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slasherscream · 6 months

Note

the crazy ass boys and that punisher scene *would* be kooky crazy and you absolutely should do it - the FLAVOR…

A/N: do i feel bad for reader? yeah, of course... but lowkey this shit kinda funny. TW: the kevin and josh parts of this feature attempted sexual assault of reader. if you get the urge to community label this block me and don't read it instead xoxo.

crazy ass boys gang + reader kills someone based on that one punisher scene

billy loomis:

He deserves it. The hands wrapped tightly around his throat, his mind going foggy from the lack of oxygen. Head pounding in pain from the several blows he’d taken to it. His vision swims as he stares up at the monster he himself had created: Ghostface.

One thing he’d never considered about making it so he and Stu were the sole survivors of the Woodsboro massacre was what tantalizing targets they’d become for any Ghostface copycats. He curses himself for it now. It was ridiculous to think that infamy like theirs wouldn’t inspire other bloodthirsty maniacs.

To be murdered in his own home, the way so many of his own victims met their fate, is particularly insulting.

‘What an ironic way to go,’ Billy thinks as he starts to black out.

And that should be it. There shouldn’t be anything after the blackness. But suddenly he’s taking large, greedy gulps of air again and rolls to the side heaving. He finds himself face to face with the Ghostface copycat who sports a new accessory: a kitchen knife in the side of their neck.

Senses coming back to him, he slowly begins to hear the miserable animal-like whimpering of another person in the room and rolls onto his back. Standing over him and his cheap knockoff is his partner, Y/N, blood splattered across their trembling hands.

“Did I kill them? Are they dead?” Before you’ve even finished the sentence Billy is shaking his head no.

“No, baby, no you didn’t kill them. It’s okay.” The words hurt to get out but he forces them anyway. He has to reassure you that you aren’t like him. That you aren’t a killer.

Believe it or not, he never wanted this for you. You aren’t like him or Stu. You aren’t built for this. But here you are, blood on your hands because it came down to Billy or a stranger and you’ll always choose Billy, no matter what the choice costs you.

Billy forces himself to move when he notices the way the rise and fall of the Ghostface’s chest slow to the jerking heaves of the dying.

He yanks the knife from their neck and they make a gurgling, wet noise of pain. It’s the sound people make while they drown in their own blood. Billy is more than used to it, and barely registers it. But as quiet as the room is, the noise is deafening for you, and you turn to retch.

“You didn’t kill anyone baby, I promise.” Billy slits their throat so quickly it’s done before you even turn back around. “I killed them, okay?”

josh washington:

Josh’s hearing these days is inhuman, which is only fair since Josh himself isn’t quite human these days.

Also inhuman is his bond with you. He’s in tune with you, to put it lightly. His abnormally cold body forever seeks out the heat of your own. He relishes in your calming scent. He listens eagerly for the sound of your breathing, your heartbeat, your voice.

That’s why, even with the music at this party turned up to deafening volumes, he registers the sound of your scream as if you were standing side by side.

The noise awakens something animalistic in him. His mouth, already half split into a permanent, razor-toothed snarl, pulls back even further. He looks monstrous. He pushes and shoves violently through the crowd of mindlessly gyrating bodies in a panic.

‘Where are you, Y/N?!’ He thinks, sick to his stomach.

Even through the heavy smells of sweat, alcohol, and weed, he’s able to follow your scent outside. Here he’s in his element. The air is clear and damp, and it’s easy to track you. You’re in the woods just beyond the house, still screaming, when he finds you.

Immediately he gathers you in his arms, snarling and growling into the open air at any potential threats.

“I killed him. I killed him, Josh.” You shriek, voice high and sharp with panic.

He nuzzles his cheek against yours comfortingly. It takes him a second to remember he’s human and can speak. That’s when he smells the blood. His pupils dilate at the sweet, metallic scent and he searches for the source, eyes seeing perfectly even in the darkness of the night.

His eyes land on a man laying haphazardly on the ground, head bent at an odd angle on a rock. Blood oozes sluggishly over the stone and Josh’s heart stops at the sight.

“I was just trying to get some air and this guy followed me out here and he wouldn’t leave me alone, so I ran, but he followed me. He followed me! And he tried to…” You sob on the words that won’t come and Josh knows instantly what happened. His mind paints the rest of the horrible picture. “... all I was doing was trying to get him off me. That’s all I was trying to do! I didn’t mean to kill him, Josh. Oh god, I didn’t mean to kill him.”

You’re not a killer. Josh isn’t one either… but if he has to choose which one of you will have to bear the weight of taking a life he knows he won’t let it be you.

He crosses over to the man, who looks up at Josh with unseeing eyes. There’s only one thing to do. Josh bends down low and braces himself for the way your attacker's blood will taste when he rips out their throat with his teeth.

stu macher:

text from babygirl/babyboy: [ stu there is someone in the house pls hurry im scared ]

He glanced down at the pocket of his jeans ready to roll his eyes when he heard your text notification.

You were probably texting him because you’d checked the kitchen and realized you needed some spice or vegetable ‘desperately’ to be able to make dinner tonight. He almost felt like ignoring it and telling you he hadn’t seen the text until he pulled into the driveway of your home.

But begrudgingly he paused, shifted the grocery bags around in his arms, and pulled out his phone.

His heart stopped.

Instantly, he knew you were serious. He might fuck with you like this but you’d never do the same to him. He dropped the groceries on the ground and ran to the car.

He doesn’t text you to ask if you’re okay. He’s terrified of the answer he could get. More terrified of getting no answer at all, so he just drives. He focuses on the thought of you at home, needing him, and breaks every speeding law there is to get to you.

He parks down the street so as to not tip off the intruder. He grabs the hunting knife he always keeps in his car even though Billy tells him not to and stalks like an animal toward the home you’ve built together. The rage he feels is indescribable. Someone is in his house terrorizing what’s his.

He creeps in through the wide open back door of the house. He pauses and listens for a sound over the pounding of the blood in his ear.

Nothing. For one soul crushing moment there’s nothing at all.

Then he hears the sound of you crying from upstairs and it makes his heart stop. He runs up the stairs as quietly as he can and throws himself into the bedroom ready to do anything to save you.

But you’ve already saved yourself, it seems.

You’ve curled yourself up in the corner closest to the door, watching as the man who attacked you bleeds out from the stab wounds you put in his stomach.

Stu stops moving and watches as the man tries to stop himself from bleeding out, his own cries blending with yours. You were smart enough to keep the knife and you hold it towards the man, shaking with adrenaline and fear.

“Baby-” Stu’s voice breaks the spell you’re in and you turn to him and begin to cry in earnest. You were holding yourself together, waiting on him to save you and he came too late.

“He’s dying Stu, I killed him. Oh god, I killed someone.” Blood from the knife you’re holding drips onto the hardwood floor of your bedroom.

“No, baby, you didn’t kill him.” Stu already failed you tonight. He’s not going to let you become a killer because someone broke into your house and you had to survive.

He crosses the room, kneels in front of the burglar, and stabs them twice in the neck. The warm blood hits his face and he doesn’t even relish in it. Just waits for the light in the burglar’s eyes to dim. When it does he turns back to you.

