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୨୧ finney blake x fem!reader ୨୧
Finney Blake; the boy who survived and killed The Grabber. The boy who to many was a mysterious dark figure. But to you, he was the boy who knew the stars.
a/n: (7.8k words) Dialogue will be the death of me I swear!
Finney couldn't believe he ever met you. You were everything he used to be and nothing like he was now. But akin to the sun itself, you were bright and shining. Shredding away the darkness and leaving him exposed to all to see, yet still being warm and comforted.
And similar to the sun, once entering into your life, it was impossible to pull from the gravity of your angelic presence.
He didn’t have high expectations of a high school house party; drunk teens, shitty overplayed music and cheap beer. The over-filled party on Williams Lane was exactly as Finney expected. And after the third person bumped into him, Finney wanted to leave.
The house party’s music was too loud, none of the songs were anything he liked the sound of. Half his beer had been split over his hand leaving it sticky and damp during the chaos of the night.
He didn’t know why he bothered coming. He’d overheard the mention of the party in the cafeteria and when he’d told Gwen about it she urged him to go. Maybe he wanted to feel normal, like everyone else his own age. But when he looked around everyone dancing with their friends, getting drunk and high, laughing at each other’s crazy dares, he couldn’t imagine Robin ever being in a place like this.
Maybe that was the real reason he wanted to leave. Constantly thinking of his best friend who was stuck in his mind, as forever fourteen. With clenched fists, Finney weaved through the crowd walking towards the kitchen, where the back door was open flowing with teens coming and going.
“You always leave parties too early. Stay longer this time” An unfamiliar voice called out to him over the loud music.
Finney’s steps faltered as he turned around. You stood with your arms crossed, leaning back against the wall as if you owned it with a red cup similar to his own in your hand. He didn’t recognize you, clearly from the rival school across town. You called out your name, and he did the same.
Whether it was the alcohol lingering in his system or if it was the way your stare enticed him, Finney found himself swallowing his bitter remark and walking over to you. The song had begun to change, people fluttered around trying to get a re-fill before the next chorus played. He stiffly stood next to you as you easily took a large sip of your drink.
“Wanna share why you show up just to leave so quickly?” You asked with a grin. Finney turned away from you, looking out at the shifting crowd.
“No.” He plainly said and expected you to begin annoyingly pester him, but you merely shrugged with that same smile on your face. “Okay then”
The party felt less suffocating, the music less obnoxiously loud and the beer less bitter. He assumed it was because he finally found someone who didn’t aggravate him. The tension in his shoulders eased.
You talked about kids from your school in your sport’s team, he shared about his upcoming project he was looking forward to. He complained about Moose and a couple other annoyances from his school, you shared stories of you and your friends summer adventures. Eventually he found himself leaning back against the wall too, holding onto his empty plastic cup.
He lightly rolled his eyes with a small smile at your story’s punchline. You were about to say something when two girls holding up a nearly passed-out third called out your name. You tilted your head at the sight with an exasperated sigh.
“I thought she wasn’t drinking tonight” You laughed seeing her head lull back.
The taller girl to the left scrunched her face up as the other tried to keep their friend upright. “You believed her? She always drinks! But c’mon, we’ve got to take her home before she pukes on another sophomore.”
You shook your head in dismay but tore yourself away from the wall. Smiling at him as you placed your empty cup in his. “Thanks for the chat, Finney. Hopefully I see you around”
Your friends called your name again as they staggered towards the front door. Finney muttered a simple ‘Bye’ as he watched you disappear into the crowd. With a final look at the party, no longer seeing you. He dropped both cups onto the floor and disappeared out of the back door.
The cool breeze of the night sobered him up slightly as he began walking back home, thankfully the party was only a few blocks from his house. As he walked home, his thoughts drifted back to you and your surprisingly good company.
The second time he saw you, it’d been weeks later. He opened the cracked door of the Grab N’ Go wanting to buy a packet of cheap cigarettes and a soda before returning home to finish his English essay.
At first he blatantly ignored you, not noticing it was you as he walked straight past where you stood playing the pinball machine in the corner. The quiet of the store was filled by the faint noise from the pinball game, and the opening and shutting of the farthest fridge door.
Despite years having passed as he turned around walking back towards the counter, he expected to see Vance Hopper in his usual denim vest swearing under his breath as he tried to beat his record. But instead he noticed it was you.
The soda can within his hand was cold, he gripped it tighter before walking over, watching as you played. Your eyes flickered to him for a brief second before focusing on the game with a smile on your face. Droplets of water from his soda dripped down his hand as he stood watching the small silver ball.
Clearly you’d been here awhile, your score was rising higher and higher. Something akin to panic shot through his chest when he realized how little points you needed to beat the high score- Vance’s high score. He didn’t know why it bothered him but it did. No one had been able to beat the record he set but you were about to, clearly you‘d been practicing.
Before he knew what he was doing, his foot whacked against the machine’s metal leg making it wobble, causing the small round ball to slip through your grasp. Your nose scrunched and you huffed under your breath as you turned to face him but he was already walking away, towards the counter to buy his slightly-warm soda.
“I remember you from the party, Finney right?” You asked but he ignored you, muttering to the tired employee what cigarettes he wanted while placing his soda on the counter.
Your eyes narrowed as you walked up behind him. He handed the cashier the correct amount of notes when you placed a blue covered lollipop from the stash on the counter and placed it onto his pack of smokes with a cheeky smile. His jaw tightened but he pulled out a couple extra quarters from his jean’s pocket.
You swiftly grabbed both your lollipop and his cigarettes and walked straight out the shop’s door. Grabbing his soda he followed after you. He reached for the cigarette’s in your hand but you held them closer to your chest, and sat down on the sidewalk leaning against the wall of the store. Looking up at him with a smile, you placed the packet of smokes on the ground beside you.
“You messed with my game. You’re my entertainment now” You smiled with a shrug, unwrapping the blue coloured lollipop with ease.
“I guess that’s fair” He sighed and sat down, not wanting to rush back home for another homework assignment.
He grabbed the cigarettes off the ground, opening the packet and lighting one up with the lighter in his pocket. He offered you the packet, expecting you to take one but you grabbed the entire thing off him. Reaching into your jacket pocket you pulled out a ball-point pen. You wrote on the side of the white box and handed it back to him.
Your phone number was neatly written and his eyes traced the number before placing the packet into his pocket. “...Was your friend okay?” He asked and you looked at him in confusion. “What?”
“The one from the party, who was wasted” He recalled and you nodded with a snort. You sat up a bit straighter.
“Yeah. We- We dropped her off at home. But her parents didn’t even know she’d left and we didn’t want to face them- They’re super strict. So we leaned her up against the front door and knocked super loud.” You interrupted yourself to laugh again “We ran so fast down her driveway. But we were tipsy so it probably felt faster than it actually was. She’s still grounded but she’s recovered from her killer hangover”
Finney found himself laughing at the image of you drunkenly running down a driveway in the middle of the night. “She’s still grounded? That was weeks ago”
You looked at him with wide eyes. “Super. Strict” You emphasized as if telling a horror story and he shook his head with a small smile.
As you chatted back and forth about school projects, the annoyance of siblings, friend-group drama that’d settled into nothing but light bickering, your lips had begun to stain with blue food-coloring. You hadn’t noticed, or just didn’t care but it made Finney smile, the whole situation felt light and childish.
