#when the traffic cleared the driver sped up

[808airsoftbros]

A Part of Me Lives Inside Me (Kim Jiwon)

Author: Just a story that I came up in my head and the inspiration came from another creepypasta story I listened. If you want to check out more stories do go to my Masterlist

Author's POV

It was uneventful day for Kim Y/N as he was driving home after his long day of work in the office, he was looking forward to the comfort of his home and to see his wife.

"Oh, you've gotta be kidding me..." He muttered and groaned as he saw a large pack of cars backed up in an intersection.

He peered his head out of the car window to get a better look and there he saw multiple ambulances tending to a major accident.

Deeply sighing knowing that this will make him very late and will probably be midnight by the time he gets home as this will take a while for this to clear up.

When the accident was finally cleaned up, traffic was flowing once again but Y/N sped up a little to make up lost time.

Passing through yellow lights right before it turned red and breaking the speed limit without miraculously getting caught by the police.

However, this would soon turn consequential as suddenly he saw an incoming freight truck but it was too late for him to react...

*crash*

It was all in a blur, his car collided right into the truck, and the front bumper was bent and broken along with the truck but they weren't the most damaged...

That honor belonged to our dear friend, Kim Y/N, his blood was everywhere and he soon passed out from losing too much blood along with God knows what injuries.

Soon EMS arrived at the scene, the truck driver luckily made it out with a few scratches but Y/N had to be hauled to the hospital as soon as possible.

Jiwon on the other hand was at home worrying and wondering what could be holding up her husband this late and was about to call him until her phone rang.

When she realized it was the local hospital, she answered it and the nurse informed her of the accident and she was heartbroken and shocked.

Not wasting a moment further, she grabbed her keys and rushed to the hospital, by the time she arrived, Y/N was covered in bandages and plaster completely unconscious.

"Mister Kim is in a coma, we're not entirely sure when or if he'll wake up, he got himself into a nasty accident..." The doctor grimly informed her.

Though Jiwon didn't like it, she knew there was nothing more she could do for him but be there for him, day after day, night after night, she visited him.

As for Y/N, in his coma, he was having strange visions of an infant crying and voices but he couldn't make out what they were saying or what was going on.

One night, Y/N finally awoke he looked around to see he was alone in a hospital room and covered in bandages making him immobilized as his body was too injured to move at all.

"Uhhh... What happened...?" He muttered trying to gather his thoughts.

The room was dark, he looked through the small window at the door in the hallway but there was no one there and he started to feel a bit lonely.

He looked at the clock to see it was three in the morning and decided it was best to get some rest.

But Y/N's sleep was anything but peaceful as he had those bizarre dreams again and he saw a surgeon performing some kind of operation but he before he could see who he was operating on he woke up and gasped.

His spook startled Jiwon who happened to be in the room with him and her eyes widened in surprise.

"J-Jagi! You're awake!" She exclaimed with a big smile with a tear coming out of her eye.

"Y-Yeah... What happened...? Last thing I remember was a truck heading straight towards me and I just blacked out," He asked and she sighed.

"You got into an accident, the doctor was worried you wouldn't make it but you seem to be fine for now, how are you feeling? You've been out for two weeks," She checked.

"Fine I guess..." He replied and she raised an eyebrow.

"Is something wrong, my dear?" She asked me and Y/N sighed as he didn't know how to put it.

Y/N explained what he saw in his dreams as best as his ability and by the time he finished, she was dead silent and had a blank expression devoid of any emotion.

"Oh... Well, dreams are dreams, they don't mean anything... Maybe it's just a side effect of your coma," Jiwon tried to brush it off.

However, this didn't entirely convince him as he felt that his wife knew something that he didn't but he chose not to push it.

After that, the doctor checked on him and informed them that he would be released after few weeks for him to be transported onto a wheelchair.

Throughout that time, however, Y/N's time in the hospital made him uncomfortable and felt nothing but dread and a sense of emptiness and he wished he'd be discharged sooner.

One night, Y/N couldn't sleep, he was alone in the room once again but he felt like something or someone was watching him from the shadows of the room.

"W-Who's there?" He nervously called out but of course, there was no response.

Sighing as he once again thinks he was hallucinating and feeling too much on edge driving him to paranoia, he was about to go back to sleep when he spotted a shadow figure standing in the corner.

At first, Y/N rubbed his eyes making sure he wasn't seeing things but the figure was still there, standing there motionless, until suddenly, his vision blacked out and the figure was right by his bed.

"W-What are you doing here...? Who are you...?" He quivered in fear and as the figure was closer he got a better look at it and his jaw dropped.

The figure... The man standing before him... Looked exactly like him... But there was no face, just a hollow shell resembling a black hole, he noticed that parts of his body like his shoulder blade, spine, and some other parts were missing.

Y/N shivered and was too afraid to say anything, he didn't understand any of it or why the faceless man resembling him was just staring at him, not moving a single inch.

There was nothing he can do about it, he was stuck in that room, and eventually one response came to his mind.

"W-What are you...?" He nervously asked.

Although he wasn't sure he swore he heard a whisper in his ear, whatever it was... Seemed to be his answer.

"I'm sorry Misses and Mister Kim, but seeing that your son is in a dire state of need, I see no other option..."

"Are you mad?! How would you think my son would feel about this?! This whole thing is just barbaric!"

"Honey, listen to him... He's long gone and we can't lose another... Please, it's the only way..."

The whispers stopped, strangely, all of this felt familiar to him and a faint memory began to play in his head, he was in an operation room surrounded by a doctor and nurses.

He saw his passed mother and father with anxious faces and whispered to each other.

*Door opens*

Suddenly, the doors swung open, and the lights flickered on illuminating the room and temporarily blinding his vision but when his eyes adjusted to the light... The faceless man vanished without a trace like he was never there in the first place.

"Y/N! Are you okay?! We saw your heart monitor spiking!" The nurse asked urgently and checked my vitals.

I was sweating cats and dogs, I didn't know what to make of it... That strange twin and those whispers from my parents.

"I-I'm fine... Just a little paranoid is all..." Y/N assured but the nurse didn't seem entirely convinced as sleeping in a room shouldn't have been this impactful to his health.

The nurse reported this to the doctor by morning, and he grew very concerned telling the nurse to request Jiwon's presence as he had an urgent matter to speak about.

When Jiwon arrived to the hospital, the doctor explained the sudden spike in his heart rate last night and he suspected one thing...

"He's good enough to be discharged... But keep a close eye on him," The doctor instructed and Jiwon nodded.

"Yes, Appa, I will do so," Jiwon answered and promised to take time off her work.

After Y/N heard the news of his discharge, he was most relieved that he would be out of that God-forsaken room, even so, he could not stop thinking about those dreams and that faceless twin.

Y/N would often keep to himself since then, Jiwon would ask what happened that night but all he would tell was that it was a figment of his imagination.

But I wonder if Y/N is telling the truth... Don't you?

[britcision]

Okay WIP Wednesday! I’ve had a real fucking busy weekend painting the house and building new furniture and making some fucking HELLACIOUS overalls (pics later maybe???)

But I basically haven’t been on except my occasional cursed thought, and hopefully I’ll be around more and actually get to some messages this week 👀 maybe

In the meantime! Here is the Danny segment I considered giving you last week!

————————

A Good Excuse To Be A Bad Influence iii

Honestly, driving in Gotham wasn’t even all that exciting from Danny’s perspective. After being tossed around the GAV despite the seatbelts, a couple of cranky fellow drivers just didn’t register.

If they hadn’t been going through the city, maybe going highway speeds it might have been different, but he’d kind of worked out how loud he had to be to be heard.

By Jason snickering when he screamed at pedestrians.

If they didn’t want to be screamed at they shouldn’t be trying to loom menacingly.

Of course, that just meant now was the perfect time for him to use his new power for evil. Danny flipped his visor up, straining as high as he could to yell to Jason.

“SO, THAT CONSTANTINE GUY?”

There was a sudden click in his ear and he jumped as Jason’s voice came through, quiet and definitely amused.

“There’s a radio in your helmet, Danny.”

Oh.

News to fucking him, he was pretty sure that wasn’t standard in motorcycle helmets, but not from any lived experience. Johnny 13’s dead experiences were a little out of date.

Poking around the sides of his helmet, Danny soon found a button.

“Sweet. Looks like you finally forgot to mention something,” he teased, and heard Jason snort loud and clear.

Didn’t have to hold the button to talk then. Good times. He’d get Tucker to take a look on the way home after he ecto infused it. For now he flipped the visor back down.

“Looks like,” Jason agreed dryly, swerving them around a cluster of traffic.

He wasn’t exactly sticking to the letter of the law, they were definitely half again over the speed limit, but they hadn’t gone on a sidewalk so it was nothing to a Fenton. There was even an empty slot in the lane he merged into.

“So what about Constantine,” he prompted, and while it broke Danny out of his musings, it also reminded him of the exact thing he’d planned to do to make the trip more interesting.

“Oh, I own his soul. Like, a dozen times over,” Danny chirped perkily, grip tightening just before Jason had to slam on the breaks to keep from hitting the car beside them.

They sped off again before the sudden swerve caused comment, and passed a block or two in silence. Then Jason sighed.

“Of fucking course you do that for everything and not just Mariokart.” He mostly sounded resigned, so Danny allowed himself a snicker.

“What, it’s not like we’re gonna die. You’re even still on the road,” he dismissed easily, waving a hand to show just how unconcerned he was.

Did not expect Jason to huff, reach back and grab his hand, and pull it back around himself.

“I’m reconsidering teaching you to drive,” he told Danny flatly, and Danny pouted but took the hint and held on.

“Oh come on, you can’t say that, you haven’t even seen me try!” Danny protested.

Jason made an unimpressed noise.

“Your town’s weather includes reports of if your parents will be on the road.”

Which, by the way, was totally unfair of him, since he’d never have known that if Danny hadn’t told him. Or Tucker hadn’t told Tim.

Same difference.

“My parents, not me,” Danny argued anyway, shrugging, “and it wasn’t their driving that killed me.”

This time he was close enough, snugged tight to Jason’s back, that he felt the guy’s whole body shiver with a loud and rumbling growl. The same growl he’d heard and soothed earlier.

Something had really riled up Jason’s pit ghost.

Danny hummed another quick soothing trill, stroking his aura gently across Jason and his extra passenger.

Sort of trying to do it unobtrusively; he would actually really prefer that they didn’t fully crash. It kinda worked, in that Jason managed to unlock suddenly solid muscles enough for them to make the next turn.

“Sorry,” Danny said quickly, kind of to both of them, “guess Pitty doesn’t like the death jokes today.”

They passed another few buildings in silence, anf Danny had definitely noticed by now that they weren’t heading for the manor. Didn’t matter so long as Jason knew where they were going.

Danny waited him out, long enough that he almost wanted to make another joke and lighten the mood. Again though, Jason broke it first.

“Pitty.” He did not sound impressed. But he didn’t feel mad. More what the fuck just came outta your mouth.

Danny gave him a quick squeeze, and almost felt the pit purr.

It was kinda getting stronger the longer they hung out. Technically that probably meant that both cores were making progress.

“Well, technically you probably get to name it, but until you come up with something I’m calling it Pitty,” Danny explained, and rather felt that Jason should be grateful.

Unlike the rest of his family, Jason had seen the full list of how Jack Fenton named things. Danny preferred to think he took after his aunt.

He coulda called it the Fenton Pit Friend or something. Really, it wasn’t hard to think of anything worse.

From his aura, Jason now seemed to be intentionally ignoring him.

Stewing in indignation-disbelief-confused-confused-confused. Well, that was his call.

Anyway.

“Back to Constantine though, I wasn’t kidding. I do actually own his soul,” Danny said casually, since they’d gotten distracted from his previous attempt to make the drive more interesting.

For a moment he wasn’t sure if Jason would rise to the bait this time either, and then another sigh came over the radio.

“Y’know, somehow, that’s the least surprising thing you’ve said. Man sells his soul so much everyone seems to have a chunk,” Jason grumbled, and Danny snickered.

“Oh, pretty much. He’s the Caterpie of human souls. He never made a deal with me directly though,” he added quickly, without being fully sure why.

He was pretty sure Jason wouldn’t jump straight to “Danny is a soul trader”, but honestly he’d gotten used to getting ahead of wilder trains of thought.

“Oh? How’d you get twelve then?” Jason shot back, clearly warming back up to things.

Mission accomplished. Danny grinned.

“Well, previous Ghost King was in nappy time for a couple thousand years, but he had this whole thing about collecting souls to add to his army of thralls, so basically anyone could sign their soul over for a chunk of power. Real charmer,” Danny snorted, rolling his eyes.

It was so far from the worst thing Pariah Dark had ever done, but so far it was definitely the longest lingering annoyance.

“I got the impression,” Jason agreed in pretty much the same tone, prompting Danny to continue.

Which. Yeah. Was more fun than thinking about the mountain of thrall contracts still awaiting their owner’s deaths, which the Observants were still fussing over.

Nobody wanted more thralls, souls wiped clean of everything that made them, well, souls. Just unliving batteries. Even ghosts found them creepy.

On the other hand, there was nothing the Observants loved more than rules. And the rules said a signed contract had to be honoured.

Really they shoulda expected Danny to ask who the fuck signed for Pariah, since he was (again) in nappy time prison. He hoped nobody else died while they sorted that out.

“Danny?”

Ah. Yup, he did it again. Danny shook his head and sighed, kinda missing the wind in his hair. It kept him more present than the enclosed space of the helmet.

“Sorry. So, John Constantine, clever bitch, wrote himself a contract that signed his soul over to the Ghost King, not Pariah Dark. Got through whatever screening was in place no problem, and now he’s my problem.”

A problem that Clockwork had presented Danny with on his fucking birthday no less.

That had been part one of the soul screening process; who was stuck with Pariah by name, and ho boy that was a depressingly long list… and still growing, though it had slowed recently.

News of Pariah losing his crown was slow to spread, and frankly Danny himself could be doing more to help that, except. Well.

Not taking the damn crown himself until he had to. Not wanting to give the creeps of the world anything to call him.

There were a lot of good reasons, okay? And Clockwork had specially singled out Constantine’s contract and delivered it to Danny himself as a birthday present.

“Well, that explains one,” Jason agreed with a snicker, pulling to a stop in front of the police station, “but what about the other eleven times?”

Danny snorted a laugh, sliding off the bike and stretching. As much fun as hugging Jason at high speeds was, he didn’t like being still for too long.

“Tax season,” he explained cheerfully, pulling off the helmet and looking around, “I guess we’re meeting Harley here?”

Snickering to himself, Jason pulled off his own helmet and tucked it into the storage on the back of his bike. Danny passed it over, noting that Jason had also had to get a second little pod for the other helmet.

He wasn’t gonna ask. Maybe they were in storage?

“Yeah, we’re meeting Harley here. Better not to swing by the manor for a while,” Jason added, his expression souring.

Which did make Danny feel a little bad actually. He didn’t want to cause trouble for Jason with his family…

But before he could say anything Jason ruffled his hair roughly, shaking his head.

“It’s not your fault, Danny. This kinda shit happens every other week, Bruce gets on his bullshit and I steer clear. He’ll calm the fuck down eventually and remember to mind his own business,” he explained dryly, nodding towards the doors.

Danny hesitated before moving to follow. It felt true, he could feel Jason’s sincere-exhausted-familiar-still over it clear as day, it just.

