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lanawinterscigarettes · 2 years

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

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

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

Warnings: smoking, dark humor

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thanks, honey. I really appreciate it."

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

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

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

{Divider by: @celcero}

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

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

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drabsyo · 26 days

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Are you ever going to draw more for your Heather's Murder Mystery AU? I would love to see more art of it! If not, that's okay

something something obligatory "Veronica and Heather are all alone in the hospital after Heather is trying to recover from her stab wounds and the killer is one of their friends (?)" scene, and oh they've just confessed their feelings for each other earlier because seeing the other one get hurt made them realize how badly they want each other in their lives

welcome to Act Three

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how-very-salty · 5 months

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new chapter of royally fucked up. next chapter was a little... emotional o.o

uuuuw, 200 (even 201!) kudos... thank you all for support <3<3<3

#heathers #jason dean #j.d.#jdonica #veronica sawyer #heathers musical #fix it fic #heathers fic #sketch

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cr0wqui11 · 2 months

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Reading heathers fics from people who aren't in the fandom anymore is funny bc like I LOVE THIS AMAZING PEICE OF WORK

and also

I WISH I WAS THERE WHILE IT WAS GETTING UPDATED

and also

AAA THERES ANOTHER FIC IN THE SERIES BUT ITS UNFINISHED and

AAA THE AUTHOR HASNT POSTED ON AO3 SINCE 2022

but

OMG ITS AN AMAZING FIC

Anyways read "The Prom Bet" on Ao3 by PoshBiscuit it's so good also stan Kurt for giving good advice

#The prom bet #TPB #Stan TPB!Kurt #we love old heathers fics #chansaw #heathers #veronica sawyer #heather chandler #kurt kelly

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toxinoire · 1 month

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Finally, I can write again!