Every now and then as the wind blew the smoke from his cigarette would brush into your face but you didn’t complain once but eventually he started to feel bad and stubbed it out.
You snorted again as he told his own embarrassing sports story to accompany the one you previously shared. “Performance issues?” You teased lightly as you returned to your seat on the ground beside him after throwing your paper-stick in the trash.
Finney shook his head, waving you off. “She was staring right at me as I threw. I got nervous” He weakly defended himself which only made you laugh harder.
“I can’t imagine it” You admitted, looking at him like he was hiding a secret. He raised an eyebrow. “What? Me being nervous?”
“No. You playing baseball” You cackled and he rolled his eyes without any real anger behind it.
“I played for years” He attested and you paused trying to imagine it.
A couple teens from his school walked by, entering the Grab N’ Go but not before curiously eyeing them both. You didn’t notice, gossips were frequent in both of your schools, but Finney turned his head towards them, glaring at them with a look so full of anger they rushed into the store.
Except one boy didn’t. He stared at Finney with a look of unfiltered judgment. His harsh glare shattered at the realization that this was Griffin Stagg’s older brother. He’d made it well aware to Finney that he wished Griffin was the one to walk out of that basement instead of him. Finney watched as he entered the store, keeping up with the rest of his friends with a frown.
“Why’d you stop?” You asked with a slight tilt of your head, pulling his attention back towards you.
His shrug was automatic “Grew out of it, I guess” His tone was clipped and his lips twitched.
He still vividly remembers the final game he ever played. Gwen had been in the stands cheering for him, surprisingly so had a few other kids. Seeing Gwen there, like she usually would be, grounded him. It helped him get half-way through the game.
But then his eyes had drifted and he saw Amy Yamada, Bruce’s sister, standing off to the side with a frown too deep for her face. He crashed and burned. Throwing the ball to the ground when his opponent talked-shit, the comment was anything horrible or even unusual in a friendly competition, but for Finney it had been enough to warrant a punch to the face.
Finney hadn’t noticed he’d gone quiet until you spoke up again. “Well. You’re tall. Try basketball next”
He stared into your eyes for a moment, thankful you didn’t push. He lightly scoffed “Yeah. Maybe I will”
Finney was bored. He didn’t know when it began but he had started to dread weekends. No school, no fights, no routine. He didn’t even have any homework because he’d finished it all once he got home during the week. He laid on the couch, mindlessly staring at the television.
Chainsaw Massacre played for what felt like the thousandth time. He’d watched it so much, he was sick of it. That never stopped him from watching it though. He turned over lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling with the movie droning on in the background.
Gwen had left earlier that morning, mentioning something about a sleepover with her friends. He honestly hadn’t been paying too much attention, his focus had been not getting nauseous over their father’s cooked breakfast- Scrabbled eggs, again. All he really remembered was shuffling the food on his plate around and gripping his fork far too tight.
Abruptly he stood walking towards the back door, he needed to clear his head. Out of his jacket pocket he grabbed his cigarettes and his half-empty lighter. Your phone number written in a dark blue stared back at him for a moment before he shoved it back into his pocket. He leaned against the wall, looking out at the backyard.
You’d given it to him days ago. Was it too soon to call? Too late? He rolled the thought around in his head until his cigarette burned right to the filter.
He flicked the burnt out bud far into the garden and entered the quiet house. The movie was still playing in the living room, slightly muffled by the walls. He glanced at the phone, waiting for it to ring. It didn’t. Finney sighed, aggressively picking up the phone and dialed your number without a second thought. It rang for a moment before you picked up.
“Hello?” You breathily answered. “Hi, it’s Finney” He stated as you puffed down the phone.
“Finney! Hi. Sorry, my room’s in the attic. I barely heard the phone in time” You explain and he hummed.
“Your room’s in the attic?” He questioned with a smile. “Uh huh. Best room in the house. Even if I have to scale half the roof to sneak out.” You joked and he could practically hear your grin.
“Wow, that’s dedication” He lightly chuckled and you hummed agreeingly.
“So… how’s your weekend going?” You asked and he groaned. “Boring” You laughed at his defeated tone.
“Boring?” You repeated in surprise. “Extremely. Don’t even have any homework left” He grumbled, making you snort.
“Then go do something fun!” You scolded as if he was committing a sin for wasting his free time away.
“Yeah? Something fun, like what?” He challenged and he heard you shuffled around through the phone.
“Pinball at the Grab N’ Go?” You offered and he lightly rolled his eyes “Not really my thing.”
“Bike ride to the park? It’s sunny out” You tried again and he sighed “I did that yesterday. Sat at the park more bored than I was at home”
“You could meet me for a late lunch at the diner?” You said and he paused. Finney’s eyes flickered to the round clock in the kitchen. He hadn’t realized he’d missed lunch, his stomach grumbled in agreement to the idea.
“I guess that sounds fun” He tried and failed to keep his grumpy tone. You laughed. “Okay but I’m still in pajamas so I’ve got to get dressed. I’ll meet you there soon!”
“Wait, seriously?” He laughed. “Shush! I was busy studying” You defended yourself and hung up with a swift ‘See you soon’.
Finney placed the phone back on the receiver. He returned to the living room, turning off the TV and removing the VHS tape and placing it carefully back onto his shelf in his room. He swapped his jacket for a cleaner one, picking his usual well-worn sneakers.
He grabbed his wallet, placing it in his back pocket as he left his room. Reaching for the spare keys from the kitchen bench, he quickly locked the front door behind him.
His hands were warm within his pocket as he walked down the familiar streets towards the diner. As he reached a corner, he paused waiting for a car to pass before crossing the quiet road. He turned his head towards the street, faltering when he saw an older woman walking a panting golden retriever.
He recognized the woman as Mrs. Showalter. The worst part about seeing her around town, were her sad grief-stricken eyes. When they met his, she didn’t blame him, she just swelled with pity that felt suffocating. Finney quickly walked on. He was thankful to see only a handful of cars parked outside the diner.
Finney walked up the couple concrete steps into the diner. His deep brown eyes scanned the room. Upon not seeing you, he found a vacant booth sitting facing the glass door he’d just walked through.
He’d re-read the menu twice before you entered the diner. Your summer clothes were colorful and you pushed your sunglasses off your eyes leaving them atop your head. Whatever irritation he had at your late-ness, or rather his early-ness, was quelled from his attitude as you widely smiled and greeted him with a chirpy ‘Hi’.
“Hey. Thanks for this” He said, sitting up a bit from where he’d begun to slouch against the red coloured seats.
Your hands immediately found the menu he’d dropped on the table, flipping it around and skimming over the options. “Course! You’re good company” You smiled and he silently snorted, he didn’t remember the last time recently, anyone had thought of him as anything ‘good’.
“Plus, I skipped breakfast so I’m starving” You dramatically drawled, lifting the menu so it obstructed his view of your face.
Finney let you read in silence for a moment, bouncing his foot up and down. “So, what’s kept you so busy that I’ve pulled you away from?”
You groaned, dropping the menu and dragging your hands over your face. “A history project. Which I am very close to giving up on. Exactly like my partner! Who is completely ignoring me and wants nothing to do with the project. She acts like I’m her nagging mother but it’s a quarter of our grade riding on this.”
He shakes his head with a smile. “Partner’s like that suck. But I’m sure you’ll do great” He sympathizes.
“Thanks, but enough about school. My brain needs a break” You joke and he nods in agreement as the waitress walks over pulling out her small notebook.
