. She grew nervous as his silence stretched on, and began to pull her hand away. But then he reached out and took her hand in his, holding it tighter than she had held his. She smiled shyly and they continued their routine as usual, only with their fingers locked.

She washed and dried herself off and was guided around again by the man to return downstairs. He played with her hair as she laid on he mattress and spoke about the world.

However, when it came to resting, she barely slept at all. She had indeed had a pleasant day, and had nothing happen that would trigger her, but it seemed that good day or not, her dreams turned into nightmares.

She was plagued by images of her father whipping her, and his fist in her ribs. His hand in her hair as he dragged her to the hospital-

She shook all night with her knees against her chest and tears streaming down her cheeks. By the time she heard birds chirping, her eyes were dry and her teeth hurt from clenching her jaw.

Another few hours passed, and she heard the door unlock. A sense of relief washed over her as the door opened, and she tried to pull herself together, but he noticed her state immediately. She was scared. Every nerve in his body was suddenly alight. He snapped his finger for Sampson to stand at the top of the stairs and shut the door behind himself incase she tried to get away.

“What happened?” He asked as he walked to her, a little more urgently.

“I just…couldn’t sleep.” She said, avoiding his eyes from under his smiling mask. He knelt down and placed the food on her thighs.

“Why don’t you tell me about it?” He asked gently, though if she had looked at his hands, she could have seen his white knuckles from how excited he was; he hoped she had had a nightmare about him. She should. And if she was afraid of him, then he could start playing with her.

But that was far from what she had dreamed of.

“I kept remembering my dad…what he used to do to me.” She whispered, poking at the egg.

“What did he do?” He asked a little darker than usual. His morbid curiosity began to take over.

She didn’t say anything. Instead, she placed the tray beside herself, and turned around on the bed so her back was to him. Then, she lifted her shirt up to show him her back.

He was silent at first, then she felt a gentle finger trace the scars and bruises that had yet to fade. There was one particular cut that had yet to heal, and was still quite painful; he brushed the surrounding tissue far tenderly than she had thought. After a moment she heard him clear his thoat, and when she turned around, she swore she saw the remains of tears in his eyes.

“I’ll never let him find you.” He whispered intensely. She wondered if he had experience with abuse as well; seeing her injuries might have brought back memories.

“I know you want to help but you can’t promise that…I can’t stay with you forever-“

“Why?” He asked, his voice lowering.

“You have a life, Mister. And I’m very capable of looking after myself.” She said. Having her was a burden- if not now, then at some point in the future she knew he would realize that.

“Do you want to leave?” He asked, his fists tightening in his lap as he readied himself to grab her.

But she shook her head.

“No. No I don’t…” she whispered.

His hands relaxed, and he looked away for a moment.

“Good.”

With that, he joined her on the mattress, and he asked her about her hobbies while he played with her hair. Occasionally he would take the fork from her and raise a piece of egg to her lips for her to eat. She found it endearing. Odd, but endearing.

That day was uneventful again. But as the sky darkened, she found herself slipping back into those intrusive thoughts that had begun to plague her.

It started with her remembering the man who called himself her father, but slowly morphed into her imagining what she would do to him if she could. As her thoughts progressed, she became unsettled that she would even think those things.

When he brought her dinner, she found herself eating a little slower just so he would stay longer because if he was there, her thoughts were gone, but eventually she finished.

To her surprise as they went upstairs for her shower, he grasped her hand in his and pulled her along behind him without a second thought. That was the first change she noticed that evening. The second was when she was expecting him to take her to the washroom, and instead he pulled her deeper into the kitchen to a cabinet, and placed the hand of hers that he had been holding on his arm as he used both hands to retrieve something. She held him tightly and waited.

When he turned back and took her hand again, he was holding a chocolate.

“Open.” He said.

She opened her mouth obediently and smiled when she tasted the sweetness on her tongue.

“Come on.” he cooed and pulled her along, “Shower time.”

That night, as he took her to sleep, she felt the effects of not sleeping properly the night previous. Her eyes were heavy.

“Sweet dreams, bunny.” He murmured, brushing her hair away from her face gently.

But she did not have sweet dreams.

She did sleep, but it was a morbid depiction of her father again, but he was three times his size and seemed to find her no matter where she ran. Fear pumped through her, and her heart felt as if it would burst completely.

She woke up in a sweat, and looked around frantically out of fear that it was real. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, however, what she found was certainly not her father.

In the doorway just beyond the light, she saw that familiar mask in the soft glow that came through the small window by the ceiling. She knew she should have been frightened, but it was the last thing she felt. She surprised herself by the feeling of comfort that came with seeing him there.

She was surprised more by the fact that he only wore the bottom half of the blank mask. Her curiosity was peaked when she noticed it.

He was watching her.

Testing her next move.

But she didn’t know that. For all she knew he was just checking on her.