“I killed them, honey.”

jd/jason dean:

The sound of a gunshot rings through the basement loud and clear.

JD freezes, mind racing as he thinks of what to do next. It’s not every day that you’re caught planting bombs in the building where the Dean’s office happens to be. This was his last stop.

All the other bombs have already been carefully placed throughout campus. Even if he’s caught now, the detonator is only just out of reach. If he can reach it, the plan will still be a success. The only minor hiccup would be dying beneath a couple thousand piles of rubble. But that’s a small thing. It’d be worth it. For you, JD would do anything.

This university had taken everything from you. He’d watched it happen. Had sat by, rage simmering just beneath the surface as he tried to let you handle your own problems. You’d insisted he’d let you handle the situation. You’d let yourself get walked all over, is what happened. But JD doesn’t blame you for how everything turned out.

You’re too gentle. Too sweet. You don’t have that animal instinct to fight or go to war. It was one of the reasons you endeared yourself to JD so quickly. You were intensely vulnerable in a world so resolutely cruel that you were breathtaking just by existing. To watch you come to harm of any kind was painful. But it all ended today. Even if it killed him.

“Oh no, oh please no.” Your voice makes JD turn in bewilderment.

“What on Earth are you doing here-” JD’s eyes go wide at the scene before him.

There’s a security guard on the ground, unconscious, a pool of blood seeping from them. He can see the entry wound on their back. He wonders if the bullet is lodged in them or if it went straight through.

“I didn’t want to kill him. I was just- I was coming to stop you from doing this but I didn’t… I saw the guard coming up behind you with a gun, and… and his finger was on the trigger. He was gonna kill you. He was gonna-”

JD steps gracefully around the puddle of blood the guard is making and takes you into his arms. You fall into them with a wet sob.

He feels his heart go warm, the way it always does when he holds you. You came here to stop him from protecting you and wound up protecting him in turn. Whether you like it or not, the two of you are soulmates. You’ll always come first to one another. Damn the rest of the world entirely.

But JD knows you’re too tender for this. Knows that killing will break your spirit, not free you the way it freed him.

He gently pries the gun from your fingers (and almost laughs at the thought of you trying to confront him with his own gun), turns, and shoots the guard execution-style in the back of his head.

“You didn’t kill anyone, darling. You don’t have it in you.” He pulls you back into his arms. “But don’t worry about that, you’ll never have to when I’m around.”

kevin khatchadourian:

Kevin told you the guy was bad news. But generally, Kevin was an untrustworthy judge of character because he hated everyone, especially anyone who pulled any of your precious attention away from him. So, you decided to tutor the other man despite Kevin’s insistence you do no such thing.

You should have listened to Kevin.

Of course, your classmate didn’t actually need tutoring. He was just trying to get close to you. He said as much as he pinned you against your couch, rough hand sliding up up up your leg, to the juncture of your thighs. It quickly became clear that your classmate didn’t care whether or not you wanted to become close to him as well.

You’d shoved him away from you as hard as you could once he started trying to remove your clothes. It was a good shove. He’d landed right on the corner of the coffee table. There’d been a sickening crunch as the back of his head hit the wood. Then there was nothing. And now he was making a low, animal noise from what seemed like the very pit of his stomach. He must’ve been in agony.

You didn’t move a muscle. You were probably in shock. You just sat, holding your ripped shirt to your chest. All the while knowing that if you didn’t do something soon, this man that had tried to force himself on you would die.

Kevin walked in through the front door of your apartment. You heard him take off his shoes. Throw his keys onto the table in your entryway. Heard him begin to shuffle his way toward the scene of the soon-to-be crime.

“Y/N?” He’s suddenly kneeling in front of you, blocking the view of your attacker, who still keeps on with that miserable whining.

“Kevin?” Numbly, you reach for him, place your hands on his shoulders and grip them tightly. You try to pull him towards you but he holds himself away, staring at you.

“What happened?”

You glance a little to the side and can see the other man still sprawled across the ground. “I should have listened to you.”

Kevin’s thumb gently drags along your freshly busted lip, smearing blood along the length of your mouth, “What happened?”

His voice is so unusually tender that the haze of confusion and fear breaks and you sob. You try again to pull him towards you and this time he comes willingly, enveloping you in his arms. For someone so distant, who adopts and discards emotions and feelings as easily as a mask, Kevin’s embraces are always tight and all-consuming.

You stay like that for only a few minutes. When Kevin pulls back, he wipes away your tears with your own ripped shirt. You stare at one another. You never know what he’s thinking, now being no exception, but for once you let yourself get lost in the inky blackness of his eyes and feel comforted, not unnerved.

“Go take a bath.” The command comes out of nowhere.

“What? Kevin I-” A slightly louder moan than the rest cuts you off and the look on Kevin’s face fades from whatever was there when he was looking at you to his typical viciousness.

“I’m going to put him out of his misery. He’s already dying. There’s no use calling an ambulance, and I wouldn’t let you anyway. So you’re going to let me do what I need to do, and you’re going to go take a bath while I do it. Then you’ll go to bed, and when you wake up, it will all be over. Understand?”

He doesn’t give you the option to disobey. He helps you to your feet, guides you to the bathroom, and even starts the bath for you. Then he goes back into the living room to kill a man as if it means nothing to him.

You sit in the bath with your knees to your chest, and listen to the sounds of running water instead of focusing on the fact that the man has finally gone quiet.

#crazy ass boys gang #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #jd x reader #josh washington x reader #kevin khatchadourian x reader #heathers imagine #scream imagine #until dawn imagine #we need to talk about kevin imagine #ran out of steam to do nathan sparrow ben and david #maybe one day #if you see any typos respectfully no you didn't lmao #ENJOY y'all been waiting for this one

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oh-goddess-of-chaos · 1 year

Text

⠀ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑 – 𝐣. 𝐝. 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ✧‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ (navi. & masterlist. & tag. )

「 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 」 yandere!jason dean 𝒙 female!reader

「 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 」 being the new girl at a school can be difficult, especially during the middle of the year and in a place with a rigid social structure such as westerburg high, but things can only seem to worsen when you start feeling as though you're being watched.

「 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 」 general themes from heathers the movie such as bullying, mentions of suicide, murder (c'mon, it's a heathers fic, what did u expect?), usage of guns, kissing, stalking, attempted rape (kurt n' ram), swearing , usage of drugs such as cigarettes, unconsensual kissing (doesn't get further than that in this), very slight insinuations to sex (spoken), the whole shebang.

「 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 」 4.5k

「 𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐧'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 .⁺ ˖ ⌒ (slight spoilers) i wanted to make the reader decently perceptive and sarcastic this one, but nearing the end i definitely made her rationality kinda disappear since that's what fear can do to a person. jd is more based off movie jd, and so is veronica.

Joining a new school midway through the school year was, to say the least, unideal.

You and your parents had just gotten the wonderful opportunity to move to the quaint town of Sherwood, Ohio, somewhere you all were essentially forced to go since your father had been promoted by his job and your family was strapped for cash. And, sure, your house was bigger and nicer than your last, but you'd had to leave all your friends you'd been with since your childhood, which was difficult.

