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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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qingxin-dream · 7 months

Text

“Just One Good Thing”

summary | it’s hard to love someone who is broken, and even harder when two broken people love so deeply it hurts. (art credits: @/pastahands on twitter).

warnings | not proofread/vent writing, scaramouche lore spoilers, brief graphic depiction of death, illness, loss, profanity, TW heavy mental health topics, self-hatred, dissociation, depression, suicidal thoughts/ideation, graphic description of self-harm wounds, fear of abandonment, guilt, reader is hospitalized

genre | angst, hurt, comfort

word count | 2.5k

pairing | wanderer x reader

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

This was not the first time the puppet experienced betrayal.

How could you have known? It was long before you came into existence, hundreds of years of anguish buried in layers upon layers beneath his artificial constitution. He had once been but an innocent, naive babe with the world sparkling in the reflection of his violet eyes, meant for something greater. He had once fulfilled a purpose.

To be brought into the world against your will, crafted from the divine hand of a grieving Archon, only to have every semblance of your being ripped from you and cast aside in the name of so-called mercy—is a fate akin to death itself.

You never knew his past.

How he was once an eccentric named Kabukimono who wandered from Shakkei Pavilion and made friends with the blade smiths of Tatarasuna. His first taste of human life was amid a blazing furnace and the clamoring of a hammer onto hot metal, learning what it meant to labor and create. He had grown to love the little village as his own, playing with the children and sipping on the bitter taste of tea leaves with his comrades.

The puppet who had called himself Kabukimono was painfully ignorant to the cruelty of fate.

He could have never fathomed the day he would hold the future of his village in his trembling, pale hands as the toxic Tatarigami fumes envelope him in chemicals. There he climbed deep inside the Mikage Furnace, the unique resilience of his artificial body left unharmed by the inhospitable temperatures glowing hot against his divine skin. Any normal human would’ve perished a thousand times over.

Inside the foreign device that promised to save his home lay the bloody, withering heart cut fresh from his closest companion’s chest.

“You are a human, Kabukimono,” Niwa had insisted with a soft smile pulling at the corner of his mouth, a comforting hand resting on the eccentric’s shoulder. “You just don’t have a heart.”

Yet there the puppet stood, his voice robbed from his aching throat, cradling the very essence of his friend’s humanity in his palm.

It was his fault. What a foolish creature he was to ever involve himself with humans, whom he could only bring suffering. His tears were evaporated instantly as the grotesque realization dawned on the distraught young Kabukimono. He would later discover that he had been betrayed by a man who introduced himself as Escher but was known among the Fatui as The Doctor.

The dirty pads of his bare feet had thumped through the rocky village path and down the dirt roads leading to the outskirts of the rural Inazuman wilderness. Crows rustled in the trees and flapped their feathers into the sky, jeering at the desolate and abandoned settlement.

The village should have been evacuated. All who could have been saved were rushed as far away as possible from the poisonous Tatarigami. Rows upon rows of homes and businesses were eerily vacant. Kabukimono, in his watery hysterics, had not paid any mind to his surroundings, leaving behind the only home he ever had for good.

That is, until he stumbled across a young boy who lived under an old sakura tree. Kabukimono immediately felt the void in his chest wrench with visceral guilt upon learning that the child’s parents were crafts-people. The house was utterly empty except for the lonely little boy.

For as much as the puppet wanted nothing more than to rid himself of human companionship, he felt responsible for the loss of the boy’s parents. He had an obligation to see that he was taken care of and safe from the Tatarigami. If he could not have saved his friends, perhaps he could atone for his sins in raising the orphaned child—who reminded him too much of himself.

“Promise me,” Kabukimono spoke up with a bit of a hoarse tone, his voice cracking with emotion, extending a shaky hand to the young boy. “That we can be family. I will watch over you.”

“Like a big brother?” asked the innocent boy with a hopeful smile. He wouldn’t have to be alone anymore, taking the eccentric’s hand in his own. “I’ve always wanted one… I promise, we will be family.”

For a short while, the puppet had learned to push the turmoil plaguing his conscience to the back of his mind. His focus had shifted entirely to ensuring the boy’s safety and happiness, trying to scavenge food for him and exchanging stories under the moonlight. Although, Kabukimono flinched with each cough from the boy that shattered the silence between them as they went to sleep.