“Mister?” She called out to him meekly.

He tilted his head to the side.

She swallowed her pride and stared out at him hopefully. “Would you…would you sit with me? Just until I fall asleep?”

He seemed to think for a second before walking into the room fully and shutting the door.

Y/n felt her cheeks burn when she realized his button up was open and she could see his chest fairly well. She looked away quickly, trying to not stare at his chest. He was in much better shape than she thought.

He sat down by her feet, but she scooted over to the other side so he had space to sit right next to her. His eyes crinkled at the side, and she wished she could see his smile.

“Looked pretty scary.” He said gently as he sat up against the wall while she placed her head on his thigh. His hand came down to her hair, and he began to play with it absentmindedly.

“My dad again…” she whispered, but recalled a better memory to tell him about. “Did I ever tell you about the time I thought I was an explorer and got lost in the mountains when I was twelve?” She asked.

He chuckled at that. “I don’t believe you did.”

“They brought out sniffer dogs and everything…when my parents found me the hugged me so tight…a year later my sister was born. Everything changed after that.” Her smiled faded away. “I really like music…do you like music?” She knew he liked music; he had told her as such. But they both knew she tended to ask repeat questions when trying to change a subject.

“Come on who doesn’t like music?” He replied patiently, looking down at her.

She smiled. “I dunno…a crazy person.”

They stayed quiet, and she clutched at the fabric of his pants by her chin like a safety line. He breathed a little heavier at the contact, and very nearly lost the control he had so carefully created. He had to remind himself that she wasn’t like the others. If he did this right, he might never have to hunt again. Never have to chase that feeling of control he craved. And so because of that, he remained by her side even after she fell asleep.

Every night became the same after that. He would let her shower, place a chocolate in her mouth, then take her to sleep and stay with her until she drifted off. At first, he would slip his belt out and hold it in his hand just in case. There was one night where she bolted up and he nearly struck her, but she had clung to him and cried into his shoulder. He hadn’t known what to do at first, especially with his adrenaline pumping, but he had relaxed eventually, and comforted her before he slipped from her grasp to disappear upstairs to figure out his thoughts.

Strange, strange girl.

He had anticipated that she might try and escape by then, but she had made no move whatsoever to do so.

By the fifth night of him staying with her, he no longer took his belt out, but he paid close attention to her and kept Sampson at the top of the stairs. Always waiting for her to run off.

But it never came.

On the seventh night, after a particularly long day, coupled with the excessive August heat, he was very tired. He had come home and made a simple dinner for the both of them, and brought hers down after finishing his. She had been playing with her tennis ball against the wall at it almost hit him, to which she apologized profusely.

He hadn’t had the strength to be terribly alarmed or angry, so he had just shaken his head and told her to be careful. He listened to her prattle on about the book he had brought her, and while he listened, he felt his eyes grow heavy. He took her upstairs, cleaned her up, and brought her back downstairs, but when she bid him goodnight, and he watched her, he did something he hadn’t done before. Once she was asleep, he laid himself down beside her and let her curl up into his arms; he told himself that he would just lay there for five minutes, then leave. But within two minutes, he too fell asleep against his will.

When he had awoken, he looked around frantically to ensure that nothing had happened, and he chided himself for slipping. When he wrenched himself from her side, he found himself not wanting to, but he chalked it up to her being the longest guest he had had; he spent the entire day stuck in his head, thinking. Trying to understand why he was being so clumsy.

It happened again a week later.

That time however, he had not waken up before her to leave her unaware. Y/n awoke quietly in the wee hours of the morning after having a dreamless sleep. What she had found, however, was that her cheek was not on a pillow at all. Under her head was a chest- a bare one. She had lifted her head carefully and looked up only to see the man who had welcomed her into his home with open arms.

His half-mask was slightly askew, and she couldn’t help but stare at how handsome he was, especially when he slept. Those deep lines in his forehead that she loved were relaxed and his breathing was hypnotic. It was then that she realised that she had been resting on his bare chest, and her cheeks burned so much she was afraid it would wake him.

She didn’t sleep anymore that morning, but pretended when he woke up, and she noticed how he stiffened. She listened to him sigh, and pull himself from her, then disappear until breakfast. She found herself missing his presence, but her embarrassment was too much to even think of that.

Y/n hadn’t been able to look him in the eye for the rest of the day.

A month passed.

He brought her a portable cassette player and a small stack of tapes. The collection slowly grew as he would bring her a new one every so often and he would watch her listen to it. She would tell him her favourites and what they reminded her of; a person, a place, a feeling. Anything.

And he soaked it up.

One Saturday morning, he came down to find her dancing to a new cassette tape. Her eyes were closed and her arms and hips swung to the tune flooding her ears. He liked watching her like that- she was so unaware and innocent.

No idea that the man feeding her could snap her in two if he wanted to.