To add to all of that, the people were unfriendly and rude, and the weather was tolerable at best. Though your old home wasn't perfect by any means, it was most certainly better than where you were living now.

And now, here you were, standing before your new high school, knowing perfectly nothing about it or what to expect yet still expecting it to be one of the worst schools you've gone to. The odd stares your fellow students were shooting you seemed to be indicative of that.

Oh, good grief.

You sighed as you entered, only to immediately crinkle your nose in disgust as you were hit with the pleasant aroma of sweaty jocks and what you could only guess were something akin to rotting bodies. Speak of the devil, you thought to yourself as you were almost hit by what you guessed were two football players dashing down the hallways.

This was going to be a long rest of the year.

You were quick to shove past the students to get to the front office, keen on getting your class schedule and getting to your class as early as you could. You'd only just gotten here and yet already you wanted to go home, though you supposed that that was how high school normally operated. It was never something anyone particularly enjoyed. Most people just managed to tolerate it enough to attend the next day.

"Hello, I'm looking to get my schedule?" You said once you'd reached your destination, crossing your arms as you stared at the woman at the front desk. Focused upon her own work, she offered you no response. You pursed your lips.

"Excuse me?" You spoke, louder this time, a hint of annoyance in your voice.

Apparently you weren't the only one unhappy to be at Westerburg high today, as the woman, seemingly irked, slowly craned her head to face you. "Yes?"

She seemed an unpleasant sort of woman, a frown etched permanently upon her wrinkled face. You wondered what the other teachers must look like, and if they resembled her by any means.

"This is my first day here. I need my class schedule."

"Name?"

"Y/n L/n."

The woman nodded and typed something into her computer. She then pointed to the printer. "Wait over there. Your class schedule is printing right now. Once it's finished, just go to your first class. The class numbers are listed on the right side."

"Well, is anyone going the help me find my way around?"

Your question was only met with silence. "Fine, I'll find it on my own. After all, why would I ever need the help of a teacher, anyway? It's not like I'm new to this school or anything." You grumbled before grabbing your schedule and exiting.

Luckily, navigating the school was a relatively simple task. The numbers on every door and the maps plastered on the walls definitely helped, and you were able to find your history class before the bell rang.

"Here's your textbook, Ms. L/n." The teacher said to you the moment you told her your name. Silently, you nodded, deciding to take a seat somewhere in the middle of the classroom as you waited for class to begin.

Something seemed off, though, as the lecture began and you jotted down nearly everything you heard. You could sense eyes boring into the back of your skull, like daggers piercing through your mind, and it inhibited your focus. You could hardly pay any attention to the teacher as she went on and on about some war you didn't even know the name of. And so, discreetly enough, you 'grabbed' something from you bag, staring over your shoulder briefly in an attempt to see if anyone really was watching you.

And, as it seemed, someone was. You managed to spot them - or him, to be more specific. Uncannily dark eyes stared back at you, blank and hollow. It made your stomach sink. Quickly, then, you retrieved an object from your school bag and continued with your notes to the best of your abilities. Unfortunately, though, you couldn't get that kid's sharp gaze out of your mind. Something about it - something about him - was off, though you couldn't quite place what it was. And, sure, from what you could see he dressed somewhat oddly - a dark trench coat adorning his shoulders, covering his already black pants and shirt - but it was more than just the way he was dressed. You knew it.

You gave up on the matter minutes after you were done with US History. As much as you were curious at the time, you could care less if some creep was watching you. It wasn't like you didn't have your fair share of those back at your old school - you just supposed that they didn't seem so outward about it. After all, you'd stared at that kid - caught him right in the act, but he didn't look away, didn't flinch, just kept staring. Looking back on it, you were convinced that you'd caught the glimpse of some sort of smile. But, as you'd mentioned, what was done was done. You'd only have to deal with him for 45 minutes every day for the rest for the year, at worst.

Sighing, you dropped your bag beside you as you sat down on one of the sticky cafeteria benches, secluded from everyone else. Although you knew you could've tried to make friends during your classes, you were aware of the truth about social politics in high school: halfway through the year, friendships were already sealed airtight and people were much less open to saying 'hi' to a new face, so you didn't even bother. And, sure, the seating was horrible, but you weren't about to make a fool of yourself, especially on your first day.

The food at Westerburg High was - albeit surprisingly - quite alright, and you found yourself somewhat enjoying it. Disregarding the horrible smell and the violently loud chatter, you supposed the cafeteria and lunch as a whole was okay.

That was, at least, until you caught sight of that kid who'd been staring at you in history. You hadn't even noticed he was there at first, but there he was, halfway across the cafeteria, staring blatantly right at you. This time, though, he was just smiling - smirking, even, and it unnerved you.

What is wrong with this guy?

The rest of the week went by like this. On your way to class, you'd always see him in the halls, eyes locking with yours as you passed him. Or getting your books from your locker - he'd always be there, eyes glued to your form. He wasn't even doing anything, was simply fixated on you. It made you shiver, the looks he gave you at first.

Now, however, it was almost expected. You'd anticipate dark eyes boring into your skull and the fumes of cigars to follow you in class, or truly just anywhere around school, just as you would expect your shadow to follow you in the sunlight. And, as annoying as it was the every first day, now it was eerie. You didn't have to look over your shoulder to know you were being watched, but when you did, you'd surely freeze out of both paranoia and fear. While, yes, you'd expected this year of high school to be your worst yet, never had you expected for it to be to such an extent.

Your fear later festered when he pulled a blank on two jocks in the cafeteria. Although you knew blanks couldn't truly hurt them, you shuddered to think what he'd do if he really wanted to cause some damage.

Things got worse still when the kid started dating the infamous Veronica Sawyer, not quite a Heather but not quite anything else either. Gossip around the school grew mad about the unconventional couple, and you soon learned the name of the kid who never did seem to leave you alone: Jason Dean, or 'J. D.' as everyone knew him.

Now, whenever you'd see J. D., he'd always be accompanied by his girlfriend, Veronica. He never did stop staring, though, resulting in numerous glares coming from Veronica's way.

So much for being tolerated by the popular crowd.

School had then became a living hell for you, because if one Heather didn't like you, none of them did, making life going unnoticed near impossible. Now, no matter where you were, someone was either glaring or gazing at you, their intentions vague and unclear.

Things then got particularly bad when Heather Chandler became a sort of enemy of yours. You weren't sure what you did to irk specifically her, but, whatever it was that you did, she most certainly hated you, more so than Veronica, even. Not a day went by without a rude confrontation by her, and you could name several instances when she'd embarrassed you in front of the school.

But then, one day, she was gone.

Suicide. At least, that's what they said it was, but you knew too many people hated that bitch for it to be so. All it would take was a teenager driven insane enough by her to be driven to such a point, and considering the state of Westerburg high, you didn't doubt for a moment that the queen bee of the school essentially prompted her own death.

So, yeah. You knew her suicide was faked. Not that you were going to report it to the cops - you weren't planning on stirring up more drama - but you weren't stupid enough to be fooled by such a thing. And, besides, though you'd never admit it aloud, you were glad she was dead, in an odd way. Now you had at least one less person to make your life at this sorry school miserable.