You both order your food and drinks, muttering ‘thanks’ to the yellow-uniformed waitress. He asked you whether you’d decided on buying the bag you’d been saving for, while you asked how the movie he’d mentioned he was planning on seeing with Gwen the last time you’d seen him.
Conversation flowed as easily as it usually did with you. By the time both orders arrived, his stomach was grumbling.
Finney ate and listened while you chatted away and occasionally leaned over the table to steal some of his curly fries. In retaliation he stole the cherry from the top of your milkshake. Soft music from the radio on the counter played underneath your laughter at another one of his stories.
“I don’t believe you, at all” You said in between fits of laughter. Finney leaned in closer with a rare smile. “What? You think I’d make this up?”
“You expect me to believe you fired a home-made rocket at your middle school bully?” You skeptically questioned.
“It wasn’t intentional! His big head was in the way” He waved his hands in defeat with a puff of laughter.
You chuckled again, making your shoulders shake as you lightly shook your head. “You do realize that the fact that you didn’t mean to, makes it funnier right?” He shrugged with a fake sigh that only fueled your laughter more.
The following conversation was cut short as the waitress returned, swiftly talking away their empty dishes with a mention of the bill waiting at the counter. Finney nodded, rising from his seat, walking over to the counter.
Pulling out his wallet, from the corner of his eye he saw you peering over the top of the booth with the lamest stink-eye he’d ever seen. After pocketing the quarters of change the waitress gave him, you lightly poked his shoulder.
“We could have split the bill, Finney” You crossed your arms with a slouch but your soft eyes betrayed you. He half-shrugged with a smile.
“You can pay next time, then” He said and you nodded sternly before breaking your angry facade with a laugh.
Finney followed you out of the diner, seeing your light-blue bike leaning against the far side of the building. You picked it up and he followed you with his hands in his pockets as you both walked towards the small parking area out-front of the diner.
“Has your boredom been properly appetized?” You teased lightly. “And my hunger” He nodded with a short smile.
“Then my job here is done” You joke and readjust your sun-glasses to hide your pretty eyes, as you get onto your bike.
“I’d offer you a ride home, but I think you’d break my basket” Finney’s eyes flicker to the small light-brown basket at the front of your bike.
He snorted and lightly whacked the handlebars making you wobble. You huffed, correcting your route closer to him, leaning from your bike to lightly shove his shoulder. Finney easily side-stepped evading your supposed attack. You groaned and rolled your eyes, making a half-smile appear on his face.
“Okay, you win” You laugh before checking your wrist-watch with a slight pout. “Shit. I should probably get home, I still gotta finish that project.”
“You were right, this was fun.” He admitted and you beamed up at him. “Thanks, again.”
“You don’t have to thank me, Finney. I am right, this was fun” You joke with a proud shoulder shrug.
He slowly followed after you as you peddle towards the road, you turn over your shoulder to face him. “Call me again sometime, okay!” Finney nodded without another thought.
From then on it was official. You and Finney Blake were friends. He hadn’t tried to make new friends after Robin. In his mind, no one could replace the one friend he ever needed. He felt like he was betraying Robin by befriending you. But at the same time, Finney imagined you were someone Robin would’ve liked too, and that made it a little easier.
The gossip spread across town like a wildfire, which only resulted in him getting into more fights. But neither of you cared what the town whispers had to say. You two were practically inseparable... Until you weren't.
Finney couldn’t remember when exactly he started putting distance between you both. But over the following weeks he slowly stopped calling in late hours of the night when nightmares plagued him, he stopped meeting you at the diner after school altogether.
But most importantly, he stopped letting himself feel around you. After months had gone by he couldn't help but notice your absence that he’d created.
A book you’d left behind in his room that you hadn’t collected, a missing sweatshirt of his that he’d given you, your laugh after a quipping joke he'd tell to someone that wasn’t you, or even your complaining when his knuckles would bleed onto his clean shirt.
He found himself looking for you in an empty room, during movies alone at night, and worst of all your voice after a bad night.
Naturally in his unstable cycle of tearing himself apart, when Gwen mentioned a house party over on Richmond Street, Finney went. He'd already drank far too much for his body weight by the time everyone had finished arriving.
Half way through the worst song he'd ever heard before, he stumbled out to the back porch. He leaned against the white-wooden railing, overlooking the dark night sky. It was too cloudy to see any stars and he couldn't help but sigh at the sight.
The back door clicked and you walked out of the drunken crowd. A look he couldn't decipher within your eyes. He looked away, wondering if you'd silently return to your other friends to spare yourself the tense atmosphere.
But of course, you didn't. You stood beside him, red solo cup in hand, and looked at him like he was a puzzling piece within a museum to which you wanted to know the answers to.
“I miss you” You muttered and his brows furrowed, slowly turning his head towards you.
“I’m right here” The statement felt obvious, they’re shoulders were touching, their breath would fog in front of their faces getting lost in the soft breeze winding together in the air. And occasionally the sides of their shoes bumped into each other when they moved. You took another sip from your plastic cup.
“I still miss you” You whispered as if sharing a dangerous secret.
Despite the party's music they left behind was muffled from the distance the silence between them lingered painfully. He swallowed so hard it hurt.
“I miss you, too” He admitted so quietly he hoped it’d be lost in the night breeze.
“Then why?-” He cut you off by turning towards you. He didn’t want to tell you he didn't know why, but it was the truth.
His head was messy, confused and full of pain that he couldn’t handle. But by the way your eyes softened, you seemed to understand it wasn’t malicious. The last thing he ever wanted was to hurt you. But whether he wanted to be or not, he was burning like a star, dangerously close to fading away or becoming something bright.
Slowly, as if every single movement was calculated and precise. You stepped towards him, gently wrapping your arms around him. He easily found his place within your embrace. His weight sunk into your steady form.
The overwhelming fear that’d been settled in his chest once he realized how close to him you'd gotten had frightened him. And unlike the version of Finney he’d become after that basement, he didn't fight his fear; he’d fled from it. The longer he ignored you the more he felt pitiful, shameful and utterly pathetic.
But most of all he just wanted his best friend- his real best friend. He wanted to see, talk and actually hang out with Robin again. He needed his help, his advice, his presence. He needed Robin to tell him why his feelings for you felt so different from everyone else. But he couldn't. He couldn't, because Robin wasn't ever coming back. And that hurt him more than he'd ever admit.
So he continued to push you away. But this time, it was as if you knew exactly what he was doing. And still like the sun, your gravitational pull was too strong to escape from. Instead of ignoring you, he simply unleashed his complicated feelings and all his unhealthy ways of coping.
Finney threw himself into school. Both classes and fighting. At this point it was all he felt steady enough to do. But eventually that slipped from him too. So next, it was weed. Numbing, dulling and pausing his wrecked thoughts, about you, about everything.
But even then, he couldn’t escape you. Especially not when he was as wasted as he was right now. Finney never enjoyed being drunk. He felt too far from the controls of his body, yet every little thing he did or said was heightened by the alcoholic effects. Every time he emptied another bottle, he felt the sinking pit in his stomach that he was becoming too much like his father.
He staggered out of the car. He was sure he’d cringe at his horrendous parking in the morning, but for now, you were the only thing on his mind. He knocked on your front door, thankfully in his drunken mind he managed to remember you were home alone this weekend.
Eventually you opened the door in your mismatched pajamas. The smell of beer reeked from his clothes. You peered over his slouched shoulder and sighed at the state of him and his drunk parking.