This is how I visualize the final scene went down. A mix of both the 1988 movie and the musical.

~~~~~~

"Say hi to God."

Kaboom

Veronica, with a cigarette between her fingers and a sprained ankle, made her way through the school hallway as the other students ran past her to see where the explosion came from.

She contemplated.

She feels nothing.

Is she happy that four people had to fucking die? Absolutely not.

But...

When she looks at who are dead, Heather Chandler, Kurt Kelly, Ram Sweeney, Jason Dean...

Honestly she only feels bad for Heather. Because as much of a bitch as she was, she had her good moments. Moments that made her seem slightly human.

Kurt and Ram, she doesn't care. Those two were rapists. She doesn't like that she pulled the trigger, but Kurt and Ram being dead meant nothing to her.

As for JD....

She hopes he sees his mother. She hopes his father grows a brain and realizes his son is gone because he was never a father to him.

But as for him literally exploding in front of her...

She feels nothing.

She can only mourn that JD she first met, the lost boy who wanted his mother and was sweet, kind, a gentleman, and caring. Not the one that died in front of her.

The crowds moved past her, Veronica is too tired to even care that no one is asking what happened to her, why she looks disheveled and has blood running down her head.

Well,

Someone did say something.

"Veronica." Heather Duke called her, in all red. Veronica can't deny that she looks good in it, but still, she hates her in it. "You look like hell." Heather Duke moved closer to her, as if to inspect her. Veronica notices the slight concern in her eyes, and how she seems to be holding back her hands from reaching out to Veronica.

Veronica hates that last detail. Heather used to always reach out to her.

"Yeah?" Veronica chuckles. "I just got back."

Then, another voice calls her. "Veronica!"

Veronica and Heather Duke turn around to see Heather McNamara running to them. "Where have you been?!"

Heather Mac looks worried. Like, really really worried. "Miss Flemming told us you killed yourself." Heather Mac actually reaches out to her, inspecting her injuries, before she rests her hands on Veronica's face.

Veronica doesn't even hide how she leans into the touch.

She then sees the red fucking scrunchie and snaps back to where she is.

Veronica moves closer to Heather Duke and turns her around to take that damn thing off her.

"Veronica, what are you doing?" Heather Duke asks.

The students who were originally going to run past them stops in their tracks when they see Veronica with the scrunchie.

She wears it on her wrist and raises it up.

Time to actually do something.

"Listen up folks, war is over. Brand new sheriff's come to town." Veronica knows she sounds tired, but fuck that. "We are done with acting evil, we will lay out weapons down." She ties her hair with the scrunchie.

Everyone is watching her.

Good.

"We're all damaged, we're all frightened, we're all freaks. But that's alright. We'll endure it, we'll survive it-" Veronica pauses slightly when she sees Betty and Martha by the crowd. She calls them. "Martha, Betty."

They both turn to look at her, clearly resisting the urge to move. Veronica takes a deep breath. "Are you free tonight?"

Martha and Betty look at each other, before turning back to Veronica. They actually move forward this time.

It was silent for a while.

"What?" Martha breaks the silence.

"Uh, my date to pep rally blew-"

Accidental slip

"-me off..."

That's better

"So I was wondering if you guys weren't doing anything tonight we could pop some jiffy pop? Rent a video?" Veronica can hear how hopeful she sounds.

She doesn't have the right to be hopeful after what she did, but she still is.

"Something with a happy ending." She finishes. Veronica really wants a happy ending right now.

"Are there any happy endings?" Martha asks. Gosh, she sounds so tired. Betty isn't even looking at her in the eye.

Veronica looks at everyone around them and sighs. She turns back to her--hopefully still best friends. "I can't promise no more Heathers, high school may not ever end." She steps closer. "Still I miss you, I'd be honored-" She swallows. "If you'd let me be your friend."

"My friend." Martha says, as she takes Veronica by the hand and pulls her into a hug.

"We can be seventeen. We can learn how to chill." Veronica feels tears form in her eyes as Martha joins her. "If no one-"

Then, Betty joins them. "-loves me now, someday somebody will." She finally meets Veronica's gaze. "We can be seventeen. Still time to make things right. One day we'll change the world, but let's kick back tonight."

This time, it's Veronica who reaches out her to Heather Duke and Heather Mac.

Heather Mac immediately grabs her hand. "Let's go be seventeen. Take off our clothes and dance."

Veronica walks, well, limps, towards Heather Duke and reaches out, a silent plea in her eyes. Heather Duke hesitantly takes her hand, and once she has fully held it, Veronica pulls her into a hug.

Heather Duke puts one hand on Veronica's back, lightly returning the hug. But she grips onto Veronica's jacket as if it's a lifeline.

Veronica sighed. She really missed her. She didn't like what the scrunchie turned her into.

But holy shit, did she missed her.

"Act like we're all still kids, cause this could be our final chance."

Veronica smiles as she sees Betty, Martha, Heather M, and Heather D all try to be nice to each other.

Maybe they can all be friends.

Now everyone is joining them.

"Always be seventeen

Celebrate you and I

maybe we won't grow old.

And maybe then we'll never die."

Veronica feels happy. Genuinely, happy.

She missed that.

"We'll make it beautiful."

Veronica swears she hears Heather Chandler's voice.

"We'll make it beautiful.

Beautiful

Beautiful"

This really feels like a win for Veronica.

#heathers the musical #heathers 1988 #heathers #veronica sawyer #heather duke #heather mcnamara #heather chandler #jason dean #martha dunnstock #betty finn #chansaw #dukesaw #mcnamawyer #mcduke #poly!heathersxveronica #jdronica #at least they're implied #yay i found the motivation to write a short fic again #heathers fanfiction

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steddielicious · 8 months