But she wouldn’t know that, she was a good girl.

He tilted his head to the side as he stared her; she alternated between his shirt and her pyjamas depending on what needed a cleaning. That day it was his shirt day which meant no shorts and no shorts meant he could see her cute peach coloured panties from under the top when she raised her arms up.

He loved shirt days.

Especially when it was the weekend. A shirt day on the weekend meant he could spend hours with his pretty girl while she wore his clothes and almost nothing else. She would forget to close her legs or to be careful when bending over and he could see the fabric cling to her.

Y/n finally opened her eyes halfway through the song and gasped, jumping out of her skin when she saw him. She slipped her headphones off her head and laughed to herself. “Hi! Sorry, you scared me a little there.”

He tilted his head to the side and chuckled in that airy way he did, “Who? Me? No.” He teased her, walking with the tray.

She hit his arm lightly, trying to ignore the muscles exposed; he wore a t-shirt that day. She also noticed that he only had the bottom half of his mask; a rare occurrence during the day.

“Yes you.” She smiled and sat with him.

“What were you listening to, bunny?” He asked, nodding to the cassette.

She swallowed the egg and looked over atthe player.

“Oh that one you got me last week- Hard Day’s Night from the Beatles. I was listening to Can’t Buy Me Love! It’s such a fun song.”She thought aloud.

He gazed at her for a moment, drinking her in.

“By the way you were dancing I would have to agree.” He said, and by his voice she could tell his was smiling. “When the first round of tapes came out I waited in line for hours to get one…wore it out within a year after listening to it too often.”

“Which one did you like the most?”she asked, sipping at the coffee.

“You Can’t Do That.” He nodded as he remembered, “It reminded me of my girlfriend at the time.”

Her brows shot up at the confession. “You had a girlfriend?” Her voice must have been more shocked than she meant it to be because he looked over at her, his brows and eyes unamused and sharp. She had struck a nerve. The young woman almost choked when she tried to explain, “Not that I don’t think you could have a girlfriend or anything I mean you have beautiful eyes and you’re handsome from what I can tell but I just was surprised is all, I don’t know much about you and you surprised me by telling me something like that…” the words rumbled out of her embarrassingly.

“What?” He asked, he asked after a moment, and she could tell he was holding in a laugh.

“Oh come on…you know …you’re a good looking man. You’re really sweet too…” she said softly, poking at the eggs

“Do you think so?” He asked, leaning a little closer.

Y/n looked back up at him beside her, and felt her breath catch with him being so close.

“I do…” she whispered, then cleared her throat. “What happened to her?” Anything to change the subject.

“Hm? Oh she died…not long after we broke up. She…cheated on me.” He said simply.

Y/n, however, nearly spat out her coffee. “Was she stupid?” She blurted out, “It’s just…I don’t know I’ve been hit on by married men my whole life and I’ve never understood how someone can cheat. If you’re so miserable then just get a divorce.” She placed her fork down without finishing and sighed. “I’m sorry…I hope it didn’t hurt you too much.”

He stared at her for a moment and unconsciously tightened his hands into fists at the memory of the woman’s windpipe snapping under his hands. “It was alright. I suppose it’s that whole saying of what goes around comes around.” He said with a lightless and a shrug.

She nodded along.

“True…it can be hard to feel anything for people who have hurt you…” she said. Her eyes glazed over for a moment, and while she didn’t say and he didn’t ask, he knew she was remembering her dad. He had seen that look before, but in a mirror when he recalled his own past.

“Are you finished?” He asked and nodded at her half done eggs.

“Yeah…” she nodded, “They were great as always, but I think I just lost my appetite…thinking about him.”

He smirked under his mask at his own accuracy with her thoughts. He was starting to know what she was thinking.

“That’s okay,” he chirped, “You’ll forget about him sooner than you think. I’m sure of it.” His voice seemed to deepen slightly at the end, and y/n looked up at him as he stood.

“Mister?” She asked when he took a few steps to return upstairs.

“Yep?” He called, turning back.

She didn’t say anything, but she did run up to him and wrap her arms around his torso. He froze for a moment and stared down at her before wrapping his free arm around her. It was unexpected, but he had to admit it felt fucking euphoric.

She took a deep breath of his smell and let it cloud her mind. Her pulse began to thud in her ears, and she could feel a dampness between her thighs. When she realised her body’s reaction, she let go quickly.

“Sorry I just-“

“Shh…you can hug me anytime…” he cooed to her as her cheeks burned. “I might not look it but I’m a big softy!” The smile of his mask deceived her of his true motives. To her, he was just a nice guy with some eccentricities who was helping her. And best of all, she had no reason to not believe him.

“Okay…thanks again for everything.” She fidgeted with a small hole in the shirt.

She felt his hand atop her head, ruffling her hair a little, then he disappeared again just as he always did. And to her surprise, she craved him.

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