Silently you wrapped his arm over your shoulder, helping him through your darkened house and up your carpeted stairs towards your room. A frown settled stubbornly on his face.
“You’re mad at me” He slurred as you guided him towards your room.
“You’re not taking care of yourself” Your words weren’t judgmental but confronting. “I don’t see how that’s your problem” He huffed and you met his eyes.
“It’s not a problem. It’s a concern, and as someone who cares about you, a lot. I’m concerned.” You softly said and while the words rolled around in his head, a stupid smile broke out over his face.
You flopped him down on his bed. You helped him shrug off his jacket, gently placing it on the back of your desk chair. Lifting his feet, carefully taking off his shoes and placing his feet under your twisted blue blankets, trying to get him as comfortable as possible in his drunken state.
“You care about me?” His mouth finally catching up to his racing brain.
“Of course I do, Finney” You said honestly and it made his heart race. You sat on the edge of your bed beside him.
“Can… Can you stay?” He hesitantly whispered. You sadly smiled, like you’d seen something he didn’t.
“Okay. Get some rest, Finney” You say as you lean towards him, pressing a gentle kiss to his flushed cheek.
He watched as you turned off the overhead light, your small lamp on your desk left the room in a soft orange hue. Purposefully leaving the door wide open for him, you gently laid on the bed beside him. Finney sunk into your plush pillow with a boyish grin.
For once as he fell asleep, nightmares didn’t plague him, only the scent of your perfume lingered in his dreams.
By the morning, he’d crept out of your room without waking you, feeling like a traitor but leaving nonetheless. When you’d call him later on, he’d hang up the phone just to stop the haunting ringing. Half the time you called, he couldn’t tell whether it was really you or just a haunting fragment of his mind.
He hadn’t seen you since until he passed the record store. Gwen was inside, rushing around spending whatever allowance she had left to spend while he stood outside smoking and scowling.
You stood in the distance, smiling and walking down the street with a boy he’d never seen before. Finney abruptly threw his cigarette to the ground, stepping on it as he watched you. The colour drains from Finney’s face as the guy pulls you into a hug before waving goodbye.
He quickly storms over to you. Surprise fell over your face when you saw him angrily standing in front of you, glaring at the guy’s distant figure. “Hey, what’re you doin-” He cut you off.
“Who was he?” He internally raged. “What?”
He repeated himself darkly and you answered with a small shrug. “Just a friend from history class.”
“A friend? Does he know that? It didn’t look like he does” Finney snarled as anger wrapped through his chest.
You lightly shook your head with a small frown. “Why does it matter, Finney?”
“Because I hate the way he looked at you” He grunted as if it pained him to remember it. You just smiled at him and he couldn’t help but wonder if you truly understood what he was trying to say.
“Finney-” He interrupted you again. “I like when you say my name.”
Your eyes widen. “You do?”
“Yeah. Not whatever name that dumbass has.” He glared over your shoulder in the guy’s direction who was now a small dot in the far distance. “Say it again” You comply.
The tension from his shoulders ease but his anger still ate at him. His head whipped towards the record store when Gwen called his name. He turned his head towards you, but didn’t meet your eyes. “I don’t like him” He says before running back over to Gwen, carrying the bags for her as they walk home.
After weeks of this reckless and angry behavior, it all bubbles to the surface when you show up at his place. The knock on the front door seemed to echo through the quiet afternoon.
He grumbled from his place on the couch but opened the wooden door nonetheless. You stood there with an unusual frown upon your features but your eyes widened when you saw him.
“Finney, hi” You blurt quietly as if you weren’t expecting him at his own house. Or maybe it was the anger with which he answered that you weren’t prepared for.
“Hi” He bluntly replied. A tense silence hung between you both.
“Want to hang out?” You plainly ask. Finney callously shrugged. “I’m busy. Homework”
“You don’t have to lie Finney, you can just tell me you don’t want to see me today” You softly say, without a speck of judgment, or angst.
Frustration boiled through him. Part of him wished he’d never met you. That he could go back to when he could silently destroy himself without an ounce of guilt. If he fought, drank or smoked his life away no one around him would blink an eye.
But since meeting you, you noticed, and therefore you cared. He hated that you never pushed him to talk; like Gwen would. He hated that you didn’t pretend his self-destruction was normal; like his father did. But most of all he hated that you saw him through every wall and barrier he tried to put up.
He didn’t feel the need to pretend or to talk when you were around, because you understood. Not what he went through, or what he was feeling. But you understood that you didn’t know but you still stayed. And for him, that was all he needed.
“I don’t want to see you” He scoffed and you raised an eyebrow, as if you were expecting this. Which only made his furious guilt worse. “I don’t ever want to see you”
“You say that like you hate me” You say as if it’s the stupidest thing in the world and not because you're self-important or self-obsessed but because you unfortunately know him that well.
“I do. I do hate you” He immediately responded with narrowed eyes.
“Keep pretending you hate me and I’ll keep proving you wrong” You state with a lingering tone of it being a promise.
He stood taller, face puffed and eyes dark as he stared down at you with fury. Your frown deepened but you didn’t for a single second look away from his eyes. “God, I hate you. I hate how much I wish I loved you less” He spat at her angrily, fists balled at his sides. Immediately being regretted after the words leave his mouth.
”Show me then. Show me how much you ‘hate’ me” You taunt with a fiery look within your eyes.
In an instant his lips were on yours. Hard, desperate and hungry. He allowed everything he refused to say out loud onto your lips. Your hands tugged at his shirt collar, pulling him closer as his hands gripped at your hips like a vice. When he pulled apart, you both were breathless. His eyes were full of ruin- whether meant for you or himself he didn’t know.
“I hate you” He said. “Do you?” You questioned with a taunting tone.
His lips crashed against yours like they were pulled together with the force of a black hole. It’s messy, sloppy and unconventional. But it wasn’t enough, he wanted to breathe the air from your lungs. Lips, teeth, tongues clashing together in a battle of control that he was hellbent on winning.
A pretty broken noise left your pretty mouth. Finney groaned at the sound. He pulled away from your feverish mouth, gripping your hips tighter. He tugged you into his home, slamming the door shut with the back of his foot. As he nipped at and openly-kissed your neck he guided you towards his bedroom.
As he settled above you on his bed, your hands tugged at his curly brown hair. He whimpered with a rose blush as your lips hungerily met his. He couldn’t get enough. He kissed you over and over again. His warm hand slips under your shirt, making you softly moan. Once again, he’s pulling away. This time leaning back as he looks down at you as his hands palm over your body.
“I hate you” He repeats again, brokenly and far too obviously a lie.
You shift below him, leaning up on your elbows. Your lips press dirty, lingering kisses after each word “No, you, don’t”
He groaned, pushing you back down. Lips attached in a kiss, full of debauchery and desire. “No. I don’t” His thought to himself as he lost himself within you.
Finney Blake was a greedy man. He'd never admit it and he certainly didn't like it. But that didn't mean it wasn't true. Because for all the reasons he pushed you away in the first place, he couldn't help but miss you. And now, Finney didn't want to let you go, ever.
You somehow simultaneously help him forget everything bad, while reminding him of it in a crushing weight. You were an escape, and a tether to a time he'd rather forget. It felt impossible, you didn't even know him when he was trapped within that basement. Perhaps you saw his name and photo within the paper, or maybe you tossed the paper away without a second thought.