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So next up for peak bi experience is Joyce Byers.

Joyce Byers, who is still Joyce Maldonado in 1956. She’s the daughter of a doctor in Hawkins, living a comfortable upper middle class life that she hates. So at fourteen, she starts dating twenty-year-old Lonnie Byers, who her father loathes. Daddy Dearest threatens to kick her out if she doesn’t break up with him after a pregnancy scare; she focuses on her friends and school. She forms a clique of girls who idolize her and are fascinated with her tragic forced break-up and salacious stories. Her friends would never dare to approach boys and be labeled as hussies, but they all want to know how to kiss them at upcoming Semiformal and Winter Formal and Homecoming and Prom. Joyce is thrilled at the power she holds in teaching her gal pals to kiss. She gets to pull breathy whimpers out of the other girls and she can’t even get pregnant from it.

By the time she’s a junior, Joyce and Jim Hopper are scandalously best friends. She’s queen bee and he’s a notorious ladies man, but they don’t ever date. People gossip about how it’s not right for boys and girls to act the way they do with each other and they don’t care. They skip class to smoke and compare their exploits. Jim just laughs when Joyce says Alice Gilbert let her feel her tits when she wouldn’t even let Jim kiss her.

After they graduate, Jim goes to Vietnam and Joyce to NYU where she has grand plans to be a realtor after a degree in psychology or something. She hasn’t changed much from high school and finds herself around the same type of girls, this time as part of Kappa Kappa Delta. She gets close to a girl named Rachel and spends all of her undergrad at her side. That is, until December 1963, senior year. Sigma Chi is hosting a luau, so Joyce and Rachel go all out. They’ve got grass skirts and coconut bras, even managing to rustle up leis made of real flowers. Sangria flows all night, and by 3 am, Joyce has Rachel in her bed, plying her with endless kisses. It feels so, so right, but in the morning, Rachel says that she thinks they shouldn’t be friends anymore. It’s just not what girls are supposed to do with each other.

This lights a fire under Joyce. She is enraged by constantly being told what she is supposed to do, who she is supposed to be. So she drops out. She returns to Hawkins for Christmas and does the exact opposite of what a sorority girl is supposed to do. She heads straight into Lonnie Byers’ bed and they’ve eloped by June. This is the final straw for her parents, who take her younger siblings and move to Boston. They don’t provide any contact information. Joyce lives off of her rage and her broken heart, though she doesn’t quite realize how it got there. Rachel’s face still flits through her mind when her husband is drunkenly fucking her. She tries to drown out the sounds of masculine grunts with her memories of coconuts knocking together. Lonnie is furious once she’s cut off from her family funds, so she takes a job at Melvald’s to help make ends meet and stick it to the system that told her she had to graduate from university and marry a finance major right after.

It’s not until 1967 that her fury subsides. She and Lonnie have somehow created the most beautiful baby boy, Jonathan, who is the center of her universe. She becomes a stay-at-home mom to him and their next son, William, until money runs out; she has to return to Melvald’s when Will is only two. Being a parent to her boys and keeping Lonnie off of all of their backs is exhausting; Joyce mellows. She is no longer the temperamental young woman telling the world to fuck off. She just wants Lonnie out. Jim Hopper moves back to town, dealing with his own heartbreak at his daughter’s death and his subsequent divorce. He and Joyce don’t reconnect much beyond surface level chats when they run into each other around town, but that’s fine for now. Their time will come.

Divorce papers are served to Lonnie on Joyce’s fortieth birthday and it turns into an explosive fight, as all their disagreements do. And Joyce knows this isn’t healthy for their sons, but she needs to show them that she will always stand up for them and herself. Because she’s Joyce Fucking Byers.

And once it’s just the three of them, she keeps the Byers name. She associates it more with her boys than Lonnie anyways. Joyce doesn’t even think about dating, especially once Will goes missing a year later and their world is turned upside down. Jim Hopper reintegrates himself into her life and this crazy mindfuckery.

But then that’s done and Bob Newby is just such an extreme opposite from Lonnie that it’s easy to slip into a relationship with him. And then the Upside Down is back and Bob is brutally killed. Time passes and Jim asks her to dinner, which she forgets, because of the magnets, and then he has the audacity to die just as the potential for something starts to appear; now Joyce has the sweetest daughter as well. And she has to protect her kids and leave this toxic, cursed town, so it’s time to head for California. There isn’t any time to date anyone and Joyce is well-practiced at ignoring her urges to ruin the careful hair and makeup of the polished women that Lenora Hills is full of. (She hates them all so much and doesn’t connect these feelings to the thrills of her youth at making pretty girls gasp and pant against her.)

Then Hopper is alive and Joyce thinks that for the first time ever, she’s actually in love. (She thinks she came close with Bob, but alas.) She still notices beautiful women, but so does everyone. It’s normal to appreciate when a woman has a gorgeous smile or can hold herself well in heels, right?

Christmas 1986 brings the usual shuffling of Steve Harrington between the various Party households for each meal. The Hopper-Byers home has the honour of hosting him for Christmas dinner, for which he provides two homemade pies and a topic of conversation that seems suspiciously well-rehearsed with Jonathan.

Very, very casually, the two oldest boys bring up David Bowie, and a little thing called bisexuality. Will and El share several looks, but are overall attentive. Joyce can see the surprise on Steve’s face as Hop asks more questions than either of the younger kids. She stays silent, but Hop gently takes her trembling hand under the table, giving her a soft look.