So, life was okay for a while. People got too busy about mourning Heather's death to notice a nobody like you. Other than that creep J. D. and his jealous girlfriend stalking the halls, life was tolerable.

But when you're at the top, the only way you can go is down. And that's where you went. Down. All the way to rock bottom.

You didn't know how to put it in lighter terms, so here it was: You were almost raped. By Kurt and Ram, to be more exact.

Apparently, J. D. wasn't the only one who had an eye on you, and with all your attention focused on him (since you were so damn paranoid) you'd failed to notice the two jocks that also seemed to have been interested by you.

It was late at night. You were walking home from some house you'd babysat at as a favor, and two guys started following you. You didn't think much of it at first - just tried to forget about it and cool your nerves, but then they started to get faster, and faster, and you did too, until suddenly you were running, and then, almost abruptly, the two jocks had grabbed your arms and startled forcing you elsewhere. You screamed and fought, but no one was around to hear you.

You could only imagine the other 'nobodies' they must have done this to.

You remembered vividly your horror as the two piled themselves on top of you, eager to rip your clothes off. But, just as they were about to do so, a gun shot rang out, and then another. Frozen in terror, you didn't even move as you felt the boys' bodies go limp over you. You were only able to move when you felt a hand grab onto your own and force you up and get you back on your feet.

"Thank you," you barely managed to sputter out once the initial shock wore off.

"Go," is all the figure replied. A man, you presumed. You couldn't see his face, though, covered by the dark lighting. And so, dazed and confused, you obliged, not thinking twice about the words spoken to you.

The next day, though, was when things truly got out of hand.

Kurt and Ram, supposedly, had died in some gay love pact, wherein they killed each other. Hearing the news over the TV your parents played, you felt sick to your stomach. But, there they lied on the screen, a bag of supposed 'homosexual artifacts' and a suicide note to tie it all together.

And the whole town ate the story up.

You didn't go to school for about the next week or so. You told your parents that you were sick, and even though they knew you weren't, they still called in sick for you, able to detect that you weren't exactly feeling well mentally.

The week of repose was good, too. You were able to gather yourself up, not to the point where you didn't fear what could have happen had your savior not came to the rescue, but to the point where you could suppose that you were grateful that you wouldn't have to answer any questions from the police.

But now, at least for now, you knew you'd be safe.

* * *

You let out a soft sigh as you landed on your bed, curling into your warm sheets as a way of seeking comfort. At least you were safe and secure at home, you supposed, your parents only a relatively quiet yell away and your windows locked for good measure. If school was your hell, then you would consider home your heaven, away from the Heathers, away from J. D., away from everyone.

Turning off your light, you sank into your pillow in a desperate sort of way, clinging to it as if it were your lifeline. You'd hardly been getting sufficient sleep within the past weeks, so it didn't take long for you to fall into oblivion, the abyss of sleep consuming you whole in minutes.

So deeply unaware of your surrounding now, you didn't even hear quiet footsteps entering your bedroom.

J. D. was, to say the least, unsure what made him drawn to you in the first place. Maybe it was your calm and uncaring demeanor, or maybe it was the way you seemed to pick up on things through simple observation so easily, similarly to him. Whatever it was, he most certainly found you interesting. And, somehow, he could simply tell that there was something different about you - something like him that he saw in you, and it intrigued him to no end.

No matter how paranoid you were, you were never completely aware of J. D.'s reach in your life. When he'd watch you when you were at home, he'd remain particularly clever, knowing that if he was caught there was a high chance that he'd get into some really deep shit. Staring at a girl in school every day was one thing, but following her home? That was much more serious, and required a much less conspicuous plan.

But, alas, his plan paid off, and J. D. smiled knowingly as he stared at your vulnerable figure, taken over by a much needed sleep. You simply looked so perfectly innocent like that, something he couldn't wait to ruin once he had the chance.

J. D. laughed euphorically as he continued to just stare at you, unsure if he still had his wits about him but uncaring at the very same time. Perhaps all the cigars he had been smoking really were getting to him. But he knew what he needed to do before he brought you with him. So, quietly, resisting the urge to kiss your pristine lips, J. D. raced out of your bedroom, your door that was previously shut left open behind him.

Unfortunately for him, however, he'd forgotten that you were often a light sleeper that woke up at different intervals in the night, so when a particularly cool gust of wind came in through your open window, you were startled awake.

"What the fuck?" You muttered under your breath as you drowsily peeled your eyes open, squinting them as you stood up to close the window, before pausing and wondering how on earth your window had opened. After all, your parents never came into your room late at night as far as you were concerned, and you had locked your window when you'd fallen asleep, so how could it have opened?

It was at that very moment, too, that the faint smell of smoke wafted through the room, and you froze.

Sure, you knew you were paranoid, and that maybe fear had gotten the better of you, but you also knew that a potentially dangerous kid had been staring at you ever since you got to school and that it would be idiotic for you to assume that he had no malicious intentions.

Your stomach then tightened up once you noticed your open bedroom door. So, yes. It was possible that maybe your assumptions were idiotic, but you'd be a fool to not go with your gut when the most it'd cost you was some short-lived embarrassment, especially considering what could have happened with Kurt and Ram. So, quietly, you exited your bedroom, looking down the hallways of the upstairs floor as to reassure that the coast was clear.

It was.

More silently than you've ever done so before, then, you tip-toed to your parents bedroom, hoping to either alert them of an intruder or ask them what the were doing. But, just as you were about to open their door, footsteps were heard on the other side - not your mother's quiet, considerate ones, nor your father's loud, heavy ones, but a different kind.

Fuck.

As fast as you could, you dashed into the nearest room, leaving the door only just barely open as to not allow it to make any sound. From your parent's room exited a dark silhouette, wearing what you guessed was a trench coat and with only the burning edge of a cigarette as a light source plucked between two fingers.

You were right. You were fucking right. No other than Jason Dean was in your house, and right now, he was heading right for your bedroom, most likely intending to kill.

You needed to think fast.

My parents - right, my parents. They keep a gun in their bedroom.

You were shaking. Yes, your parents showed you were they kept the gun in the case of an emergency, but you'd never been taught how to use it.

As quietly as you could, you dashed over to your parents bedroom, closing the door behind you. And, even though you knew you didn't have the time, you took a moment to catch your breath. God, you couldn't breathe. And neither could your parents, as it seemed, when you looked over at their limp corpses sprawled in the bed. Slowly, you retracted the covers from their bodies, only to find a wet pool of blood that lay beneath them and their slit throats.

They were dead. J. D. had fucking killed your parents. You felt your knees buckle underneath you as you caressed your mother's lifeless face, her eyes never to once again open.

"Mom..." You whimpered, not caring if her blood stained your fingers. But then, you paused, realizing that, if you didn't speed up, you could be next.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! I really need to find a weapon or a way out of here. I only have so much time before he finds me.

You suppressed a scream as you then scoured their bedroom in search of the gun safe, not keen on wasting any more time, but to your dismay, you couldn't find it.

They must have moved it from last year - fuck! - what else could they have?

Your eyes then landed on your father's esteemed baseball bat. You'd remember him talking about it, the pride radiating from him as he explained how it was the first bat he used to hit a home run with in high school.

Well, sorry dad.

