#heathers imagine

[bloody-cupcakes]

omg wait what about dark reader play fighting with jd until you have him pinned to like the bed or something and teasing him when he starts to get turned on?

I think I'm starting to make the reader meaner and meaner with each one of these asks, and I don't even feel bad about it. Also I had to cut jump the scene to right after they started play fighting because I have no idea how to write that honestly 😭

Tw: yandere/dark content, gender neutral reader, noncon/dubcon elements, heavily suggestive, play fighting, brief grinding, mean reader (they make fun of JD for being horny), swearing, JD's a little bit of a pervert in this one

"Aha, got you!"

A proud grin was on your face as you successfully pinned JD down to the bed. He seemed a little miffed about "losing", only agreeing to do this in the first place because he thought for sure he'd win.

"Yeah, great," he grumbled with an eye roll, squirming slightly at the way your hands were holding down his wrists. "Now get off."

"Wait a minute-"

He scoffed in annoyance at your refusal to move right away, starting to feel more and more frustrated by the second. As you would soon come to find, that wasn't the only thing he was feeling currently.

"-dude, are you hard right now?"

He felt his face heat up at your question, trying to ignore just how much the answer was clearly yes. He could feel it, and now you could feel it, too.

But he didn't want to admit it, so he decided to lie through his teeth instead. "N- no..."

"You sure about that?" You smirked while pressing your knee further into his crotch, feeling the way his cock seemed to jolt forward and stiffen up in his pants at the action.

"St- stop-" He mumbled as he turned his head away, avoiding your gaze while his cheeks flushed bright red.

"Oh my God, you are." A sudden laugh erupted from your throat the moment you realized just how aroused he was, which did nothing but make him feel more embarrassed.

"S- shut up! It's not funny!" He tried to protest, the scowl he had on his lips immediately falling away when your knee forcefully rubbed against his groin.

It was now your turn to roll your eyes at him and the way he was acting. "Oh, don't be such a baby. You're fine."

"I- I'm serious, knock it off-" He tried to push you off him but you had firmly planted your body on top of his, your hands still pinning down his wrists at his sides.

"Or what? You'll shoot me?" You openly mocked, giving him a look of feigned fear. "Oh no, I'm so scared."

The embarrassment he felt about the current situation was quickly beginning to give way to another emotion he was much more well acquainted with: rage.

"Yeah, you know what? I just might."

If it had been anyone else, they would've gotten off him immediately. Hell, if it had been anyone else they wouldn't even risk play fighting with him to begin with.

But you weren't just anyone else, meaning you weren't scared of him, so despite the glare he was staring up at you with you did the exact opposite of what someone else might do and ignored him.

"Y'know, if I had of known you'd get so worked up over something as simple as play fighting-" you leaned down closer so that your face was mere inches away from his "-I would've done this a long time ago."

"Fuck you," he spit out angrily through gritted teeth as he tried his best not to give in to the arousal that was coursing through his body.

Merely shrugging, you responded calmly with, "Well, I mean, if you insist. I wasn't planning on going any further here, but if you really want to-"

Starting to become sick and tired of your teasing, he attempted to push you off him for a second time. Unlike when he first tried to do it, it actually worked, but that was only because you willingly let go.

You snickered in delight at his red face and heavy breathing, watching as he tried to pull himself together between all the dirty looks he shot you. It was clear you weren't worried or bothered by his anger from the way you casually leaned back, relaxing as you rested your hands behind your head.

"The next time you get hard from me being that close to you, I'll force you to cum in your pants for being such a dirty little pervert."

JD had no idea whether your words were meant to be a threat or a promise, and although he knew he should feel offended by them he couldn't help the shiver of pleasure that ran down his spine.

He could only hope you hadn't been able to tell how he did actually cum in his pants, which was why he shoved you off him in the first place.

If you knew just how difficult it was for him to be close to you without getting a hard-on, you'd never let him live it down.

[lanawinterscigarettes]

hiii can I request a Kinktober JD x AFAB reader that includes: marking kink (on JD’s end), praise kink for either character, and an oral fixation/face sitting (reader receiving)? all fine if not

absolutely you can! thanks for requesting something for kinktober, I really hope you like it <3

Kinktober 2024 Day 15: marking kink, praise kink, and oral fixation/face-sitting with Jason Dean x afab reader

Warnings: smut/nsfw content, marking kink/biting, swearing, praise kink, oral fixation/face-sitting, brief hair pulling, JD gets a little subby towards the end (I regret nothing), implied/mentioned overstimulation

You weren't sure how long JD had spent with his face between your thighs, but it was certainly long enough to both infuriate you and leave you desperately wanting more.