Either way, you had nothing to do with that place, that time, or the person he used to be. But whenever he was around you, he realized how different he'd become, he realised how much he's changed.
Finney didn't know if he liked that change, he didn't know whether he wanted you to either. But like the paradox you were, you also helped him forget. Spending weekends with you, helping one another with projects, making fun of other kids at school. It made him feel normal. It made him forget briefly why he was angry, hurting and desperately confused in the first place.
He didn't know what you saw in him. He had no clue as to why you still wanted to befriend him. But he was selfish, because he'd tried to push you away but he couldn't survive it, and apparently neither could you, so he'd let you in.
He'd show you his mind, and his feelings even if they'd shattered you from their intensity and brutality. All he could hope was at the end of it all, you'd love him as he loved you. Which he was beginning to realize was a whole lot.
The first thing Finney noticed when he awoke was the scent of your perfume. The next was the warmth surrounding him. He cracked his eyes open, his thin curtains did little to keep out the morning sun.
You were curled into his side, sleeping peacefully against him. His soft brown blankets covered you both, his hand found your back gently tracing patterns on your bare back.
He stared down at you, wanting to commit the domestic sight to memory. Your nose twitched as you slowly woke up. Your glossy eyes met his. For a moment, his heart faltered. He thought you looked gorgeous. Sleep clung to the corners of your eyes, unkept bed-hair, the lingering shine of after-glow.
“Huh, you know when you’re not scowling at me your eyes are really pretty” You groggily muttered making him breathily scoff.
Your soft smile fell as your sleepy state vanished. “D-Do you want me to leave?” You quietly asked and the question had the weight of having more meanings than one.
“No.” He swallowed, hesitantly finding your hand beneath the covers. “No I really don’t”
He sighed, closing his eyes as he gathered his courage and thoughts. Your thumb brushed over his hand, comfortingly and gently.
“Look, I’m sorry for being a dick” He whispered, making you shift to face him properly. “I fucked up. And hurt you because of it. I keep saying I’m fine. But I’m not. Not even close. And I don’t think I can be okay around you either.” He confessed as you stared into his pretty brown eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’ve messed everything up between us”
You softly said his name and he turned towards you with tear filled eyes. “I-” He scoffed at his shaky voice. “I told myself I wouldn’t cry and now-” Quickly leaning forward, you pressed a delicate kiss to his rosy lips while her hand gently cupped his cheek.
“If you think I’m leaving the first time you show me you’re not perfect. You don’t know me as well as you think, Finney Blake.” You whisper, leaning against him and his arms wrapped around you.
For a while you both stayed there like that, wrapped in each other's embrace pressing soft kisses to whatever bare skin both of you could find. It was soft, full of love and undeniably warm.
Until Gwen knocked on his door lazily calling that breakfast was ready. You scrambled to pull the blankets to your chin, while he had a death grip on the sheets bundled around his hips. Thankfully as he yelled back that’d he’d be down soon, Gwen left down the hall without opening his door.
With scattered brains full of frantic panic, you both got dressed. Finney’s shirt hung off your shoulders, he barely managed to pull his attention away from the sight to put on his pants. Finney led you towards the kitchen, the sound of your delicate footsteps behind him had both his father and Gwen looking up from the table. His father’s eyes widened while Gwen’s face scrunched, either in disgust or calculation he couldn’t tell.
“Didn’t know you had a friend over” His father said, eyes flickering between you both. You awkwardly smiled at him as Finney handed you what was supposed to be his plate of scrambled eggs, and opened the cabinet to pour himself a bowl of cereal.
“Girlfriend” Finney corrected as he poured the milk.
His father nodded. “Right” He silently mouthed the word ‘girlfriend’ like it was foreign to him.
He guided you towards the table, seeing you out of your depth was somewhat humorous to him. Finney sat on the only chair left, gently pulling onto his lap. Gwen’s eye twitched and this time he deciphered it as disgust.
The tension within the kitchen was palpable. His father ate his scrambled eggs, pretending to be reading the paper as Finney stuffed his face with cereal. With a small smile you ate the scrambled eggs, occasionally glancing at him.
Gwen sat slurping her milk, her narrowed eyes flicking between them both and Finney was sure he’d hear an earful from her once their father couldn’t hear. But for now, he didn’t care. He felt lighter. Not fixed, not better. But broken, and for now, with you that was okay.
Weeks would pass, his family recovered from the new intrusion to their home. If you weren’t spending the nights at his place. He was spending it at yours. A single trip to the mall and a very long talk on the drive, you and Gwen got along better than he’d ever expected.
His father never outright said anything to either of you, but Finney saw the way he adjusted their lives around adding you; always making extra for dinner just in case you decided to stay over, getting a spare key made that ‘accidently’ slipped onto your key-ring, and the pregnancy library book for young couples that appeared on his desk. Finney definitely returned that.
You easily appeared into his life, as easily as you did in his heart. And he was forever grateful. Sitting on top of your slanted roof, staring up at the clear night sky. The flickering stars in full light above you both. Your head was leaned against his shoulder using him as your pillow, which had made him smile.
"You ever think maybe we were meant to meet... like, cosmically?" He whispered into the silence of the night.
You snorted, shaking your head. “After all the work I put in? Nuh uh. I learned the stars' names for you. The cosmos get no credit for us”
“You did?” He questioned making you turn your head up towards him, making you look slightly up-side down. The memories of all the times he’d rambled about space to you and how you always listened attentively cycled through his mind. “You did” He repeated more firmly.
“Then, I guess I have to thank you” He shifted leaning over you with a mischievous grin as he kissed her, softly like he was trying to memorize her whilst having all the time in the world.
When you broke apart, you laughed loudly and freely. “Not here, we’ll fall off the roof”
“And flash your neighbors" He nodded, carefully following you back towards your open window.
“Again” You giggled and you crouched, getting back into your room. “Yeah, again” He laughed, it sounded real because it was. It was a sound that before you had grown unfamiliar to him, but now was frequent.
As Finney followed you into your attic room. He closed the window behind him, looking one last time at the starry sky. He vividly remembers being inside that basement, for many reasons.
But one memory that he recalls now, was when he would look up through that small window. Through the over-bearing tree from the front garden, he’d catch glances of the night sky. A single bright star could be seen through the leaves if he crouched just right.
One particularly bad night, he wished something good would happen to him. His mother died, his father drank and beat them, he was relentlessly bullied and then he’d gotten kidnapped. He only ever wanted something good.
The next night, the star had dissipated, right in front of his eyes. He could still feel the despair he’d felt as the night turned dark without the one star he could see.
But now, he turned away from the night sky, seeing you smiling at him. Finney wondered if the star had fallen rather than disappeared.
And maybe, just maybe that star was you. It was childish, probably romantic and far too cheesy to ever tell you. But he believed it, utterly and whole-heartedly.
Hey so when child SA victims grow up they tend to feel more distressed when they grow up into teens because when they’re older they typically start to have a deeper understanding of sex and what happened to them so it causes progress to be undone. Which explains why finney is more upset as a teenager than he was when he first escaped, he probably has a deeper understanding of what happened to him and now it’s making him more frustrated because he can fully understand the extent of what happened.
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a/n: i tried to my best attempt to write this off the movie the best i could, some stuff like the cabin names are made up and sorry if my uses of the dashes are wrong im trying to use them in my writing more!!!