After dessert, Joyce escapes to the back porch for a well-needed smoke and reflection. Lovely, kind Steve wants to check in on her and, she can tell, gauge if she has any disgust at the dinner’s main conversation.

And maybe it’s strange that the first person she says these words are to Steve Harrington, not Hop or any of her kids, but she sends a silent prayer up to Bob that she’s not making a massive mistake.

“I think,” she pauses to take a shaky drag of her cigarette, “No, I am bisexual.”

See more in the series at #peak bi experience

Crossposted to AO3 here

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crackedoutwalnut · 7 months

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For Heather requests:

Um, ChanDuke. Heather and Heather bonding over nerdy things they secretly enjoy.

I was thinking Spider-Man for Heather Chandler and Homestuck for Heather Duke. But I don't want to make it hard for you, so whichever interest you want for them is fine.

Thank you in advance))

A/N: this is a super cute idea. Chanduke has always been a sleeper hit of a ship.

Despite what most of her classmates may think, Heather Duke had a life outside of her clique. The studious girl often found herself losing hours of the day reading. Whether at school, home or in the passenger seat of Heather Chandler’s car, she could almost always be found with a book in hand. Her taste leaned toward dense and wordy novels such as Moby Dick, Les Misérables, Crime and Punishments, etc. However, recently, Duke has started to grow weary of the complex and often depressing literature she tended to enjoy. She supposed it was a temporary burnout, something every bookworm must face after exhausting their favorite genre.

This naturally led Duke to search for new books. She picked up memoirs, fantasy, YA, and various other genres. While she liked a lot of the books she read well enough, it didn’t spark her interest like the stories she usually read. This led her to feel oddly a tad stir-crazy. She needed new books to read. This led her to the second biggest bookworm in Westerburg, Veronica Sawyer. Duke decided to pop the question at lunch.

“You want to ask me for book recommendations? Heather, you literally never take my advice,” Veronica scoffed, jabbing at her salad with a plastic spork.

“Ugh, I know. That’s how you know I’m desperate.”

Veronica rolled her eyes, “Go fuck yourself, Duke. Let’s see… Have you read A Little Life? It’s super good, plus I know you’ve always liked that intense, sad shit.”

Duke sighed, “I need something different, Veronica. Like we’re talking way out of my usual preferences.”

Veronica forked a tomato into her mouth and pondered for a moment. “Well, sometimes when I’m really bored, I read my old Spiderman comics.

Duke wrinkled her nose and immediately began to shut down the idea, “Comic books? Veronica, what the fuck are you talking about?” She glanced over at the other Heathers, who had been remarkably quiet up until now, for backup.

McNamara seemed just as put off by the idea, “I agree with Heather. Aren’t comics, like, weird?”

Veronica scowled, “It is not weird; a lot of people read and collect comics all the time.”

“Weird people,” Mac shot back playfully. Veronica gave her girlfriend an unamused look.

Duke turned to the silent member of the table, “Heather? What do you think?”

Her girlfriend had stayed unusually quiet, given how opinionated she seemed to be on every other possible topic. Chandler had been silently eating her salad, watching the exchange with indifference.

“I’ll be honest, there are about a million other topics I would rather be talking about,” Heather replied dryly.

“You’re no help,” Duke shot back. Heather gave her a mocking pout alongside a patronizing pat on the head.

Veronica clicked her tongue and shook her head, “See, this is why I don’t bother,” she paused to fish through her backpack. She whipped out two comics, both with Spiderman posing or fighting on the cover. “Take these, just in case.”

Duke rolled her eyes and accepted them from her, “Fine, but I won’t read them. I hope you know that.”

Heather read both comics. Twice. Then she promptly ordered the rest of the series, consumed all 50 volumes in half a week, and ordered more. Heather Duke was not proud to admit that she was infatuated with the comics. It had taken her a week to work up the courage to read Veronica’s books, but when she did, she found she was unable to stop. She didn’t tell Veronica this, of course, she simply returned the comics with a short “not my thing.” The brunette dropped the topic after that, and the Spiderman matter was dropped and forgotten by the posse. Or, at least, it would have been. To put it simply, Duke was caught with her pants down by the worst possible person: her girlfriend. Heather had gotten leagues better about being unnecessarily cruel to Duke when they confessed their shared feelings. However, Chandler was still by no means an open-minded person. Duke recalled the time she saw a classmate wearing a pair of unsightly striped overalls to class. She had told the kid straight to his face that “if he wanted to dress like a shitty train conductor, he could go jump in front one.”

Duke had been reading in her bed. It was a Saturday afternoon, and she was free for the entire day to do whatever she pleased. This led her to indulge in her guilty pleasure. For far longer than she cared to admit, Duke lay atop her covers, idly reading a volume. Until her bedroom door burst open. Duke nearly leaped from her skin as she dropped the comic and looked up.

Heather Chandler stood at the entrance of the room, arms crossed. “So, I guess you don’t answer your texts now?”

Duke’s eyes widened as her hand shot to grab her phone and pull it towards her. Her girlfriend had been texting her… for a while. Various texts asked her if she could hang out or if she could come over, which became increasingly snappy and whiny as the thread progressed. “Oh shit, Heather. I’m sorry, I lost track of time.”

Heather walked closer and focused on the book she had dropped. Her eyes widened, “Reading Spiderman comics?” Duke’s face flushed as she quickly stuffed the comics under her pillow.

“Heather, can you please forget you saw this? I know it’s probably funny and weird, but I really like them and- “Duke was cut off with a soft kiss on her cheek. She rubbed her tingling cheek in baffled silence as she looked up at her lover. Heather was giving her an amused smile.

