Something Amiss (Hoodie x Reader)

Twelve: Rainy Drive

There he went, patronising you again. "No." You shook your head vigorously, taking a step back. Being in public also meant that he wouldn't be able to chase you down without a scene.

You weren't sure why he wanted your keys, he either wanted to take you somewhere or just confiscate them out of spite. Neither option was terribly appealing.

He sighed, "I'm driving. Get in."

So it was the former, then.

He couldn't see, but you looked at him like he was a stink bug. "Why the fuck would I let you drive?" The last time you had been in a car with him at the wheel, it had been tied up in the back as a fucking hostage.

"You're injured."

Nah, fuck that. "I think I'll get the bus, thanks." You turned on your heel, leaving him standing there with his hand outstretched like an utter fool.

Click.

You stopped dead at the sound, eyes growing wide at the now semi-familiar noise. Damn, someone wasn't in a good mood.

Slowly, you turned back to face the man.

He still wasn't looking at you, but his hand had moved into the pocket of his yellow hoodie. The gun must have been in there, pointed at you from behind the fabric.

You couldn't stop the words from spilling out, tone growing quiet. "I thought you weren't gonna kill me."

You watched in mortified confusion as he brought his other hand up, reaching behind his hood. Click. He pressed on something near the underside of his jaw.

"I won't kill you. Doesn't mean I won't shoot you, though."

You blinked. Without the demonic voice changer, his voice was smooth and a more than little bit dead sounding. The apathy may not have been entirely the fault of the voice changer, it seemed.

"Just get in the car, (y/n)." He sounded like a tired parent. A tired parent, with a gun trained on you from inside his pocket. You didn't have to be told again, making a sheepishly quick beeline for the passenger side.

You clambered into the front seat of your car, at least you weren't going to be sitting in the back like a child again. Well, not unless he forced you to.

The man hopped gracefully into the driver's seat, not sparing you a glance. He held his leather clad hand out for your keys again, and this time you didn't leave him hanging, throwing them in an arc into his hand with an unpleasant jangle. No way were you going to pass them to him normally, you didn't want to risk accidentally touching him.

He seemed to snort at your throw, the laugh no longer artificially altered but still chilling you to the bone. As he turned the keys in the ignition, you watched out of the corner of your eye as he brought his other hand up, reaching for the base of his own throat. His fingers grasped the black fabric of his mask, and you couldn't help turning your head to gawk as he pulled the the fabric fully up, quickly flattening his hood back down so you could only see part of his face. He let the infernal thing fall to his lap as he began to back out of the parking space.

There were two things you could discern from this limited angle; he was a pasty white guy, and he was young. You hadn't given the matter a whole lot of thought, but in truth you'd been expecting Hoodie to turn out being some crusty middle aged man. You hadn't expected him to be under the age of thirty, and if this guy was any older than twenty-seven, he was using one hell of a sunscreen.

"What?" He stared straight ahead, voice dead as ever.

You averted your gaze, realising that you had been staring. "Nothing. Just surprised." Shit, (y/n)! Did you really just admit that?!