See, the problem was he hadn't actually started eating you out like you'd initally hoped. Instead he decided to mark up the inside of your thighs first, biting and sucking the sensitive skin there until they were practically covered with hickeys.

It was almost as if he was determined to make them match the lovebites on your neck, which was kind of funny considering no one would even be able to see the inside of your thighs except him. Then again, the thought alone of only him knowing about the marks there probably got him off, the possessive bastard.

"Can you just hurry up already?" You snapped after a while, starting to get fed up with his teasing.

He lifted his head up, a taunting smirk toying with his lips as he watched you. "I'm sorry, am I keeping you from something?"

A low growl of frustration formed in the back of your throat as you reached your hand down to grab onto his hair, yanking his head up a little bit more. "You've had your fun messing with me, but I'm starting to get sick of it."

He kept smirking, trying to remain calm and collected, but you didn't miss the way his eyes narrowed somewhat in annoyance at the action of you grabbing his hair. "And just what do you suggest I do instead?"

You could've smacked the smug look off his face in that moment and not felt the slightest bit guilty. "Get up and lay down on the bed," you ordered while letting go of his hair, not being gentle about it either. "I'm in charge now, which means you're going to do as I say."

For once, he didn't protest (but that was most likely only because he thought it was really hot whenever you bossed him around). He did as you told him to, casually laying back with his hands tucked behind his head. "What, are you finally going to repay me?"

It was difficult not to roll your eyes at his question. Of course he would think the only reason you were telling him to move was so that you could give him a blowjob. After all the waiting that he put you through? Yeah, as if.

"It's cute how you always manage to find a way to make things about you, even in situations when they're very clearly not." Your words were an obvious jab straight at his ego, and while they didn't make as big of a blow to it as you'd hoped they certainly didn't miss judging from the way he removed his hands from behind his head. It was as if he was realizing you had no intent at the moment of helping him get off.

"What's your point?" He looked a bit miffed, his tone holding a snippy edge to it as he kept his eyes trained on you.

"My point is that since you've refused to get me off in the way that you were supposed to, I'm having to resort to other measures." You began moving on the bed as you spoke, shifting until you were kneeling over top of his face, your thighs on either side of his head as you stared down at him with a displeased gaze.

He didn't seem at all upset by the sudden turn of events, and in fact appeared delighted to have you on top of him like that, but his pride still hurt a little from the way you so casually dismissed the idea of giving him a blowjob as a reward for helping you get off (something that he hadn't even properly done yet). "So this is your plan, then? Suffocating me as a punishment for not doing what you wanted?"

"If I wanted to suffocate you, I wouldn't bother with using my thighs. I'd just grab a pillow instead. Much easier."

Your direct manner of answering his snarky question caused him to let out an amused chuckle in response, once again reminding him why he loved you. "Fair enough."

"Now, shut up and do the job you were supposed to have done in the first place," you ordered in a stern tone as you lowered yourself down until your wet pussy made contact with his mouth, a soft groan of pleasure exiting your lips as you finally got some of the friction you so desperately needed.

He let out a soft hum, his tongue darting out almost immediately to lick a stripe along your folds. As much as you hated to admit it, he knew what he was doing when eating you out and was really good at driving you crazy because of it. If only he wasn't such a brat all the time.

You let out a breathy moan, slowing grinding yourself down onto his face. The feeling of his tongue lapping at your wet hole while his nose brushed against your throbbing clit made your back involuntarily arch in pleasure.

His hands gripped onto your thighs as you sat on his face, just tight enough to keep your balance steady. You had no idea whether he could breathe properly or not in his current position, but he didn't seem to care much either way.

"That's it, good boy." The words left your mouth before you could stop them. You always felt the need to praise him for doing a good job, even if he didn't deserve it. "Just like that."

Your words spurned him on further, his hands tightening on your thighs as he pulled you closer to his mouth, if that was possible. He seemed determined to please you, if only to hear those words again. He was so self-centered.

