Chapter Text
Veronica was going to die.
In approximately 29 hours, she was going to walk into school on Monday morning and be promptly and publicly murdered by the demon queen of Westerburg High. In all honesty, she only had herself to blame. Drink too much, party too hard, defy the one girl that has the complete and total power to ruin you. It was bound to end in tragedy.
Note to God: Why, of all people, did she have to puke on Heather Chandler’s shoes?
It was almost like a suicide. She may as well have written a little note and left it on her bedside table.
‘Dear World, I’m an idiot. You will find me crushed beneath the most popular girl at school’s expensive heels. Give my things to goodwill.’
She sighed, drinking the last of her soda and dropping the bottle on the sidewalk. Ordinarily she would have put it in the trash, but after some of the things she’d done the last three weeks with the Heathers, littering was the least of it.
She stopped outside her house. Going straight to bed seemed like a waste of her last hours, and she didn’t much feel like lying awake contemplating her impending doom until the early (or was it late?) hours of the morning. She’d already been wandering for just over an hour. She had even stopped by a 24-hour store to prolong the night, with the added benefit of the aforementioned soda and some red vines. The resulting good mood had lasted only as long as it had taken her to finish them before she was back to wallowing in the misery of a woman condemned.
Veronica was going to die.
She was too young. There was so much she needed to do first. Like go to college. Or get laid. (Not for the first time that night she cursed the annoyingly damn good lock on JD’s bedroom window).
An apology. It was the only way forward.
She would apologise to Heather, do whatever demeaning task she would no doubt ask her to do and go back to being a miserable lap dog. It was better than being an ex-somebody that no-one would play reindeer games with, or whatever. In hindsight, she’d had one too many drinks to make sense of the threat, but it sounded bad.
It was this same alcohol that perhaps made up at least 75% of the reason Veronica was cursing as she struggled to climb the tree outside of Heather Chandler’s window not 20 minutes later. (It just had to be 3 stories high). The other crucial 25% was split between a healthy dose of fear, and a little bit of weed.
Once she reached the window, she saw the room was empty, and it occurred to Veronica that Heather might not have even gotten home yet, if she even intended on coming home at all. The Queen Bee could have been at one of the other Heathers’ houses, or staying with some random hot guy from the football team.
Why was it the flaws in a plan never became apparent until they were already in motion?
The window swung open quickly when she pulled at it, causing her to lose her balance.
It wasn’t the most elegant of entrances, with her foot caught on the windowsill and her face firmly planted into the bedroom floor. In complete juxtaposition, Heather Chandler chose that exact moment to practically float through door like an ethereal Goddess and Veronica nearly choked on her tongue.
Her legs go on for days. It was the first thing she thought when she saw Heather stood there in a scandalously short red robe. Veronica knew she was really drunk when her next thought was how she’d like to touch them. Ridiculously hot or not, she should absolutely not be attracted to pure evil.
“What the ever-loving fuck?”
Heather stood staring at her like Veronica had sprouted another head. She must have only recently gotten home, as her face was just slightly damp like she’d just removed her makeup.
-Dear Diary, Heather Chandler looks just as insanely hot without makeup. Where do I go to file a complaint?-
She was holding a hair brush in her hand, brandished above her head like she’d burst into the room expecting to use it as an hilariously ineffective weapon. Veronica couldn’t help but find it the tiniest bit endearing.
She was so definitely drunk.
“You know you really shouldn’t leave that unlocked,” Veronica mumbled earnestly as she clambered to her feet, pointing a thumb back at the window she had just crawled through. “Any creep could just climb in here.”
“You don’t say?” Heather lowers the brush in her hand, relaxing now that she knew her intruder wasn’t some inept burglar. “Well traitor, you’d better have a good reason for being here, or-“
“Or what?” Veronica snorted. “You’ll threaten to ruin me on Monday?”
Heather narrowed her eyes. With a raised brow and hand on hip, she somehow looked like a vicious predator, ready to take her prey.
“You have some brass balls, Ronnie.” Heather smirked when Veronica visibly grimaced. She hated that nickname and the evil queen knew it. “So what is it you’re here for? And you’d better make it good, otherwise whatever you thought you might have to endure on Monday will look like a walk in the park compared to the hell you’ll get when I tell everyone you’re some psycho creep who’s fond of break ins.”
“I uh- I came to apologise.” Though the more Veronica thought about it the more this plan seemed like a horrible, horrible idea.
Heather’s laugh was cruel.
“I hope you brought kneepads, bitch.”
Veronica sighed. She’d known this wasn’t going to be easy.