He hated that he recognized the symptoms. The residue of the Tatarigami had somehow infected the child, no doubt. A dreadful thought occurred to him—perhaps he had given the sickness to the orphaned child after what happened at the Mikage Furnace. The idea was enough to eat him alive with worry. Kabukimono had secretly prayed that the boy would endure the illness.

The puppet had worked tirelessly to give him the best he possibly could. If his coughs were dry, he would fetch him water. If his stomach rumbled, he would prepare some Lavender Melons. If he needed a friend, Kabukimono would be there to hold his hand as he slept like a guardian angel.

The day the elderly sakura tree shed its pretty pink blossoms was the day the boy was found unresponsive.

Kabukimono, too, found himself hollow and devoid. What did it mean to be family? What did it mean to love? What was the point of having such worthless emotions?

A blazing inferno consumed the darkness of the night sky. Crackling embers swirled and smoke bellowed in the rural countryside as a rickety house succumbed to a hellish fate. No one was there to witness the flaming spectacle. No one to help, or save the vacant violet eyes of a nameless puppet who clutched a small doll in his lap.

It was laughable, truly, how sick and twisted the world could be. The puppet couldn’t fulfill his creator’s wishes, nor could he befriend humanity, or have a heart of his own. Oh, to perish in a fiery death would be far too simple for Celestia’s liking, wouldn’t it?

For five hundred years, Kabukimono, Kunikuzushi, Scaramouche—no matter who he became—the feeling of inadequacy remained.

His divinely-created body was an immortal prison, shackling him to his sins. As a Fatui Harbinger, no needle, blade, or poison of the Doctor could kill him. No enemy or magic of the Abyss could ultimately break him. The puppet was built to withstand the likes of the Cataclysm that had taken his creator’s sister, yet the scars of these experiments litter his fair skin are a reminder that he is indeed alive.

Wanderer vividly remembers his dark fascination with testing his limits in the depths of his dissociation. Anything to serve as penance for the irreversible destruction he had inflicted upon his friends, his family, and his home. If he was lucky, perhaps the Doctor would find a way to end his misery or the maddening darkness of the Abyss would swallow him whole once and for all.

Even forsaking his autonomy and identity as Scaramouche to ascend to godhood would be a fitting death for the puppet. After all, the Everlasting Lord of Arcane Wisdom would never bow to his emotions like a weakling. Losing himself to infinite knowledge and truth would be a good ending, despite the insanity that would befall him.

All that mattered is he would cease to exist.

But it was you who defeated him, in all his might and glory as a fake Archon pumped full of divine wisdom and the sludgy remains of dead gods. It was you who found him after he tried to erase every part of his worthless being from Irminsul, and helped him pick up the pieces of himself in the aftermath.

The reality that lies within Irminsul had given him a new perspective as the Wanderer. Though he retained the poignant memories of his sins, Wanderer made sure to carve a special space in the void of his artificial body just for you. His savior.

Not a single one of those instances—absolutely fucking none of them—could ever compare to the morbid and desperate pit of despair that ravages Wanderer at the sight of your fragile body curled up in a white hospital gown. You are hooked up to a myriad of monitors and machines, wires and tubes tangling your frame like chains. The distant beep of the electrocardiogram is burned into Wanderer’s mind.

It’s your heartbeat, and the very reason for his continued existence. You had been reduced to small blip on a computer screen.

The hospital room was otherwise silent. The windows had the blinds slightly drawn, a cool ray of moonlight washing over Wanderer’s disheveled indigo hair from behind. Even if you were unconscious, Wanderer had wanted to tuck you in for the night, but he was terrified of hurting you. The fluorescent white light above your bed was off, bathing you both in warm darkness.

In the late hours, all Wanderer could do was stare at you with eyes reddened from crying, his crimson eyeliner smudged at the edge of lashes. He would occasionally lick his dry lips, which were chapped and peeling. The sting of the dead skin on his lips being tugged between his teeth was a momentary release from the overwhelming anxiety dwelling within.

His thin fingers are intertwined with yours on the hospital bed, one of the few ways the puppet can keep himself grounded in this moment. Every once in awhile, he’ll give your hand a gentle squeeze followed by a few broken wishes for you to open your eyes again. To see the life in you and hear your sweet voice again.