Still, you chose to reward his current good behavior regardless. "You're doing so good, just like that- You can be so well-behaved when you want go be, can't you?"

He responded with a muffled hum, one that seemed to shake you to your very core (in a good way). "Oh, God-" Your hands moved to grab onto the headboard as your eyes fluttered shut. It was getting a little hard for you to keep your current balance, which made you grateful for the firm grip he had on your thighs. "If you can make me cum right now, I'll be so proud of you."

That really did the trick of getting him motivated to get you to your "happy ending". As much of an ego he had, your reassurance that you were proud of him was enough to make him forget all about it, if only for the time being.

Swirling his tongue, he began to eat you out fervently, as if his whole life depended on it. Even after your legs began to tremble worse than before, even after a series of pants and moans escaped you in the heat of your climax, even after you all but collapsed on top of him, he kept going until told him to stop.

"Alright, baby. I think that's it for now," you announced while moving off his face, an action that elicited a needy whine from him.

"I wasn't done yet," he insisted with a pathetic looking pout, his hands instinctively reaching for you again as you laid back on the bed, trying to catch your breath.

"You can get so pitiful sometimes, did you know that?" You lightly teased as you watched him plant soft kisses along the hickeys he'd left behind earlier on your thighs. It was hard to stay mad at him when he was acting like a lovesick puppy.

"Can I keep going?" He begged, lifting his head up just enough to be able to catch your gaze, his face resting on your thigh as he watched you.

"Well, since you did so good for me I suppose I can let your little attitude from earlier slide."

No sooner had those words left your mouth did he shove his face right back to between your thighs, lapping eagerly at your aching folds and clit. Your hand moved to gently grip onto his hair, your head tilting back against the pillows behind you as you got comfortable. Something told you he wouldn't let up until you were an even bigger moaning and pleading mess than before, and of course you ended up being right.

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[slasherscream]

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.

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Being friends with Martha and Veronica would include~

(My very low effort gif/ I legitimately don't think there are any gifs of Martha on tumblr)(Requested by anonymous)

- The most beautiful and heartbreaking thing about becoming Martha's friend is that, no matter how many times she's been burned before, she still accepts your offer of friendship as though those terrible moments never happened. She welcomes you with open arms, immediately trying her absolute hardest to make you happy and comfortable; to ensure that you stick around and don't up and leave her like everyone else.

- The worst part is that she wouldn't even hold it against you if you did: she'd give you a smile and insist that she understood, that she knew people ended up ostracized for being in her company and that she'd hate for it to happen to you.

- But because people tend to avoid her; in fear of the aforementioned ostracization, you'll probably have to be the one to approach her yourself. Although, if you're on the shyer side; and want to befriend the two of them after the whole JD debacle, you'll be relieved to find that Veronica is willing to do the job for you.

- You'll all probably meet in some random corner of the school corridors or the cafeteria, asking to sit with each other and not caring about what any of the other cliques in your school have to say about it. Your first meeting might only last a couple of minutes, but it really doesn't matter. By the end of the day, the three of you are already beginning to form the most genuine friendship in the entire school, one that will only get better the more time you spend with each other.

- Martha really blossoms when she's given the opportunity to: like when you put a dying plant in new soil. She's dorky and sweet, and she never fails to make you laugh or feel better whenever you're feeling down. She's not afraid to be silly with you and it makes hanging out with her incredibly fun.

- She's also incredibly considerate. She'll give you the shirt off her back if you need it, and she'll never forget to carry an extra pencil or book or snack. She'll remember important dates for you: things like your birthday, or the day of your recital, and she'll never fail to show up and show her support.

- Doing almost everything together. After years of having nonexistent or fake friends, the three of you really like to make memories and do all of the stereotypical teenage girl things that you feel like you missed out on. You go to different places together, have sleepovers, spend holidays with each other, drive home after school together, etc. All of your houses slowly start to become each others homes away from home.

- Having designated seats at the lunch table or on the bleachers, or really just wherever the three of you go. You sort of just fall into place the same way every time.

- Hiding out in different parts of school whenever you really don't feel like entertaining high school stupidity. Both Martha and Veronica know all of the perfect places to avoid social interaction, and in a school as crazy as yours, that's very important information.