“I’m still sorry I wound him up though,” Danny finally decided, heading after Jason up and in. Jason who rolled his eyes and held the door open.

“Danny. He winds himself up. You could be a literal angel and he would not fucking care. You couldn’t unwind him even if you miraculously found the key. We’ve all tried,” Jason said with a sigh, though at least the anger seemed to have burned off into just…

Tired.

Jason just felt tired.

Probably cuz he was off fucking around with Cass last night, but Danny wasn’t about to call him out on it.

Not when they’d just walked into the police station (ew) and the wild sight of Harley Quinn, hair in pigtails and dressed in her signature red and black, sat on the duty officer’s desk with a bat. Filing her nails.

Total silence filled the room, broken only by the swing of the doors opening as Danny and Jason stepped through.

The whole room was watching her in a kind of terrified awe, like she was a particularly dangerous bomb waiting to go off. Danny’d swear they weren’t even breathing.

She looked up as the door opened, grinning broadly at the sight of them and waving in a large, exuberant gesture.

“Oh, there’s my boys! Hey boys!” She called in obvious delight, and half the room flinched.

Didn’t seem to matter that she hadn’t even been in Gotham for ages, let alone being her former roguish self. She had the kind of presence that left a lasting impression.

No wonder Danny liked her. She coulda fit right in with his ghost friends.

Maybe she’d come join them for fight club.

——————

Tag List: @welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @trickerdi @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @idkmrpianoman @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof @perfectwastelandcreation @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin @skulld3mort-1fan @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 @cankoking @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear @magic-pincushion @redamancyardor @lyra689 @itsparadoxlacuna @alcorbearson @asphyxia778 @why-must-i-be-like-this @tkiesai

[eddiemunson-reader-shame]

A Freak and A Basket Case: Eddie Munson X Hispanic!Fem!Reader

Chapter 6: Wonderful Tonight

Do we need just a brainless little bit of fluff? I think we do. Also we need some more of my autistic rambling about music.

[Maseterlist] - [Previous Chapter] - [Next Chapter]

****

Ditching first period was comically easy, and you had to admit that Stoned Eddie was a goddamn genius.

You liked plans. Loved knowing that there was a clear and concise sequential progression of events that unfolded according to your control. Eddie’s plan was infallible: show up for homeroom to create confusion in the school attendance records, fake sick in the middle of first period, then hide out in a bathroom stall until the hall monitors were at the other end of the building. You knew not one soul in the school except for Eddie — and frankly, nobody cared to notice a misfit like you — so it was almost laughable how easy it was to fall through the cracks.

Everything went according to plan. Mr. Leigh-Manuel in first period AP English seemed to accept your excuse without question. All you had to whisper was “period cramps” and you were hand waved out of the room with a pass.

Eddie said he would come get you before first period ended. He was going to take you on your first real date. Pick you up, take you out to eat, see where things went from there.

That was the plan.

You loved the plan.

But when you snuck out of the bathroom and left for the student lot the first time, the plan deviated. The van did not pull up to the drop off lane on schedule.

That was okay. You went back inside, hid in the bathroom, and went back out to check.

No Gaucho.

The conversation with Chrissy happened, and you decided to leave the bathroom amidst the throng of students making their way to second period. Your stomach was currently in knots. Gurgling and aching as you ducked out of view from the acne riddled hall monitor peeking her auburn curled head out of the school’s double doors. Before she caught sight of your blue Jansport, you managed to dodge between a black RX-7 and a golden Oldsmobile Cutlass, clinging to the fender when you squatted down so you didn’t fall on your ass.

Shaking in your Chucks, you looked frantically out towards Cherry Street for the familiar dirty white stripe on the green of Eddie’s beat up old Gaucho.

Twenty minutes passed. Then thirty… until you were about a quarter to ten and he still hadn’t shown his face.

You wanted to throw up. The nagging feeling that Eddie had forgotten your arrangement made bile sit in the back of your throat. While still in the awkward phase of no clear relationship labels, every misstep made you frightened that this charming man had already begun to lose interest.

You were about to start kicking fenders in the lot when you heard the familiar sound of Ozzy Osborne’s “All Aboard!” followed by unhinged, demonic laughter intermingling with the sound of tires squealing against asphalt. Your head snapped towards the sound- a large grin forming on your face- and Eddie’s Gaucho swerved into the student parking lot, hitting the curb hard and nearly taking out the yellow school traffic sign.

The Gaucho sped in at an angle, double parking at the far end of the lot, the driver stumbling out and running a hand through his messy curls as his head whipped around, looking for you. Eddie looked particularly frazzled, in all his disheveled, just-tumbled-out-of-bed-and-threw-on-a-band-shirt glory. His eyes were rimmed red like a demon, and the blue of his uneven five o’clock shadow evident around his mouth. Ringed fingers scrambled to smooth out the rumples in his worn denim battle vest.

If you were honest, it looked like he’d slept in the clothes he was wearing from yesterday. Probably slept in after splitting that fatty with you at the lake, returning home and passing out on the mattress with his Reeboks still on. Had Jamie and your mom not been so goddamned nosy, you would have done the same.

But you did not give a damn how he looked. It was Eddie, goddammit. Eddie had shown up! He was looking for you. It was almost pathetic how down bad you were for this man: he could have shown up in a Great Depression Era flour sack dress, and you’d be over the moon.

You whistled, and he immediately made a beeline for the Cutlass you were hiding behind.

"I am so fucking sorry I’m late, sweetheart…!" he wheezed, straining to breathe from short distance sprinting on smoker’s lungs, “Ugh…! Fuck! Slept through my goddamn alarm because I greened out when I got home..."

“Eddie!”

You couldn’t help yourself. You launched yourself into his arms and hugged him tightly with your arms wrapped around his chest. He made a strained “ooft” as he caught you, before immediately gripping you back tightly and burying his face in your neck.

"I'm so, so, so sorry if I made you worry.” He murmured, “I didn't forget you… I promise."

“I thought you did forget.” You said honestly, “I had to hide out in the bathroom all of first period.”

Eddie made a pitiful noise, rubbing his large hand along your back through your Carhartt jacket.

"My poor sweetheart." He cooed, pulling a face complete with a pouty lip, "I could never forget you. I’m so sorry, this was super shitty of me. It will never happen again. Never.”

You nodded, a soft hum escaping as you looked up shyly at him.

He gave you the once over. From the way his eyes raked over your form and his tongue flicked over his dry lips, he must have thought you looked particularly sweet today.

You wore the same quilted Carhartt jacket with the trucking logo and kitschy alien pins and patches – sweating in it from the humidity – over top an ivory button down with a Peter Pan collar, and a black pleated skirt that went past your knees. A little gold plated heart locket hung around your neck.

You had at least tried to put special effort into your appearance, even if you admittedly looked a little plain in comparison to the fashion statements others could afford for a first date. While it wasn’t the white jeans and pastel pump and polo combo, you felt that you could at least pass for presentable at a diner date outside of Hawkins.

Eddie smiled, clearly flattered by the extra effort. He brought his hand up to flick the locket around your neck, a Cheshire Cat grin forming and exposing teeth stained slightly by tobacco.

"Hey, what's this?" He asked, his fingertips brushing against the gold plating, "You look extra pretty today. Not that you're not always pretty."

“I wanted to wear something special for you.” You said shyly, “Um… I found this shirt in the back of my closet, and I wore my locket… oh! Open it. There’s a fun surprise in there…”

Eddie's smile widened when you mentioned opening the locket. A little clumsy at first, he leaned in and gently clicked it open, curious to see what surprise lay within. You giggled, covering your mouth as you waited to see Eddie’s reaction.

At first he gasped out loud, looked down at the picture with a mixture of surprise and delight, then he began to cackle.

"Jesus H. Christ, you dork!”

Inside the locket was a glossy, tiny magazine clipping of Eddie the Head, looking back at him with a skeletal grin.

"Is this for me?" He looked back up at you, shaking the hair out of his eyes and smiling.

You snickered and nodded, shifting side to side on the edges of your Chucks.

“I usually keep a picture of Kyle MacLachlan in there,” you said, “But I found a magazine clipping of Iron Maiden’s Eddie and I thought it was more appropriate to put in because, well, I’m going on a date with an Eddie. Um… If I had a picture of you, I would have put you in there, but I don’t, so...”

His chuckles subsided, his wide grin showing off beautiful dimples and flushed pink cheeks.

“Well, we’ll just have to remedy that sometime. Maybe I’ll lurk around the yearbook geeks, see if I can’t hunt down a good headshot for you.”

You smiled and began to chew on your lower lip, enjoying the attention and absolutely basking in the fact that he’d come to get you, even if he was late. Any other girl probably would have thrown a tantrum, stomped off, or – god forbid – left him standing there in the lot. They wouldn’t have extended grace to him like you.

Or maybe you were just stupid and desperate… Willing to give anyone a chance, who could tell?

“Hey, don’t bite your lip.”

Eddie gently hooked a finger under your chin, tilting your head up and tapping your upper lip with a calloused finger.

“None of that.” He said, making a clicking noise with his tongue, “You’re gonna make it bleed… you’re too pretty for bloody lips, sweetheart.”

“Sorry!”

Your response was immediate, releasing your lip from your teeth and groveling.

“I’m sorry… bad habit.” You were trying to justify yourself while at the same time explain, “Kind of my thing when I just don’t know what to do… I’m really sorry.”

“No, no. It’s okay.” He replied, “You don’t have to defend yourself. Just go easy on those pretty lips for me. You’ll need them for later.”

You sputtered, giggling nervously and covering your mouth as Eddie rocked you side to side, putting both of his large hands on your shoulders and rubbing your deltoids with his thumbs. Any other day this would have been heaven, just enough that the hottest guy in Hawkins was touching you, you would have stood in the lot with him for hours. But the hall monitors were ruthless half day seniors with gaps in their schedules and chips on their shoulders, lurking around the campus grounds like sharks circling a whale carcass, and you weren’t about to sacrifice a Saturday for detention. Glancing around the parking lot, paranoid as ever, you began tugging at Eddie’s wrists. Eager to get the hell out of Dodge and out of Hawkins, even just for a little bit.

“Um… we should go.” You said quickly, “The hall monitors were like, checking the parking lot every five seconds.”

Eddie groaned when you mentioned the hall monitors. Obviously the last thing he wanted to deal with.

“Yeah, you’re right.” He said, blowing a raspberry in the direction of the school building, “Come on. Let’s get the hell out of here, we’re burning daylight and I’ve got some serious making up to do.”

That beautiful smile returned to his face when he pulled you along, both of you bobbing and weaving between the cars in a game of chase before he brought you to his double parked van, making sure to open the door with an exaggerated bow.

“You’ve been formerly acquainted with my valiant steed: Big Bertha.” He said in a deep voice, “Your white-… well, uh, green horse for the day. If you please to step this way...”

Of course you giggled.

It was purposefully practiced and precise, unlike the awkward little curtsy you tried to improv that almost made you trip over your own two left feet. Eddie immediately reached out to grab and steady you with a little “oop” leaving his lips, and he helped you into the van with a hand resting on the small of your back, his hands underneath your jacket and everything. You could feel that his fingers were shaking a little, and after he slammed the passenger door a little too hard he made his way around to the driver’s side, climbing in and starting the engine with a sputtering roar.

Every few seconds he glanced over at you as he peeled out of the lot.

“You really do look nice today, sweetheart. Extra special, just for me.”

His compliments made you giddy, curling in on yourself and wriggling around in the seat. You crossed your legs, hands went up to your face to cover your obnoxiously large grin, and you couldn’t help the giddy giggling from bubbling up. The kitschy pins on your jacket clinked against one another as you moved.

You slowly pulled down your hands from your face, your smile unable to be contained as you watched Eddie turn off of Cherry Street onto another road, one that lead the Gaucho through a sad excuse of a downtown area. In comparison to where you’d lived previously, this town of Hawkins was sadly a disappointment. But you still leaned closer to watch it all go by the window as Eddie pulled onto Larabie.

“So there’s like… really nothing in terms of a food scene here, is there?” You asked gently, “We really gotta go this far out of our way?”

“Not a whole hell of a lot in town." Eddie snorted, “Would have taken you to Benny’s if it was still around. Now it’s just an abandoned cesspool overrun by jocks who sneak Pabst and take ketamine.”

So many buildings were shuttered, businesses closed down, and absolutely no one was milling around save for the few old diehards who refused to give up on their small town. Snowy old heads in plaid western snap shirts were parked on benches, while old housewives in floral mumus were milling around the open stores with discount signs. The whole neighborhood looked like it had once been an early sixties zombie apocalypse scene by George A. Romero, if he’d gotten drunk and fired his art director halfway during production.

"It's not exactly New York or Chicago here, that's for sure," Eddie said, his tone a little wistful.

“It’s not even Santa Fe.” You replied.

There was a bustling food scene in the capital of your previous home state. There were so many restaurants to choose from, and you were pissed because at the end of August they would be setting up entire rows of food carts on the plaza while they burned a fifty foot tall puppet. Of course you left right before the best part of the summer, stuck in the Midwest where there wasn’t one fajita vendor or Will Schuster spectacle to be found. You didn’t see it while you were brooding, but Eddie glanced over at you, a slight frown tugging at the corner of his mouth as he noticed your disappointment.

“I think I saw maybe one or two places in town that were like, an actual restaurant.” You said, “There was a real run down bar that had a menu and like, this really fancy looking Italian place.”

He glanced over at you again, a grimace on his face.

"Welcome to the town of Hawkins, Indiana: home of greasy spoons, dive bars, and one fancy Italian joint. Just so you know, I will be your welcome wagon for a lot of disappointments. Expect maybe like… at least twenty more.”

“A la ve, this sucks.” you moaned.

Eddie burst out laughing.

"Hey, it's not all bad," he said, "We have... uh..."

He paused, and it was almost painful to watch the gears in his head turn looking for something positive to say about this piece of shit town.

"We have a video store?" he offered.

“Yeah but you gotta pay for those.” You said, “I’m poor, I rent movies at the library. I gotta wait longer, but shit is free.”

"You cheapskate." he laughed, “But, you’re not wrong. Libraries are a poor man's best friend.”

You both began to laugh.

“So… um… have you always lived here in Hawkins?” You ventured cautiously.

“Mmhmm… Born and raised. Never even been outside of Indiana, actually.” He said.

“Where do you live? I’m out on Cherry Street. Is that near your house?”

Eddie stiffened up in the driver’s seat. His eyes were wide, suddenly alert, and he did that shaking thing that your dogs did whenever your mom yelled at them for digging tampons out of the trash.

“We uh… we live just outside of town.” He said lowly.

“Oh really? Is it nice outside of town? I was just thinking I hadn’t even really asked you much about yourself, so I was just wondering.” You were so busy plucking loose threads out of your skirt, you didn’t notice Eddie’s pallor as you continued to jabber on at him.

“Uh… I guess it’s nice? It’s a little cramped, not the best neighborhood…” he mumbled.

“Oh shit, that sucks. You guys renting bad apartments or something?”

“… kind of, we are renting a lot but he owns the… well… It’s, uh… I… I live in a single wide with my uncle.”

“Oh cool. Is the lot where you rent nice? I bet it’s nice, there’s lots of forest around here. I bet the views are beautiful. I don’t much care for the humidity here but I do like to see the green and the trees everywhere.”

Eddie sucked air through his teeth, then spit as if he’d had a hair caught in his mouth.