࣪❀˳₊˚.༄ — ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ — ✧˖*°࿐
The library smells like old books and polished wood, the quiet hum of fluorescent lights above. I’m sitting across from Ernesto at a table, flipping through some papers for a project, when Gwen slips in like a whirlwind.
“Sorry to interrupt, I just need to talk to you guys,” she says, sliding into the seat across from me and beside Ernesto.
“It’s alright, Gwenny. What’s troubling you?” I ask softly, concerned at the urgency in her eyes.
“I had a dream again… about this camp. We have to go,” she says, her voice tight with something between fear and determination.
Ernesto finally looks up from his paper, brow furrowed. “What did you see in the dream?”
“These three little boys… they can’t rest in peace until they’re found. We have to find their bodies,” Gwen whispers. Her hands tremble slightly as she rests them on the table.
I grab her hand without thinking. “Where do we sign up? When do we go?” My pulse quickens. The thought of helping, of doing something meaningful, ignites a spark of determination in me.
Gwen smiles faintly, bringing out papers with instructions and camp details. “We leave tomorrow morning,” she says.
The next day, Ernesto and I drive up to the Blake house, the sky low and gray with snow heavy in the air. On the porch, Finney stands with his father, overseeing Gwen and me as we load her duffel into the car. His posture is careful, almost distant, and I sense the tension that’s grown between us since Robin’s passing.
“Wait!” he calls suddenly, running back inside. My eyes follow him curiously. He returns with his bag packed and a blanket. “Sit in the front, Gwenny,” I say softly, climbing into the backseat.
“Are you sure?” she asks.
I nod, untangling my headphones, and Finney climbs in beside me. He shoots me a small smile, and I return it with one of my own, careful, respectful, letting a flicker of connection pass between us.
Ernesto and Gwen talk lightly in the front, their voices blending with the soft hum of the car engine. I close my eyes and let the music fill my ears, trying to lose myself in the familiar notes.
A tap on my shoulder jerks me awake. “Uh… what are you listening to?” Finney asks.
“Don’t You Want Me by The Human League,” I reply, pulling one headphone out.
He smiles. “Our song.”
I grin softly, letting the warmth of that memory seep into me. For a few moments, the tension between us is gone, replaced by something gentle and familiar.
The snow falls harder as we drive, a thick, white curtain against the windows. I drift off again, leaning against the glass, only to wake when Finney nudges me gently. “Sorry… didn’t mean to wake you,” he murmurs.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, shifting slightly so he has room beside me. His shoulder brushes mine again, and I feel a small spark in the quiet of the car.
The blizzard hits harder the farther we drive. Snow smears across the windshield in thick white streaks, the wipers barely keeping up. Ernesto leans forward over the wheel, squinting. The headlights bounce off nothing but swirling white.
“Stop the car,” Finney says suddenly, leaning forward between the seats. His voice isn’t panicked—just tense, steady, like he knows something the rest of us don’t. Snow whips across the windshield so thick that the world looks like static on a television screen.
“What?” Ernesto asks.
Finney is already shoving the door open. “I’m going to run in front of the car, just follow me!”
Cold air blasts inside and Gwen gasps. “Fin! What are you—”
But he’s gone, boots slamming into the snow as he takes off into the whiteout.
Ernesto mutters something in Spanish and puts the car in park. “This guy’s gonna get himself hit.”
The wind shoves at him, whipping his jacket around, but he lowers his head and keeps running.
The visibility is so bad I can barely see Finney—just the dark shape of his coat, the faint movement of his arms. He keeps glancing back, making sure we’re following, then waving Ernesto to go left or right. He’s guiding us like he’s done this all his life, steady and instinctive.
The fear crawls up my spine anyway.
One wrong step, and we lose him.
Finney slows down, waving us to a stop. I think he’s going to get back in the car, but instead he cups his hands around his mouth and shouts:
“This way!”
He veers sharply into the woods.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Ernesto mutters, but he follows. The tires crunch through thick snow as we ease off the road and onto a path I never would’ve seen on my own. Branches scrape along the sides of the car, snow falling in sheets from the overloaded pines.
Finney keeps running, breath puffing visibly in the cold, the back of his jacket dusted white.
A horse materializes out of the storm.
A tall, dark mare with snow clinging to her mane. On her back sits a young woman with a flashlight strapped to her glove, her braid whipping violently behind her.
She reins the horse to a stop in front of Finney.
“You kids heading to camp?!” she calls over the wind.
Finney nods quickly. “Yes! The freeway’s blocked—we can’t see anything!”
She grins—confident, wild, unfazed by the blizzard. “Figures. I’ve been out looking for anyone who might’ve gotten stuck. Follow me!”
She turns the horse sharply and begins guiding us, but still Finney stays in front of the car.
He doesn’t stop running.
Mustang leads.
Finney keeps the car from losing her.
Ernesto follows both.
It’s like watching a chain of survival form right in front of me.
After a few minutes, another figure emerges from the storm—tall, bundled in a puffy jacket, waving his hands. As we get closer, I see him clearly: messy black hair, scarf pulled up to his nose, snow-covered boots.
He jogs right up to the hood of the car.
“I’m Armando! But just call me Mando!” he shouts, loudly enough we hear him through the glass. He points deeper into the woods. “Parking’s over there—just, uh, anywhere! We weren’t expecting anybody to show up!”
We step out of the car and I sink halfway down my shins into snow. Mando pushes his hair out of his eyes and looks at us like we’re miracles.
“Camp’s canceled!” he yells again. “Road crews can’t reach us till this blizzard passes! You guys might be stuck here for a bit!”
“Camp’s canceled?” Gwen repeats, stunned. “But the sign-ups—”
“Yeah, I know!” Mando says with a huge shrug. “Weather’s gone nuts. Support staff’s been here a week already but you’re the only campers that made it through before the roads shut down!”
Finney is breathing hard, doubled slightly as he rests his hands on his knees. Snow clings to his eyelashes. He looks exhausted but alive.
I walk up to him, placing a hand on his arm.
“You could’ve slipped,” I say softly.
He lifts his head, a tired smile pulling at his lips.
“But I didn’t.”
The wind softens just enough for me to hear the creaking of the trees overhead. Snow keeps falling, relentless.
Mando gestures toward a row of long wooden cabins with smoke rising from the chimneys. “Girls cabin is down there! Boys cabin is the one with the broken porch light!”
Mustang trots up beside us, hopping off her horse with athletic ease. She pats its neck affectionately. “I’ll take the girls. You take the dudes, Mando.”
“You got it!”
Mustang leads Gwen and me through the snow. Her boots crunch steadily, leaving clear prints for us to follow.
“State law says minors have to sleep separately,” she explains. “So you girls will be in Cabin Daisy. Boys get Cabin Oak.”
Cabin Daisy is warm when we step inside, heat from the old radiator humming, the air smelling faintly of pine and old blankets.
Gwen drops her bag on the bunk nearest the window. “We’re really sleeping here alone?”
“’Fraid so,” Mustang says, brushing snow off her sleeves. “If you need anything, just holler. My cabin’s right across the way.” She gives us a soft smile. “I’m Mustang, by the way.”
“Gwen,” she replies.
“Y/N,” I say with a matching smile.
Mustang nods approvingly and heads out, shutting the door behind her.
I turn to Gwen, “I got you if anything happens, Gwenny.” “Thank you, Y/N,” She replies softly, squeezing my hand.