Picking up what was now a weapon and placing it in such a way that would allow you to swing at a moment's notice, you slowly sauntered out of your parent's bedroom and into the hallway.

Your blood ran colder and colder as you approached your bedroom door, until, finally, you did, and raised the baseball bat even higher as to deliver the hardest blow on the boy that stood before you.

"You know, it would have probably been better if you'd stayed hiding," you then heard J. D. speak, turning around and raising an eyebrow at the bat in you hands. "You know, that isn't going to do much against a gun."

Time seemed to stop, and all you could stare at was the gun that sat loosely in J. D.'s hand. He was going to fucking kill you.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm not going to use it on you," he then reassured coyly, as if reading your mind. "It's just a necessary... precaution. Now, why don't place the bat down so we can talk."

"I could scream."

J. D. seemed to smile at this and clicked his tongue, as if scolding you. "Now, would you really like to have someone else's blood on your hands like that? Just because I'm not going to shoot you doesn't mean I won't shoot anyone else. It'd be a shame if anyone had to die because of you."

Silence.

"Good, now... place the bat down."

Nodding, you complied, slowly placing your only means of defence on the ground.

"Okay, okay," you mumbled, trying to calm your racing heart down. Though you doubted it, you supposed that there was a chance that, if you could calm down enough, you could convince J. D. to leave you alive.

J. D. grinned. "Now, darling, why don't you come right here."

If you could've moved, you most certainly would've. After all, you'd seen that gun in J. D.'s hand. You knew what it could do. But you were frozen by fear, and no amount of rationality was going to move you.

"Now, this would all be, uh, a lot easier if you'd just come with me, because I'd hate to have to man-handle - " J. D.'s words cut short as he watched you, nearly stunned, as you bolted past him and towards the window. But he was quick to recoup his bearings, cocking the gun (for good measure) and grab onto your leg, successfully dragging you towards the ground. You grunted in pain upon your head slamming against the hardwood floor, the beginnings of a bruise already starting to appear.

Now only partially unconscious, it took you a long while to notice the tongue now prying apart your mouth and the chapped lips pressed against your own. You'd only really noticed when you realized that you couldn't breathe, and you let out a strangled groan as you tried to detach yourself from the figure above you, but to no avail. J. D. merely slid his tongue deeper down your throat, inhibiting you from screaming or making any other noise as he kissed you roughly.

You thrashed and flailed under his touch, but nothing was enough to free yourself from him. He was faster, stronger, and had the firearm in this situation. You stood no chance. So, with a heavy heart, you moved pliantly underneath J. D.'s touch, hoping he'd at least go a little easier on you at the very least.

And then, with bated breath, you observed as he stopped, and, hovering above you, took something out of his pocket. At first, fearing it was a gun, you began to once again fight against him, but then paused upon not recognizing the silhouette of the object in his hand.

"You know, as much as I'd like to continue this, I did come here for a reason." J. D. stared at you, no ounce of sympathy as he spoke his next words. "You know, it'd have been a hell of a lot easier if you'd just fucking stayed asleep."

Without so much as a moment to respond, a wet rag was forced upon your face. Confused at first, you lied still, before realizing what it must have been drenched it. You were now even more urgent in your fighting of J. D. (if that was even possible), punching and kicking him wherever you could. But he didn't budge, simply kept a firm grip on the rag.

"Shhh, it's fine, I won't hurt ya," he reassured, "Not unless I need to, of course."

But you didn't hear him, your consciousness already slipping as you'd only been half conscious before. You were trying to kick free, but already you were so exhausted, your adrenaline already beginning to ware off. Worse still, J. D.'s words of reassurance that you'd be fine and that everything will be alright were starting to mess with you.

You could hear him talking, but the words were muffled and blurred, and your body seemed to take everything in as if it were truth, because it was already relaxing under his cool touch. And it seemed that, the more fearful your mind grew, the more numb your body became, until, finally, you gave up your thrashing and your fighting, and sunk into J. D. harsh embrace willingly.

Upon your figure going limp, a devilish grin spread across J. D.'s face. Though he knew this was not how things were meant to occur, he was simply so happy - for he finally had you in his arms, where you belonged. And then, unable to help himself, he pressed a hungry kiss on your mouth, pleased to hear a muffled moan escape it as your tongue moved submissively under his own.

This was it! Finally - finally, after waiting for so long, you belonged to him. No more were the days when he'd have to watch you through your bedroom window, or the days where all he'd see of you were your paranoid eyes in the hallways, because, finally, here you were, in his arms, where you belonged!

Here you were at last, finally.

Finally, you were his and only his.

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iovesia · 1 year

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LEAVE ME WITH WATERCOLOR EYES.

❥⠀masterlist. ⠀:⠀ ( heathers masterlist. & gif credit. )

synopsis: breaking up with jd proves to be more than difficult when he's not willing to let you go that easy.

warnings: angst. blackmail. yandere themes. use of cigarettes. one non-con kiss. manhandling. toxic relationship dynamics. not proof read.

pairings: jason dean 𝒙 fem!reader.

josie's note .⁺ ˖ ⌒ this was originally posted on my ao3 as a drabble, but i felt like making a little extended version of this fic. your media consumption is your own responsibility, read the warnings and enjoy!— reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated !! ♡

⠀

"What are you doing here?" You spat, glaring at the dark figure standing in the corner of your bedroom. The moonlight through the window illuminating his black leather boots, and the lighter he pulled out his pocket.

It was hardly shocking to find him lurking in your room. J.D frequently slithered in through your window, and while you normally awaited his nightly visits with enthusiasm and delight— now you just wished you bought a stronger lock.

The flick of the lighter echoed through the dimly lit room, and the flame briefly shone on his face, revealing his cheshire smirk. You watched carefully as he took a step forward, placing the lit cigarette in between his lips, the heavy aroma of the Marlboro filling your nose.

He knew how much you hated his smoking.

"I said, what are you doing here—"

"I waited, you know?" He interrupts, taking another puff of his cigarette. "Two weeks, I waited for you to come crawling back to me."

"And you can wait forever, for all I care. It's over, J.D. Grow up!" Something inside you snapped as you stalked towards him. You were tired of letting him push you around, bending you backwards to his will with whatever and whenever he pleased.

Your lips pressed into a thin line and your nails pressed hard into the palm of your hand. It pissed you off to no end how apathetic he was. His constant nihilism, and need to feel superior to his peers. But, maybe that's what attracted you to him in the first place.

He pursed his lips and blew a small cloud of smoke into your face. You let out a small cough, as burning sensation bloomed into your eyes. J.D smoothly walked past you, his leather trench coat scratching against your arm.

"It sucks you made me do this," he muttered. His hand pushing around a stack of unknown papers on your desk.

"Do what? What's that?"

J.D's eerie smile continues to hang on his lips as he slowly picks up the paper, and flips it over. Your heart dropped and your chest tightened as you watch him pick up more photos. He lets you watch in horror for a minute, before you rush over to him, arm reaching out for the pictures. He holds them above your head, as you grab his arm with one hand, the other desperately reaching upwards. J.D sighs contently, he missed your warmth against him.