Sometimes it would get to be too much. Wanderer would raise your hand and kiss your knuckles with hot, salty tears pricking at his eyes. The stinging sensation would force his eyelids closed, sorrow streaming down his stained cheeks. He was sure that this was a result of his own shortcomings.

Your arms are wrapped in bandages with a few stitches here and there lying underneath. A deathly pale color flushed your beautiful face. And oh, Archons, those eyes of yours he had always adored endlessly were sunken darkly into your face, hidden in your slumber. His gaze drifted to your lips, still full and pink, perhaps his last vestige of hope as they parted for your sacred breaths.

To imagine you’re suffering as much as he had in his past is utterly unthinkable to Wanderer.

The only difference is your fragile mortality. He knows your pain now, he can see it carved onto your wrists in what must have been a frenzied meltdown.

Some cuts are lighter and faded, meaning this certainly isn’t the first time you hurt yourself. Other gashes in your arm are deeper and swollen, each one weighs on the puppet’s heart greater than the last. He couldn’t count how many times you must have taken that razor to your wrist. Wanderer silently curses himself for letting this happen to you.

“How stupid could I be? Letting her away from me,” he quietly lamented with his head in hands, fingers curling around his indigo locks tightly. “I had just one good thing.”

Rocking himself gently in the chair next to you, Wanderer continuously tugs at his hair to an almost extreme degree, unable to handle the anger, betrayal, and sadness overcoming him. He was practically attached to you at the hip, he should’ve noticed when your voice faltered or when your eyes betrayed your words. He should’ve seen the signs of you slipping through his fingers.

Even if every day wasn’t perfect, even if sometimes you both said hurtful things to each other, neither of you never truly meant it. Wanderer couldn’t bear to imagine not waking up next to you, the morning sunlight kissing your silhouette like an angel. He never thought that he’d find his purpose in you, in the most mundane moments that he cherished so deeply.

He knew you had a history of mental health struggles. So did he. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to give you his everything—fingers entwined and sweat glistening on your bodies as he made you his for the umpteenth time.

The echo of the puppet’s soft sobs dissipates into the emptiness of the hospital room. His whole body is shaking with emotional agony. It’s the first time in centuries that he has allowed himself to feel vulnerable like this. How could he not when the love of his life—the meaning of his existence—had tried to take themselves out of it?

Wanderer finally releases his hair, taking your left hand again and passionately pressing his lips to your bare ring finger as an unspoken promise. You both had worked so hard to love better and be better. He wasn’t about to give you up.

There would never be another you in eternity.

He couldn’t bear the heavy burden on his heart anymore. Carefully, he pulled the thin blanket back and climbed into the hospital bed next to you. His fingers trembled at the contact, feeling your faint warmth. Wanderer gently pulled you close so that your head was safely tucked into his chest and he could rest his chin on your soft hair. He sighed, covering you both in the blanket once more.

Sobs tugged at his chest and his grip on you momentarily tightened. Though tears glistened at the corner of his broken violet eyes, Wanderer blinked them back with a shaky breath. You were in his arms and his world was made whole again.

“I love you, (Y/N),” his voice is gravely and barely audible. “I love you so fucking much… don’t you dare think otherwise.”

The puppet nuzzles his nose into your scalp, breathing in your familiarity like it’s home. He begins to play with your hair gently, combing and caressing your soft strands with his fingertips painted in black.

“You scared the shit out of me, you know…” Wanderer kisses your hair, closing his eyelids for a long moment to memorialize the feeling of your skin on his lips. “But I’m gonna get you out of here, baby. I’m gonna get you help, okay?”

His toned arms keep your body pressed to his, wanting to feel every part of your being entangled with him as it should be. The tickling sensation of your little breaths on his neck brought a small smile to his face because it meant you were sleeping comfortably and most importantly, alive. You were the missing piece in his puzzle, fitting perfectly into place with him.

“It’ll be okay. Everything will be okay,” the puppet whispers to you, hoping you could hear and feel his love in every way, shape, and form possible. His words also served as an assurance to himself because in this moment he felt so helpless, seeing the wounds on your precious skin.

“I won’t let anything hurt you anymore,” Wanderer solemnly vows, his voice slowly but surely trailing off as he succumbs to his exhaustion with you held close to his heart.

“Goodnight, my love.”

thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated! my masterlist.