“… you’re taking this a lot better than I thought you would.” He finally said after a long, awkward silence.

You blinked, a little confused.

“Huh? How do you mean?”

“It’s a trailer park, sweetheart. Not the Four Seasons. Everyone in Hawkins who hears those magic words automatically thinks ‘burnout’.” He said matter of factly, “I guess… I guess I just thought you’d think the same way.”

It didn’t occur to you that people could think such things. A trailer was a home, wasn’t it? Or were things in Hawkins different…?

“I used to live in a trailer park.” You said softly, almost hurt, “And my parents didn’t even own the trailer. Do you think I’m a burnout?”

“No! Oh god no… I’m just… I’m not used to this whole, like, blind acceptance thing.” He said, taking his hands off the wheel for a split second to gesticulate.

“Oh.”

The van was silent. Eddie scratched the corner of his nose, you began to shake your leg.

“Guess we’re both accustomed to the ‘park’ life then, huh?” He finally said after a while.

“It’s a bit hazy for me. I remember bits and pieces of living there.” You admitted, “But we would always go back and visit every weekend. We lived with my auntie at Desert Bluffs RV Park, out by the highway in her double-wide when I was a baby, and then afterwards we started renting apartments because there wasn’t enough room for all of us.”

“Did your parents not work? How come you couldn’t afford a house?” He asked.

To anyone else it might have sounded rude, but to you it was genuine. Then again everything sounded that way — even the baiting mean questions from people who secretly hated you — and with those you liked, you tried to answer honestly, even if it was embarrassing, because you often couldn’t tell the difference between genuine curiosity or hateful teasing.

“My mom did, she’s a teacher. My dad is the one who stayed home until I went to school because my aunt wanted money for taking care of me and my big brother, and they couldn’t afford a regular sitter.”

Money had always been tight. That was reality. That was the God’s honest truth of being a young family. Your father and mother had met at fifteen, fallen in love, married fresh out of high school, and struggled through life as a new couple with a baby boy for the first seven years of their married life. Your auntie took your parents in, and your dad stayed home to care for Jamie while your mom worked and went to college.

Finally in the fall of ‘65, mom got her teaching license, and things looked better for everyone. Then you came along in ‘67 and suddenly you all found yourselves out of the trailer park. She said it was because she was tired of hearing crying at all hours of the night. When in reality she was pissed off because she was eighteen years your mother’s senior, and her abrasive personality made no allowance for a husband, let alone a family of her own. Tia Cristela also hated weird little girls like you with a passion.

You told Eddie about the apartments you lived in after the RV park. Before buying the house on Cherry Street, your family had never owned a home. You never knew life without a landlord or someone living above, below, or behind you. In the first seventeen years of life you had moved a total of six times. That was how it was. If living got too expensive, you packed up your shit and moved.

“Christ… Six times?!” Eddie complained, “That’s like… absolutely no stability going on there, it must have sucked.”

“Yeah…” you nodded, “I never stayed anywhere very long to make friends, and… You lose a lot of stuff when you move around constantly.”

“Fuck that. No wonder you were so hesitant on moving out to Hawkins.”

This move was further out. Completely out of your comfort zone. Not only would the people be different, but the whole state, the roads, and everything else would be too. Even the food.

“I hate moving. There’s always something that gets lost, so I don’t get to keep a lot. But um, I always kept track of my books. And my cassettes, and my vinyl.” You said fondly, fingering the buttons of your Walkman in your jacket pocket.

Those were the things that stayed consistent. Music was your home. The one safe place where nothing could touch you.

“Vinyl and cassette? You like music?”

He sounded hopeful.

You remembered the day he grabbed you. He said you had great taste in music…

“I do. I love all kinds of music.” You nodded, “Um… I… not just metal but like, all kinds of stuff.”

“Tell me… we’ve got an hour to kill. Someone holds a gun to your head: who’s the band you’re telling them everything about?”

You told him who your favorite was, and then a second later you changed your mind and made him laugh. It was so hard to pick just one band when you enjoyed so many different genres that your answer varied based on mood and day of the week. The conversation deviated from small talk to deeper aspects of music: both of you spending the entire hour long drive delving deep past the superficial and into the more involved aspects. What bands influenced each other, which lyrics evoked images of grandeur in your mind when you paced up and down in your rooms.

Eventually you both got into the musicians themselves: the current topic being who is or was the best guitarist in the world. Eddie had thrown out a few names, metal artists primarily, and you had insisted it was Van Halen who wore that crown. Until you both started going into the semantics of technical style versus genre, types of guitar used, and whether or not they actually used attachments like a whammy bar, or if the artists knew how to read sheet music.

A winner had been decided just as Eddie pulled into the diner’s lot. You both came to the agreement that Eric Clapton of Cream was the superior musician who had both the talent and the icon status, as well as the verisimilitude required of an accomplished musician.

“Okay, I’ll concede to Clapton. But I still want you to at least consider what I said about Tony Iommi.” Eddie told you as you both got out of the car.

“I’ll think about him, but he’s not Clapton, and he’s certainly not doing twelve minute guitar solos like Van Halen did when I saw him live.”

“Oooh! Look at the princess throwing it in my face that she’s been to a live show.” Eddie laughed, wriggling his fingers at you before grabbing you and walking you into the diner by the shoulders, “Okay fine, but new theory: we both are wrong. I feel like we didn’t really give Jimi Hendrix the respect he deserves.”

“We didn’t. You’re the one who got all butthurt because you said the title of ‘Pop Musician of the Year’ in ‘68 disqualified him from the running.” You said, putting out your tongue at him.

“… and I will still stand by that statement.” Eddie said stubbornly, “No Pop icons in this house.”

You stared him down hatefully until the both of you began to laugh, making the hostess cringe and take her sweet time in seating the both of you.

“So it’s decided: Clapton wins this round. Iommi however? Still my personal pick. Right next to Nikki Sixx, but that’s on account of we have the same model guitar.” Eddie laughed, finally noticing the pissed off waitress and leading you with him to the booth.

“Oooh fanboy alert! Fanboy alert!” You said, not caring in the slightest about things like volume control.

“I’m allowed to fanboy!” Eddie argued, sounding as if he’d pitch a fit in the diner, “You don’t have to be like that with me!”

“Dirty fanboy, dirty fanboy!” You teased, poking him in his side.

You both laughed and wrestled all the way into the booth, Eddie beeped at you like a big rig in reverse when he used his body weight to scooch in close to your side. At all times he was in your personal space, he didn’t want to leave you alone and you didn’t want him to sit anywhere else except glued to your hip.

“Scoochie!” He demanded, bumping you with his hip.

“You wanna sit with me?” You asked.

“Hell yeah I wanna sit with you!” He smiled, “I’d sit in your lap if I could fit. Now scoochie!”

You scoochied. You scoochied all the way in until he pulled you close because you went too far away from him, his large hand rubbing your arm as he leaned close, getting into your face.

“Goddamn… you’re just so cute.” He said, chewing his bottom lip and drumming on your arm.

“So are you.” You said softly, “I just… I can’t believe it… you know? This… this thing we have going on, I like it.”

“Oh, I am definitely digging this connection.” Eddie grinned, “I can’t remember the last time I’ve had this much fun. It’s refreshing. It really is. And I like a girl who can hold her own with my bullshit.”

“How do you mean?”

Eddie shrugged. Ran a finger along the seam of your Carhartt sleeve.

“I’m used to being the odd duck — the freak — the one who never fits in. I’ll start talking about how the licks in ‘Iron Fist’ were superior to ‘Ace of Spades’ as a whole, and I can literally see the moment a girl’s eyes start to glass over. Y’know, like they just want you to shut the fuck up and take your cock out. And then you came along, and we just… we click.” He snapped his fingers.

“We do.” You murmured, “I… gosh, how can I even describe it. It’s like, I can have a conversation with you. We can rant about things that no one else cares about. Even if it’s something you’re not as well informed on: you listen. You don’t just dismiss.”

He didn’t dismiss you. Quite the contrary. Eddie validated you. Teased you gently. He laughed so hard that chewed up pieces of his barbecue chicken sandwich went flying out of his mouth at you when you made bad jokes. But you didn’t even care. Not even when every so often he’d bump his forehead gently against yours, touching noses and just basking in your affection.

“You’re so silly.” Your murmured, inhaling his exhales as he lazily shut his eyes and rubbed noses with you.

“I can’t help it.” He murmured, “I haven’t had this much fun in my entire life. I thought I’d be shitting bricks on this date trying to keep it cool but… you just make it so easy to be around you. We’ve got so much in common, you’re super cuddly and sugar sweet. I just wanna like, eat you!”

Eddie took your face in his hands and made funny munching sounds, causing giggles to erupt from your throat.

“Seriously… this is the best date I’ve ever been on. I can open up around you, be myself.”

“Yes!” You nodded, “I feel the exact same way… I never want this date to end!”

“Well,” Eddie smiled, “Lucky for you, sweetheart, this is only our first date. We’ve got so many more coming. I want to know you, I want to experience more things with you.”

He gulped, staring directly into your eyes and holding your cheeks in the palm of his soft hands.

“In short… I want more of you. Now that I’ve had a taste, I’ll just keep coming back for more.”

[my-own-walker]

Colin Zabel x Reader where the reader gets in a slight car accident (it’s not severe). BUT detective Colin to the rescue speeds his way to the collision and acts like she’s been seriously injured (when she’s only got little bruises). Rushing her home and taking care of her for the day. Just a very protective Zabel 😌

I'll Get To You

note: Ahhh wait I really love this request awwwww!!

warnings: mentions of car accidents, injuries, and a disgusting amount of fluff.

Omniscient perspective...btw.

+++

Y/N did nothing wrong. As soon as the light turned green, she drove straight, as one does. That was until some idiot in the opposing traffic lanes turned left straight into the back of the right side of her car. Her car spun out dramatically. She slammed on her brakes and her tires screeched, protesting against the sudden activity.

She was okay, minus some scratches and bruises on her face and arms from the airbags deploying.

The other driver was on his phone when he crashed into her. His car was totaled. He was also okay, though. His negligence, however, completely crushed her taillight and right side bumper.

Overall, they were both super shaken.

Y/N was just thankful to be alive. Grateful for the drivers behind her who had the wherewithal to stop dead in their tracks as soon as her car started spinning. No other cars were involved. It was a miracle everything turned out the way it did.

Police arrived on the scene quickly and ushered the involved cars off the road to a nearby gas station, Y/N and the offender in tow. She didn't even grab her phone from the car. Just the necessary documents to get the situation sorted.

+

'Uh we got an 11-79 on Newtown Road, on the northbound side,' the police radio rang out in Colin's car. It was around 9 pm. He was driving home from an emergency call to investigate a case he was working on. He was excited to get home to Y/N. They had big plans to sit on the couch and watch the new episode on Succession while eating way too many snacks.

'Tan Nissan sedan and green Subaru hatchback involved, change to 11-80,' the radio scratched again. Colin's heart dropped. Green Subarus are not common.

Y/N had a green Subaru. 11-79 means accident, ambulance dispatched. 11-80? Accident with major injuries.

His shaking hands reached for the mic. Giving his badge number, he asked 'what's the plate on the Subaru?' voice trembling. They wouldn't think anything of him asking that. Just in case it was relevant to his murder investigation, they'd give him any information.

'3 - 9 - 8 - Whiskey - Echo - Kilo.'

Her fucking license plate number.

Colin immediately took a right on the road he was on, turning on his lights and sirens to make a clear path for himself. His heart and mind raced as he sped along the road, trying desperately to get to Y/N on Newtown road.

He drove nearly 90 miles per hour down the backroads of Delaware County, thinking of nearly every possibility. He couldn't imagine the sight of here hurt. His stomach churned realizing that this could be very, very serious.

He got to the scene of the crash within minutes. He pulled up onto a scary scene. Two ambulances were already there. Two other officers and their cars were there, too. Pulling closer, he realized that the cars had already been moved from the road and into a parking lot. Her car was in bad shape, and so was the other guy's.

His eyes welled as he thought the worst. This was something he never wanted to experience. He parked and ran to the scene. Y/N was sitting upright in the back of an ambulance on its platform, legs dangling off the bumper. An EMT was tending to her, cleaning a wound on her face.

'Baby!' he shouted, jogging up to her. 'Y/N are you okay?' His brow furrowed, twisted into a look of sheer concern. His stomach was still a pit.

'Colin, hey,' she sighed, relieved that he was there.

The EMT stepped aside to give them their moment, leaving with a quiet 'you're good to go.' Colin stepped forward and took her face in both of his hands, staring tearily into her eyes.

'Baby, I was so worried. I heard on the radio in my car. I got here as fast as I could. Are you hurt? What did they say? Where's the other fucking bastard, I'll kill 'em. I'll-' he rambled.

'Colin, my love, I'm okay. I promise. Just bruises and scratches on the both of us,' Y/N assured him.

'Was it him? Was he the one that hit you?' Colin spat loudly, pointing in the direction of the offender.

'Shh, Colin, yes, it's okay. My car will be okay, I will be okay, I promise,' she whispered.

'I swear, Y/N, I will kill the son of a bitch. How dare he hurt you?' Colin dropped his hands and rounded on the man, who was speaking to the officers that were already on the scene. 'What the fuck is wrong with you, bud?'

'Zabel. Zabel. Enough,' Officer Clark said, putting a hand out to stop Colin.

'And you, calling this an 11-80? Are you stupid? I was terrified!' Colin yelled.

'No, Zabel, this was always an 11-81. Get your radio checked out, maybe the signal cut out on the 1. Minor injuries. Now get the fuck out of here before I tell Chief Carter, huh?'

+

The drive home was short. Colin rode with the lights and sirens on to get people out of his way. He just wanted Y/N to get home quickly and safely.

He guided her inside their home, making sure his hands never left contact with her body.

'Colin, I promise, I'm fine!' Y/N protested.

'Yeah uh huh, tell that to the gash on your forehead,' Colin insisted. 'On the couch, now.' He sat her down and grabbed a blanket out of the ottoman, wrapping her in it tightly. He rushed over to the kitchen and poured her a glass of water.

'What am I going to do with you?' Colin asked as he delivered the water to the coffee table in front of her. 'I love you so much, Y/N. You are so important to me. I can't lose you.'

'And you won't,' she smiled. 'I promise. I'm okay.'

'You look cold, let me get you another blanket,' Colin said, planting a kiss on her lips. He grabbed a second blanket from the back of the armchair in the room. 'Do you need a painkiller or something? I'm gonna turn the heat up I think.'

Y/N laughed from her blanket confines. 'How am I supposed to drink this if my arms are all wrapped up!' she chuckled. That chuckle turned into more of a cackle when she saw Colin come sprinting back into the room, pillow in one hand and a bottle of Advil in the other.

'I got it! I got it!' he declared. He propped the pillow up behind her and put down the medicine bottle, picking the glass up and bringing it to her lips. She could barely drink, she was laughing so hard.

'Colin, baby, this is why I love you,' Y/N laughed.

'This is no laughing matter, lady! Take your medicine,' he protested.

'You are so loving, and caring, and beautiful. I promise you, I'm all good,' she smiled.

His expression softened. He put down what he had in his hands and planted a giant kiss on her lips.

'Sorry, I got a little carried away, huh?' he resigned. She nodded, still smiling softly. 'Hah, 'm sorry sweetheart, I just want you to be okay.'