The silence that follows is heavy—thick, almost eerie—but safe. Safe enough for Gwen to fall asleep within half an hour, safe enough for me to sit on my bunk listening to my walkman. Safe enough, until Gwen’s scream rips me out of sleep.
She sits bolt upright in her bed, eyes wide but unfocused, her entire body shaking like she’s freezing from the inside out. I’m already scrambling toward her.
“Gwenny?” I whisper as I grab her shoulders, trying to steady her.
But she doesn’t hear me.
She staggers out of bed and stumbles toward the cabin window, fingers trembling as she claws at the glass. Her scream gets louder, breaking, wild.
“Gwenny! Wake up!” I shake her harder, panic clawing through my chest.
Footsteps slam against the wooden porch and Finney bursts inside, hair a mess, breathing hard. “What’s going on?!”
She blinks, gasping like she’s drowning, finally snapping back into herself and then she starts crying.
“What’s happening to me?!” she sobs. “Oh God! I feel crazy.”
“No, you’re dreaming,” Finney says, steady and gentle in a way that twists something in my chest.
“You’re okay, Gwenny,” I whisper, resting my hand on her shoulder, trying to soothe her.
Gwen’s tears keep coming, her breath shaking.
Finney sighs, glancing between us.
“Let’s go. You guys will sleep with us.”
Gwen nods. She’s too shaken to argue.
We all walk across the snow-dusted path into the boys’ cabin. It’s warmer inside—dim, cozy, the old heater humming like a lullaby. Ernesto is already half-asleep under his blanket, barely lifting his head when we enter.
Finney goes straight to his bed, slipping his headphones on as if trying to make space for us without making a big deal out of it.
I slide into the bed across from his, turning my back toward Ernesto and Gwen as they settle onto his mattress.
The cabin goes quiet except for the wind outside.
After a few minutes, I hear Gwen whisper softly, “I had a bad dream.”
Ernesto murmurs something reassuring, his voice too low for me to hear. I’m drifting again when a sudden, whispered confession breaks the silence:
“I think you’re beautiful.”
Ernesto.
My eyes shoot open.
“What about me do you think I’m beautiful?” Finney asks, teasing them.
Silence and then:
“Fin, you rotting shit stain! Have you been listening this whole time?!”
Finney sighs loudly and pulls his headphones off. “Well, I’m still right here,” he grumbles. “So it’s not like I had any choice.”
I stifle a laugh behind my hand.
Watching them banter almost feels normal, familiar. Like back before everything happened.
Gwen huffs and lays back down. Within minutes, she and Ernesto fall asleep, breaths evening out.
I lie on my back, staring at the bunk above me, feeling the weight of the long day press down on my chest. The storm. The dream. Finney running through the blizzard like he had something to prove. Like losing us wasn’t an option.
My thoughts start drifting. Too many of them are about the boy across the room.
“Y/n?”
The whisper snaps me straight out of my head.
I sit up slightly and turn.
Finney is facing me, eyes soft in the dim yellow cabin light.
“Hmm?” I hum back.
He quietly lifts his blanket.
Just a small opening but an invitation all the same.
My breath catches.
I swallow, then slowly slide out of my bed, the floor cold beneath my feet as I pad across the room. I slip beneath his blanket, the warmth of his body immediately surrounding me. We settle shoulder to shoulder, close enough I can feel his breath against my hair.
For a moment, neither of us speaks.
Then, in a low, careful voice, he says:
“I’m sorry.”
I blink. “For what?”
He stares at the ceiling, jaw tight. “For disappearing. For pushing you away. For acting like I didn’t want you around when I did.”
He swallows. “When Robin died, I… I didn’t know how to be around anyone. But losing you too felt worse. I just didn’t know how to fix it.”
My heart squeezes.
“Finney…” I whisper.
“I needed someone,” he says. “But I pushed away the one person I—”
He cuts himself off, shaking his head.
I shift a little closer, brushing my shoulder against his.
“You didn’t lose me. You just scared me,” I admit softly. “I missed you. A lot.”
His breath hitches.
He turns his head toward me, face inches from mine in the dim light. His voice is barely a whisper.
“I missed you too.”
The tension hums between us—warm, quiet, certain.
His nose grazes mine accidentally, or maybe not. His eyes flick to my lips then back to my eyes like he’s fighting himself.
I smile softly. “Scoot over, Fin. You’re hogging the pillow.”
He lets out a quiet laugh, the first I’ve heard from him in what feels like years, and shifts so I can settle beside him fully.
I curl into him.
He curls around me.
His hand hesitates in the air before resting gently at my waist, careful, like he’s asking permission. I lean back into him in answer.
He exhales, slow and warm against the back of my neck.
Within minutes, the cabin fades; Gwen snoring softly, Ernesto mumbling in his sleep, the storm raging outside.
Finney presses his forehead to the back of my shoulder, voice barely audible:
“Goodnight, Y/n.”
“Goodnight, Fin.”
We fall asleep like that.
Entangled, steady, holding on.
With the quiet promise of something new warming the small space between us.
This isn’t slasher related but it is still horror related so—
It honestly concerns me how many people didn’t piece together that The Grabber from the Black Phone is a predator. Like the implications were heavy.
Him trying to touch Finney and Finney’s response telling him that he’d scratch his face if he touched him, the naughty boy game (to which mind you he was shirtless for!), Vance’s line about the Grabber “taking his time with him” when he saw what he’d done.
For fuck sakes, he’s an adult man kidnapping young boys and keeping them trapped in a basement with a dirty mattress. All the evidence is right in front of you. Just because nothing is explicitly shown doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.
... IN WHICH finney gets high and sneaks into the girls' dormitories after ernesto starts flirting with gwen.
[ !! ] content contains: smut. explicit language. sex without protection. oral sex. making out. vaginal fingering. use of marijuana.
wc: 1860
request: 🚫
not proofread
When Finney arrived at Camp Alpine Lake, he didn't expect much. He thought they'd stay for the storm, give Dad a phone call, and get the hell home as quick as possible.
He couldn't have been more wrong.
Instead of returning to his comfy bed at home, or listening to 70s rock in the car ride back to Denver, he had to swallow down nausea as Ernesto Arellano made a shitty attempt to fuck his little sister.
"I think..." Finn's stomach sank. "You're beautiful." He heard Gwen's sheets rustle as the pair moved closer to one another before the quiet smacking of lips filled the room.
"Jesus Christ," Finn murmured, standing, snagging his bag of bud on the way out.
The nip of the cold was way kinder than Ernesto's husky tone. The snow beneath his feet would provide a cradle much warmer than the mere thought of his little sister moaning, writhing beneath-
God. Fucking ew.
-
Finn stood outside, completely stagnant other than the movement of his hand to his mouth as he puffed on his joint, for around fifteen minutes. He felt a decent high settle in and sighed, dropping the weed into the snow. He didn't bother to stomp it out.
His hands shoved deep into his pockets, the tips of his fingers pinking in the cold. Snow crunched under his boot as he walked, clear prints being left in their wake. His breath was visible, only slightly less opaque than the marijuana he was exhaling earlier.
He pushed into the dorms, not caring to check the sign on the front.
To his surprise, (Y/N) was awake.
(Y/N). His best friend. She had only volunteered to come on this trip to save him from third-wheeling. Or, at least, that's what she claimed. He knew it was a bluff.
She came because she didn't want him to be alone. Because she's the only constant in his life, and she knows it.