“Chill, Duke. I’m not going to spill about your geeky ass pastime.” She grabbed the comic from under the pillow, despite Duke’s weak protests. “Who is this anyway? Mysterio?”

Duke paused. The man fighting the titular hero on the cover was indeed Mysterio. But… “How did you know that?” she questioned, snatching the volume from her girlfriend’s hands.

It was Heather’s turn to pause. She opened her mouth slightly, looking uncharacteristically flustered. Her freckled cheeks flushed, “Well I- “

Duke’s eyes widened, and an ear-splitting grin took over her face. “Do you like Spiderman, Heather?”

Chandler’s jaw dropped, and her face was now beet red, “Duke, you can’t tell anyone. I’ll be ripped to shreds.”

Heather felt a pang of pity for her girlfriend. For all her bravado and fuck you attitude, the Queen of Westerburg had an anxious streak, specifically when it comes to her image. Heather Chandler is borderline militaristic when it comes to her physical and social image. She spends over an hour grooming herself in the mornings and schmoozes with college kids until she inevitably gets invited to a party. The idea of anyone finding out about their shared guilty pleasure probably caused the girl to feel hysterical. Duke laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “Heather, you’re my girlfriend. I would never do that. Plus, we’re kind of in the same boat,” she cracked a smile.

Chandler’s shoulders loosened slightly as she nodded. “Right,” She cleared her throat and glanced at the comic for a moment as if she was working up her courage, “Who’s your favorite?” Duke’s smile grew at the unusually nervous demeanor.

“Honestly? Gwen Stacy, I really like her comics.

Chandler’s glowed as she sat on the bed; Duke quickly joined her. “She’s my favorite too.” The two looked at each other, seemingly taking in the new information together.

Duke broke the silence, “Why would you think I would make fun of you for something like that?”

Heather gave her an exasperated look, “The same reason you would.”

Duke winced, “Right. Still, it’s a little sad that we can’t share that sort of stuff with each other.”

She received a sharp laugh in reply, “Can’t or won’t? Duke, we aren’t the most forthcoming people in the world.”

Heather let out a guffaw, “That’s true. However, now that we do know about this…would you like to read some comics with me?” Chandler’s eyes shone as she gave her a soft, toothy grin that made Duke’s heartbeat funny.

“I would be honored, Heather.”

#heathers #heathers one shot #heathers fic #chanduke #heathers musical #heathers the movie #heather chandler #heather duke #heather mcnamara #veronica sawyer

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silamander · 4 months

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I feel like Veronica Sawyer and Jared Kleinman would have such a fun dynamic if they ever met. Like, a sort of teasing back and forth brother and sister dynamic. Jared would make a deez nuts joke or some shit, Veronica would giggle like a twelve year old, and then they'd high five.

#veronica sawyer #jared kleinman #heathers #dear even hanson #heathers the musical #someone write a fic about this plz

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multidimensionalmusicalmess · 4 months

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New Chansaw fic is finally done!

This is a very angsty, very pretentious, very odd, and (I hope) very hot story that took me far longer to write than it had any right to.

This one goes out to all the corruption and Evil Veronica fans.

#I will reblog this until other people do #chansaw #heather chandler #veronica sawyer #fics #heathers fics #heathers fanfiction #heathers

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sprnklersplashes · 4 months

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time won't fly (7/?) (ao3)

I should not be left to my own devices

Exactly a week after Jason Dean’s memorial, Veronica begins her day by violently throwing up into her parents’ toilet. Which is already a crap way to start your day, but then she realises she forgot to lock the door. It creaks open, slippers shuffle on the tiles and her morning goes from bad to worse.

“That’s a little over-dramatic, Sawyer,” Heather sighs from the bathtub. “You know most kids would kill for a mom to check on them like this.”

Veronica lifts her head just slightly, enough to look in Heather’s direction and glare at her through her tangled hair. Had her mom not come in two seconds ago, she could’ve added something else to it.

“Oh, Ronnie,” her mom sighs, oblivious to Heather’s presence. Although the puking has-for now-finished, Veronica keeps her head down. She tightens her grip and stares at a little crack on one of the bathroom tiles. “You’re still not over that stomach bug are you?”

“I’m fine,” she mumbles. She wipes her mouth with her hand before flushing the toilet and pulling herself to her feet. Her legs are unsteady beneath her; matchsticks that could crack at the slightest push.

As she stands, the colours of the room build and swirl and blend together. They push themselves against her eyeballs, demanding entry, before again muting and settling back on their normal palette. The ringing in her ears copies them; rises up and up and then winds down, fades out like a song on the radio. Inside her mouth, the aftertaste of her vomit lingers, heavy and horrible, dripping down the inside of her cheeks.

“I might make an appointment for you with the doctor,” her mom says. “Just to make sure its nothing serious.” Veronica nods briefly and then staggers over to the sink. There, she slurps some water and rinses it around her mouth. “When did it start again? After the pep rally?”

She spits.

“Sometime around then.” She rinses once again, then smooths her hair and heads for the door. “I have to go. I’m going to be late.”

Not to her surprise but definitely to her annoyance, her mother follows her.

“Maybe you should take a day off,” her mom says. She comes into her room but keeps a generous distance, as if she’s contagious. Or at risk of exploding.

“I’m fine.” She grabs her bookbag and jacket from her bed. A cough prickles in her throat, but knowing how it would look to her mother, she forces herself to ignore it.

