#Veronica Sawyer pillow

[kittieshauntedourfantasy]

Me and bae

[out-of-context-google-chat]

[poisonsophiaa]

What its like dating different Heathers characters!

a/n: this is pre-death of everyone if that makes sense? same universe just nothing bad happens 🤫🤫 first public headcanon list :3

warning/tags: drug and sex mention, past death implyed, lowkey toxic relationships, otherwise teeth rotting fluff, gender neutral!reader heathers 1989 movie characters!

includes: Veronica Sawyer, Chandler, Duke, Mcnamara and Jason Dean

Veronica Sawyer ✧.*

cutest couple award goes to you guys

literally adorable

would help you study for class

would definitely stay up late writing for you

(she would always fall asleep at her desk)

brutally honest to your face

before you started dating you definitely would sneak out together and go to the park at night “just as friends”

you, veronica and heather mcnamara are the best trio ever 🙏🏼

you would call veronica ‘ronnie’

she calls you ‘babe’ because shes lowk basic

Heather Chandler ✧.*

before you started dating she would low key bully you

her form of flirting was calling you shit

asked you out, was immediately embarrassed, yelled at you to stop laughing

if anyone walked in on you doing literally ANYTHING, she would throw a pillow at them and scream

wishes your relationship was a secret in the beginning

everyone thinks you are so adorable

behind all her anger she loves you and is the biggest baby

Heather Duke ✧.*

Is jealous all the time (duh)

before you started dating, whenever someone would come up and start flirting with you she would literally turn red.

She thought it was so hot when you turned them down and called them some mean shit

would call you ‘baby’ or ‘babe’, but HATES being called any sort of petname

absolutely DOWN BAD FOR YOU.

worships the ground you walk on

feels bad just to breath the same air as you

you would get you guys matching bracelets and she would absolutely hate them.. but wear them all the time

honestly a horny bastard

Heather Mcnamara ✧.*

the cutest girl ever

would call you shit like “pookie wookie bear” or “sugar plum princess” or something

if it was the 21st century, she would definitely make your contact name “wifey 🤤🤤”

waves to you while cheering (think that one scene in jennifers body

buys you stupid novelty items from gift shops

you come to every single football game to watch her cheer

every-time you say something bad about yourself she wants to tackle you

Jason Dean ✧.*

lowkey toxic im not gonna sugar coat it

worships the ground you walk on

would kill for you (duh…)

tried to stop smoking for you.. and failed miserably

only hangs out at your house and is very close with your parents

would always try to scare you, but would be so pissed if you scared him walking around the corner

absolutely down bad for you

(if he had friends) he would brag about you too much

[evewasheretoday]

“Behave.” Chandler warned Veronica, seeing the brunette's cat form out of the corners of her eyes reaching her paws out towards one of the windows.

“I am!” Veronica replied, her tail flicking in annoyance behind her. “I wasn't planning on doing anything.” She added.

Chandler hummed, turning her book to the next page. “I don't believe a single word you say, Sawyer.” She commented.

“That's alright.” Veronica huffed. “You don't really believe anyone's words anyways.” She added, jumping down to the floor of Chandler's bedroom before climbing up to the girl's bed.

“Get off my bed.” Chandler sighed, closing her book and setting it aside on her bedside table. “You're going to get fur all over it!” She hissed.

“Make me.” Veronica responded, her tail swishing from side to side before she settled comfortably onto Chandler's bed and closed her eyes.

“Nice bed, by th—” Veronica couldn't finish her sentence as Chandler quickly picked her up from the bed and tossed her onto the floor.

The brunette landed flat on her butt, letting out a yelp as she did so. “Ow, that was uncalled for!” She said, quickly getting back on her paws and looking at the other girl in the room with a frown.

“You are a cruel woman.” Veronica muttered, her ears flattening on her head and showing her displeasure. “I know.” Chandler replied with a smile.

She dusted off her bed sheets to get rid of any possible fur Veronica could have gotten on it before plopping down and settling into her own bed.

“If you want to be treated nicely, you could have just gone to Heather or Heather's instead.” Chandler mused, watching Veronica carefully as she took some discarded pillows from the bed and used them to make a nest to sleep in.

Veronica rolled her eyes. “Don't get me wrong, I love Heather and Heather..” She trailed off. “But— I kinda just want to hang out with you today than them.” The brunette admitted quietly after a moment, a little embarrassed.

“Oh.” Chandler didn't know what to say.

It wasn't often someone other than Heather and Heather actually wanted to be around her.

“You might be a bitch but you're still pretty nice to hang out with.” Veronica added after a moment. “Anyways, I'm tired so good night.” She yawned, hopping into the nest and curling herself up in it.