'And I am. Now can you please let me out of this straight jacket so we can cuddle?' Y/N asked.

'Oh, you don’t have to ask me twice!' Colin exclaimed, loosening the fabric's grip, hoisting her onto his lap.

+++

Yay! This was such a cute one. Thank you for the request! I described on of my own car accidents, lol. Personal experience pays off! 😅

[watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees]

Chapter 3 - Bargaining

Force of nature - masterlist

prev next

TW: vampire whumper, hunter whumpee, reckless driving, mind control, death threat, referenced blood drinking

Everything was ready. A couple of hours later than she had planned, but Carter packed up the essentials. Clean clothes to last a week, hygiene products, she broke the legs off a dining room chair for makeshift stakes. These would get her through a few days, the monster would get bored and it would be safe to return. 

She wasn’t sure how strong his suggestion's effects were, she sure as hell still couldn’t say a word about the encounters at the office.

It was a painful moment when she realised she couldn’t bear to touch a stake anymore. She tried to pick one up and bag it, maybe to take home to slowly one-by-one replace her collection. All she saw was every single life she took, replayed over and over again in violent detail. It was best to drop it. 

The chair legs worked, and she was over the moon with the discovery. The suggestion was strong, but not clear enough, easy to find a loophole on. Julius might have been strong, but she was clever. And as long as he didn’t plan on enthralling her, she would outsmart him.

She threw her duffel bag in the boot and slammed it shut. The sun would funny go down any moment and Carter wanted to be as far away as possible by then. 

Her hand was on the door handle by the driver's seat when a strong pair of hands grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around. 

“This is not how we'll go about this” he stated casually. It cost him no more energy to keep her pressed up against the car than breathing. At least it didn't seem like it. 

Carter didn't speak or move. She felt her heart hammer against her ribcage and her breathing grow irregular. She tried to collect herself, if she panicked and made the wrong move it would be over, and she needed a win. 

Deep breath in, and out. 

In again. 

Think. 

Technically the sun wasn't up in the sky anymore, but it was still light enough, so it made no sense why he would show himself. His skin didn’t appear burnt or even irritated. It was still statuesque and lightly olive toned, not a blemish or even a sunkissed cheek.

“What do you still want from me?” she seethed. So much for thinking it through, and being in control. He frowned a bit, before answering.

“I still intend to kill you, but I'm in no hurry” he let up, with a cold, sinister smile “Go, you can try to outrun me”

She didn't need to be told twice. Partly, because she knew in the back of her mind, that she will obey those words, no matter what, and partly, because it was all she wanted to do, as well. 

She practically threw herself into the driver’s seat, started the engine before closing the door behind her, and sped away. 

Carter was on the interstate in a matter of a couple minutes, they felt like hours. She kept glancing in the rearview mirror and out the windows if he was following her, but there was no sign of the monster. She had to keep checking, even though she was sure the shadowy movements in her peripheral vision were her mind overworking, finding a threat where there wasn’t any.

She could finally breathe again, when she saw the first sign, pointing her towards the nearest state line. Her mind cleared up a bit, only for the vampire’s threat to make sense.

“What the fuck was that?” she muttered to herself and stepped on the gas harder to speed up. 

Carter wanted to call someone, but there was no way of getting around the vampire's compulsion. She hit the wheel, frustrated, sending the car off its track. 

It only steered a couple of yards to the left, just a little too close for comfort to the crash barrier.

She managed to straighten out the trajectory, and stay in her lane. She looked around to see if anyone had seen it, but there were no other cars around. It was unusual for a weekday afternoon like that, the highway was usually packed by dusk, hours long traffic jams were the norm in this direction. 

The clear path gave her hope of getting further away than she had planned.

Carter had to gather her thoughts, now that she was finally on the run. The plan she had made the day before didn’t account for the monster appearing in broad daylight to threaten her. She was confident she could figure this out.

He announced his intention to kill Carter, as much was pretty straightforward. It was also true that he hadn’t actually made a move or put any effort in carrying that plan out, quite the opposite, now that she thought about it. He had pulled away before he left her with any lasting damage, when he bit her before. 

He had to have been bluffing. There was no point in scaring her from time to time, just to let her go this time. Unless he liked to play cat and mouse on the interstate highway, and planned to run after her, risking being caught on every single traffic camera on the way, she had to be safe. And even if he did have a car, what would he do? Vampires didn’t chase people from cars. In fact vampires either killed people on the spot or tried to, when they intended to kill someone. When they didn’t, Carter had heard of some creatures, who had struck deals with hunters, to protect their territories and such. The hunters, who agreed, in her opinion were the scum of the Earth. The lowest of the lows. 

What Julius was doing was nothing like she’d seen before, and she hated to admit how much that still terrified her. 

She crossed the state border without any issues and a part of her finally felt relieved. She wasn’t far away from the motel she had planned to stay at. It was a place she knew, protected by a group of hunters. She could spend a night or two there, free of charge, to lay low before she headed further. She would also be protected better than she would have been at home, and hopefully far out of the vampire’s reach for a bit.

A light lit up on her dash with a soft click, distracting her from the road again.

Carter's brows furrowed frustrated at first, then her expression turned confused, it was warning her of the low level of fuel in the tank. She had just filled it a day ago, and she’d barely been driving for an hour.

There must be a problem with the display, she decided. The car was old already, when she got it used. It needed repairs from time to time, especially on its electronics, but that didn't calm the uneasy feeling the appearance of the little red tank sign stirred. 

“Engine trouble?” The voice was clear as day, but without an actual source. It appeared in the back of her mind, as if it came from the base of her own skull. It was his voice she noted with a shiver. 

“There are no gas stations nearby” This time it came from her right and she spared a glance that way. 

Julius’ hand shot out to grab the wheel, which she let go of immediately upon yanking it to the side. 

“Grab the wheel and decide, if you want to brake or accelerate” The engine screamed in unison with her and the vehicle almost stopped. Someone else sped by, furiously blaring their car horn. 

They came to a full stop in the middle of the road. Julius looked at her incredulously “You absolute moron! What are you doing?” Only lit by the faint lights of the dashboard, his face looked like something straight out of a horror movie. His eyes bore holes into her as he stared, and she was convinced he bared his fangs as well for a moment. 

“Get out! Leave me alone!” Tears spring to her eyes without her say-so, her heart beat so fast she thought it would jump out of her chest. He was sitting in her car. And they were in the middle of a completely empty road in total darkness. 

She felt nauseous as her other senses caught up to his presence, his cologne was crisp, but it didn’t cover up the ancient air he brought about. She couldn’t hear him move or even breathe.

“No,” he replied simply, “Start the car and drive” he instructed and laid back in his seat. It wasn't just instruction, though. 

Her hand reached for the ignition involuntarily and turned the key in its place. 

The lights lit up, and the dash was back to normal, the tank over three quarters full. 

“Why won't you just leave me alone?” Her voice quivered, but she wasn't crying. Only a couple of tears managed to run down on her face. She couldn't let go of the wheel so she wiped them off on her shoulder, the sturdy green denim dried her face up immediately. 

“You hurt me, I hurt you back, simple, is it not?” He answered casually and looked out the window. “We’re turning around, turn right at the nearest exit”

“You have hurt me, though, you drank from me” she pointed out. There was no way she’d sit in silence, even though arguing with him was most likely stupid, and possibly a death sentence.

“You’ll wish I had only done that once we get back,” his tone darkened slightly, but he kept his composure. “Let me tell you what will happen now”

“How about you surprise me?” she asked sarcastically. He stayed silent for a brief moment and continued, ignoring her.

“You will not run, you will not call for help, you will stay in your house and wait for me to take my fill every night, for as long as I see fit. And when I decide it was enough, I will drain you and you will die”

“No” Carter managed to blurt out in disbelief, but the protest was a grain of sand against the current of his words washing through her mind.

“And you don’t get to end it in some idiotic car crash, like you did now” he continued mercilessly.

“I wasn’t trying to- I didn’t-” He cut her off again.

“I will decide, when it’s time and you can only hope, I choose to do it soon” He finally looked back at her. “Clear?” 

[beardedmrbean]

There’s no evidence of terrorism in the fiery New Year’s Day crash that saw the driver of an SUV stashed with gas canisters speed toward pedestrians and collide with a car, killing two people and injuring several more after a concert in Rochester, New York, police said.

The suspect, identified as Michael Avery, 35, of the Syracuse area, died Monday night from injuries sustained in the crash, officials said.

Rochester Police Chief David M. Smith said in an update Tuesday that Avery's motive is not clear and urged the public to come forward with information.

However, authorities have spoken with Avery's family and they believed he “may have been suffering from possible undiagnosed mental health issues,” Smith said.

"We have not recovered any information that his actions were motivated by any form of political or social biases," he added, noting it is believed Avery acted alone.

The crash happened shortly before 1 a.m. as police officers were directing traffic after a concert by the band "moe" at the Kodak Center theater complex, Rochester police previously said.

At 12:52 a.m., Avery drove the Ford Expedition on West Ridge Road toward where police officers were stopping traffic to allow pedestrians to cross.

“At this time, Avery sped up, crossed into the oncoming lane of traffic and appears to have intentionally been driving towards the pedestrian crossing,” Smith said. 

That’s when he crashed into the Outlander, sending both vehicles “through a group of pedestrians that were in the crosswalk,” police said in a statement. The two passengers in the Outlander were killed and the driver suffered non-life-threatening injuries, according to police.

The collision caused an explosion and a large blaze that took the fire department more than an hour to extinguish.

Once the flames were doused, firefighters “located at least a dozen gasoline canisters in and around” the Expedition, the police statement said. That prompted police to bring in an arson team and alert the FBI, police said.

The FBI Buffalo Field Office confirmed in a statement that the agency is assisting the Rochester Police Department in the investigation.

Police initially said three pedestrians were struck and hospitalized. That number rose to nine pedestrians, Smith said Tuesday, noting one pedestrian suffered life-altering injuries, and the rest should make full recoveries.

He added that Avery had traveled to Rochester in his personal vehicle on or about Dec. 27 and checked into the WoodSpring Suites in Greece, a suburb of Rochester.

Two days later, Smith said, Avery rented a Ford Expedition from a car rental agency at the Rochester airport and left his personal car in the airport parking garage. Between 9 a.m. and 6 p.m. on Dec. 30, he made “at least half a dozen purchases of gasoline and gas containers at different locations” throughout Monroe and Ontario counties. 

A search warrant was executed on Avery’s hotel room Monday and no suicide note was recovered, Smith said. Another was executed on his personal vehicle, which is still being searched and has not yielded any insight into a motive so far. 

Investigators asked witnesses or anyone with information to reach out to police. Rochester is about 340 miles northwest of Manhattan.

The band "moe" said in a statement late Monday the fiery crash left them “in profound shock and sadness.”

“On a night that was meant for celebration and togetherness, we are faced instead with tragedy that defies understanding,” the statement said. “Our hearts go out to the family and friends of those who lost their lives, and our thoughts are with those who were injured.”

Rochester Mayor Malik Evans said a statement: My heart goes out to the families and friends of the victims who were killed in the fiery crash that occurred on West Ridge Road last night. I pray for the victims who are still fighting for their lives and whose who are working to recover.”

He asked for patience as investigators piece together the details of the crash and asked for anyone with information to contact 911. 

President Joe Biden has been briefed on the Rochester crash, according to a White House official.

[rygoespop]

Thomas and Friends: Tales from Sodor (Story 60): Muddy Ned

Narrator: Muddy Ned

Scene opens with The Pack, working hard to clear the mud

Narrator: On the Island of Sodor, The Pack are working hard to clear the mud

Byron: Heave ho! I've never seen so much Mud!

Isobella: Please don't me dirty again!

Jack: What's wrong Isobella? Last time you said you didn't mind when you got dirty

Isobella: I did Jack, but I'm trying to not get it ruined

Jack: *mockingly* Daawh, Isobella afraid of the big bad mud monster *he chuckled as he raced away*

Isobella: Get back here Jack! *she races after him*

Kelly: Jack! Isobella! Slow down! This is no time for Horseplaying!

Jack: Sorry Kelly!

Isobella: Yes, sorry Kelly!

Alfie: *digging some mud and loading it in Max* Nearly done

Oliver: Well done Alfie! *he loads mud in Monty*

Max and Monty: Hurry it up!

Both Alfie and Oliver load the mud in Max and Monty as the two Dump Trucks sped off

Oliver: Well, how impatient of them

Alfie: I know! They are so rude!

Ned: *lifting Mud into a freight car* Here you go Charlie!

Charlie: Thanks Ned! Oh, what does a Mudman say to the monkeys?

Ned: I don't know? What?

Charlie: Quit mudding around! *laughs as he puffed off*

Ned laughs as he moved his arm as Max stopped as he nearly hit Ned's bucket

Max: Watch it bumble bucket!

Ned: Oops! Sorry!

Ms. Jenny later arrived

Ms. Jenny: Ned! There's a big mudslide on Thomas's Branchline, can you go there and clear it?

Ned: Yes Ms. Jenny *he rolled proudly to Thomas's Branchline*

Scene transitions to Ned, still rolling on the road

Narrator: As soon as Ned roll along the road, he wasn't fast

Bertie: *honks his horn* Come on Ned! We all got to get to our destinations!

Ned: Sorry Bertie, but I'm going as fast as I could

Soon, a traffic of Sodor Taxis, Soft Side Lorries, Dyson Loaders, evenly Trevor, were all behind Bertie as Ned was slow

Trevor: Please Ned, I got to head back to my orchard!

Scene transitions to Ned, arriving at the site

Narrator: Later, Ned has arrived at the site of the Mudslide

Thomas: Where were you Ned?!

Ned: I took time to get here, I'm not a fast steam Shovel!

Thomas: As long as your here, help me load all the mud into the cars

Ned began to Shovel some mud and load them in Thomas's Cars, some of the mud splashed on him

Ned: Oh! My Oh my, Muddy days! *he continues to Shovel mud*

Just then, Ned felt a thud

Ned: Huh? What's this? *he tried to lift it, but it is revealed to be a rock as it rolled*

Thomas: Ned! What are- *the rock rolled by him* Cinders and Ashes Ned! That is one big rock!

Just then, they heard a horn

Thomas: That sounded like

The horn was revealed to be BoCo, oiling down the line pulling Tar Tankers

Ned: Oh no! BoCo is going to crash! I gotta stop him!

Thomas: There's no time Ned! Move the rock, hurry!

Ned bravely rolled up to the rock and readied his arm like a Cricket Ball or a Golf Club

BoCo: *sees the rock in his way* Oh! Driver stop!

Ned: Fore! *he smacks the rock out of the way as BoCo oiled through, just in time*

Thomas: Ned, you prevented an accident!

Ned: I did? I did! *he blew his whistle*

Thomas blew his whistle to congratulate Ned

Thomas: Well done Ned

Scene transitions to Night, as all the Members of The Pack are there, congratulating Ned

Narrator: That night, Ned was praised by the Pack

Jack: Well done Ned!

Alfie: Way to go Ned!

Oliver: That is one accident prevented by you!

Buster: Your a credit to The Pack!

Isobella: Outstanding!

Kelly: Terrific I'll say

Byron: Well done!

Narrator: Even Max and Monty were impressed

Ms. Jenny arrived with Sir Topham Hatt

Ms. Jenny: I'm surprised that prevented an accident on Thomas's Branchline, very impressive

Sir Topham Hatt: Really useful I'll say! Ned, you have did well to prevent one of my engines from having an accident, you are a Really Useful Steam Shovel!