"J.D— what the hell?! Where did—" Your words die in your throat as you catch a glimpse of your desk. You push J.D away, and begin to scavenge through the stack of photos. There were so many. So many photos of you forging suicide letters, and other compromising evidence that would surely ruin you if they were released.

When the hell did he take this? How did I not notice? You thought to yourself, your hands shaking with adrenaline.

"It's come to this, hm?" JD sighs mockingly, the side of his face hanging over your shoulder. Tears brimmed your eyes, blurring the sight of the incriminating photos of you, that JD had sprawled over the table. You felt his arm tighten around your waist, pushing your back against his chest.

"You can't show this to anyone. We have to throw these away."

"I could happily throw these away, but you'd never know who might find it. It'd be a shame if they were to end up in the wrong hands. Hell, I mean, you'd never know what they'd do with these," JD's piercing stare bore into you, but you shut your eyes, tears now freely rolling down your face. "Make copies... plaster them around the school.. or send them to the cops." He takes the cigarette out his mouth, pushing the lit end against the table before tossing it in the bin nearby.

"God, you're fucking psychotic," You let out a small breath, lower lip quivering as you harshly shoved him. Suddenly, a rigid grip on your jaw forced you closer, your chest pressed against his. You squeeze your eyes shut, another lump choked up in your throat.

"Look at me," J.D whispers softly, sending a cold chill down your spine. You felt his breath on your face as you slowly shook your head.

"C'mon, darling.. please look at me," J.D places a gentle kiss on your cheek, his grip still tight on your jaw and you were sure it was going to leave a mark later. Reluctantly, your eyes fluttered open and your teary gaze met his cold, empty eyes.

"If you really cared me, you wouldn't do this to me," you argued, your lower lip wobbling as a fresh set of tears burned your eyes.

"Sweetheart, I'm doing this because I care about you.. we're meant to be," he replies, as he presses another kiss on your forehead. He releases your head from his suffocating grip, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb. You were a bird trapped in his cage, and he had just clipped your wings.

"You'll see that soon."

#dark.josie #jason dean x reader #jd x reader #jason dean imagine #heathers imagine #heathers x reader #heathers 1989 #jason dean

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lanawinterscigarettes · 1 year

Text

Study Date (poly! Veronica Sawyer x reader x Jason Dean)

Description: you have a study date with your partners Veronica and JD

A/N: I rewatched Heathers again and got this idea for a fic, and although I'm pretty convinced this is super crappy I figured I might as well put out some sort of content

Warnings: smoking, dark humor

"Ugh, this is so boring," you complained as you watched Veronica review over her notes in preparation for an upcoming test.

"It's math, it's not supposed to be exciting," she responded before flipping to another page.

JD chuckled, observing the two of you before pulling a cigarette from his coat and going to light it.

"Jason, you can't smoke in here!" You scolded as you snatched the cigarette from his mouth.

He frowned before picking up another one. "Why not?"

"Because this is my house, and if my parents find out they're going to be pissed. Now give me your lighter so you won't be tempted." You held your hand out, gesturing towards the lighter he was holding.

He let out a small laugh, assuming you were joking before he realized you weren't. "Aw, come on, you can't be serious."

"I very much am, unless you want to explain to my parents why their house smells like cigarette smoke. Now hand it over."

Veronica held back a laugh as she watched JD reluctantly give you his beloved lighter.

"Thank you, very much," you said as you tucked it into your backpack.

"Well, now I'm bored," JD commented.

"Maybe if you pulled out your textbook and studied for tomorrow's test you wouldn't be," Veronica suggested as she held up her book.

"I don't need to study, I'm sure I'll do fine," he said as he tapped his fingers on the table. "Man, I could really use a smoke right about now."

"See? He's taking the same test we are, why doesn't he have to study?" You asked as Veronica took your copy of the textbook out of your bag.

"Because he's a delinquent who gets himself in trouble on purpose, that's why," she said while handing it to you. "Here's your book, now study."

"This is lame," you mumbled as you sunk down low in your seat.

"Tell me about it. If I had known things were going to be this boring I would have found somebody to piss me off so I'd have an excuse to fake a suicide. At least that would excite me," he joked.

You laughed loudly before seeing the look of judgment on your girlfriend's face. "Ahem, I mean, that's not funny JD, shame on you," you fake lectured while he snorted at your antics.

Veronica playfully rolled her eyes before tapping on the textbook in front of you. "Study."

You crossed your arms over you chest and huffed. "But I don't wanna. Can't I just study later?"

"Study later- the test is tomorrow! How much time do you think you're going to have between now and then to study if you wait?"

You shrugged your shoulders, your boyfriend letting out an amused chuckle as you did so.

"I mean, she's not wrong," he pointed out.

"Oh, shut up JD, you have no room to talk," Veronica huffed, JD holding his hands up in surrender as she did so.

"Why is this so important to you?" You ask as you watch her furiously scribble in the margins of her textbook. "You've never been that much of a stickler when it comes to grades before, so why start now?"

"Because-" she sighed, setting down her pencil, "-when we graduate high school I'm probably going to move somewhere else to go to college, and I don't want you guys to get left behind. That's all."

You and JD shared a look. You'd never thought of it that way before. I mean, sure, Sherwood wasn't the worst place in the world, but it certainly wasn't the best either. The thought of you and JD getting stuck there, barely scraping to get by while Veronica was off seeing the world sent a shiver down your spine.

"Alright, fair enough." If it really meant that much Veronica that you study, then that's what you'd do.

Her face softened into a grateful smile, watching as you opened up your textbook to the notes page. She reached her hand across the table and set it down on yours, giving it a soft squeeze.

"Thanks, honey. I really appreciate it."

"Just know, I'm only doing this for you, okay? There's literally no one else in the world that could convince me to do math homework for them."

Veronica let out a small chuckle before turning her gaze to JD, who had stolen back his lighter and was casually smoking a cigarette.

"Jason!" You exclaimed, reaching over to snatch it from his mouth while Veronica laughed.

{Divider by: @celcero}

Main masterlist | Heathers masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist?

🏷 taglist: @anxiously-sad @iloveentrapta @ghot-girl @gilmore-angel @alexxavicry

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married-to-google-translater · 2 years

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Jason Dean meet your Ex partner

Okay it's JD.

If your Ex hasn't died after the meeting, it's been a really good day.

And if they don't have any injuries it's a miracle.

It all started when you and JD were drinking slush on 7 11

And then a very familiar person entered the scene.

Your asshole ex.

You and Ex didn't have the best relationship. They were a racist jerk who started spreading gossip about you when you wanted to break up with them.

Fortunately, eventually their family moved to another state and you were finally able to have some peace.

But now they were back.

JD could immediately see on your face that you were not happy to see this person.

Maybe he would even know who the person was.

JD and you had been talking a lot.

The bad luck continued when your ex came to talk to you.

( So bad luck from the point of view of the ex. )

And they were still as bad as when they left.

JD is planning a murder at this point.

He's a canon yandere.

Your Ex is a problem that needs to be removed.

If it wasn't 7 11 he could shoot the ex right away.

JD wanted to talk to your ex alone.

After that, Ex looked really traumatized.

JD refused to say what he said to the ex.