Chandler couldn't tell if Veronica was actually tired or not but she decided it wasn't something she should dwell on.

“I guess you're not that bad, Sawyer.” Chandler softly spoke, a small smile tugging on her lips before she closed her eyes.

“Goodnight.” She added, drifting off to sleep.

[plut0sv3rmile]

╰┈➤MEINE SCHATZ

PAIRINGS: Veronica Sawyer x F!Reader

TYPE: Idk atp

WARNINGS: None

Meine Schatz meaning: Mein(e) Schatz or Schatzi is a term of endearment for Germans. There is not an exact translation in to English because it literally means “my treasure”. Germans use it the same way that Americans use “Honey” or “Babe/Baby” or “Sweetheart/Sweetie”

Meine/mein: Mein, male term for "my". Meine, female term for "my"

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀

You sat on Veronicas bed, giggling about random stuff such as Kurt and Ram being idiots .

"Hey, (name)." Veronica said, looking you straight in the eyes with a blank face.

"Hm?" You asked, looking back at her, wondering what she needed.

Veronica paused and took deep breaths before replying.

"You know Jason Dean, right?" She asked, a blush coated her face.

You pondered for a moment before responding, "yes... why?"

She didn't even respond and just looked away from you.

You gasped, "holy hell! You and him—" you paused, feeling your heart shatter

Veronica nodded, still blushing.

You played it off and smirked, "was it good?"

"(Name)!" Veronica shouted, throwing a pillow at you in embarrassment.

[sprnklersplashes]

B and M with dunnamara and E and N with Veronica and Lily (not I ship, ik buuut 👉👈)

I'm always down for writing lily sawyer and the best heathers ship

tip me on ko-fi (totally optional!!!)

dunnmara

It's become a little tradition in some ways. Heather might have shed a lot of her past, but parties are still something she enjoys doing. She likes dancing, she likes socialising, she likes making out with Martha in the middle of a crowded room. Martha likes it less so, but Heather is content for her to leave early (providing she pages her when she gets home), or to slip out to a quiet spot with her book (with JD for company). Or to just stay at home, get an early night and then hear all about it the next morning over coffee.

However, what Heather also loves, is drinking. And sometimes, she gets a bit carried away on the shots. And well...

It ends up like right now. Heather curled up on Martha's bed, face scrunched tight and pressed into the pillow, with Martha's white blanket wrapped around her like a second skin. The curtains are drawn and light off; Heather was barely in the room a few minutes before the headache set in.

She looks up just Martha tiptoes in, pure misery in her brown eyes.

"I am never, never, never drinking tequila ever again!"

"Don't make promises you can't keep, love." Heather shuffles over, taking the mass of blanket with her, and Martha settles on her side of the bed. Heather wastes no time in climbing on top of her, using Martha's shoulder as a stand-in for a pillow and throwing the blanket over both of them as they twist their legs together. Martha threads her fingers through Heather's knotted hair, drawing her closer and planting a small kiss on her forehead. Heather groans, entire body wriggling, and then she's pressing into Martha's side as if her life depends on it. As if Martha's body is an extension of her own, a home away from her own home. Like there's no place she would rather be.

(Funny that. There are few places Martha would rather be than beside Heather. Hangover and all)

"Veronica's going to be here soon to work her hangover magic," she explains. Heather nods, a small groan coming as the reply. "And until then..." Her free hand slips into her sweater pocket and she pulls out a fresh sleeve of painkillers. Heather cracks open her eyes, her frown a contrast to Martha's grin. "Come on. Open up, Buttercup."

"Ugh," Heather moans, but she pops two pills out of the sleeve and accepts the water Martha offers. She plops back on top of her with far less grace than usual. "Thanks for letting me stay over."

"Always." She runs her hang up Heather's back. "Party any good?"

"Mm." Heather shrugs, eyes screwed shut. "You weren't there. So it kind of sucked."

Martha chuckles, the pink on her cheeks matching the pink on her walls.

"I'll come to the next one," she whispers. "If only to stop you from doing shots."

To Martha's surprise, Heather shakes her head, blonde curls slipping out of the braid.

"Can we just stay here next time?" she asks. Martha blinks, a small part of her convinced she heard her wrong. But then Heather is nuzzling against her and rubbing her cheek against her sweater and yeah, she heard her right.