“You’ve thrown up every day this week.”

“And once I get to school, it’s stopped,” she sighs. It’s not entirely true, of course, but it’s close enough. In the grand scheme of things, she’s lied about worse things. “I’ll be fine.”

“Ronnie.” Her mom is standing in the doorway, as formidable as she can be wearing a floral blouse and white slippers. Veronica tightens her grip on her bookbag and wonders if she is really about to stare down her own mother. Her mom, who up until a few weeks ago was bringing celery sticks and hummus up to her room and rearranged her closet while she was at school. Who knew nothing about her life then and knows even less now.

She buttons up her jacket.

“Mom, I’m going.”

“What do you think will happen to you if you miss one day of school?” she asks. Without warning, she steps into Veroncia’s room and cups her cheek. Her palm is cold, and her touch reaches past her skin and squeezes her heart. Veronica tries to hide it, but the shudder passes through her, wrecking her like a tree blown about by the wind. The grip tightens on her chest, her heart beats wildly. Little by little, the world around her begins to lose focus.

Eyes wide, her mom pulls her hand away. Silence hangs in the air between them, uncertain, accusing. An apology sticks in Veronica’s throat. It should take such little effort to put it into the world. But it won’t move.

“I’m going,” she says instead. “I know you don’t want me to, but I’m going.” Then she brushes past her mom and is running down the stairs.

‘What do you think will happen?’ The question lingers and although she could never say it, she has answers. If she doesn’t show up today, Martha will eat lunch alone, circled by vultures who are desperate for afternoon entertainment. Duke will barricade herself in a bathroom stall and force up last night’s dinner. Mcnamara will smile and bat her eyes while hiding a pill bottle in her pocket. And those are the best case scenarios. She needs to be there. Even if its just to hold those three up, she needs to be there.

As for her? She already knows what she’d do if left to her own devices. Early this morning, she sat with her back to the closet door and re-read her diary, from September 1st to last week and back again, searching for something that would make the last few months make sense. Over and over, her bloodshot eyes read those pages until she forgot how to breathe and she once again felt the noose around her neck. Faded pink claw marks linger on her thighs from last night, and if she stays home today, they’ll end up bigger, deeper.

So yes; she’s going. Because it’s a shitty option but loking at what she’s got, its the best thing for everyone.

“I’m still making you that Doctor’s appointment,” her mom calls after her. Veronica jumps down from the stairs. Heather is already waiting for her at the bottom, her lip curled and her blue eyes raised up to the landing. Veronica keeps her face blank; her teeth grind until pain flashes through her jaw. If Heather picks up on it, she doesn’t say anything, just keeps looking expectantly in her mom’s direction, as though she’s a director waiting for the line that will end the scene.

“Thank you,” Veronica calls up. She raises her eyebrows at Heather, a silent ‘happy now’ thrown her way. Before Heather can react any further, Veronica runs out the door and into the bleak November morning.

Did she mean that sincerely? Probably not. Does she feel like crap about that? Absolutely. But her mom will take it as such, and that is all that should matter.

**********

The Doctor’s appointment is on Saturday morning. Her mom told her about it once she got back from school that day. Veronica guesses it had slipped her mind because when her mom opens her curtains at 8:00am, her first words are “Mom what the hell?”. Which is responded to with a chiding “language young lady” before she reminds her the appointment is today. And seemingly to make up for Veronica’s slip of mind, her mom talks about tsaid appointment the whole way there.

“And I was so surprised at how easily we were able to get booked in,” she tells her in the car. “Especially so last minute. Heck, remember when I had that chest infection last winter? I couldn’t get anyone to see me for days.”

Veronica nods and nods, adds “mm-hms” when appropriate and doesn;t mention that it was, at best, a mild cold. Outside, the sky is blanketed by dense, dark clouds, promising rain soon. Stray trash blows around the sidewalk. Her breath fogs up the window, white across grey, until the world beyond is more like a kaleidoscope of dull colours than an actual place.

It’s kind of comforting.

“You feeling okay, Ronnie?” her mom asks. Veronica stiffens, takes a deep breath, pulls her sweater tighter around her. According to the dashboard, her mom has had the heating on the entire time. She is yet to feel anything.

“M’fine,” she mumbles. The lie is potent on her tongue, her lips clumsy when they say it. She settles herself in the seat and forces herself to look ahead. In her periphery, she can see her mom glancing at her.

“Oh honey,” she sighs. “I told you you should’ve stayed off school.”

“I’m fine at school.”

“You’d be more fine if you took a day off. Just look at how pale you are.” The car slows as they come to a red light. “Look hon, I know senior year is a big year for you and you’ve been waiting for this year since you were a kid. But you need to take care of yourself too.”

The first part catches her off-guard. Had she really waited since she was a kid for senior year? Right now, it feels close to impossible to remember anything before JD, when her life turned into a series of near-misses, close calls, unwavering passion and now, this gruelling day-to-day survival. If she looks back, she feels something, a small whisper of excitement, brushing against her fingers like smoke. Maybe she was excited for her senior year at some point, back when she thought high school was where everything would make sense. And then she was 14 and she grew up.

God, if that kid could see how her senior year had turned out, what the hello would she do? What would she tell her? Probably to run away while she’s still able to. Get as far away from the upcoming damage as possible.

None of that, however, is what her mom needs to hear right now, so she folds her arms and digs her nails into her upper arm.

