#al shaw

[888talia]

GIVE IT TO ME PLEASE 😩😫😖

[dude-mang]

Yo Grabba Grabba

[keepsake-eyes]

Very bad men.

[obsessive-clown]

It should be criminal how I am cursed to think about Albert Lee Shaw every time I hear Fleetwood Mac play

God forbid a man be a little lovesick and delusional (talking about myself) and daydreaming about an evil guy he wants to beat with a brick.

Anyways… Go Your Own Way by Fleetwood Mac also fits Albert or whatever. Go, my hyperfixation ideas. That song would make great inspo for a fic, I just can’t prove it yet.

[willshipanything-blog]

Breaking the Rules- Complete Chapter Index

Current work in progress on this story. This is a SEQUEL to my previous work, The Rules of the Game. The index of that story can be found here.

Minors DNI please- but everyone else- please enjoy!! ✨💜✨

Chapter 1- Free Time

Chapter 2- The White Phone

Chapter 3- House Guest(s)

Chapter 4- The Quiet Game

Chapter 5- Into the Woods

Chapter 6- For One Night Only

Chapter 7- Naughty Boy

Chapter 8- Better Halves

Chapter 9- Demons

Chapter 10- The Empty House

Chapter 11- A Little Distraction

Chapter 12- Past Lives

Chapter 13- I Got You, Babe

Chapter 14- Lay It On The Line

Chapter 15- A Little (Self) Distraction

Chapter 16- 7741

Chapter 17- Temper Temper

Chapter 18- Secrets and Lies

Chapter 19- The Second Basement

Chapter 20- The Best Laid Plans

Chapter 21- The Depths

Chapter 22 Hang It Up

Epilogue 1 of 2 Dear Al and Scout

Epilogue 2 of 2 Would It Be a Sin?

[cerebellam]

Tag, You’re It - Chapter 2

The Grabber x Female Reader

Summary: The Grabber has you tend to the wound you inflicted on him

Warning(s): UNDER 18 DO NOT INTERACT. Language, blood/violence, kidnapping, large age gap (reader is 26)

Masterlist: X

A/N: Let me preface this by saying I do NOT condone the acts of The Grabber AT ALL. More details on this rant on the Masterlist. I hope you enjoy!

Shit. Fuck….FUCK. 

The severity of your situation was finally settling in. Your breaths became ragged and fast and you found yourself beginning to hyperventilate. The tips of your fingers were tingling, numbness fighting to take over your extremities. You looked around your prison wildly, searching for any way out. No, no, no. You needed to get out of here. Get your shit together. How the fuck were you going to get out of this? You attempted a deep breath to calm yourself. You could slowly feel the oxygen return to your limbs.

You eventually rose from the bed, walking over to the only window in the room. It was a few feet above you- way too high for you to reach. You attempted to jump for the ledge anyway, unsuccessful. You even made your way to the black phone next to the bed on the wall, repeatedly pressing the switch hook in an attempt to hear a dial tone. You resentfully looked down, seeing that the phone’s wire was cut. 

“Fucking, damnit.” You breathed, slamming the phone back on the hook.

You decided to try screaming in a last-ditch effort.

“HELP!” You screamed at the top of your lungs. For God’s sake, there had to be someone nearby that could hear you. Where even were you? Sure, some neighborhood somewhere...but you could be in another state for all you knew. 

You cried out another call for aid, the sound of your voice reflecting around the small room and off the concrete walls. 

“It’s no use, I’m afraid,” The Grabber’s sighing voice had entered your ears again. You hadn’t even heard him come in. “No one can hear anything down here, I soundproofed this room myself.”

You spun around to face him. “If there’s someone upstairs, they’ll hear me.” 

“No he won’t. Not with the door shut.” 

“He?”

The cerulean eyes behind the emotionless mask watched you carefully. The Grabber cocked his head. 

“When the door’s shut you can’t hear anything from down here. So shout if you want, you won’t bother anyone.”

“Well, I think I’d be an idiot if I didn’t try,” You mumbled, squeezing your fists in frustration. There went that plan.

The masked man gestured down to the tray of medical supplies he carried. He approached the bed, sitting down on the edge and setting the tray down on the floor.

You sighed, returning to your spot on the mattress against the wall. 

You lifted the tray on the other side of you on the mattress, digging through the pile of bandages and dampening the washcloth with the glass bottle of freshly boiled water he had provided.

“If this hurts…please don’t take it out on me,” you murmured, begrudgingly scooting closer to him and lifting the cloth to his neck. You began to wipe the caked blood from his skin. The saturated cloth gave a wet squelch against his epidermis, pink-tinged droplets cascading to his shoulder. You lifted the cloth to reveal a nasty open gash.  You heard him wince and a deep growl rumbled from his chest. You paused a moment, watching him carefully. You didn’t know why you weren’t trying to strangle him with one of the bandages, or pouring alcohol in his face as you made a run for the door. You definitely considered it. His neck was exposed at the moment and at your disposal. But you also considered the fact that timing was everything, and right now, he would surely find a way to overpower you. You needed time to think this through. 

“This is a stupid question, I’m sure,” you started, continuing to cleanse his wound, “but do you have any intentions of letting me go?”

“And just why would I do that, little dove?”

You mentally cringed at the title. You sure were a caged bird.

“Why? What do you want with me?”