"Of course we can," she whispers with a kiss to her head. "Let's just get through this first, okay?" Heather nods, an agreement murmured under her breath, and Martha knows there is nowhere she'd rather be than here.

veronica+lily

Like with most things, Veronica blames herself for this. On good days it's easy to tell herself otherwise; she couldn't have seen the contents of the mug in that dark room, she had no way of knowing what Ich Luge meant, she never told JD to start killing people in her name. Sometimes, if the time is right, she can make believe it's not her fault.

With this though, she doesn't think she can.

Lily is curled up in a ball on a plastic chair, hot forehead pressed to Veronica's shoulder. Her eyes are screwed shut, but her body is too tense for her to be sleeping, small tremors shaking her little shoulders. Every few seconds, Lily whimpers and curls in on herself, or presses into Veronica like she has the answers and it kill her. Lily is counting on her to fix it, and she's stroking her hair and telling her it's okay and the guilt pricks against her skin til she bleeds.

"It's going to be okay, baby," she tells her again, wrapping her jacket around Lily's shoulders. She bites back the tears and threads her fingers in Lily's hair.

She thought the lack of appetite was just her being picky.

She thought her being tired was just too many late nights.

She thought the vomiting and the low-grade fever was just a quick bug and she'd be back at school tomorrow.

When she heard Lily in the living room, screaming her name like her life depended on it, Veronica's heart stopped. The plate she was holding is likely still shattered on the kitchen floor. She didn't even remember to put on a jacket before wrapping Lily up and bundling her into the car. One hand on the wheel, the other between Lily's two, as she sped down through residential roads to the emergency room. She probably looked a sight when she stumbled in almost an hour ago, barely choking out her baby's symptoms.

A sharp whimper pulls her back to the present. Lily's hand is now balled up in her shirt, brown eyes cracking weakly open.

"Mommy?" she whispers. Veronica swallows the lump that appeared in her throat. At eight-going-on-nine, Lily has been starting to shed the childish 'Mommy', saving it for when she needed it most.

"I'm here baby," she tells her. "I've got you, it's okay." The words feel false in her mouth, and her hand in Lily's hair might be the only thing keeping her from spiralling. They sit like that for who knows how long, Lily whimpering against her and Veronica promising her she'll be all right, until finally, "Lily Sawyer" is called over the tannoy. Veronica has never really been one for prayer, family trips to church just involved gazing out the window, and there was nothing holy about her cries to JD. But when she places her daughter on a hospital bed, tears leaking out of her eyes, she puts a silent call out to the universe, to anyone, who can fix her little girl.

She says she'd do anything and, if anyone had been paying attention, they'd know what that means for her.

It turns out to be appendicitis. A doctor explains it to her while Lily is slipped some painkillers, confirming every symptom she lists off. Every single one meant that one of her daughter's organs was about to explode and Veronica treated it with over-the-counter medication and a day off school. The doctor assures her Lily will be fine, and she smiles and nods and thanks them.

Then she falls into a seat and buries her face in her hands.

She wishes she never left Sherwood. When she buckled Lily into that car seat and hugged her friends goodbye, she promised she would never look back. And she rarely does. They've built a life for themselves here, her work, Lily's school, playdates, birthday parties. It's easy to get comfortable here, no looking over her shoulder or lingering outside school gates.

Then this happens, and she's staring at the door willing Martha to come running in, or Heather to barrel in with a bunch of flowers. She'd even take her parents if it meant having someone beside her to hold her while she cried.

And yes, she wishes he was here. She wishes he was here and pulling her against his chest and making her believe it would all be okay. If anyone could make her believe that, it would be him.

It does turn out okay. She's informed later that the surgery went perfectly well and that Lily should be able to go home by the end of the week. Veronica sits in a padded chair for what feels like hours waiting for Lily to wake up, nails bitten and pulled to the quick. She keeps her eyes trained on Lily's chest, comforted by the regular rise and fall of her chest.

She did the same thing when she was a baby. Sometimes she'd sit for hours on her bed and watch Lily in her crib, waiting on a knife edge for something to go wrong.

"Mom?" Lily's hoarse voice pulls Veronica to the present. The girl blinks heavily, blankets rustling as she shifts.

"Hey baby," she whispers. Lily's hand reaches weakly and Veronica takes it, pushing Lily's hair back with the other. Meanwhile, Lily traces circles on the blanket, just above her stomach, a small and slightly perplexed expression on her face that makes Veronica laugh for some reason.

"It's okay, Lil," she tells her. "It's all okay now." A small smile flies past her face.

"You're okay?" she asks. Tears blur Veronica's eyes as she nods.

"I'm okay," she says and for the first time that night, she means it.

[blueikeproductions]

-Snappy Snack/7-11 combo, the night of the homecoming party-

JD: -sucking away at his slushee- Ahh, who needs some obnoxious jock party free for all when you can just freeze your brain, right Danny-Boy?