“I’m fine,” she says again. They’re quiet for the rest of the journey.

******

“I’ll wait out here for you, hon,” her mom says. “Suppose you don’t need your mom coming into the Doctor’s office with you.” Veronica nods in response, seeing nothing untrue in what she said. Then a second passes, and she sees the expectant look on her mom’s face. Behind her, Heather pokes her back, blonde curls bouncing as she nods towards her mom.

“Are you sure you won’t be bored?”

“Oh no,” she replies with a shake of her head. “They’ve got a stack of nice looking magazines over there. Think I’ll have a nice little catch up with the Bratt Pack.”

“How very,” she mumbles, and then the grey-haired secretary points her down the hall and to the left, to the office of Doctor Holly Mason, who opens the door with a bright smile and red-rimmed glasses hanging around her neck.

“Hi, you must be Veronica,” she greets as she lets her in. The office is simple enough-a small room with pale blue walls, equal parts decorated by cliche posters and diagrams of the human body. Holly pats the chair beside the desk. “Take a seat here and we’ll see what’s wrong.”

Entering behind her, Heather jumps up on the table and huffs a laugh.

“Not unless you’re a psychiatrist, babe.”

And in spite of everything weighing her down, a giggle bursts from Veronica’s throat. Because… well, shit, that was a poor choice of words on Doctor Mason’s part.

Of course, Dr Mason doesn’t get the joke. She eyes her with caution, concern creasing her face, and Veronica clears her throat.

“Sorry.”

“Let’s get started then,” she says. “So, your mother tells me that you’d been nauseous most mornings?” She nods. “And how long has that been going on?”

“A week… ish.” She shrugs. JD’s memorial was a week ago on Tuesday. She’d marked that day on her calendar. “About a week.”

“I see. And your mother says you’d come home injured after a pep rally the Friday before, is that correct?”

“Well, Mommy dearest didn’t hold back, did she?” Heather asks. She’d since strolled around the room and stood behind the doctor, frowning disapprovingly. “Hm. Shame. She could be hot. Anyway.” She lifts her head. Veronica finds Heather’s blue eyes blazing at her, twin daggers flashing. “Go on Sawyer. Tell the lovely Doctor lady how you got hurt.”

Goosebumps rise on Veronica’s arms. She breathes in, then again. Straightens her back. Images flash before her like projector film; the boiler room, the bomb, JD slamming her to the ground. His body, so much smaller than it used to be, int he middle of the football field. The sky looming above her when she was thrown backwards.

“Veronica?”

“There was a gas explosion at the school.” She bites her tongue. Breathe, she tells herself. “I um, I got caught in it. I hurt my ankle, mainly. And my ribs. Sort of.”

“I see,” she says softly. “And how is the pain now?”

“Fine.” Just as she says it, a series of painful flashes flare along her ribs, one after the other. She swallows. “It’s fine.”

“Maybe we’ll get you an x-ray to make sure,” she suggests. “Now, here are the awkward questions I’m afraid.” She chuckled. “Are you sexually active?”

Behind her, Heather gasps and guffaws and laughs like it’s the funniest thing in the whole entire world. She cackles and cackles, until she falls to her knees and her perfect skin is a bright red.

“Oh my God!” she screams. “Oh my fucking God!” She wraps her hands around her middle. “Who’d have thought! Who could’ve guessed that you…” The sentence breaks off into peals of laughter and she is on her back, hand pressed to her mouth, feet drumming on the floor.

“Veronica? If the question is too uncomfortable-”

“No,” she interrupts. Heather squeals again. “I mean it, it is but it’s not… Yes I’ve had sex. With my boyfriend.”

Her first instinct is to thank God her mom is not in the room.

Then she hears what she’s said. That JD was her boyfriend. It’s the first time she’s said it, she realises, but what else would she have called him? He was the boy who made butterflies take off in her belly, the boy whose shoulder was her headrest after a long day, whose arms felt like safety and whose lips felt like home. It almost feels too weak a word, but its the closest thing she has. Regardless, a puzzling cry of false, false, false echoes in her brain.

Eventually, she realises.

“My... my ex-boyfriend.”

Heather pauses her laughing and looks at her. The Doctor nods and notes it on the chart.

“And did you and your boyfriend use protection?”

“Protection?” she repeats. She shakes her head, flexes her fingers. “I was-uh-I am on the pill.”

“And your ex?” she asks. “Did he used a condom?”

“Yeah tell us,” Heather says from the floor. “Did the desperado put his gun in a holster?”

“Oh my fucking God!” she exclaims, cheeks red. “No he did not use a condom!”

And its only when she buries her fingers in her hair and pulls that she realises her mistake. Apparently, the pain makes her think clearly. Her feet are flat against a tiled floor and there’s a buzzing coming from the light and she doesn’t see Heather or anyone else, just Dr Mason who is in real time trying to process the fact that this teenage girl just screamed at her in her office because she tried to do her damn job.

Holy crap. Is she ever going to stop?

The red in her cheeks fades away.

“I’m so sorry,” she says. She tries to breathe, but her chest feels stuffed with cotton. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all right,” she reassures her. “So. Your ex didn’t use protection?”

“No,” she whispers. “He didn’t.” Dr Mason only nods. Her eyes flick to the door behind her, then to the chart, then to Veronica. Now, with her attention finally wher eit should be, Veronica sees her square her shoulders. Bracing herself. In case Veronica loses it again.

For fuck’s sake she tells herself. Keep. It. Together. Daringly, she glances behind. Heather is gone. She can take this. Whatever it is.

“Veronica?” she begins delicately. “Is there any chance that you could be pregnant?”

Except that.

“Pregnant?” she repeats. “No. No I’m on the pill. And we never… did anything like that.” Liar. She shakes her head again. Her heart grows faster. “No I’m not pregnant.”

“I understand why you feel that is the case,” she explains. “But it can only take one moment. And what you’ve said, nausea in the morning. It sounds like a possibility.”