He stopped your wiping motions, grabbing your wrist in his large hand and turning to look at you. His blue eyes were intense and unwavering. 

“Don’t you worry about that. Just…play nice and I’ll decide just what to do with you,” he growled. 

“Or you’ll kill me?” Your voice was just above a whisper, your lip trembling.

Silently, he released your wrist and ignored your question. A resounding yes, to you. An answer you already knew.

Then the fucker giggled. This sick fuck. 

You tried your best to pretend you didn’t hear the titter and continued your first aid, finding sterile gauze and a large bandage among your brought supplies. You could feel his side gaze watching you as you worked, 

“What’s your name?” He finally spoke. 

“Why do you care?”

“I usually don’t.”

You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. You tried your best not to skip a beat. 

“Margaret,” you swallowed, lying. 

He dug into his pocket and you flinched, prepared for him to whip out a switchblade or something. He held up your plastic name tag between two fingers, ‘Y/N L/N, Registered Nurse’ embossed in white.

Shit. You forgot your uniform was in your duffel bag…which he stole from your car. 

“I don’t like liars, Y/N.” He enunciated your name with a hiss.

“I-I’m sorry-“ you stammered, immediately regretting your decision to lie to your captor. You had messed up now. 

“Why lie to me, little dove? I already have you exactly where I want you.” 

Before you could even blink, his hand quickly snaked its way around your throat, giving it a light squeeze. You gasped in panic, heat rising to your cheeks. He slid his hand up your neck, taking your cheeks in his ringed fingers. He chuckled, a darkness rumbled in his chest. He tsked. “Naughty girl. I think you need a time-out.” His masked face was extremely close to yours. You could hear his heavy ragged breaths. You just stared at him, attempting to not let the fear in your eyes make itself known. 

“Be a doll and wrap this up. I’ll need to be upstairs for a while. Something has come up.”

“What?”

“Never mind, what.”

His grip on you released and your body was practically burning with the urge to just go apeshit on this man, attacking him with everything you had. You wanted to rip that stupid mask off his face, rip further into his neck wound, and make a run for the door.

No. Be smart. Play his stupid game. You had time to think this through...right?

You finished his wound care by placing a sterile dressing over the gash. 

“There. You need to keep it dry, change it tomorrow...clean your hands before you do. Change it sooner if it seeps through.” Or don’t. I don’t care. You held your tongue. 

“Now that’s a good girl,” he hummed approvingly, lightly brushing his fingers against your chin as he stood. You guessed that was your thank you- your thank you for fighting everything in you not to rebel, not to fight back. Good girls didn’t try to attack their kidnapper. Jesus, how long would you play this game?

The Grabber picked up the tray, now littered with bloody bandages and wrappings, and faced the door. 

“Get some rest, Y/N. I’ll be back soon enough.”

You hated the tone in his voice. You wish he didn’t know your name. 

You were left alone again in silence. 

-

Chapter 3 

Tags: @strrvnge​, @astroo-babe

[beehindblueeyes]

Black phone but Griffin is in Ray Bans the whole time and no one says a thing about it

Inspired by Bank’s recent posts. Again no one is out here doing it like this kid .

The grabber wishes he had this style. He wishes.

[dancingisdangerouss]

could you write headcanons for the grabber with his darling being touchy with him (sexual and non sexual) after being in the basement for a long time because they are so touchstarved

Oop when did this show up? Totally missed it. But sure thing! By your phrasing I assume you mean Reader being the one initiating contact?

Okay, so, I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that Al is also touch-starved, mostly of his own...volition? No, I can't think of the proper word, brain is fried. But I would assume he does not have a whole lot of human contact; he seems like a recluse and obviously not very skilled socially or adept at making friends. His parents were probably not very giving/liberal with hugs and such, so I think Max is probably the only one who ever touches him (hugs, clapping him on the back).

That said, I think Al is generally...not very comfortable unless he's the one initiating contact, particularly if he does not know the person very well. Like if someone in public tapped his shoulder, he'd immediately rear back and probably be unpleasant about it or even yell at them (Gee, wonder why you can't make any friends dude).

Same goes for why he hasn't been able to maintain a stable relationship for long. He's conventionally attractive and might garner some attention, but that tends to go away once people actually get to know him. When he's not putting up a front for his magic act or with the masks on, I feel like he's a bit of a grump with no people skills.

Therefore, if Reader was to be the one to start things off, I think he'd be skittish at first. The whole point of the masks and kidnapping stuff is a power play and based around the concept that people are not interested in engaging with him, so I think he'd be confused and nervous in the beginning, maybe flinch or tell you to not touch him (hypocritical, ain't it?).

I think he would eventually warm up to it, once he gets over the initial "I'm not used to this and don't like it, stay away from me" stage. I headcanon him as the Disorganized Attachment Style, where a part of him is clingy and wants that deeper level of intimacy, but is also dismissive and avoidant sporadically. So, he'd probably take a good while before he fully accepts/enjoys Reader's contact.

At which point he can't get enough of it, oops. We all know he gets obsessive, so I think he'd be handsy 24/7, sexually and otherwise--coming up behind them and wrapping his arms around them, pulling them to sit with him, holding their hand, groping or making out, softer kisses, really just touching as much as humanly possible to try and make up for a lifetime of of being deprived of it.