#heathers #heathers x reader #heathers imagine #heathers imagines #heathers headcanons #jd #jd x reader #jd imagines #jd imagine #jd heathers #jd headcanon #jd headcanons #jason dean x reader #jason dean #jason dean imagine #jason dean imagines #jason dean headcanons #yandere heathers #yandere jason dean

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mxlti-fand0m-imaginess · 6 months

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WOOHOOO LETS FUCKING GOOOOOO WILBURRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉

YOU DESERVE EVERY FUCKING FOLLOWER YOU'RE SO COOL!!!!!!!!!

And uh could you write a little blurb or headcanon or whatever about Veronica Sawyer (Heathers)? She's my favorite musical character ever! AND CONGRATS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

thank you so much!! you’re so sweet :D

i hope you enjoy this, and have a wonderful day!!

you smiled as you walked over to your girlfriend, veronica. “holy shit. i can’t believe you actually did it.”

a small laugh fell from your lips, earning you a glare from veronica. despite how giddy you seemed over the whole thing, she didn’t quite share the feeling.

“are you actually happy about this? we just killed someone! i just- i just killed my best friend,” she said, collapsing onto the plush red chair in front of heather’s vanity.

you smiled even wider, “and your worst enemy.”

veronica waved dismissively. “same difference. what the hell are we gonna do?! i- i can’t go to prison! i just got into stanford!”

you walked over to her and placed your hands on her shoulders, sliding them down so you were hugging her from behind. even though she was still very much upset with you, you could feel her slightly relax into your embrace.

“everything will be fine, my love. i’ll take care of things. don’t you worry your pretty little head about this, alright?”

you pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. sighing, veronica reached up to place her hands over yours.

“you’re talking like you’ve done this before,” she said, gently squeezing your hands.

“are you sure you wanna know?” you replied, smile never leaving your face.

when veronica didn’t respond, you walked around the chair to face her and pulled her up to her feet.

“go home, darling. i’ll clean up your little mess.”

#mxlti-fand0m-imaginess #wilbur’s 2.5k celebration #imagine #imagines #x reader #oneshot #blurb #heathers #heathers x reader #heathers imagine #heathers oneshot #heathers blurb #veronica sawyer #veronica sawyer x reader #veronica sawyer oneshot #veronica sawyer imagine #veronica sawyer blurb

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oncasette · 1 year

Note

A SUNDAY KIND OF LOVE. jason dean with “i watch the moon, let it run my mood. can’t stop thinking of you.” ❤️‍🩹

you hadn't seen jd in weeks. well, a week. six days, to be more exact, but you’d always been one for dramatics.

you're not even entirely sure why he'd left, sure he'd told you in his convoluted way of telling you things, and surer that you'd let it pass you by in favor of reveling in the feel of him beside you.

still, your room was cold without him there to keep you company.

the window beside your bed stayed cracked, just a hair, because it creaked the worst when it was being unlatched and you didn't want your parents hearing when jd snuck in in the middle of the night. now, despite however much you attempted to busy yourself with other things, the only thing you could think to do was stare out at the moon behind the panes. the full, heavy, milk-white moon that taunts you with the idle knowledge of another night passing without him.

#jason dean #jason dean x reader #heathers #heathers imagine #christian slater #christian slater x reader

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heathersaddict · 1 year

Text

Wait... I just accidently created something in my head, and I need to share it...

Okay, so basically, I was singing a solo version of Requiem from Dear Evan Hansen, and I thought, "oh, what if veronica sang this after J.D. 'exploded' " and HOLY CRAP IT FITS SO FUCKING WELL!

ANIMATORS/ARTISTS IN THE HEATHERS FANDOM, I NEED A VIDEO/COMIC/ANIMATIC OF VERONICA SINGING THIS!!! PLEASE WORK YOUR MAGIC!! I NEED TO SEE THIS BEFORE I DIE!!

#heathers #heathers fanart #heathers imagine #imagine if Veronica Sawyer sang Requiem from DEH #ARTISTS ASSEMBLE #Animatic Idea #PLEASE MAKE THIS #veronica sawyer #jd heathers #jdronica #heathers the musical #heathers the movie

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shasha-writes-things · 1 year

Note

OOOH JD requests...hear me out....JD with a reader....who is just....weird as fuck like eat day old spaghetti with cotton candy weird send him dead birds as love presents (even tho he hasn't told them his address) weird constantly screaming and laughing profanities weird....reader is probably just batshit crazy.....for him...i think he might be a little scared of them-

If you want to of course-

@morii-marbles

Okay firstly I am super hyped to be getting the JD requests we all got heathers brain rot? secondly THIS request I read it once and thought huh that'll be fun but now I've come back to it and its making JD the school blowing up JD look sane and normal, its a weird juxtaposition.

He realises that he is now your veronica when he had moments were he will tell you not to do something.

His friends call you weird but he always laughs it off and says its your way of being romantic.

Big Bud Dean is scared of you and that guy isn't scared of his murderous son the pure unbridled weirdness makes him step back.

JD feels like he can connect with you.

The screaming and laughing at first makes him jump but soon it just becomes background noise he tunes out most of the time.

"Yeah they're weird but we're all a bit weird right?"

Your bizarre eating habits didn't set him off he just said it's just preference but the second it left food preferences he was slightly alarmed.

Has called you kitten because the dead bird as a gift reminds him of cats, which surprising he likes. he likes cats.

And the address well girls climbing through his window Isn't something he's never encountered and he never gave Veronica his address.

Despite your oddities he's not exactly the most normal a lot more than you but he thinks you blend well

Regardless he enjoys your company despite the fact you can scare him at times he has some trust that you wouldn't hurt him.

Hope you enjoyed be sure to send in anything else

#jd heathers #jd imagine #jd x reader #jd imagines #jd headcanons #heathers imagine #headcannons #heathers #hes so precious #Hey guys #Love you guys!

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blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms · 1 year

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JD- Veronica Sawyer (2)

Pairing: Veronica Sawyer x Reader

Characters: Veronica Sawyer, Jason Dean

Warnings: Violent Attack

Request: Wattpad- Veronica Sawyer - Word Prompt: Dying

Word Count: 435

Author: Charlotte

As soon as you heard the backdoor open and slam, you turned your attention back to the door that seemed to loom tall over your crumpled form on the floor.

“Y/N,” You heard Veronica call from outside.

She jiggled the handle and realising it was open, entered your home as she had done many times in your long-lasting friendship, but she was greeted by something that she had never seen before.

“What happened?” She exclaimed, dropping the snacks she had brought over for movie night, kneeling beside you.

You gave her a pained smile. “I told you that JD was bad news.”

She paused for a second before realisation washed over her.

“JD did this?” He asked.

You nodded your head, still trying to hold pressure to your wound to slow the gushes of blood that escaped you.

“He didn’t want me getting between you.”

Veronica grabbed the phone from the wall, stretching the wire down to her on the floor. She dialled 911 and asked for an ambulance, detailing your injuries and keeping the phone receiver pressed between her ear and shoulder.

“Veronica,” you croaked, starting to feel weak from the blood loss. “If I die…”

She shook her head at you, gently brushing your hair out of your face, stopping it from clinging to your sweat clad skin.