“I was on the pill,” she says again, and then she flinches. Was. No, is. Right? She took it every morning. This morning? The one before? The one before the party, definitely.

But-

Then she woke up at JD’s place.

Then Heather died.

Then-

Desperately, Veronica searches for the image of her opening the dresser drawer, tries to conjure the oh-so mundane action of grabbing the sleeve, get a pill out, get water, down it. One move at a time.

Surely, she had to have done it. But she can’t remember.

And as for her and JD. That night after the party wasn’t the only time-

“I’m on the pill,” she says again.

“Well, do you remember roughly the date of your last period?” she asks. Something washes over her, something cold, dragging her down. Its November. November started two, three weeks ago. It happened, of course it happened, it was-no, who remembers the exact date of their period? It happened though. It happened.

Her fingers curl around the chair. Threads inside her come loose.

“I can’t be pregnant,” she says again. It’s hollow. “I’m not pregnant.”

“I understand this is a distressing idea,” the doctor tells her. Veronica heard it and she nods, but she wants to scream because no, you don’t understand, because she is not pregnant with Jason Dean’s baby. “We can do a quick test to rule it out. To make sure.”

Her first instinct is to tell her no, to jump from this chair, get to the car and just drive. Maybe flatten the hospital on her way out.

Instead, she just nods.

Dr Mason explains the process bit by bit, a strange mix of clinical and comforting. Veronica nods and nods and answers when she needs to. She drinks a juice cup. Dr Mason leads her to a little bathroom and waits while she pees in a cup. She hands it back to Dr Mason, is led back to the office.

Through it all, Veronica doesn’t feel a thing. Once she agreed to this, she stepped outside her body and stands as a ghostly observer, a spectator who watches another girl’s fucked up life. Not with amusement or horror, but with a detached curiosity.

“Right,” Dr Mason says. “Now, I’ll just get my colleague to run a quick test on this. In the meantime, do you want your mother in here?”

“Absolutely not,” she hears herself say. This time, there’s no follow up; she doesn’t apologise, Dr Mason doesn’t respond. Instead, she opens a little cupboard and hands her a cookie.

“I’ll go and give this to my colleague,” she says again. “And tell your mother that we’re doing a test and we’ll be done soon. Okay?” She smiles. Her voice is higher, her tone more suited to a preschool teacher than a doctor. “I’ll leave the door open. I won’t be long. Will you be okay?”

She forces herself to nod. Doctor Mason smiles and tells her to eat and then she’s gone, urine in hand, door open, the black-and-white tiles of the hallway sitting before her.

Slowly Veronica can feel the clothes over her skin. She pulls apart the cookie in her hand.

“Well,” Heather sighs. She’s back on the floor, probably gathering all kinds of dirt on her robe. “Preggo huh?”

“I’m not.”

“Something about rivers in Egypt,” Heather sighs. With impeccable grace, she rises from the floor and shakes out her glossy hair. Not a strand is out of place. “Have you thought about what happens if you are though?”

She swallows. An answer appears in her mind, but she pushes it away in a second. Because she won’t do that to her friends, to Martha, to her parents. And because she promised JD she’d stick around.

So Heather doesn’t get an answer. The best she can do is shake her head.

“Shame,” Heather tuts. “You’re smart, Sawyer. Or, you were. Can’t believe you didn’t plan for something like this.”

“Did you ever?” she asks. Goosebumps rise on her arms. Her hands sit limp in her lap. “When you were… like, with Kurt and Ram? Or…” She pulls at her sleeves. “Anyone?”

Heather laughs, a short, bitter-sounding thing.

“Did I never tell you?” she replies dryly. And its that moment, with her knees pulled to her chest and her chin resting atop them, that the Demon Queen of High School looks… well. 17. Like a 17 year old who should be off screwing the entire football team and making sure they have condoms.

Neither of them should be here. Heather has stuff she wanted to do and Veronica should’ve done anything else.

“Don’t fall apart now, Sawyer,” Heather says. She nods at the door. “We’ve got company.”

Veronica looks up and Dr Mason is coming back into the room, a piece of paper held carefully in her hand. She sits up straighter, tightens her shoulders and her jaw and her back, as if screws are wedged in her joints and forcing her to stay together. Her heart stops and starts and stops again. The cookie lies in crumbs on her lap.

God, how long has it been?

“Veronica,” she begins. “We have your results.”

If she’s expecting a reply, she doesn’t get one. From head to toe, her body trembles with the effort from staying in this chair. She thinks she should pray, beg the universe to stop this. She doesn’t.

“Veronica… you're pregnant.”

Silence.

All at once, the air is sucked from the room. The colour goes next, then the warmth. Dr Mason is saying something to her; her lips move but the sound can’t travel and its just meaningless movements. Her rigid joints come loose and float from each other. Her mind is gone too. The Doctor is speaking to a collection of scattered parts, not a person.

Weakly, Veronica presses her hand to her abdomen.

She’s pregnant. With his baby.

Someon speaks beside her.

“Well.” It’s not Heather. Its low, smooth, the unplacable accent curls around the words. “Quelle surprise indeed.”

No. No.

She turns her head. Just a fraction.

Jason Dean is at her side, a grin cutting wickedly across his face, dimples indenting in his cheeks, dark curls falling in front of his face. His eyes glitter.

Veronica stands.

“Maybe I should’ve worn a condom, Ronnie,” he shrugs. “My bad.” He doesn’t look sorry at all. He looks so fucking glad.

“Veronica?” the doctor asks.

She finds her voice then. It starts as feeble moan, quietly emerging from the back of her throat.

Then, she opens her mouth and starts screaming.

#heathers the musical #heathers musical fanfic #heathers fic #jdronica #veronica sawyer #jason dean #heathers #fic: time won't fly

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