Ned: Oh thank you sir, and thank you Ms. Jenny!

Ms. Jenny: First thing in the morning Ned, you'll be in charge of The Pack to rebuild some buildings

Ned: Oh yes Ms. Jenny!

The Pack chuckled as the camera pans up to the Night Sky as Steam Clouds rolled in

Story End

[peabodyetc]

The Dad Hole

I witnessed a minor car crash the other day. Some jackwagon pulled a crazy U-turn right in front of us, causing two cars to crash into each other, and then sped away. I pulled over to help. It turned out that everyone involved was super young – early 20s at the oldest. Fortunately, no one seemed badly hurt, but one of the cars was undrivable.

Evidently the thing they were taught to do in situations like this was stand around and look at their phone. They were clearly lost.

The situation called for a dad. I don’t now how this happened, but as a society we have created a situation where we somehow need more dads than we have. Supply has not kept up with demand. Social scientists call this the Dadhole.

I’ve never met a dadhole I didn’t plug. I just walk around being dad to everyone, all the time. I lectured the guy I buy weed from about maxing out his 401K. I mean he’s leaving free money on the table. I called my Uber driver Champ and reminded him he was about due for an oil change. And I couldn’t even see the dashboard of his car – I could just feel he needed an oil change. I’ve taught perfect strangers how to tie square knots, and not because they wanted to know because they made it very clear they did not.

To say I rose to the challenge is like saying Tom Brady sometimes rose to the challenge. No one has ever been more Dad than I was. I was checking vitals, setting flares, validating feelings, and helping them draw lessons from this experience they might apply to other areas of life. I even made them all look at the red-tailed hawk perched on a traffic light.

I was about to rap a great little mnemonic device I cooked up to help remember what to do in a car accident in the future, when I noticed this guy stepping out of an old but well-maintained Dodge Caravan. He was wearing a fanny pack with the pouch in the front, and an adventure hat seemed that seemed like a lot considering the odds of adventure just breaking out. He goes, “OK I see cameras there, there, and over there,” pointing in the air with two fingers. “Always a good idea to help the insurance companies. By the way, everyone hydrated?”

Another dad.

There can be only one.

We eyed one another, each taking the measure of the other. Like two silverback gorillas, vying for dominance. I wondered if he’d even bothered to notice that I was wearing socks with sandals or that the firefighters were coming to me for my assessment of the situation, basically as colleagues. Did he know who he was messing with?

The car facing us at the traffic light had their bright headlights on. It was unpleasant. The other dad turned to face them, a paunchy silhouette in the glare of the LEDS, and raised his hands in the universal symbol for WTF? Then he yelled. “Oh, just look at that! That’s failure to dim, bub! Failure to dim!” He turned back to all of us, shaking his head in disgust. Then, to himself, he goes, “No situational awareness! Young people walk around with just no situational awareness.” Then he turned back to car with one more time.  “FAILURE! TO! DIM!”

And I looked at him in awe as in that moment we all knew who the real Dad was here.

[whatduhbot]

It was a typical Thursday night in Milwaukee when a group of teenage boys stole a Kia Sportage on the city's east side. The group, made up of four teens and two young children, sped off into the night, not realizing that the police had already been alerted to the theft. A high speed chase ensued, with the stolen Kia weaving in and out of traffic at speeds approaching 100 mph. The police followed closely behind, their sirens blaring as they tried to catch up to the reckless driver. As the chase continued, it became clear that the driver of the stolen Kia was not only endangering their own lives, but also the lives of the two young children who were riding in the car. The police tried to communicate with the driver over their loudspeakers, urging them to pull over and surrender peacefully. Despite their efforts, the driver of the stolen Kia refused to slow down. The chase continued for miles, with the Kia racing through red lights and nearly causing multiple accidents. Just when it seemed that the Kia might escape, it suddenly veered off the highway and onto a side road. The police followed, and were able to corner the vehicle in a residential neighborhood. The driver and passengers bailed out of the vehicle while it was still moving and were later taken into custody. The stolen Kia was returned to the owner. The teens were charged with grand theft auto, and the two young children were placed in the care of child protective services. The high speed chase was over, and the streets of Milwaukee were a little safer thanks to the bravery and quick thinking of the police officers involved.

[dobaara]

okay let me tell you everything

[chezzywezzy]

Yandere Riddler (1/7)

Word count ; 4.1k

*Edited.

*Dedicated to @hopebluesugar.

He used to be warm.

He used to insist on a schedule, even with his busy night life. He used to pay attention to the tiniest things, from if I had enough calories at breakfast to buying me the latest video game.

He used to insist that I never leave the house at night, and only during the day if it was urgent. But now, he's gone so much that it would be lucky for me to even catch a glance of him. To speak even a word.

Alfred understood that he wasn’t doing well. I did, too. But that didn’t mean he had to push me away. To make my life insufferably lonely. So, Alfred allowed me to do what I wanted. Every morning, I went to a secret part-time job I had at a diner. In the afternoon, I took long naps. At night, I went to a local club.

It wasn’t always like this; I didn’t always have a habit of clubbing every night. In fact, I didn’t even drink or do drugs while I was there, or at least, I kept it at a minimum. I knew that the only reason I was there was… just for the fleeting attention. The temporary friends. The pining strangers. The what if’s, even if I had enough moral to never surpass innocent flirting. I knew that my actions, even if I dolled myself up with wigs and makeup, were always in hope that I’ll be a victim and that my husband, Bruce Wayne, the Batman, would save me and pay attention to me even once.

Alfred told me every once and a while that I was being unhealthy. That this wasn’t the way to cope. He even scheduled therapy for me. I remember my therapist once told me that “self-destructive actions are you proving that you’re still in control.” She was right. But I stopped going anyways, because no matter what, I couldn’t be honest with her. All I could say was that Bruce Wayne was my husband. But the biggest problem in our marriage was that he was Batman.

“Stay safe,” Alfred stated, opening the front door for me.

“Always am,” I lied. My hands flattened against the semi-conservative dress I was wearing as I took a step outside. The cold autumn air nipped at my skin and I pulled my leather jacket closer around my chest. The city lights glistened and gave away the taxi at the end of the street.

I walked toward it. When I arrived, I waved curtly and stepped inside. Every night, I called my own taxis in hope that Bruce would review the monthly expenses and notice, but he never did. Still, I wanted to be safe, and the buses and subway were riddled with crime.

“To the Iceberg Lounge, please,” I requested, sinking into the seat.

“Sure thing,” the driver replied.

The street lamps became a blur as he sped down the streets. This late at night, there wasn’t any traffic to worry about. I hated the city, but I had to admit, it was always pretty at night.

He pulled up to the sidewalk. I used my cell phone to pay and I bid him good-bye. In front of me was the club that was considered to be the most dangerous because it was known by everyone that criminals came and went. It’s why it was my personal favorite.

I wound around the side and knocked on the metal door. Right away, the twins opened the door.

“Welcome back, Mrs. Wayne,” they greeted, stepping aside so I could enter.

I nodded a greeting toward them. I made no effort to mask my unhappiness, pursing my lips and entering the crowded room. Strobe lights flashed and the music blared at top volume. I weaved through the crowd, approaching the end of the bar.

I took my usual seat, not waving the bartender over. It took no more than a minute of passing the time for a party-goer to approach me.

The seat next to me was taken. I was rather surprised by the man’s appearance; he was neither a city official or a high college student. He looked… innocent. In the creepy incel way. He had clear-rimmed glasses, shaggy, dirty blond hair, a flannel shirt, and light blue jeans.

“Hello,” I greeted.

The man instantly seized up. “Um, hello. I saw you fro across the room and I - I thought you were dazzling. Like a supernova.”

I quirked a brow. “That’s certainly creative. But, uh, this doesn’t look like your scene. What are you doing here?”

His cheeks visibly reddened and he scratched the back of his neck. “W - well, no, not really. I’m here with some friends. Can I… buy you a drink?”

As sweet as the guy seemed to be, there was just something off. My gut said so. I shrunk back slightly. “No, I’ll pass. Thank you, though.”

The guy frowned. “Are… are you here on a date?”

I glanced around the room until I noticed Don Mitchell, the mayor, had walked in. He must’ve felt my stare, as he immediately turned to me. He began weaving through the crowd in my direction. “My friend just got here, actually. I, uh, I gotta go —“

I went to stand, but he grabbed my arm. I was stunned by how strong he was. I began panicking, tugging to be free.

“W - wait, don’t go —“

“Mrs. Wayne, I didn’t think I would see you here,” Don’s voice boomed. He pulled me away, and the stranger reluctantly let go. “Hey, asshole, why don’t you go harass someone else?”

The man sent a glare before disappearing into the crowd. I let out a sigh of relief, turning to the mayor. “Thank you so much, Mr. Mayor. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

He chuckled. I was acutely aware of his finger gliding down and reaching the small of my back. “It’s no problem. Is Mr. Wayne with you? He never leaves the house.”

“No, he’s not,” I answered.

He pursed his lips. “Well, how about you join me in a booth? We should catch up.”

Once again, my gut screamed not to. But he was the mayor. There was no safer of a man to hang around. So, I nodded. I let him lead me to a more secluded area. There was an empty booth. I slid into the seat, leaning with my head perched on my elbow. He called over a waitress.

“Hey, waitress, I’d like some hard whiskey. On the rocks. For the lady. And for me… the usual.”

“The usual?” the waitress parroted.

“Tell the bartender I’m the mayor. He’ll know what to do.”

The waitress nodded. Don turned his attention back to me, clasping his hands together. “So, tell me, what are you doing here at the Iceberg Lounge? I was under the impression that you were a cute little housewife.”

A frown tugged at my lips. “I come here every night, actually. And believe it or not, I do work. I work part-time at a local diner.”

“I’m surprised you don’t work at Wayne Corporation. You don’t seem to be making the most of your marriage,” he chucked.

“Not much of a marriage to begin with,” I sighed.

The small talk continued until the waitress returned with the drinks. I really shouldn’t have, but I accepted the drink anyways. It’s been a hard day. And he was the mayor — it’s not like he could spike my drink right in front of me.

I took a sip, the bitterness causing my nose to scrunch up.

Don laughed heartily. “You aren’t used to drinking. How cute.”

I quirked a brow. “I’m a married woman and you’re a married man.”

He tilted his head, eyeing me up and down. “Both of us to the wrong person.”

I wanted to get up and leave, but there was truth to his sentence. I took a long swig of the alcohol. My tongue was buzzing. “So-o-o, how’s your boy doing?”

“He’s doing great in school,” he bragged. “He’s top of his class. He and his momma are out trick or treating for the night.”

“Oh, I forgot it was Halloween…”

I took another sip. I was starting to feel… dazed? I didn’t think the alcohol was that strong.

He reached across the table, feigning concern. “Are you feeling okay, Y/n?” His hand gripped mine.

I tugged away weakly. “Y - yeah, I’m just tired…” My body felt tingly all over. I abandoned my drink, leaning against the seat. “I… think I’m going to go home - now.”

I rose to my feet, but I dabbled, forced to grab the table. Don mimicked my actions, standing abruptly and grabbing my shoulders.

“Let me call a taxi for you. I was just about to get going as well.”

I hummed, leaning against his figure. His fingers drifted to my arm and he held me close. I leaned my body against his shoulders and we began walking. I almost dozed off right then and there, but Don kept me steady. We walked out the back of the club.

“Just hang in there, darlin’,” he purred in my ear.

Slowly but surely, the situation at hand was dawning on me. He had drugged me. So much for a good mayor. I limply elbowed his side. I did it again while he was on his phone ordering a car, and I had enough strength to push away. However, I couldn't keep myself on my feet. I tripped and fell on my ass.

I propped myself up on my elbows, groaning painfully. Don let out a chuckle and crouched down. “Come on, darlin’, let’s get you back on your feet.” His hands reached under my armpits and he lifted me up on my feet.

While he was doing so, I caught a flash from the alleyway. I let out a quiet gasp, but there was only a dark figure there. It certainly wasn’t my husband.

A car stopped in front of us. Don hoisted me inside, as I was too tired to fight against it. The moment my head hit his shoulder, I was out like a light.

~~~

I blinked. And then I blinked again. My vision was blurry and my limbs were numb. I was in a well-lit room and I was sat up. Was I on a couch?

Two people were talking. And someone was walking around. I warily opened my eyes, and I could finally see. I was on a plush armchair. There was a small table beside me. Ahead, there was a lit fireplace, and perched above it was a television. The news… was on.

Suddenly, a phone rang out, and the footsteps receded to the phone. “Hello?”

It was Don. I recognized the voice easily. My fingers dug into the cushions, but I was way too tired to move.

“Yes, I’m watching the news. What is it?”

Another pregnant pause. Was there something on the news? I began tuning into it as well. I recognized the woman as the runner-up for the mayor election. I was… definitely going to vote for her.

“Criminals are running rampant. The police are failing us. When I win this upcoming election, I’m turning this whole city around,” she promised. “The city is at an all-time low and I aim to fix that. More jobs, less crime. More public services, less drugs and gangs —“

A glass was suddenly hauled at the screen. It shattered and crumbled to the ground. I jumped. I was finally beginning to feel again. My fingers curled and I pulled them to my chest. The television was turned off and I heard gruff panting.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed. “There's no way she's winning the election… Hey, listen, how late is the kid and momma staying out? I have a guest over.“ Another pause. “Okay, thanks. I guess I’ll move it to a hotel.” He hung up and let out a hefty sigh. All fell quiet for a moment, and then —

Crash. I kicked my foot as an anxious reaction. I let out a gargled gasp. The mayor collapsed on the ground, knocking over the small table. He collided with the ground. I was about to get up and crawl toward him, but a masked intruder straddled his waist and brought a… hammer of some sort over his head.

I screamed, loud and clear, which seemed to have caught the attention of the intruder. He rose to his feet just as I pushed myself out of the armchair. I got on all fours and tried crawling away, but he grabbed my ankle and pulled me back.

I let out another scream, reaching for freedom desperately, but I was thrown on my back. I took but a second to take in his appearance; he wore a gas mask, but on the outside were clear-rimmed glasses. He had a wide build, as though his green coat was stuffed. On the jacket was a white question mark, accompanied by other symbols.

I slobbered against his hand. He pulled a roll of duct tape out of his pocket. Skillfully, he utilized his knees and tore a piece of duct tape off. I could hear him panting from inside the mask. I didn’t get the chance to scream again as he replaced his hand with duct tape.

I hit at his arms in attempt to get away, but he paid them no heed. Instead, he got off me and lifted himself of the ground. The intruder lifted me off the floor and set me back in the armchair. I was still incredibly weak, so I couldn’t avoid his wandering hands. He strapped duct tape to my wrists and efficiently glued me to the chair. Tears slid down my cheeks.

He was about to step away, but he reached out. I shut my eyes, afraid of what he was going to do. But, instead, I was greeted with a stroke of my cheeks as he wiped away my tears. I stared into the mask, pleading, only to be met with the stare of an insane man. He had wide, blue eyes.

I tilted my head away, and he snapped out of it. He gruffly stepped back to the mayor, clutching the metal scrap in his hands. I let out a muffled cry as he brought it down upon his head once more. Blood seeped from the blunt trauma.

He crouched down and grabbed the dead man’s head. He turned it over and pulled a knife out of his pocket. He began sawing at the bone. My cries fell upon deaf ears, and I could do nothing but watch him dismember the man.

Afterward, he pulled out the duct tape and turned the corpse onto its back. I heard him humming, but it sounded artificial, as though there was a voice filter making his voice deeper. I supposed it didn’t matter which song he was humming, but it was some sort of church hymn.

I wanted to throw up as he wound the duct tape completely around his head. My stomach churned as he completely enveloped Don’s head in duct tape. Finally, he picked up the thumb and dipped it in the puddle of blood.

On the face, he eerily wrote, ‘ NO MORE LIES.’ I struggled against the duct tape again. I felt it tearing against my wrists. I kept pulling. I was on the edge of freedom.

The man got up and walked out of view. I worried that when he came back, I would meet my demise. In a satisfying stretch, the duct tape on my arms released. I immediately stumbled to my feet. I didn’t know how the hell to get out, so my best bet was to grab the phone and hide —

The intruder turned to me. He had been setting up newspapers on the wall, writing in blood. I noticed a few of the papers were photos of me. He had spread a sheet of letters and some envelopes out. Blood was… everywhere.

With what energy I had, I ran up to the fire place. It had a poker and I snatched it as the man engaged in a slow chase. I accidentally cornered myself. I held the fire poker out as though to be intimidating, but the man was several inches taller and clearly bulkier. My trembling self pressed against the shelf. I hadn’t had time to free my mouth.

He took another step toward me, but I whacked him with the fire poker. It didn’t do much. He grabbed the end and pulled it toward him, which sent me flying against him. I was forced to abandon the lackluster weapon, struggling against the hold of the murderer. His panting echoed in my ears.

I felt something press against my thigh. Horror dawned on me and I sobbed harder. He pushed me against the bookshelf and pulled out the duct tape. I tried pushing away, but he used that to his advantage, grabbing both my wrists and encircling them in duct tape.

He left me there. My feet had yet to be restrained, but I was paralyzed head to toe. He walked over to the drawer, only a few feet away, and picked up two envelopes. He returned to me and held it up for me to see. ‘To my soulmate’ was on one, and ‘To the batman’ was on the other. He didn’t show me anything else, though, returning the letters to their original spot.

He went over to Don’s body and picked him up. He set him on the couch carefully, making sure his duct-taped head was tilted up. I took a few steps, but that was enough to draw his attention back to me. He stomped over, his military boots loud against the ground.

He cornered me again. One hand pressed against the shelf and the other came up to my face. He gently traced my cheek, wiping away the tears. His hand followed when I tilted my head the other way. I could feel his eyes violating me. He slowly crouched, getting a hold on both of my legs. In one had, he pulled out the duct tape. I tried kicking, but it was in vain.

The tape glued my ankles together and I lost balance. I wobbled to the right. My head buzzed from the impact. I wiggled around on the ground until I rolled onto my back. With blurry vision, I saw that the masked murderer was looking me over.

A scream broke out into the room.

I saw that a little boy had entered. His son. I screamed into the duct tape to the best of my abilities. The boy had already taken off.

The intruder stiffened, and in a panic, rose to his feet. Before I could stop him, he already fled the scene.

I feared that if the child hadn’t interrupted, I would’ve been kidnapped.