-Dan is just swirling his Cherry Coke slushee with his straw looking deep in thought-

JD: -frowns- You’re still thinking about Dumptruck, ain’tcha?

Dan: I hope she’s gonna be ok. I know the Getalong Gang set her up to fall with that note… -swirls more anxiously-

JD: -Thinks for a moment about his earlier conversion with Veronica while Dan was getting their drinks- Mmmn. -narrows eyes thinking about an impatient Heather Chandler yanking the surprised but annoyed Veronica out of the store- -Sighs- …Well as far as I’m concerned Miz Sawyer and Miz Dumptruck made their bed and they can sleep in it. -briefly pictures a stripped down to her bra and underwear Veronica cuddling with a similarly stripped down Martha like a body pillow in bed and is wondering what that says about himself…-

Dan: Dunnstock. -swirls a little slower-

JD: -sips and looks a little embarrassed- …Oh is THAT how you pronounce it? …I’m gonna have to redo that letter of recommendation lest they give Honor Roll to the wrong Martha.

-Both boys get a mild laugh out of that-

Dan: I tried to warn Martha though, but she wanted to see Ram so badly…

JD: -pats Dan’s back- Ah I’m sure Mizz Dumpstock’ll be fine. She’s uh… how do I say this politely… -ahem- got a VERY thick skin.

Dan: -doesn’t look convinced, but knows JD is trying and nods in agreement. He looks out the store window looking at the faint light show from Ram’s house in the distance-

-Ram’s house, music blaring, toilet paper strewn all over the house and trees, teens doing what stereotypical 80’s movie teens do everywhere-

-Veronica is enjoying a good buzz from her first hit of… whatever it was Green and Red Heather offered her-

-Kurt’s running around shirtless with two beers in hand, whooping and hollering like a guy at a college frat party, helping keep the party alive and crazy, as Thrash smashes a can on his head and joins Kurt in the hootenanny. Throttle just rolls his eyes and goes back to talking to a starry eyed Cheryl Rodgers while a jealous Betty Finn watches nearby. Tracey is laughing maniacally, carrying more TP outside with some other kids, Specs is chatting about Yattodetaman to a bored out of her gourd random girl, but Gold Heather, walking by with more Jell-O shots for the other Heathers and Veronica, looks genuinely interested.-

-Ram is by the coolers, nursing a Budweiser, and watching Kurt… being Kurt with the other assorted party goers, and can’t help but feel a sense of attraction and arousal. He smiles warmly and is blushing hard, how much of this is his inner gay attraction or the other Budweisers he’s already had is a bit unclear. This stops the moment Ram sees Martha come in carrying something, and he spits out his drink in shock.-

Martha: -waddles up to the stunned jock, smiling cheerfully- Hi Ram~!

Ram: -coughs hard, clears throat- M-Martha?!

Veronica: -still a little zoned, but sobers up more the moment she sees Martha- Oh no… She actually came… I gotta… -Takes a step towards Ram and Martha, but feels a hand gripping her arm-

Red Heather grins evilly, holding Veronica in place, with Green sharing the dark glee while Gold instead shares Veronica’s concern: Ah-Ah-Ah, Sawyer, let’s see how this plays out. Why it could even be… -all three girls in unison- scandalous, hahaha~!

Gold Heather: Showing up took some guts thou-

Green Heather interrupts her: But now’s the time to rip ‘em out! Right, Heather~?

Red Heather: Shaddup, Heather!

Green Heather: S-sorry, Heather…

Veronica: -glares at Red, but knows her hands are tied and just watches Martha and Ram despondently-

Ram: Wh-what are you doing here, Martha…? I can’t believe you actually… came…

Martha: Uh huh! And I brought Sparkling Cider~! -Proudly displays the comically large bottle she’s been carrying around-

Ram: -stunned but kinda playfully amused at her earnestness- Heh, yeah, look at that…! -finger guns hesitantly- But WHY are you here, this isn’t usually your thing…

Martha: Well… -blushing, shuffles in her pocket and pulls out the note- I wasn’t gonna come, but since you took the time to write this sweet note…~!

Ram: Note…? What note? -takes the paper and reads it in visible confusion- -He notices the ink is the same kind of blue gel pen Veronica uses, and side eyes a panicking, but restrained by Heathers, Veronica mouthing “Please no.” over and over nearby. He glances back at Martha, who’s just blushing and beaming, and his face scrunches in pained awkwardness realizing what’s happening.-

Ram: Oh right…. The note! The note I wrote. Me, myself and I. Yessire. Oy… -clears throat and hands the note back- All the, uh, party planning, and I just… -mumbles- forgot.