- You all usually walk to class together: walking to Martha's class first, then to yours, then Veronica to hers. You both look out for Martha, and Veronica looks out for you and herself: she's a lot more confident and uncaring about everything around you so most of the time she really just looks out for anything that might phase you.

- Comforting and being there for each other. High schools hard, and the three of you know that more than anyone else. So whether it's cutting class, or sitting in the school bathroom for all of lunch, or waking up to a phone call at three am, one of you is always there for the other. Screw the rest of the world, you have each other, and nothing else matters.

- Veronica's house is usually your main hangout spot. Her parents are probably a little confused by the very abrupt change of friends, but they're fairly clueless and still very happy to welcome you in.

Movie nights, complete with popcorn and junk food. You all go to the rental store after school on Fridays or during holidays, and the each of you pick one out, teasing each other over your selections and laughing over their descriptions.

- Having picnics. You usually have them in Veronicas backyard: fetching snacks from inside, doing your homework, and occasionally playing croquet; though she might hate the game after her time with the Heathers.

- Lounging around your bedrooms, doing each others makeup, watching television or listening to albums, snacking, chatting, and just plain laughing with each other.

- Going shopping. Martha and Veronica both have very distinct fashion styles, and both of them are very vastly different, so you always go to a bunch of different stores and help each other decide on things.

- Going to the record store. You guys have a collection of new albums that you go to each others houses to listen to. You take turns buying the newest releases and letting whoever likes it best take it home; it helps you not completely drain all of your savings.

- Martha loves taking polaroid's of the three of you. She's very sentimental and she likes having keepsakes of all of your fondest memories.

- Helping set Martha up with a genuinely nice guy who will actually care for her. I think it's kind of obvious that she wants a boyfriend, but she's not always willing to go out and look for it; especially after years of ruthless bullying, so you and Veronica put in the work for her.

- Showing Martha that people will like her, genuinely like her, and that everything that was said or done to her was complete and utter bullshit. Once you get to know her, you'll find that she's a genuinely lovely person, and you'll spend the rest of your friendship convincing her of that fact.

- Even when Veronica was "friends" with the Heathers, she desperately wanted to have a real friendship; sort of like the one she had with Betty when she was younger. So she's really happy that she was able to find it with you and Martha, and she tries her hardest to repent for her past social hierarchy sins: doing her best to make sure that you and Martha never fall for any of the mean pranks or petty tricks that popular people like to pull.

- Overall, it's simply the greatest friend group you'll ever have.

[oh-goddess-of-chaos]

⠀ 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.

© do not translate, steal, or repost any of my works elsewhere without consulting me and gaining my consent.

[mxlti-fand0m-imaginess]

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.”

[oncasette]

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.

[heathersaddict]

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!!

[shasha-writes-things]

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

[blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms]

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.

[dorabellingham]

Prom

warning: anguish and sadness

characters: jude x fem!reader

summary: when he takes another girl to the prom, but you are completely in love with your best friend

may contain spelling and translation errors!

It was December, and the typical cold of the English winter dominated Birmingham. You were sitting on the wooden bench in the schoolyard, staring at the ground covered in dry leaves and damp. The class was excited about the upcoming ninth grade prom, but for you, the enthusiasm didn't seem to be contagious.

You were wearing a sweater borrowed from Jude, something he had thrown over your shoulders days before when the icy wind made you shiver during a break.

—It looks better on you than it does on me.

He had said, smiling in a carefree way.

You kept that moment in your heart, feeding a spark of hope that, deep down, you knew was reckless.

That morning, while you were trying to pretend to be interested in your friends' conversation, the excited voice of one of Jude's friends echoed through the courtyard.

—So is it true that you're taking Amelie to the prom?

You froze, your fingers tightening the sleeve of your wool sweater. You slowly looked away, not wanting to believe what you were hearing.

Jude gave a shy smile, scratching the back of his neck.

—Oh, yeah… I called her yesterday.

Your heart dropped. Amelie was everything you weren’t. Tall, stunning, with a smile that seemed to light up the room. She was sweet, kind, and, above all, someone who caught everyone’s attention —including your best friend.

You tried to keep your composure, but you felt tears stinging your eyes. “It’s nothing. He just wants to go to the dance with her. It’s normal,” you thought, trying to convince yourself.