“Look, I’m really sorry Heather, I was out of line and-“
Heather laughed again. “Do I look like I’m kidding?” There was a malice in her eyes that really shouldn’t have been attractive.
Veronica shook her head, feeling the annoyance rise up in her. She felt like there was something ready to burst from her mouth and her brain hadn’t yet given the okay. She really hoped it wasn’t something stupid.
“Why do you have to be such a Goddamn bitch?”
Oh God. It was like her mouth was in competition with itself to see how quickly it could dig her own grave for her, and she was too drunk to put the shovel down.
Heather’s eyes widened, an almost amused smile tugged at her lips.
“Why not?” The smile broadened into a wicked smirk and Veronica hated that it made her feel a little weak. “Now beg. On your knees. And maybe I’ll think about not completely destroying you.”
Heather stepped into her space, intimidating and beautiful. She was close enough that Veronica could smell her perfume, and the toothpaste she’d used. She tried to summon the mantra she usually used in situations like this, ‘don’t be attracted to evil. Do NOT be attracted to evil’, but her brain seemed to have stopped all useful functioning and instead had her leaning forward.
“You’re evil.” She mumbled - as if half of her mantra had gotten lost somewhere between her brain and her mouth - just before she pressed her lips sloppily to the corner of Heather’s mouth.
It took Veronica exactly five seconds to realise what she'd just done.
Five seconds in which Heather froze.
Five seconds in which Veronica Sawyer single-handedly signed her own death warrant.
Five seconds in which she had managed to commit suicide.
Absolute, total suicide.
Veronica jumped back as if burned, and both girls stared at each other wide eyed and in disbelief. If she could have sunk through the floorboards into non-existence Veronica would have done it. She was actually considering climbing back out the window and throwing herself from it just to avoid everything about her current situation.
She was dead. If she thought she was dead on Monday before, she was so far past dead now that she almost couldn’t remember what living had been like in those precious few moments before she had done the stupidest thing imaginable.
She was going to be ridiculed.
She was going to be a pariah.
She was going to be a laughing-stock.
She was-
She was being kissed by Heather Chandler.
The warmth of the other girl’s lips on hers was as shocking, she assumed, as her own kiss had been to Heather. Of all the directions she had imagined the situation going, it was safe to say this particular direction hadn’t crossed her mind.
Because Heather Chandler was kissing her.
And she was kissing back.
Around 1% of Veronica’s brain was wondering what the hell was going on, but the other 99% was absolutely sure she didn’t want it to stop. Not when Heather was tangling a hand in Veronica’s hair and placing another on her hip to pull her closer. Not when she was biting her lip like that, forcing strangled sounds from Veronica that she was certain to be embarrassed about later. How could she ever want to stop?
Heather’s hands worked at the buttons on Veronica’s blazer without her lips ever ceasing their assault. It dropped to the floor a moment later, yet without the extra layer Veronica felt hotter than she had before she lost it.
“Heather-“
“Shut up, moron.” Heather murmured sharply against her mouth, before sliding her lips down Veronica’s neck and suddenly Veronica was inclined to agree. No talking. Talking was completely overrated. Teeth grazed her skin, just over her pulse and she was suddenly reminded of likening Heather to a predator. That left Veronica as her all too willing prey.
When those teeth were gone, she had to restrain a whine at the loss of contact. She opened her eyes to see Heather had backed away a step, and was leaning slightly against the foot-board of her bed.
Her eyes were on fire, her chest heaving. She was eyeing Veronica with an intensity that made the brunette shiver, while toying with the ties on her robe.
Everything was going too fast. Veronica knew it. And yet, she couldn’t help but feel like things weren’t going fast enough.
Maybe it was the last three weeks of training to jump at Heather’s every command.
Maybe it was that she was still ridiculously turned on from her decision to break into JD’s house, and was left so completely unsatisfied when her plan fell apart.
Or maybe it was just that Heather Chandler looked like the personification of sex itself.
“You said you wanted to apologise, didn’t you?”
Veronica could only nod helplessly. She felt captivated, as if nothing in that moment could have made her take her gaze from the gorgeous blonde in front of her. Heather leered like she already knew it, and began untying her robe in the most torturously slow fashion.
“Well, I’m still waiting for you to beg.”
The robe fell open, revealing red lace underwear and an expanse of pale skin just begging to be touched.
Veronica needed to rethink her mantra, because God was she attracted to evil.
Evil looked divine.
And when Veronica sank to her knees, tugging red lace down those long legs, she wondered if this counted as a religious experience. Or at the very least, if she was about to worship the devil herself.
-Dear Diary, I may have just lost my virginity to a being summoned from hell.
And it was beautiful.-