Dewey was currently clocking, giving out petty little speeding tickets to anybody that passed him the wrong way. He didn't like doing this, because he was typically the non confrontational type. That, and people rarely sped in Woodsboro, so it was just him sitting in his cop car, waiting on the side of the road for somebody to just please, please break the fucking law.
Suddenly, he hears a car honk, and he turns to see a white 1994 Porsche 911 speeding down the street, the driver wearing some sort of mask.
"Damn." Dewey cursed. He trailed the car, putting on his sirens.
The Porsche sped out of the neighborhood, leading him through the shopping centers.
The car made a sharp turn, and Dewey followed its lead onto a back road, bringing him back around near the station. Clearly, he was gonna have some trouble catching this guy.
The car sped through another subdivision, drifting down another street before letting the car swerve into a driveway and almost, just almost park perfectly. Dewey rolled his eyes, parking his car at the mailbox.
He stepped outside the car, walking up the front yard and to the driver side of the vehicle. He gently knocked on the window, and the driver rolled it down.
"You are so childish." He scolds them, and they slowly remove the Ghostface mask.
"Aww, don't be mad." You tell him, the mask in your hand and a sinister smile on your face. Of course, it was just his crazy girlfriend. You were always up to no good. Playing pranks and causing mischeive.
"I just wanted to show you my new car." You explained with a cheeky grin, leaning your head out the car. "You could've told me when I got off." "Yeah, but this way was a lot funner." You chuckled.
"You mean dressing up like a serial killer we've been struggling to catch and making me chase you through town?" He raises a brow, folding his arms. "Hey, I didn't make you do anything. Chasing me was your choice of impulse." You defend, frowning dramatically, feigning offense.
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. The point is, it was a bad idea." He tries to reason with you. "Aww, what are you gonna do? Arrest me?" You teased him, letting out a witch-like cackle. He could've sworn you flew on brooms when he wasn't looking.
"Maybe I am." He answers sternly, catching you off guard. "What? You can't arrest me. This is my yard, private property. Therefore, you can't do that." You defended. "We're not playing by the law's rules tonight." He opens your door, pulling you out and pressing you chest down against the hood of the car.
"We're playing by my rules." He handcuffs you, going back to roll up your window and turn off the car, before stashing your keys in his pocket and closing the door. "This is unjust." You playfully pout.
"You're unjust." He puts you in the backseat of his car, closing the door. He gets in the front, cranking up.
As the car starts to move, he adjust his mirror to see you in the backseat pouting with your hands cuffed behind your back.
"You are one crazy girl, you know that?" "You love it." You give him a conniving smirk.
YOU ARE READING
You wish this was you, huh? ( slasher headcanons & oneshots )
RomanceFor Lonely readers willing to marry, worship, and devote their existence to fictional serial killers who would mercilessly rip their lungs out with no second thought. ( I wish someone could go to therapy for me)