#wrote something much darker for a change #been listening to ‘heather’ by ruby haunt💔#[opulent dreams].✿#[dreams of delusion].✿#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin angst #genshin wanderer #wanderer #wanderer x reader #wanderer angst #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche angst

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ledgerserious8 · 4 months

Text

..My Masterlists..

A Fact : Me as fan of heath ledger doesn't mean that i can't write for any another actor but most of this imagines is about him

My Wattpad..

Heath Ledger Imagines :

Break up with Him

Meeting your ex boyfriend

Roses from your lover

In the prison of the joker

Patrick want your heart

The joker fighting with batman

Heath survived because of you

Your boyfriend becomes playful

Joaquin Phoenix Imagines :

Interview with him

Waking up your boyfriend

Your neighbor is arthur

Bruce Wayne (Christian Bale) Imagines :

Trust Issues from Bruce

He's Your Home

He's fighting the joker for you

Your boyfriend is so sick

Smut Imagines (soon) :

Put A Love (Patrick Verona)

Birthday Gift (Bruce Wayne)

Note : this post will keep getting updated or edited time by time in the future i will add a lot of characters and actors

Have 4 Nice Day..

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rosanishelios · 11 months

Photo

Heathers but it’s quote from my friend gc... minus the part about pot

#heathers #heathers the musical #heather chandler #Veronica Sawyer #chansaw #heliossart #yes you're not imagining it...#my chandler has gray eyes <33

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silly-writes · 9 months

Note

What if reader was an old childhood friend of some of the competitors (ie Courtney, gwen, bridgette, Heather, duncan, Izzy, cody, etc) with said character(s) having strong feelings for before reader moved away just to come back into their life during one season with reader initially unaware of these returning feelings in said camper.

Bonus: What if reader/camper did get together in that one season, only for next season to have a love triangle form involving another character. The camper is aware of said triangle forming though reader might be oblivious due to now having eyes only for first camper. What'd this be like for different people?

Compretitors with returning feelings for childhood best friend reader!

u guys r really feeding me with these prompts I can't even lie this one was a little tricky with all these moving parts! Sorry if some of these are a little angsty and don't really have happy (per say) conclusions, but I'm just doing what I think best fits the character! I only write pure fluff if that what im given. I hope you enjoy anyways anon!

Courtney

Courtney is beyond stricken when she sees you.

What are the odds you both would have signed up for the same shitty reality tv show?

Well, high as Courtney would tell you. You always were very similar even back when you were inseparable as children.

You knew Courtney was always very fond of you before you moved away, so the reunion is very sweet, and heartfelt.

The two of you attempt to spend a lot of time catching up on what you missed out on after you had moved, but on the show there isn't much time for it.

Courtney can't help but think about how absolutely heartbroken she was when you moved away.

I would think with Courtney's determined attitude (plus based on what she says to Gwen during their friendship) she has made too many friends.

So when you moved away, especially since she was little, it sort of felt like the end of the world to her.

I imagine you being around is wildly distracting for her. Despite her returning romantic feelings.

You were the only person who ever had that type of close vulnerable relationship with her, she would do anything to please you, receive attention from you, or keep you in the game.

All of it leads to some very undesirable slip ups from her, which with you is how I imagine she goes home on the island.

She watched you as she got pulled away, she's not going to leave it unsaid this time, she remembers what that feels like, she remembers how isolating and awful it feels.

"I'm going to miss you ______!" She called out to you from the end of the doc of shame.

You waved wildly "I'm going to win this for you Courtney!" You call back.

"No- I mean! I'm going to miss you because I'm in love with you!"

You stand there stunned as she boards the boat and calls out one final thing "You had bet your butt you'll win this for me! I just confessed my love to you on live television!"

You try to call back that you feel the same, but Chris does what Chris does best and gets in the way of a good time. Even if the boat hadn't driven her off before you got the chance to confess back, the motor is loud enough to where she probably couldn't hear you anyways.

By action, you two have fully discussed your feelings, and how everything should go now that you're into each other but still competitors.

You both agree that your first real official date should be after the show is over, so while things aren't technically official by next season, you two are undoubtedly interested in each other and therefore not getting involved with anyone else.

You stick true to that, but Courtney can see Duncan keeps looking at you, and she's not stupid, she would know that punks gazes in and out.

She doesn't bring it up to you, she knows you're generally very dense about those kinds of things.

But eventually, she can't take it anymore and her jealousy starts driving her mad.