Part of him loathes her for caring so much. The other part wants to pull her into a tight embrace and squeeze so hard she melts into his flesh.
"This is the girls' dorms," She says, her tone teasing, a reflection of the faux "know-it-all" front she puts on to piss him off.
"I know," Finney says. Then, returning her attitude, "I didn't even check the sign and I still know."
"How?"
"Because I didn't lock eyes with Ernesto having relations with my baby sister." You could practically hear the eye roll in Finn's voice. His out of pocketness elicited a gasp, which turned into a laugh, from (Y/N).
"Wait, what? They're fucking?" She inquired through giggles.
"Better not be." Finn replied. "But yeah, probably."
She barks out a laugh again before flopping down onto her bed. "Fuck.. how much were you in there for?"
"Shitty flirting. They started kissing and I left." Finney took the bottom bunk beside hers, undressing as he went. He laid on his side, letting his coat start a pile beside the bed, along with his jeans, leaving him in a The Clash hoodie and boxers.
"Ew," (Y/N) mused. "Cover up, whore."
Finney chuckled, turning to lay on his back. "Says you."
She gasped, feigning hurt. "I'll have you know, I'm a virgin."
Finney couldn't stop the laughter that came bellowing out of his chest. "Fuckin' virgin. You're so lame."
Despite the mock-offense she tried to play off, she laughed with him. She always does.
"So I can't be a slut, and I can't be a virgin. I think you just hate me." She declares.
Finn's laughter dies out, and the two are left in a somber silence. Even in their laugh-attack, in their lightest of moments, there are some things Finney can't bring himself to joke about.
"I don't hate you." He sounded tender, gentle. A tone (Y/N) doesn't hear often, especially not from Finney Blake.
"I know."
"Good."
A pregnant pause. Silence filled the room, the kind of comfortable lack of noise that allowed the A.C. to sing praises while the two got lost in their own thoughts, basking in the presence of the other in a sort of perfect synchrony.
"I'm cold." (Y/N) announced. She tugged her blankets firmly over her goosebump-riddled body.
"Okay?" Finney said indifferently. As she began to pout, "I'm fucking with you. Scoot over." And she did.
Finney's body curled around hers as she offered him her blanket, sharing his warmth with hers in a way they'd done many times before. The soft, steady beat of his heartbeat lulled her into a state of comfortability. She nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck, and he grinned.
Finney's right hand found home on her hip, just below the cusp of her waist. His fingers sprawled, his ring and pinky reaching underneath her shirt to caress her bare flesh. His left tangled into her hair, his thumb rocking back and forth to caress her scalp. She hummed at the action. As if through muscle memory, Finn planted a firm, sweet kiss to the crown of her head, and she giggled lazily.
"You're sweet tonight." She whispered, voice thick with sleep yet lively with affection. Finney's heart swelled.
"Anything for you, baby." The words slid from his lips as if they were destined to, as if the way he spoke to her was appropriate to maintain a mere friendship. Despite the inconvenient whirring of his heart, and hers, she melted further into him. Finney's smile widened.
It dropped as soon as she hooked her leg over his hip, tugging his crotch into hers with a surprising intensity.
"(Y/N)?" He whispered, seemingly in protest. Though his body made no attempt to back off.
"Jus' wanna be close."
"Well, you're.. you're close. Really close."
"Too close?"
No answer.
So, she tugged him closer.
Finney couldn't hold back the breathy groan that left his throat. He almost let out another as (Y/N) giggled into his neck. "You're hard."
"Yeah, and whose fault is that?" Finney grumbled. She rocked her heat against his tent, and he sighed. "Fuck..."
He met her rhythm, the sound of a muffled whine reaching his ear from his collarbone. He took a fistful of her hair and turned her face to look at his, humping his needy hard-on against her mound. It was only now that he became painfully aware of the clothes she had on.
His lips found hers as his hands sank to her rear, giving both cheeks a firm squeeze. She squealed quietly into his mouth, causing the corners of his lips to quirk upwards. She slid her tongue across his mouth and he caught it with his bottom lip.
He kneaded her ass, sliding his hands into her pants and groaning as he grabbed a handful of bare flesh. She was in a thong, and he had never felt so turned on in his life.
"Jesus, baby.." He huffed against her mouth, rolling atop of her as she was pushed onto her back.
His hands tugged at the waistband of her sweats. "Need these off..." He mumbled, more to himself than to her. She bit her lip and tried to ignore the tingling of her clit as he tossed the fabric of her pants aside. Finn was quick to press a hot, slobbery kiss to her tummy, then lower, leaving a fat purple hickey on her abdomen before peeling back her thong. She sucked in a harsh breath as he kissed her, licking her moisture off of his lips with a gruff moan.
He looked up at her with soft, lustful eyes. "Can I?" Finney didn't even get to finish his sentence before she nodded frivolously, opening her legs further to him.
He practically lunged into her, fingertips digging into her thighs as he licked a long, savory stripe between her folds. A sweet moan from her pierced the air, and Finn thrust his cock into the mattress, groaning into her clit. He swirled his tongue around it, screwing his eyes shut. One of his arms unraveled itself from her lap, instead curling under his chest as two fingers aligned themselves at her leaking entrance. She mewled as they pushed into her hole, his tongue still insistent on her clit. He suckled on it, his fingers curling deliciously, hitting a spongey sweet spot within her. She arched into his touch, and he thrust into the mattress once more.
"I-I'm gonna... fuck, Finn!" Tears beaded in the corners of her eyes, and Finney felt pride swell within him. He pulled his mouth away from her, "Cum." A simple demand, sounding more like reassurance with the way he spoke it to her. She nodded, and he pulled his fingers out of her, moving them to please her nub. He plunged his tongue as deep inside of her as it could go as she flew over the edge.
She gushed into his mouth, and his eyes rolled into the back of his skull. He worked her through her first orgasm, using her slick as a means of lubricant as he devoured the last of her cum.
She panted as he positioned himself, tugging down his boxers and tossing them over his shoulder. He leaned over her and kissed her deeply. Her arms flew around his shoulders, and he wasted no time in lining his leaking tip with her entrance. She whimpered.
"Ready?" He asked gently, cradling her face in his hands. She nodded.
He worked his hands down her supple flesh, finally meeting her hips. He held her steady before thrusting in, the groan from his lips harmonizing with the gasp that left hers. He kissed her again, sloppy and desperate, halting his movements as he slid all the way inside of her.
Finney and (Y/N) paused their coupling to hold one another. Her arms curled around his neck, and his around her waist. He pressed hot kisses to her neck, and felt her walls clench every once and a while.
When her grip loosened, he took initiative to move.
His first few thrusts were deep, fully pulling his cock out before pushing all the way back in. She winced with every one.
But as he got quicker, and as she adjusted, her face contorted into one of bliss.
Finney was rough, fucking her intensely, the sound of skin slapping echoing throughout the small dormitory. Her moans accompanied it, creating a symphony of eroticism: music to Finn's ears.
His thrusts got quicker, harder, as he neared his orgasm. He began to moan, head tilted back, small whimpers leaving his lips as he sat up. He held onto her hips tightly.
As (Y/N) came again, a sweet cry of Finney's name came with it.
Her finish sent Finney's over the edge. As he pulled out to spill on her stomach, he gazed upon her.
Instead of his best friend, he saw someone completely different. Someone tender, loving; someone beautiful, unlike anything he'd ever seen before.
Her tired eyes met his, and he bent down to give her a kiss.