~~~

The police had come to the rescue. I wanted to leave as soon as possible, but it was my job to recount the events. So, I did. Down to every single detail. I knew that every minute I lingered at the scene, the sooner I’d have a run in with my husband. He would — hopefully — be mad, worried, anything. I didn’t mind the idea of him being upset, because at least that was a sign that… he cared.

The police had given me a blanket while I waited in the living room with them. It was unnerving to be stuck in the same room as a corpse. They needed me to answer specific questions about the environment. The clues. The timing. And although I hated linger in the spot that I was almost kidnapped a second time, it was my civil duty.

Especially since my husband and I would be scrutinized by the public. I could already imagine the headlines : ‘Billionaire wife sleeps around with mayor,’ ‘Forced affair between two powerful figures,’ the list goes on.

I wiped my cheek. The flesh where that vile pervert had touched tingled uncomfortably.

“Hello, ma’am, can you please come look at this?” an officer requested, knocking me out of my trance.

“Uh-huh, sure, of course —“

“Hey, what’s he doing here? This is a crime scene!” the chief officer exclaimed angrily.

Everyone’s head turned, including mine. Batman had entered. I could feel his eyes boring into my own. I shrunk away.

Another officer spoke up,” He’s with me. Let him in. It’s alright.”

“I want him out —“

“Sir,” the officer from behind me interrupted,” there’s two letters left here. One’s for Batman.”

The chief seemed to consider it. “Fine. Keep him here, for all I care. Have him gone by the time I get back. We don’t have time to deal with a vigilante as well.”

The chief left, having been interrupted by another officer. The press had arrived and he needed to make a statement. I dreaded when my time to do so would come. The officer from beside me gently grabbed my blanketed arm and pulled me over to the drawer. “We have a letter. We suspect it was intended for you.” He held up the ‘soulmate’ letter from earlier.

I nodded reluctantly. “…Maybe. He really wanted me to see it. I think - I think he was going to kidnap me.”

I became keenly aware of Bruce’s presence behind me. He reached around and took both letters from the officer. He used his gloved hands to open the ‘soulmate’ letter. I peered at it as well. The card itself looked like a Hallmark Valentines Day card. On the inside was a riddle.

‘What is mine and only you can have?’

I noticed his fist clenched. I grew nervous.

“The hell do you think you are? You need to get going. This case should be left to the police,” a random officer called out.

Batman paid him no heed, opening the other.

‘What does a liar do when he’s dead?’

“This guy really loves riddles, huh?” the officer who helped Bruce out earlier heaved. “There’s also this paper. Have a look.” He held up a paper with scrambled letters all over.

Batman scanned over it. I knew why. His contacts were recording it. I was still wracking my brain about the riddle. It seemed so obvious, and yet…

“My heart,” I stuttered. Everyone turned to me. “The riddle’s answer. It’s ‘my heart.’”

An officer snorted. “This guy’s crazy. We’ll keep you safe, though, you can count on it. Mrs. Wayne, at your request, we’ll send police to survey your house —“

“He lies still,” Batman interrupted sharply. “A liar lies still when he’s dead. That’s the other answer.”

Bruce’s intelligence was something I was drawn to when we first met. Even now, I still admired his genius.

An officer nodded. “Er, yeah, I guess so. Listen, Mrs. Wayne, I’ll escort you out. It’s been a rough night, huh? Some Halloween you’ve had.”

I strained a smile. Bruce began wandering around the room. I fiddled with the ring on my finger. The officer led me out of the room. I noticed, while exiting the building, a young boy sat. The same boy who walked in earlier. I felt terrible. Not only had his father been killed brutally, but he also learned that’s father wasn’t a good person.

He reminded me of Bruce. Fatherless.

[fatehbaz]

Elly Page had never seen anything like what’s happened in recent days. A senior legal adviser at the International Center for Not-for-Profit Law, Page has been tracking the proliferation of anti-protest bills across the U.S. since [DT] became president in 2017. “The number of bills we have seen in the past three weeks is unprecedented,” she said. Since [...] January 6 [2021], at least nine states have introduced 14 anti-protest bills. The bills, which vary state by state, contain a dizzying array of provisions that serve to criminalize participation in disruptive protests.

The measures range from barring demonstrators from public benefits or government jobs to offering legal protections to those who shoot or run over protesters. Some of the proposals would allow protesters to be held without bail and criminalize camping. A few bills seek to prevent local governments from defunding police. [...] The pushes by close to a fifth of state legislatures are part of a pattern that began to pick up speed after the summer’s uprisings in response to the police killing of George Floyd [...]. The rate of new bills being offered sped up dramatically this month [January 2021] [...]. Bills quickly arose in Arizona, Florida, Indiana, Minnesota, Mississippi, Nebraska, North Dakota, Oklahoma, and Rhode Island. [...]

While most of the bills have their roots in responses to last summer’s protests against police brutality, only one of the new bills, in Minnesota, deals with oil and gas infrastructure. (Ohio passed such a bill in December and signed it into law this month.) The logic for the bill in Minnesota is clear: Indigenous-led pipeline opponents participating in a direct action protest movement against Enbridge’s Line 3 tar sands pipeline in the state have repeatedly halted pipeline construction. The Minnesota bill focuses on individuals who aid oil pipeline protesters, including up to 10 years’ imprisonment if their associate damages the property with the intent to prevent pipeline operations. [...]

-------

The rash of bills present something of a unified effort, drawing on predecessor legislation as well other states’ measures for their language.

A version of Nebraska’s bill was first described at a press conference last fall, when Republican state Sen. T*m Br*wer said he was inspired by Florida’s proposed legislation. Just as Florida reintroduced a version of its anti-protest law a day after the Capitol [events], Nebraska Republican lawmaker J*ni Albr*cht introduced her own version of a bill on January 7 — a bill she told The Intercept had nothing to do with events on Capitol Hill and was modeled on a law passed in Tennessee last year.

The Nebraska bill, like many of the others, qualifies as what Page has described as a “kitchen sink” bill: a single bill throwing “everything but the kitchen sink” at the issue of disruptive protests. Like several other states’ bills, lawmakers in Nebraska are seeking to redefine disruptive protests — in this case, upping the penalty for “riots” that include any disturbance in a public place involving at least three people obstructing government functions or putting property or people at risk.

New Nebraska penalties, like ones proposed in Mississippi and Indiana, would also punish anyone aiding a riot. Prosecutors would be able to bring felony charges against anyone who was a part of a riot where injuries or significant property damage occurred, even if they didn’t personally cause it.

Several states also imposed stricter detention rules around rioting: In Nebraska, riot participants would not be eligible for bail, while proposals in Arizona and Kentucky would allow law enforcement to detain people arrested during a riot for 12 hours unless a judge deemed them unlikely to begin rioting anew.

The Nebraska bill also creates new, harsher penalties for obstructing traffic — another one of the most common recent anti-protest bill elements, included in legislation in Oklahoma, Arizona, Florida, Indiana, Rhode Island, Kentucky, and Mississippi.

-------

In other states, bills would expand the definition of conduct that would justify use of force from bystanders against demonstrators, including things perceived as “threatening” behavior. Among these provisions, some states’ proposals would strengthen “stand your ground” laws — allowing deadly force — should a person be confronted by a “mob” or riot, including in New Hampshire; other provisions, such as in Oklahoma, Mississippi, and Florida, would protect a driver who, fleeing a riot, injures or kills someone. For civil liberties advocates in Oklahoma, the measure warranted particular attention: Last summer, a man drove a truck with a trailer into a protest in Tulsa, but prosecutors declined to charge the driver. [...] Like many of the other states’ efforts, the Minnesota bill is not exactly new. Versions of it have been introduced and rejected repeatedly in recent years — a pattern also playing out with Rhode Island’s anti-protest bill. Several states are seeing multiple anti-protest bills at once: Indiana has seen four bills introduced since January 1 [2021] [...].

-------

Headline and text published by: Allen Brown and Akela Lacy. ‘State legislatures make “unprecedented” push on anti-protest bills.’ The Intercept. 21 January 2021.

[boldlyanxious]

Mistaken Identity

@sailormarelda apparently your wish is my command

If you enjoy, check out my masterlist

Just her luck that some asshole on the subway dumped his sticky energy drink all over her. It wasn't just wet. It was sticky and soaking through her shirt. Somehow he managed to pour it on her front and back.

He didn't even apologize. He just shoved past her and got off on the next stop.

It was only a few more stops until her stop. She checked her directions again before she climbed the stairs to get to the street. Maybe luck was on her side because there was a vendor right there with shirts for sale and a very inviting looking coffee shop. She bought a shirt and hoped the coffee shop had a decent bathroom for her to clean up in.

She laughed in the mirror at the shirt and artfully tied it so the ab muscles drawn onto the Superboy shirt for where hers were and it still showed off her dark skinny jeans. It was the best she could do to show off her designs on her outing since her blouse was not currently worth seeing. She hoped she could get the drink stain out later.

The barista did a double take when she ordered and looked a bit confused. She clearly wanted to say something but she took a breath and told Marinette the total. They didn't know her here so they wouldn't know that she frequently ordered drinks like that. She could probably chug it and then take a nap but she definitely needed it for the rest of today.

---

Roy was by the back of the counter throwing away his paper cup when he heard a name he knew coming from the baristas,

"If she weren't clearly a girl I would think it was Tim Drake. It's the exact same order too."

"He was here earlier today. He was wearing the same shirt."

"Maybe there is an evil plot in the city and he got turned into a girl."

"Stranger things have happened for sure."

Roy pulled out his phone and tried to text Tim. Girl Tim was on the phone and definitely not reading any messages. He snuck closer to hear the conversation.

"... Definitely got a look for ordering my regular coffee.

…

I've got a new look though. It is guaranteed to protect me from villains.

…

Okay. Well I have my coffee and I'm on my way. I'll see you there."

She hung up and grabbed the coffee. But Roy couldn't just let her leave. Tim needed help and the Bat family would want to know about this right away.

---

Marinette walked down the street happy to have her coffee. It was exactly what she needed. She was already feeling better. She jumped back from the street when a car suddenly came right at her. So much for American traffic coming from the other direction. Luckily her coffee didn't spill.

"Hey, did you need anything?" the driver called out.

"I'm fine," she responded then muttered to herself, "You clearly need driving lessons."

She hoped he didn't hear her because he was suddenly getting out of the car. He was walking towards her and ask her alarm bells were going off in her head.

"Are you sure? We probably need to get you help."

Marinette looked around trying to make a plan. She looked one way and then took off running the other way. That didn't do enough to confuse his reflexes. He grabbed her quickly and closed her into the back seat of his car. She tried the handle and it was locked from the inside.

She had dropped her coffee and her purse before he pushed her back here. He had grabbed the purse off the ground before he got in and sped off but she didn't think she could reach it. He had a flashing light on the car so no one would question his erratic driving.

Maybe she had been confused with a criminal. She would just need to wait it out until she could explain who she was. Her stomach turned when he pulled off the street and into an underground parking area. He went all the way to the lowest level and to the back. There was only one other car and a door. No one was around.

---

Roy didn't know what had happened to Tim but he seemed to have no memory of who he was. Jason had probably contacted the others by now and they could figure out how to help him. Although it would be easier if she weren't fighting while he was trying. He ended up pulling her out of the car by the leg and throwing her over his shoulder.

She was still yelling at him and hitting his back but no one was around to hear before he entered the code and went through the door. He didn't even bother with greeting Jason. He deposited Girl Tim into a safe room and closed the door. They had a 2 way mirror they could use and an intercom system.

By the time he was finished, Jason was already looking through the glass.

"Damn, Tim makes a hot girl. And loud." Jason said.

"Do we have any idea what might have happened?" Roy asked.

"Oracle is searching and the others are coming. I'll let her know about the loss of memory too. That could complicate things for anyone else affected. If people don't know anything happened we will have to rely on missing person reports."

---

Marinette tried not to think of all the warnings she had gotten before moving here. They had been plentiful but she brushed them off. It couldn't be that bad. She knew people who had lived here for years and they said it was mostly over blown. But sure had been here under 3 days and had just been kidnapped in broad daylight.

She knew the guy had been acting weird. She should have run immediately. She should have stopped being polite and thrown her $12 coffee at his face before running away. She tried to be nice and it was going to get her killed.