She declares that you two are official, and that you very much are dating, which causes some tension between the two of you during action since you both agreed it just wasn't a good idea.

After some fighting, fighting, and more fighting eventually it's you this time taking the walk of shame to the lame-ousine.

Courtney fights her way to you.

"I'm sorry, I didn't expect it to play out this way!" She says sorrowfully.

But you did, you know just how Courtney is, you know how she gets, and while you didn't fully understand why she did what she did you could've guessed that some kind of fight was inevitable. Plus you know how she gets during competitions.

"Hey don't sweat it," you smile "now that I'm not technically on the show, I don't have as much of a problem doing this-" you say and bring her in for a short and sweet kiss.

After years of waiting for this moment, Coutney can't help but freeze up.

You pull away, and head towards the lame-ousine as she calls "I'll win this for you!"

"You had better win this for me! I just kissed you on live television!" You say smiling as you duck into the back seat.

Gwen

Gwen feels nothing but nervous when reuniting with you.

She was happy to see you sure, but her anxiety held her back in how she displayed that happiness.

She's mainly worried that too much time has passed since the two of you knew each other, and that the two of you won't have anything to talk about anymore.

Eventually the two of you slump back together and things go back to the way that they were before you had moved away.

Another reason she was desperately trying to avoid you at first is because of the huge massive crush she used to have on you.

And dang it of course you had to get cuter as you got older!

Just as she realizes that those feelings for you are slipping out of hiding, is also when she realizes that it's already too late.

Once again the two of you are glued at the hip, just like how it used to be.

You, being who you are and were, are wildly oblivious to these feelings because of course you are.

Gwen isn't one to wear her heart on her sleeve, and even though you two are close she is less so with you, she's been burned before, she's not letting that happen again.

The two of you are sitting next to each other at the talent show when it happens.

Heather goes up on stage and says "Originally I was going to dance for you, but instead I want to celebrate team spirit with a collaboration" She holds up a dark notebook with an evil look plastered on her face.

Gwen seems to recognize it and instantly freezes up "Gwen? Are you okay?" You asked, knowing immediately something was off.

"She wouldn't," she says, and then braces herself.

"So with words by Gwen, performance by me, enjoy."

She cleared her throat before beginning "Okay so I've been trying to ignore them. But they're just so cute! I know it's been forever since we've seen each other and in that time they have gotten so hot! Out of all my childhood friends, of course it had to be them."

Gwen dashes away from the bleachers, and Heather seems satisfied.

Of course you run after Gwen to comfort her.

She lamented on and on about how you must think she's such a creep now, and was acting like a total school girl, still writing in a diary.

But of course you didn't feel like that at all, this was Gwen you were talking about here. The cool, collected, funny quiet girl, and you were obsessed with her.

You two start getting a little more romantic after that, and Heather seeing her plan to drive a wedge between the two of you did not work realizes she has to get her hands messy and plays a little bit more of a direct role in getting you eliminated.

It's a sorrowful goodbye until you see her again in action.

Bridgette

Reuniting with Bridgette is nothing but vibes.

She's beyond stoked to see you again, and even more stoked to ride the wave with you again.

I imagine the two of you met at the beach, and it was love at first sight for her.

You two click all over again like no time has gone past, and she fills you in on every little thing you've missed.

Things are super cut and dry with Bridgette, no mess, nothing but chillness.

She makes her feelings pretty clear, with some hints and stuff.

She learned her lesson the first time, letting you leave without having ever told you how she really felt hurt in ways she wasn't ready to feel again.

But if you don't pick up on it she'll just flat out tell you.

"I'm not doing this cause you're my team mate, I'm doing it cause I like you. You dork."

"I like you too Bridge, you know that."

"Not like that-!" She exclaimed, splashing you playfully, rocking the canoe as she did "-like like like you."

You stare at her in disbelief for a moment.

"what?!" you exclaim.

"Do you not feel the same?" She frowned.

"No I do... I just wasn't expecting-" she cuts you off tackling you rocking the whole boat as she does.

The rest is history and you two are pretty much inseparable from that point onward.

Up until World Tour, where Alejandro starts becoming a plane wide problem.

He tries targeting you at first, but youre so in love with Bridgette he can't get any headway.

But Bridgette being stuck on an opposing team leaves her exposed to his manipulation, he lies about you and makes her question her loyalty.