“You’re not dying,” she smiled softly. “You aren’t going to die on me.”

You let out a weak laugh. You hoped it was true. You hoped you weren’t going to die but you didn’t know if that would be the case due to the amount of blood that was escaping you.

“I don’t blame you,” you whispered. “I don’t blame you for not believing me at first, for pushing me away.”

“I was trying to keep you safe, but I couldn’t even do that right. I thought he wouldn’t hurt you if I made it seem like you weren’t onto him, but I never thought he would actually do this.”

You took a deep breath, trying to make sure you didn’t expel too much energy or move enough that it exasperated the pain that coursed through you.

“He’s a sick bastard,” you said. “And no matter what happens to me, please make sure he gets what he deserves.”

Veronica nodded her head. “I can’t help him anymore, I don’t care if I get convicted, I can’t let him get away with it any longer.”

She stayed by your sides, assuring you that it was going to be okay until the ambulance arrived, taking you to the hospital to do all they could to help you.

#JD #Request #Veronica Sawyer #Veronica Sawyer Imagine #Veronica Sawyer One Shot #Heathers #Heathers One Shot #Heathers Imagine #Heathers The Musical #Heathers The Musical Imagine #Heathers The Musical One Shot #Charlotte

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slasherscream · 1 year

Note

black girl high femme reader request here 👄💅 can we get a black!reader who's aesthetic is super girly y2k w/ crazy ass boys gang. Maybe she's got a little attitude but is sweet w/ the boys?? Thank youuuuuu 🧡

A/N: oh god yes i LOVE y2k as a black girl and i want to do a fashion wardrobe reboot when i have the money, don’t care if it’s just a trend i love it

crazy ass boys gang + black!reader who loves y2k fashion

billy loomis: First off he loves brats, he really does. He doesn’t know what it is about that little attitude of yours but it gets to him. The way you dress is what first got him eyeballing you. If we’re being frank, how feminine you were made him think you’d be the perfect victim (problematic? uhm, yeah.) Local man who doesn’t know how to separate extreme attraction from his murderous urges please stand up. He started talking to you and decided he was going to go on a few dates with you first though. You’ve gotta know someone in order to make their nightmares come true when you’re killing them! But he fell in love with you instead >:((. He’ll be angry about that for a while, honestly.

josh washington: Thinks you’re a baddie. This is the highest compliment since he’s always around baddies. He can’t help it, it’s the natural order of things. He’s rich, funny, outgoing, and popular. He attracts hot people in droves. He’s only ever got eyes for you though. Thinks your attitude is well-deserved. If he looked half as hot as you he’d have an attitude too. Likes to watch you get ready when you two go out. Also likes adding new pieces to your wardrobe. The reward is watching you look so good (plus the kisses, those are great too.)

stu macher: He likes mean people so he peeps your attitude quickly and it makes him go ‘awooga’. You’ll assume it was your looks but no, it was your resting bitch face. He really likes your makeup. Loves it when you do a lip-liner and colored gloss look. Always chases you around trying to make out with you because he likes the shine of it getting smeared everywhere. Gets you a lot of accessories and designer things. You stay decked out in baby phat and baby phat equivalent. Also, he loves to match.

jd/jason dean: Isn’t that impressed with aesthetics. He’s been all around the country and observed all sorts of cliques. Still, he appreciates your dedication to one particular look. Bonus points if where you live no one else is doing it quite like you. If you’re not afraid to stick out, that will definitely grab his attention. Dressed to impress even though you’re just going on a quick snack run to 7/11? It makes him smirk. You’re a little high maintenance, and it’s not typically what he’d go for, but there’s something about your Queen Bee attitude that keeps him locked down forever.

kevin khatchadourian: As disrespectfully as possible, he does not care ☠️. Secretly he does like that Eva hates the way you dress (she is ever so slightly prejudiced, if not ever so slightly full-on racist.) This is something you have in common as she also hates the way he dresses. Doesn’t like it when you give him attitude but doesn’t care how you treat other people at all. Probably prefers it when you’re mean to other people. The smaller your circle is the more time you have for him. Is noticeably kinder to you when you’re being sweet to him though, so keep eye-rolls and teeth sucking to a minimum for your own sake.

nathan prescott: Tries not to be obsessed with you but he is. You make him froth at the mouth. He takes one look at you and demands you start hanging out with his crowd so he can always have you around but pretend he’s not that interested. You see right through him and probably ignore his ass, just for a laugh, just because you can. This makes him even worse and bruises his ego. He’ll break before you do and it won’t be particularly romantic but you can’t expect much when it comes to Nathan and romance. Gift giving isn’t so much his love language as it is a compulsion because he’s miserable at showing his affection any other way. Loves the way you look but is not confident enough in his taste to buy you clothes on his own. Throws his wallet at you and demands fashion shows once you get back from your shopping spree. Some of your date nights involve him just taking pictures of you and instructing you how to pose. It relaxes him.

sebastian valmont: What’s better than one bad bitch? Two bad bitches. You two look so good together it’s sickening. You don’t match, but the opposing styles you have wind up looking very sleek side by side. He loves shopping and always pays for the trips. Will even get you two personal shoppers that will bring clothes to you so you can have “lowkey” dates at your mansion. You two are high maintenance together. Equally bratty. He loves that he can be bitchy with you but also loves that he can be sentimental and soft as well. Because of the circles he runs in, people have said one or two nasty things about you behind your back, like calling you a gold-digger. He has ruined more than a few people’s lives over these comments. Tells you about it too because he needs you to know he’ll take care of you in all regards. Romantic king.

david mccall: You’re definitely not the first black girl he’s dated. He’s got “I regularly date black women” swag. He knows all the drills. Likes to spoil you rotten and get you to go soft for him. He likes your hard-ass persona too though. Parades you around because you’re literally the catch of the century. You two are attached at the hip because he’s toxic. There are no more girls only nights. He’s always playing body-guard. Upside, he looks hot when he’s staring people down for looking at you too long. You can always wear what you want because he’s always ready to fight. Sits and feeds you food while you get your nails and hair done and never complains no matter how long it takes. The only thing he does afterwards is fawn over the way you look and pay the bill. Again, he knows the drill.

sparrow!ben hargreeves: Is very focused on appearances since he’s always lived in the limelight. He’s always put together so he needs a partner who is on the same wavelength when it comes to looking good. Knows you’re not dating him for his fame because you give nasty ass looks to the paparazzi whenever they interrupt dates. It honestly makes him laugh, which is hard to do. He loves your mean little attitude when it’s directed at other people. Do not get snippy with him or y’all will be yelling at each other anytime and anyplace. Apologizes to you with expensive gifts. You make him use his words anyways and it enrages him, but he’s addicted to you so he says he’s sorry through gritted teeth. (He thinks the thousands of dollars of Off-White clothes he got you should have sufficed as a “sorry” but he keeps his mouth wisely shut.)

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#billy loomis x reader #black!reader #black reader #stu macher x reader #kevin khatchadourian x reader #jd x reader #ben hargreeves x reader #josh washington x reader #david mccall x reader #sebastian valmont x reader #nathan prescott x reader #umbrella academy imagine #scream imagine #fear 1996 #heathers imagine #crazy ass boys gang

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