When the day came, you wore a simple white dress, nothing extravagant, but enough for the occasion. Your mother had insisted on defining your hair more, saying you needed to enjoy it.

As you entered the ballroom decorated with lights and golden ribbons, your gaze immediately found Jude. He was gorgeous, wearing a simple suit, but it highlighted his confident posture. Amelie was beside him, laughing at something he said. She was the kind of girl who looked like she was straight out of a movie, with a perfect pink dress and a presence that made everyone around her seem small.

You tried to look away, but your eyes betrayed your will. You saw him put his arm around the blonde girl's shoulders, a casual gesture, but one that made you feel like something inside you was breaking.

—Why don't you ever see me like this, Jude?

You whispered softly to yourself, trying to understand your feelings a little better.

Hours later, you were sitting alone at a table in the corner of the room, watching the eldest Bellingham and Amelie dancing in the center of the dance floor. He was smiling at her, the kind of smile you wished was just for you.

When he took off his own blazer to put it on her shoulders, you felt the impact like a knife. That simple gesture, which had once been yours, now belonged to someone else.

"It's just a sweater," you thought, trying to rationalize. But you knew it wasn't. Not for you.

Later, as the party continued, you stepped out into the hallway, seeking some fresh air. The lights were dimmer in there, and the muffled sound of the music echoed off the walls. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn't notice when the tall boy appeared beside you.

—Hey, Y/n. Are you okay?

He asked, his tone worried.

You looked at him, trying to mask the sadness that seemed to be overflowing.

—Yeah, just… needed some air.

He nodded, looking at the floor before looking back up at you.

—You look really beautiful today, you know?

Your heart skipped a beat. How could he say something like that, after everything?

—Thank you, Jude.

Your voice was low, almost a whisper.

You were silent for a few seconds, until he broke the tension.

—Amelie is just… a friend, you know?

You wanted to believe him, but the images of the night were still fresh in your mind.

—You seem to like her a lot.

You tried to sound neutral, but failed.

Jude frowned, confused by your expression. He didn't say anything else, but stayed by your side, as if he knew that, somehow, he was the reason behind your pain.

And that night, as you walked home alone, you repeated to yourself a truth that hurt more than anything:

"I wish I was Amelie."

tumblr posted this one shot early, so give it and the one posted earlier a lot of love :)

[bloody-cupcakes]

Jd x yandere male r with a corruption kink 🙏🙏

Okay it can't be just me who loves the idea of a reader who's somehow more perverted and insane than a character who's already perverted and insane

Also when I tell you this is the MOST FILTHY thing I've written so far for this account I mean it

Tw: yandere/dark content, male reader, smut/nsfw, blowjob/oral sex (reader receiving), brief dacryphilia, degrading, hair pulling, facial, cum eating, dubcon-ish in some areas (all of this is JD receiving btw), could be seen as a toxic relationship but that's a given considering the content

When you and JD first met, he was already into some dark stuff, but he could never imagine the absolutely filthy things you'd end up getting him into. In his defense, you didn't immediately come off as the nasty pervert you ended up being.

"Come on, baby, just let me cum on your face this one time," you begged as he knelt down on the floor in front of you, unable to answer due to your cock being in his mouth.

He let out a garbled response, tears forming in the corners of his eyes and spilling down his cheeks. You had no idea if that was a yes or a no, but it didn't matter. You planned on doing it regardless.

"God, you're so pathetic. I mean, just look at you." Your hand reached down and gripped his hair, yanking his head back in a position where your cock was shoved even further down his throat as a result.

A strangled whimper could be heard coming from him, a sound that made you grin with utter delight. Despite his slight discomfort, he did his best to keep sucking like the good boy that he was.

"There you go, that's better." You let out a grunt as you felt his tongue brush against your length. "You're such a natural, are you sure you haven't done this before with men other than just me?"

The bright shade of red his face turned at your question was priceless. It kind of made you wish you had a camera to capture the moment. He was struggling to catch his breath, even after you told him time and time again to breath through his nose.

Luckily for him, you were close to finishing anyway, so you pulled your cock out of his mouth and came all over the lower half of his face. Not wanting to give him the opportunity to move away, you tightened your hand's grip in his hair and kept him still until you were done.