After she gets stuck to a pole, you find her, but when she explains what happened you just feel so hurt and betrayed that you leave her in the dust (or well, snow).

After a world tour it takes a lot of apologizing and healing to get over what happened between the two of you but you're both determined to make it work so you both put your strongest foot forward and work at it.

Heather

Heather is absolutely stunned when she sees you.

You greet her excitedly when she hits you with a "hello? Earth to nerd, I don't know you!"

That's enough to keep you away from her for a while.

She 100% is only pretending not to know who you are, but what choice did she have? She couldn't risk her feelings for you returning and ruining her chances at winning.

Close tender friendships like you used to have were bad for her image now, she had an impression to keep in this competition and she'd be dead in the ground before she let you or anyone else come in the way of that.

Her tenderness for you starts to show through and through though, you know her like the back of your hand, still, even after all these years.

You'd recognize those glances anywhere, and you knew it meant more than just being a strong team mate when she would point out all the ways in which you did well in the challenges. She was trying to keep you in the game.

The two of you never have any heart to hearts, nothing like that anyways.

She never reveals that she does remember you, not even as you watch her fade into the horizon on the boat of losers.

World tour she's more determined than ever, you've never seen her so deranged to win.

I'd imagine the love triangle would have more to do with her and Alejandro then you and anyone else.

She becomes torn between the two of you, and the inherit struggle in trying to pick over someone who actually matched her wit, and her childhood best friend and longest crush.

She makes her decision when she inevitably votes you out.

"Heather... you voted for me?" You asked, heart breaking, eyes already feeling wet.

She scoffs, "Don't take it so personally."

You sniffle a little bit, and then shake your head "I should've known better than to fall for your two faced snake self twice." You spit.

And with that you're gone.

She's not stupid, she's not forgetful either, and you knew that she knew just what "twice" really meant.

But she'd dug her grave now, she would just have to hope it could hold a million bucks.

Duncan

The meeting with him is very awkward I'd imagine.

He'd likely pretend not to know you until he can get a moment alone with you.

I would imagine he's largely embarrassed of your relationship due to the fact that he met you before his Juvie days, and you were one of the only people who had known him before he became nothing more than a delinquent.

So yeah, he's hell bent on making sure people don't find out about you two knowing each other.

But we all know deep down Duncan is a totally sweetie, even if it is deep, deep, deep down. His affection for you is bound to show one way or another.

Ever the observant one I'm sure it was Courtney who noticed first, marveling at how strange it was that you two of all people had romantic feelings for each other.

She urged the two of you together, subtly, attempting to be your sort of wingman, unbeknownst to even you.

Eventually Duncan works towards getting her voted out because of this, he's so obsessed with keeping his bad boy persona he'd do just about anything in this competition to keep it up. Even risk losing a million big ones.

You knew something was fishy about Courtney getting voted, but you couldn't put your finger on what. At least not until you heard him in the confessionals.

"I had to get that Courtney chick voted out, she was getting too close. I hate people who get to close,"

"Duncan!" you exclaim.

You can hear him mutter curses from the outhouse.

"Forget it! You know I can't believe I was actually starting to like you again!"

After that it's a nonstop battle for Duncan to win back your affections.

I would imagine the love triangle would consist of you, Duncan, and of course, Courtney.

She would start falling for you based on the way you shamelessly defended her despite your feelings for Duncan.

Only problem for you was those feelings hadn't exactly gone away since last season, and you were still very much into him.

You three fight a lot, and are the reason all three of you end up going home.

Which leaves nothing but time to work out your messy feelings for Duncan, and his for you.

But maybe time is really all the two of you need.

Izzy

Izzy is a bit of a wild card (obviously).

I feel like reuniting with her is just super duper chaotic, and very overwhelming at first.

She wants to fill you in on every little detail in her life within the same second she sees you again.

But you remember how to rein her in, she really hasn't changed much from the chaotic messy kid she was. (save for being a criminal now (whoops!)).

You being in the challenge with her would keep her much more rallied and motivated towards an understandable goal.

She can feel those intimate feelings creeping back, but she isn't shy with it.

I imagine she probably would've confessed to you once before, when you first moved, only neither of you wanted to try out long distance and thought it might only ruin what a good friendship you had. So through your move you decided to just stay friends.