---

They all took turns looking through the glass at their friend/brother/son. But Girl Tim didn't know any of them. Oracle had confirmed that the coffee shop was the last place Tim's phone had been and Steph had seen him before he left wearing the same shirt. Roy told them about the phone conversation he has heard and it all fit.

Now they just had to figure out what had happened and how to reverse it.

---

Eventually Marinette got tired of taking to the wall. Technically it was an intercom imbedded into the wall but it felt like it because they didn't seem to hear her at all. There were more of them now. She didn't know how many more but it had to be at least 4 separate people. She was pretty sure it was more than that though.

She didn't know what they could possibly want with her.

She flopped down onto the bed and covered her face with the, hopefully clean, pillow and screamed into it. It felt really good. It was exactly what she needed, aside from her coffee and freedom.

But apparently they choose that time to make a move. Hands were on her holding her and moving here. She saw a needle and she did everything she could to fight them. She definitely hit a couple of them but the needle still went into her arm.

She wasn't sure what they were expecting the result to be but she allowed herself to relax against the arms that still held her. One moved to lift her back in while the others filed out of the small room.

She waited until the doorway was clear before she moved. She jumped back up and hit his chin with her head. He was not dazed for nearly long enough but she ran for the door anyway. She was out of the room and halfway to the exit when he caught up with her and pinned her down.

It wouldn't have mattered anyway. Another man walked in right then.

"What is the deal with you all blowing up my phone? I'm trying to get some work done."

The room froze. They all just stared at him until the man pinning her down spoke.

"If you are there and perfectly fine. Then who is this?"

Tags

2

@theymakeupfairies | @emjrabbitwolf | @vixen-uchiha | @trythisagainlove | @adrestar

[akaashioppa]

11:00pm

pairings: Mikey x reader 

summary: Sneaking out of you house with Mikey has always been a tradition of yours. You would always call it late date night...well not until you finally got caught.

warnings: curse words, arguing with your fictional dad. fluffy then angsty

w/c: 2.7k

Masterlist

“You got to hurry before I get caught, Mikey!”

“So what? I wouldn’t mind it.”

You were hanging from your bedroom’s balcony, Mikey was underneath you trying to brace your fall. He had his long tan arms in the air motioning for you to jump in them. After all the thousands of times, you did this it was still rocky. You and Mikey haven’t perfected the routine yet. You would think the more you snuck out of your own house you would have perfected it by now.

“Just jump baby…”

“We’re six feet in the air!” You shrieked out, You had your back facing him. Your attention was constantly going back and forth from Mickey and your bedroom door. The house was big enough that no one could hear what was going on but your older brother had a habit of coming into your room unannounced.

“I got you. Have I ever let you fall before?”

You thought back on the times that you were together. Not once has he ever put you in danger...well not intentionally but he would always protect you. You are always left unscathed from dangerous situations. “Okay, I’m letting go..” The cold feeling of the rail left your embrace, your feet were no longer planted on the other side of the balcony. You were free-falling six feet in the air. Your eyes remained closed until you felt his muscular arms around your body.

“I told you that I got you.” You opened your eyes to see his soulless black eyes that you admired so much. That iconic smirk that you loved was as well. ‘Why is he so perfect?’

“Come on, we’ll be late.”

After gracefully putting you on your feet, you both ran in the direction of his bike. It was too loud for him to pull in your driveway so he tends to park down the street so your parents wouldn’t awake from his engine roaring.

Mikey helped you onto his CB205T. It was his favorite bike out of all of them. This was the only bike of his that he would never let you drive. You would beg him to let  you drive it but he would say ‘I don’t want you getting hurt.’ You rolled your eyes at the thought.

He placed his old helmet on your head, tying it tightly, he gave you a small pat on the head. You smiled sweetly back at him, he was so cute and kind. It was the small gestures that he did that made you fall even more in love with him.

Mikey sped off towards the destination. He never told you where you were going, he only said get ready by 11 pm and don’t ask any further questions. Lately, this has been a recurring event, Mikey has made it your thing. He’d pick you up, drive around on his bike for a few minutes so you both could see the city lights then he would take you somewhere random. It always ends up being the best night of your life. 

“Hey, we’re here.” You lifted your head from his shoulders blades, It was your way of keeping things from flying into your eyeballs. You were in an abandoned parking lot which was odd, there was no human activity, barely any street lights, however, there was a great view from where you stood. This abandoned parking lot was above a cliff, it leads out to the city of Tokyo.

“Wow, this is amazing.” 

“I found it and thought you would like it. You can see everything from this view. If you look towards the right you can see the cherry blossom trees. They’re in season.”

“Really!?” You took a look towards the right, there were rows of cherry blossom trees lined up with small humans taking pictures. A river not too far away from the trees, it was filled with the petals of the cherry blossoms. “That’s so freaking beautiful. How could such an anti romantic be romantic?”

You caught him rolling his eyes, he threw a quick yet soft jab in your ribs. 

“You’re annoying,” he muttered out. Although it came out dry you knew he would never call you that intentionally. 

“You love me don’t ya.”

You grinned from ear to ear waiting for him to acknowledge what you said. The thing is he didn’t, he kept his attention on the people down below. This didn’t stop you from cheesing like an idiot though. 

He scoffed, rolling his eyes simultaneously. You wouldn’t allow that grin to disappear. You kept it on your face even when Mikey turned to look at you.  “If I say yes will you stop teasing me?”

“Nope.”He reached out grabbing you around your waist. He swung you around making your legs swing in every other direction. You begged him to stop. The amount of laughter that you were crying out helped make a cramping sensation in your stomach.

He finally put you down after spinning you around. After calming down for your “game” You both walked back to the edge watching the cherry blossom trees.

You placed your head on his shoulder, his arms snake around your waist pulling you in closer. You didn’t retreat, you only placed your hands around his neck. “Hey, don’t you think it’s crazy how many people live in our city? Out of all those people I managed to find you.” You mumbled into his neck.

“That was so cheesy.” He snorted out,  he ruined the moment which earned him a jab in the ribs. “Wait here me out. Maybe it’s the university trying to tell us something.”

“What if it’s just a phase? Who says we won’t grow apart?”

You felt him squeeze you tighter against him, “Then we’ll just grow apart. If it’s meant to be, we'll see each other again.” 

There was a silence cast around you two. Mikey released you from his grasp, You leaned over the railing to take in the view. Everything was going so well tonight. You felt Mikey’s arms wrapping around your waist again, he turned you around so you were both facing each other. That cheeky smile that he always wore was evidence that he was happy, he was living in the moment right along with you.  An outburst of laughter erupted from both of your lips, you still were in each other arms but you couldn’t seem to stop laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“I just realized that I’m in love with someone. How bizarre is that?”

“I lo-”

Your sentence was cut short, the vibration in your pants pocket made all of the blood drain from your face. You reached down to pull out your phone, the screen read ‘dad’. You didn’t answer it, you only let it ring.

“Fuck! I have to go home. We have to go now!”

Mikey stood there with a blank expression on his face, you snapped your fingers in his face to get his attention, shoving your face in his phone to see who called you. 

“What’s going on? Who was that?”

He grabbed your phone from your hand so he could get a clear look at your screen. By you shoving the phone in his face he could barely see the name on the screen. The only thing he did was say “oh” and left it like that. He shoved his hands in his pockets with a nonchalant attitude.

“Why are you just standing there!? Come on Mikey!”

You tried pushing him towards his bike, he only stood there holding his ground. His hands were still in his pockets as he did you. 

He sighed, “What’s the difference? You’re already out past your curfew, what's a little more hours.”

“Are you crazy!” You screeched, “It was my dad! We have to go!”

For the second time of the night, a cast of silence was between you two. The only thing that was heard was your heavy breathing from yelling at him and the traffic from down below. Mikey still had that blank expression on his face until he smiled.

“It was a joke. Come on, I'll get you home.”

“Manjiro Sano!!”

Mikey grabbed your hand making your entire body jerk forward, “You better hurry before you’re late.” His laughter filled the air, it made you feel a little better. Mikey helped you get safely on his bike before doing the same with himself. He let the engine pur twice making your heart beat along with the engine.

“You ready?” He looked back at you with a smirk on his face. He licked his lips a little before making his engine roar a little.

“Yeah.”

He sped off into the night dodging cars nearly crashing into them. Mikey was a great driver and very cautious. He just tends to get wild at times. Sometimes you think he forgets that you’re on the back of his bike. He’s always zoned out when he drives, it’s like he was in his own little world. 

It didn’t take long for you to get home. The word speed limit was not in Mikey’s dictionary. Mikey turned off the engine of his bike. You were down the street from your house, you could clearly see the light in the living room. You cursed silently under your breath, “I’m so screwed.”

“Just climb into your bedroom window and pretend to be asleep. If he asks why you didn't pick up your phone, say that you were asleep.”

“Okay, what if that doesn’t work?”

He glanced back at you with determination in his eyes, “Then call me.”

“Yeah, I like the first option better.”

Mikey stood back watching you as you ran in the direction of your house. You ran to your window just staring at it. It was six feet in the air so your only option was to climb the tree and somehow jump from the tree to your balcony. 

You began to climb the big oak tree in your yard. Mikey tried to help you from down below. He stood there with his hands on his hips smiling up at you. “How’s it going up there?”

“Well you know I’m just hanging around.”

You both cracked up at your corny joke.

The only thing left to do was put your foot on the balcony while balancing yourself on the tree. Mikey stood down below with the same stance, he was making sure that you did not fall. You silently counted in your head before throwing yourself onto your balcony. You tumbled a little, some bruising was definitely going to be there in the morning.

“Did you make it!?”

You used the wooden poles on your balcony to help you pull yourself up. Mickey was still down below but now hiding behind the big oak tree. You gave him a thumbs up, he smiled back in return, running leaving you behind with the situation up ahead.

“Welcome back” You didn’t even take a step into your room and your dad had already slid the door open scaring you half to death. He slid the balcony door open further allowing you to come into the room. “Why didn’t you tell your boyfriend to come in for a snack?”

You made your way to your bed wishing that you could shrink down into a little ball. The sarcasm in his voice didn’t make it any better. Your dad was pissed, the vein that was protruding from the side of his forehead looked like it was going to pop. 

“Uhh, he’s shy.” You gave your dad a dry chuckle but stopped when he shot you an ugly glare. He sat down in the chair in front of your bed with one of his legs over the other and one of his hands pressed against his forehead.

“How did you guys meet!?”

“At school dad.” You mumbled, he was already starting to yell. 

“How!? I sent you to a private school.”

You almost laughed in your dad’s face, the memory of meeting Mikey was always funny. It was a running joke in your relationship. 

“Well, Mikey came into our classroom to fight our teacher. BUT! He had a good reason. Mikey was driving his bike when Toka-san almost ran him off the road. Mikey followed him to school and beat the living shit out of him. I thought it was hot so I approached him and the rest is history.”  

“What’s the matter with you?” He shot out of his chair waving his arms in the air. “Why would you want to date someone like that!? You’re an (L/N), live up to that name. Don’t be a fucking disappointment.”

You scoffed at your dad. This time you made it audible for not only him to hear but anyone else that is listening. “Dad, that's rude!”

“I don’t want you ever classifying yourself as one of them. He’s a delinquent, a gangster, you have more class than that. You can find someone better than him. I will not have my daughter running around here with a delinquent.”

“He’s not a delinquent!”

“Then what is he!?”

You ignored his question. You didn’t want to answer it. You knew that Mikey classified himself as that but to you, he was much more than what people portrayed him to be. These fucking millennials and their biased opinions. You were not going to let him bash your boyfriend and get away with it.

“He’s Mickey Sano. You shouted, you jumped off of your bed so now you were facing your dad eye to eye. “He’s much more than a delinquent or a gangster. He’s a human being so start treating him like one. Oh and if you’re going to label him at least label him right. He’s much more than a delinquent, he’s actually smarter than what you make him out to be.” 

Your dad sat back down in his chair. This allowed you to look down on him but then it hit you. You were never this confident, You...standing up to your dad. Just wait until Mikey here’s about this. All of those conversations about boosting your confidence have paid off. 

“Yeah alright keep believing that. He’s only here for one thing and one thing only (Y/N). Once he gets that he’s out of here.”

Jokes on you he’s already got it and look, he’s still here.

You didn’t say that to your dad, you knew he would only blow up in your face more. Then lecture would then cause your entire family to get dragged in. He would go on a manhunt to find Mikey and “kill him.

“Okay, dad, whatever you say.”

You grew tired of all of this back and forth with him. You weren’t going to argue with him anymore, so you sat down on your bed awaiting the next thing he had to say.

“If I catch you out with him again I’ll treat you like a real princess and lock your ass up here for the rest of your life.

You scoffed out loud for him to hear, the vein in his forehead was now back more evident than before.

“I knew I was going to get in trouble but dad, punishments are temporary, memories are forever. So while I’m grounded I’ll be thinking about how good he has been to me while you have been treating me like trash.”

“That’s it you are grounded until next summer.”

“Okay, dad.” You mocked out.

 “One more thing if I catch that Mickey, Micheal-” You cut him off, “Mikey, his name is Mikey.” 

Your dad rolled his eyes, he walked to the door opening it. Half of his body was already outside of the room. You were wishing he would just put his whole body out there and leave you alone.

“If I see that Mikey boy around here again I’m calling the cops.” Your dad stood there for a second before closing the door. Once alone you throw your head in your pillows.“Snitch.” You mumbled.

He came back into the room with an irritated look on his face. His eyebrows were so close together it looked like they were about to merge. “What did you say?”

You tried your best to keep your laughter at bay but you couldn’t help yourself. “Nothing.” You snorted out. He stood there with the same expression, you couldn’t hold it in any longer. You were about to burst out in a laugh. You waited for your dad to leave the room so you could laugh at the way he looked at you after you called him a snitch.

[crowfootwrites]

Los Guardianes | Part V [Nestor Oceteva x Fem!Reader]

Ok, I promise there's a comedown from all the adrenaline after this! And very soon we will see characters other than Cristóbal lol.

Warnings: mentions of blood, drugs, and domestic violence; police interactions; language | Words: 1,900+

Taglist: @chibsytelford @megapeacelovemusic-blog @broiderie @est1887 @mveggieburger

Part IV of Los Guardianes

As you thundered down the alley, you glanced over at a wailing Cristóbal, splashes of crimson quickly drying across his arms and t-shirt from where you had carried him.

“It’s gonna be ok, Cristóbal, alright? I promise. Just hang tight,” you shouted over the strained whining of the engine. He quieted, shaking violently in his seat, but you turned your attention back towards the road, quickly reaching the end of the alley. You made a sharp right, having no idea where to go, but hoping to find a main street quickly.

Luck appeared to be on your side. You kept your eye on the rearview, but you didn’t see anyone behind you yet. You came up on a main street, mostly empty of traffic, and made a sharp left, immediately flooring the accelerator again. Your eyes flickered to passing signs, looking for anything you recognized.

“Fuck!” you growled, squeezing the steering wheel as you passed a sign for the Sun Bowl, panic rising in your chest as you realized you were in El Paso, Texas. You had no idea how you were going to get all the way back to California without getting caught, either by your kidnappers or by police, although at this point, you would have preferred the police. But you also had plenty of experience with dirty cops, and if your kidnappers had brought you here, of all places, it seemed likely that the police would be in their pockets.