He stared up at you with a look of embarrassment on his face that was only partially hidden by the white, sticky substance you'd left there. "I didn't want you to cum on my face," he mumbled in a indignant manner, his lips curled downwards into a slight frown.

"Oh, grow up. You really didn't think I was going to give up on the opportunity to paint your pretty little face with my cum, now did you?" Your tone was condescending, as if you were speaking to nothing more than a bratty child.

"Besides, I know how much you love it when I treat you like the pitiful little whore that you are. You might have everyone else fooled, but I don't buy your tough 'bad boy' act for even a second."

You smirked at the way he simply pouted in response, unable to think of a good enough comeback. While he was caught up in his own thoughts, you reached your hand out and swiped some of the cum still on his face onto your fingers. "Open," you commanded as you held them in front of his lips.

JD opened his mouth and licked off the cum despite himself, his hazel eyes glaring at you in a displeased and bratty manner as he did. You merely watched, not put off or intimidated by him in the slightest.

Even if he did decide to complain about it afterwards, you had a few tricks up your sleeve that you were certain would quickly shut him up.

[lanawinterscigarettes]

What about smth for JD (heathers) with an s/o who's equally as possessive and protective over him, maybe even more so?

I fucking love it when the reader perfectly matches the characters energy omg

Jason Dean with an s/o who's just as possessive/protective as he is

Warnings: gender neutral reader, both the reader and JD are possessive and protective to an unhealthy extent, JD and the reader are a match made in hell (which means they're naturally perfect for each other), codependent relationship to the max here, swearing, dark humor, mentions of murder/death, mentions of gun use, some smutty/nsfw stuff

As much as JD likes to mess with you, he actually does appreciate just how much you seem to love and care for him. Far too often has he been in relationships where it seemed as though he was the only one who was putting in any effort that he eventually began to lose hope he'd one day find someone who loved and worshipped him as much as he does for them

Then you showed up, and everything in his life seemed to get ten times better. He actually started attending school more often just so he can see you, especially if he knows you won't skip

However- that doesn't mean that he won't push your buttons, because he absolutely will. Believe me when I say that he's going to have at least a little fun at your expense

He'd never actually cheat, as he's way too clingy for that (unless he got really pissed off and wanted to teach you a lesson or something, but even then he'd probably end up killing the person afterwards) but he does find it amusing to see your reaction to him flirting with other people

It doesn't even have to be anyone he actually likes, in fact, he purposely goes out of his way to flirt with people he hates and actively talks shit about in front of you because he knows how mad you'll get. He's an asshole, what can I say

The look of silent rage that appears on your face whenever you see him walk up to any random guy or girl gets him chuckling everytime. He'll stay over there and flatter said random person until you storm over and drag him away from the conversation

Don't think that just because he flirts with other people that you can, that'd be crazy. How dare you talk to anyone other than him? What do you have, a death wish or something? (You flirt with other people anyway because he's not the boss of you and you can do what you want)

It's all in good fun though, because neither one of you would ever let anyone else lay their hands on the other, whether that be in a violent or sexual manner (or both). In fact, you guys even joke that if one of you ended up cheating on the other all three people involved would die, because there's no way the cheater or the person they'd cheated with would be allowed to live and the other couldn't live knowing their beloved was gone (it's actually not that much of a joke, but since you guys are so attached to each other that would probably never happen)

Speaking of committing murders, you guys do! All the time! :D (I don't know why I'm saying this like it's a good thing lol) Anytime someone does something to piss either one of you off, the two of you turn it into a date where you both kill the person, frame it as a suicide, then go back to your house for sex while the adrenaline is still pumping fast through your veins

Jealousy sex/make-up sex happens fairly often, by the way. You two may love each other, but because your personalities are so similar they're bound to end up clashing at some point, which leads to explosive arguments that typically end in "hate sex" (it's not really hate sex since you guys still love each other but given how much you both curse each other out and literally say "I hate you" during it I guess it could qualify)

Neither one of you really have any friends, not that you'd need them when you have each other. In fact, the only time you ever hang out with anyone else is when you're purposely trying to get JD riled up, and vice versa

I know he acts pretty aloof but I like to think that deep down he's actually really flattered to have someone who's crazy over him the same way he is over you. To someone as clingy and obsessed as him, it's almost like the highest honor, y'know?