You don't get long to sit and wonder about if those feelings still linger for her as they do for you when she abruptly asks

"So hey, are you interested in dating during the competition?" she asked, sitting beside you, anything but shy.

"What?"

Izzy was nothing if not explorative, she collected new experiences like pokemon cards, and she wanted to live fully every part of life.

"It might be a little bit messy. But I think maybe it could work, if all that was keeping you was distance the first time... well... I'm here now."

She stares at you with an expectant kind of rare almost nervous look, and though the confession is anything but picturesque, with her, it's perfect.

I think the love triangle would come in with her next season with maybe Alejandro falling for you.

Hard to say whether his attempts at flirting are due to advancing in the game, or genuine attraction. Either way you have trouble picking up on it, especially when things are going so well with Izzy.

I wouldn't say Izzy isn't a jealous person, I just think she could fall either way, depending on the person, depending on the day, the humidity in the air, basically on nothing at all. She's nothing if not erratic.

With Alejandro, she might be inclined to threaten him with her license to kill depending on her mood, and depending on what he tries to pull with you.

Cody

The reunion with Cody is one that is very heartfelt, and he instantly lights up upon seeing you.

You can see that he's fairly committed to his "too cool for school" schtick, so having any genuine connection with him might be a little tricky.

He's one person I feel like would have definitely tried to keep in contact with, it wasn't anything like every day phone calls, but the two of you had definitely spent at least some time sending letters back and forth.

So when you too meet there isn't a lot of catching up to do, only some.

He's overall very excited to see you back, and you know him enough to know that, even if he's refusing to show it.

You can feel those creeping feelings sneak up on you until the hit you smack in the face during one of the challenges.

"Cody!" you exclaimed during one of the challenges as he hit the ground hard.

"I'm fine," he lied, his voice strangled, the wind having been knocked out of him wholly.

You helped him up, and picked up a piece of paper that had tumbled out of his pocket and went bouncing a few feet.

At first you mistake it for trash, but with the way that even injured and put out Cody grabs for it, you figure it must be something good.

You were due for a little bit of teasing when you decided to open it, only to realize that it was a letter from you.

It's an old one, a really old one, perhaps even the first one you'd ever sent.

"Uhhh... how'd that get in there!?" He exclaims, swiping it out of your hands which are too stunned to fight against it.

Realization dawns on you just as quickly, there is only one reason he'd would've kept that with him after all those years.

"Oh my god Cody, you like me!"

The rest is history, and you two start dating among the challenges.

The conflict would come with Sierra I would think, who's hell bent on breaking you two apart.

All of her attempts fall flat unfortunately for her, and you two stand as one of the more healthy and strong relationships within the show.

#I hope this is as fun to read as it was to write!#oh my god is 3am #what am i doing #anyways hope u enjoyyy!#total drama #total drama x reader #total drama imagines #fanfic #td #total drama headcanons #td courtney #td heather #td gwen #td cody #td duncan #td izzy #x reader

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harringroveera · 1 year

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What’s the name of this friend group?

#billy hargrove #they’re all besties i know #heather holloway #chrissy cunningham #argyle #harringrove #incorrect billy hargrove quotes #harringroveera #cunningway #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove headcanon #billy hargrove meme #billy hargrove text post #incorrect chrissy cunningham quotes #incorrect heather holloway quotes #incorrect argyle quotes #incorrect stranger things #billy antis dni

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lanawinterscigarettes · 2 years

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Masterlists

American Horror Story masterlist

MCU masterlist

Mare of Easttown masterlist

Scream masterlist

Jennifer's Body masterlist

Heathers masterlist

Encanto masterlist

Once Upon A Time masterlist

The Umbrella Academy masterlist

The Breakfast Club masterlist

Friends masterlist

Stranger Things masterlist

The Office masterlist

The Vampire Diaries

Hocus Pocus masterlist

Wednesday masterlist

The Craft masterlist

Doctor Who masterlist

Saw masterlist

#ahs x reader #mcu x reader #mare of easttown x reader #scream x reader #jennifers body x reader #heathers x reader #encanto x reader #ouat x reader #tua x reader #masterlist #ahs imagines #mcu imagines #mare of easttown imagines #scream imagines #jennifers body imagines #heathers imagines #encanto imagines #ouat imagines #tua imagines

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oh-goddess-of-chaos · 1 year

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⠀ 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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