You whipped past a sign for I-10 northbound and made for the onramp, revving the engine to merge into traffic. You darted immediately into the fast lane. Traffic was relatively light, but you hadn’t yet decided if that was good or bad. Your eyes flicked keenly between the road in front of you, your odometer, and the traffic behind you, watching for signs of a tail. It seemed like you were clear for the time being, but you hesitated to get too comfortable. It wouldn’t be long before the shattered back window drew some kind of attention.

Taking stock of your surroundings, you realized you had an almost full tank of gas. You wouldn’t be able to make it all the way back to Santo Padre on one tank, and you had no idea how you were going to pay for another. But you relegated that to the back of your mind, a concern for later. There was a balled-up hoodie in the backseat, and you stared blankly at the rosary swinging from the rearview. The glove compartment was empty.

Your eyes tracked the nearest freeway sign, realizing I-10 would take you into New Mexico. From there, you could head towards Phoenix. You didn’t love the idea of staying on a major freeway for so long, but it was the quickest way to get where you were going. From just south of Phoenix, you could take smaller highways towards home, and that suited you better. But the feeling of being chased propelled you forward; you were constantly pushing the odometer and scanning of your surroundings.

You reached New Mexico without a problem, but without a solid plan in place, you sped through it. As you careened down the highway towards an empty desert horizon, you heard Cristóbal’s breathing begin to calm. There was no chance of your pulse slowing or your body settling; you sat on the edge of the driver's seat, your thighs and core constantly clenched, ready for hell when it came.

Around two hours after you left El Paso, you were rapidly approaching Deming, New Mexico, and by then your brain was shouting at you to stop. You wanted to try to find a gas station to get yourself and Cristóbal cleaned up, in case you did get pulled over. You also wanted to check the trunk. While you had certainly been making good time, a sneaking suspicion nagged at you, one that questioned why no one had come after you or appeared to have reported the car stolen.

On the far edge of Deming, once you had passed through the center of the city, you followed signs for a gas station that looked, from the highway, to be mostly empty, in the middle of an empty stretch of commercial buildings and vacant lots. You guided the car towards the back of the gas station lot, behind the building, where you breathed a sigh of relief that there were bathrooms on the exterior of the building. You pulled into a parking space and only once you had scanned your surroundings did you get out. You went around to the passenger side door and guided Cristóbal out, grabbing the hoodie from the backseat.

The lock on the bathroom door was broken, so you pushed your way in, gagging a little at the stench. The sink was filthy, but the water ran clear, and you quickly rinsed your skin, watching the pink-tinged water swirl down the drain. Flashes of the man you killed flickered behind your eyes whenever you closed them, bile rising in your throat. The gnawing in your stomach reminded you that you hadn’t eaten in almost 24 hours. The adrenaline had kept the hunger at bay, but suddenly you were so hungry you felt nauseous. You helped Cristóbal wash his face and hands, then pulled the hoodie over your soiled shirt, zipping it all the way up.

Back at the car, you popped the trunk and your mouth fell open.

“Oh, fuck,” you groaned. Six bricks of cocaine were packed into the back of the small trunk, along with a duffel bag. You supposed that was why no one had reported the car stolen. It made you feel a little better that the cops wouldn’t necessarily be looking for you, but if you did get pulled over, you’d be fucked. You dug through the duffel bag, finding it full of clothes, and your heart lifted when your fingers skimmed smooth leather. You pulled out a black leather wallet, flipping it over in your hands. There was no ID, but there was a singular twenty dollar bill in it, and that would have to do.

Cash in hand, you tugged Cristóbal into the gas station store with you, grabbing a couple of protein bars and a large bottle of water, wanting to hang on to enough money for gas down the road.

You planned to dispose of the cocaine out in the middle of the desert, so you hightailed it out of Deming. A little less than an hour later, you took a tiny offramp and followed a deserted road past a dilapidated gas station out into the barren desert. You pulled the car off into the dirt, sending a cloud of dust up around you.

“Wait in the car,” you told Cristóbal gently, who nodded at you with wide eyes.

Pulling the sleeves of the hoodie over your hands, you dumped the clothes out of the duffel bag and packed the drugs into it, zipping it up. Careful not to touch anything with your bare hands, you slung it over your shoulder and hauled it towards a thick patch of scrub brush several yards from the road. Dropping the bag behind a clump of brush and prickly pear cacti, you booked it back towards the car, heading immediately back towards the highway.

You were approaching Gila Bend in Arizona as dusk gathered over the skyline. You had already gotten off of I-10 and onto the smaller highway that would take you to Yuma. From there it would be an easy drive to Santo Padre, one you had even made before. You had every intention of driving through the night, desperation fluttering in your heart at the thought of home. You were hungry again, and you could hear Cristóbal’s stomach grumbling from the passenger seat, but you were dangerously low on gas.

Pulling into a small gas station in Gila Bend, you went inside the store to pay, bringing Cristóbal with you. When you came back out, your breath hitched in your throat and you froze. A police officer was standing beside the car, inspecting the shattered back window. Flashbacks flooded your brain and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to force them out. Through the rapid swirling in your mind, you felt Cristóbal squeezing your hand hard, the touch pulling you out of your trance. Immediately, your mind went into overdrive, laying out a plan.

You approached the car, schooling your features into a timid expression.

The burly, dark-haired officer looked up curiously at your approach, and you caught the slightest softening in his eyes as he studied you and the child clinging to you. He looked young and green, fresh on the job, and you wanted to use that to your favor.

“Good evening, ma’am,” he said, hands authoritative on his hips.

“Evening,” you murmured, dropping your gaze meekly.

“You know it’s illegal to drive with a busted window?” he asked sternly.

You let all of the stress of the last couple of days pour into your brain, breaking the dam behind your eyes. Tears tumbled freely over your cheeks as you looked back up at him and he startled slightly at the sight.

“I’m so sorry, officer,” you sniffled. “My son and I, w–we came from El Paso, trying to get away from my husband. He smashed it as we were leaving. I’m just trying to get us to California so we can stay with my brother.” Your voice caught on a sob, cracking on the last syllable.

The officer’s stance softened and your heart lifted just slightly. His inexperience was showing.

“Who is this car registered to?” he asked.

Your chest tightened as you prayed he wouldn’t run plates or ask to see documentation. “It’s mine, sir,” you whispered, meeting his eyes with your most sorrowful look. “He just didn’t like that we were leaving.” You hoped that you looked wretched enough to prevent him from asking too many questions.

The officer pursed his lips, his thumb lightly tapping his utility belt. “Where you headed to in California, ma’am?” he asked.

“Palm Desert,” you lied smoothly, letting your lower lip tremble for good measure. “I have family there, sir.”

The officer hesitated as he considered what to do next. “And you’ll be safe there?” he asked. “Does your husband know where you’re headed?”

“Probably, sir. Th–they’re the only family I have. But they’re going to help me file a protective order against him. And... start the divorce process,” you mumbled, shuffling your feet in the dirt. You felt a quick pang in your heart as you said the words, ones that weren’t too far from true in another time.

Perhaps sensing that it was a good time to lay it on thick, Cristóbal tugged on your hand. As you glanced down at him, he reached his arms up and you pulled his weary form into your arms, depositing him on your hip.

The officer studied the pair of you intently, then sighed. “Alright. I’m not going to write you a ticket, but once you get to Palm Desert, you need to get that window fixed, do you understand me?”

You nodded fervently. “Thank you – officer, thank you so much,” you stammered, hugging Cristóbal tight. The officer tipped his hat and turned on his heel, making his way towards his police cruiser. Your body felt limp as the rush wore off yet again. Your mind reeled, pushing the limits of what you could handle without sleep. You needed to get home, and soon.

You slid into the driver’s side seat and slid Cristóbal over, helping him buckle his seatbelt.

Praying for an uneventful last leg of your journey, you pulled away from the fluorescent lights of the gas station, headed yet again towards the moonlit horizon.

Part VI of Los Guardianes

[giggles-and-freckles]

‘drive faster!’ for any of the disaster trio maybe?? : D

“Seatbelt.”

“That’s optional.”

“No, Anakin, it’s not.”

Anakin leaned forward from the back seat and caught Ahsoka’s left ear, away from Obi-Wan. “It’s optional,” he whispered.

She giggled abruptly, but sobered under Obi-Wan’s harsh gaze.

“Sorry,” she squeaked.

“Now, what’s next?”

“Check my mirrors,” she said.

“Are you sure?” Anakin asked from the back. “Like are you absolutely sure, Snips? Because if you forget something as important as checking your mirrors, well…kriffing hell, the galaxy may implode.”

Obi-Wan reeled around from the passenger seat. “I already had to put up with this insolence when I taught you to drive. I shouldn’t be subjected to this all over again!”

“You didn’t teach me anything I didn’t already know, Master,” Anakin said, rolling his eyes and putting his feet on the back of Ahsoka’s seat.

Obi-Wan swatted them down, ignoring Anakin’s sound of protest. “Yes, your podracing experience was exactly what the Council wanted the public to associate with the Order as you ripped through the skies of Coruscant with absolutely no regard–”

“Hey, my podracing experience has gotten us out of quite a few sticky situations, I’ll remind you, Master. Remember when–”

Obi-Wan scoffed. “That was a one time situation, Anakin, and it–”

“Masters?” Ahsoka piped up bravely. Both men’s eyes turned to her. She smiled sheepishly. “I…kinda want to…you know, actually drive…at some point today.”

Obi-Wan and Anakin stared at her for a moment. Obi-Wan was the first to blink.

“Yes. All right.” He shot one more withering glare toward Anakin, then turned around and adjusted his tunic under his seatbelt. “Go on, Ahsoka.”

She checked her mirrors, stifling another laugh when Anakin was sticking his tongue out in her rear mirror. Then–at the sound of Obi-Wan emphatically clearing his throat–she checked them again. He smiled in contentment and gave her a nod.

The speeder revved to life.

It wasn’t difficult to know why Anakin felt so comfortable at any sort of pilot’s seat. She felt in control. Powerful. It wasn’t something she’d felt very often, being a Padawan thrown into the front lines of a war.

“Easy,” Obi-Wan said, as she backed out of the spot. “Now, take it forward around the corner and watch your acceleration.”

Ahsoka followed his instructions, feeling his eyes on her the entire time. She continued driving for a few minutes, waiting for her next direction, but eventually, Obi-Wan sat back in his seat and turned to the front. She chanced a quick glance at him and he whipped his head toward her.

“Eyes on the sky, Padawan.”

Anakin snorted in laughter behind her. “Can’t believe you fell for that one, Snips.”

“Leave her alone, Anakin. She’s doing better than you ever did.”

“I’d like to see her win the Boonta Eve Classic,” Anakin grumbled more to himself than anyone else as he fell back into his seat.

“I’d like to see her live past fourteen,” Obi-Wan bit back. “So quiet in the backseat, please. Don’t make your premature death wish hers.”

Ahsoka continued straight for another few minutes. It was a relatively vacant airway. The lanes weren’t full of the normal rush of Coruscanti commuters, bustling between their homes and workplaces.

“You’re doing well, Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan commended lightly. “Now, we’re going to get up on the express-lane.”

Ahsoka’s eyed widened and she tightened her grip on the wheel. “The…?”

“You’ll be fine,” he said.

She nodded tightly, straightening in her seat.

“Remember, just follow the flow of traffic. It’s not a race. Stay in the far right and don’t worry about anyone else. They have places to be, you do not.”

Anakin grumbled something in the back.

“What?” Ahsoka said, flicking her eyes to the rearview mirror.

“He said you’re the greatest pilot he’s ever scene, Ahsoka. High praise.”

“That’s not–”

Obi-Wan pointed ahead of them. “Take a left here.”

Ahsoka smiled. Anakin had been pretty upset when she’d told him she wanted to go driving with Obi-Wan today, but she assured him it had nothing to do with how many times she had witnessed him crash land. (In reality, it had everything to do with how many times she had watched him crash land.)

He insisted on coming along, for heckling purposes. He was living up to his promise.

“Okay, now–you’re going to merge. If they don’t let you in, just wait your turn. An opening will come.”

Ahsoka nodded, decelerating as she approached the switch-over to the express-lane. Coruscant airways were designed vertically. The slower lanes were closest to the ground, the quickest were the closest to the atmosphere.

She tilted the speeder upwards and waited for a gap.

“Patience,” Obi-Wan said.

“You totally could have made that,” Anakin said.

Ahsoka’s grip tightened as she looked at the onslaught of bikes and speeders barreling toward her, with no space in sight.

“You’re gonna have to be brave, Snips. Put yourself out there.”

“I am brave,” she said, with a determined frown.

“Then, prove it.”

“No,” Obi-Wan said sharply. “Do you want advice from the man who had his license revoked by a police droid? A police droid?” He sighed shakily, clearly remembering a specific incident from Anakin’s early days. She’d have to ask him about it later, when Anakin wasn’t around. One of her favourite things to do was needle embarrassing stories about her Master from his Master. “Your bravery is not dependent on your willingness to kill yourself upon entering the express-way.”

Ahsoka nodded. Waited. And waited some more.

“There haven’t been any openings, Master Kenobi…”

“There have been plenty of openings, Ahsoka,” Anakin whined, throwing his head against the back of his seat.

“Patience,” Obi-Wan repeated.

Three more minutes passed. Several speeders zipped around her. One offensive hand gesture was thrown.

Anakin almost jumped out of the back of the speeder.

“Now,” Obi-Wan said finally.

“Now?” Ahsoka asked, frantically.

“Now!” he repeated, a little louder.

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE, AHSOKA. NOW.”

She hit the acceleration and slipped in between a bike and a cargo speeder, carrying some sort of exotic animal in the back. It bleeted at Ahsoka as the bike laid on it’s horn.

“I did it,” she breathed.

“You did,” Obi-Wan agreed, his voice a bit strained, “but…you have to keep going. You, er–Ahsoka.” A sharp gasp as a speeder swerved around them, narrowly missing the front of their own vehicle.

“Sorry,” she hissed, her knuckles whitening around the wheel.

“Accelerate a bit,” Obi-Wan said. A beat. “Ahsoka. Accelerate.”

Another speeder sped past them, the driver yelling in anger as they did so.

“Why is he so–”

“Because you’re slow, Snips! You’re so insanely slow.”

“I’m being careful!” she snapped back.

“Er, I…” Obi-Wan made a small sound. “I think perhaps you’ve taken that a bit too…seriously. Ahsoka, my dear, please accelerate.”

Anakin snorted sardonically. “If Obi-Wan is saying you’re slow–”

“I never said she was slow–”

“Drive faster!!!!!” Anakin shouted.

Obi-Wan gripped the bottom of his seat with both hands as Ahsoka slammed her foot to the floor, shifting the speeder into top speed. She swerved jerkily to avoid slamming into the back of another speeder on the expressway and barely managed not to clip the back of another.

“Okay,” Obi-Wan managed in a small voice. “Ahsoka, just–” He was cut off as she swung around another speeder.

“This is more like it, Snips!” Anakin sang from the back, laughing loudly. He leaned forward in the speeder gripping the back of both front seats. Obi-Wan shut his eyes.

“Would...” Ahsoka swallowed, barely able to open her eyes as the wind assaulted her face, “would now be a...bad time–to mention I don’t...don’t know how to stop?”

Obi-Wan and Anakin paused, looked at each other, and then looked back at the heavily trafficked express-lane in front of them, dozens of speeders doing their best to clear out of Ahsoka’s way.

“Yes!” they yelled in unison.