End notes: I'm finally working on old asks yippeee

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated | requests are currently open

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

🏷 taglist: @caplanreblogsfics

[slasherscream]

Just rewatched Heathers and I'm Feral and In Love, what do you think of poly!jd/reader/veronica where all three of you are down to murder some people then go cuddle after the adrenaline rush dies down

“JD, do you always have to be so damn rough with them?” Veronica sighs, watching JD wipe a smudge of blood from your face with a rag. 

She buys soft ones on purpose, because like she said, he’s always too damn rough with you. 

“I’m not being rough! Am I being rough with you, darling?” JD asks you, pausing in his pursuit to clean you up.

“I don’t know why you’re even asking me. You just want to bicker with each other, doesn’t matter what I say.” You tease them both. 

“We do not want to bicker!” Veronica gasps.

“Yes, you do.” You say.

“Do not!” Veronica says.

“Do too!” 

“Seems you’re the one who wants to bicker with us, darling.” JD grabs you by the chin, turning you so you’re looking at him instead of Veronica. 

“Do-”

“-Not?” JD finishes, smirking at you. 

“Whatever.” You laugh, trying to push him away. 

“Aren’t they just irresistible when they’re being bratty, Veronica?” 

“Absolutely adorable.” Veronica quips, crawling into your lap.

[carlisles-girl]

could you do jason dean dating a reader who’s shorter than him? fem or gender neutral is fine! :3

a/n: this one got a little spicy my apologies but hope you enjoy <3

-

Jason Dean Dating Someone Who’s Shorter Than Him (Headcannons)

-

I feel like JD would love to date someone shorter than him, though I don’t think he’d have a preference either way.

But if you’re shorter than him, it definitely would give him a feeling of power over you.

He’d definitely be a bit more demanding and demeaning.

He’d never seriously make fun of your appearance or things you can’t control.

But he’d obviously do it as a joke.

JD loves how his jacket would be bigger on you than it is on him.

“You look like 2 kids stacked under there.”

“Shut up.”

Loves loves loves when you ask him for help reaching something.

“Need help there, munchkin?”

“Yes please, but don’t ever call me that again.”

He doesn’t stop calling you that.

It’s his favourite pet name for you, besides darling, of course.

Doesn’t matter if you’re an inch shorter than him or multiple, he’ll still call you munchkin.

“We should get a munchkin cat, maybe it’s your long lost cousin or something.”

“Oh shove it, JD.”

“That’s what you said last night.”

“…”

“You weren’t this quiet last night either.”

“Get a job.”

Loves holding your hands during sex.

Like, above your head, pinned on the mattress type of holding hands.

During motorcycle rides, he tells you to hold on tight so you don’t fly away like a napkin.

“Coulda used a napkin last night, couldn’t ya?”

“What, for your face?”

“I can’t win.”

Loves tickling you because he knows you can’t get away.

But also because he likes the power he has over you since he knows you can’t get away.

“Bro, stop, please, I’m gonna piss my pants.”

“….Did you just call me bro?”

Hates when you call him bro or dude or anything of the sort.

It means you see him as your equal, and he doesn’t really like that.

He’s already got the height-power-thing against you, why do you see him as an equal and not above you?

Will probably ignore you for awhile just so you can apologize to him, wearing his shirt or sweater that almost completely drowns you out.

Again, the power thing.

“I’m sorry.”

“For?”

“…Calling you bro?”

“Okay.”

Probably won’t apologize to you though if he calls you something you don’t like.

Unless you’re really upset by it.

“…Sorry.”

Make-up sex goes crazy after things like this.

Definitely not into you being dominant at all, but if you really wanted to, he’d let you ride him but only if he gets to guide your hips.

Bro’s 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂.

He’d make sure you finish though, no doubt.

Loves the cuddles after where he gets to hold you.

You, in his shirt after a warm shower where he washed you and your hair, and he gets to cuddle?

No hesitation he says yes.

Loves to hold things above your head like those loser guys in the halls at school.

But he only does it so he can hear your ‘I love you’ after with a kiss.

“What do you say?”

“Thank you, I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

[woah-i-am-here]

Digital doodles.jpg

yeah, sure, why not. Getting better with my digital style

I'm lazy to order them, what the hell

The last one is heavily inspired by Alien Stage -Ruler of my heart. Man, I freaking love this song.