Martha: That’s ok~! (Ram: …It is?) I know the football star’s got a lot on his plate, but just the fact he took time out of his busy schedule to write me…! -looks dreamy eyed- It’s just like old times! It’s exciting, right~? -takes Ram’s hand absent mindedly-

Ram: Y-yeah… Mondo exciting… -blushing, knowing what she means, the days of their note passing in kindergarten and elementary school, his held, broad hand twitching a little in her softer, plumper, smaller hand, hesitating on whether to clasp it back-

Red Heather looks irritated her scheme seems to have backfired; Veronica sighs in relief and looks smug but genuinely surprised Ram is apparently playing along. Maybe Ram still harbors old feelings for Martha after all…?

-And then a shirtless, half drunk Thrash walks up to the two awkward teens-

Veronica: Oh no…

Red Heather: -says in deep voice like the Kool-Aid Man only more sinister- Oh yeah~!

Thrash: -gets Ram in a headlock- Great party, Sweeney! Just like I’d expect from my protégé! You’ve learned well!

Ram: -gags in confusion, pats on Thrash’s bulging bicep to let go-

Thrash: -lets go but only because he’s distracted by Martha- Hey what’s that swine Dumptruck doing here? Didn’t you see the sign? No fat chicks! Tell her, Sweeney! It’s your rule!

Martha’s beam starts to fade: W-what?

Ram: -pathetically attempting to stick up for her- Hey, she… I… I invited…he-

Thrash: -not listening, yanks the cider bottle out of Martha’s hands- Oh I get it, she brought a peace offering. -pops off the cork and takes a swig, grimaces and spits it out all over Martha- You dumb cow! There’s no alcohol in here! -smashes the bottle against her feet, splashing her even more- Are you trying to POISON me and mah boy here? -slaps a despondent Ram on the chest- -Leans into Martha’s face looking angry- Now beat it.

Martha: -drenched and shocked starts to break down and cry, she turns and runs, slips and belly flops in the ground, causing some of the guests who’d been watching the display to bust out laughing, the Heathers included naturally. Veronica just looks defeated, shooting Thrash and Ram a disapproving, tired look. Ram attempts to help Martha, but she slaps his hand away in anger, gets up and stumbles out, crying harder.-

Ram: -just stands there looking ashamed and conflicted as Thrash shoves a Miller in his hands- Crack open another case, bro! That land whale party crasher’s outta here! Hmm, who should we throw out next? Im pretty sure that dork in the 3D glasses snuck in here… -snaps fingers- Yo Kurt! Crasher in 3D, 12 o’clock! (Kurt: -looks up from trying to kiss an uninterested Cheryl- Wuhat?)

Ram: -growls, shakes the beer can, opens and sprays it all over a laughing Thrash, who unlike Martha is actually enjoying it. Ram, not getting the desired affect, stomps off in a huff-

A drenched Thrash stops laughing and looks confused: Hey where are you going, Super Star?

Ram: -shoots a cold look back, briefly thinking back to when JD leapt out of nowhere and punched him and Kurt over teasing Dan and looks confused and angrier- Leave me alone. -goes outside-

Throttle: -walks up- What was that about, Terrance?

Thrash: -has suspicions but shrugs it off- Ah Sweeney’s pry just wondering how he’s gonna clean all this up before his ‘rents come back. -pulls out another beer and swigs- Aaah, poor bastard.

[smad-lesbian]

💙✅ VERONICA SAWYER! @kittieshauntedourfantasy as Ronnie I approve of the body pillow

ur first and last recent emojis are ur gender now. mine is 🅱👨‍❤‍💋‍👨

[ivycovehq]

welcome to ivy cove, meg! we can’t wait to meet veronica sawyer. please make sure you read through the checklist and send in your account within 24 hours

( meg ) woah! was that VERONICA SAWYER walking down main street? i heard they’re not actually from ivy cove but come from HEATHERS. they’re 22 and live in RADIAN HILLS but watch out because they can be SNARKY + VENGEFUL but are actually WITTY + INTELLIGENT. despite them NOT HAVING memories, you’ll always think of USING YOUR HIGH IQ TO PICK WHAT COLOR LIP GLOSS TO WEAR IN THE MORNING, A BRIGHT BLUE BLAZER, A TATTERED OLD DIARY HIDDEN UNDERNEATH YOUR PILLOW, A CROQUET SET, THE FEAR THAT YOU'LL NEVER ACTUALIZE YOUR FULL POTENTIAL, when imagining them. / natalia dyer, she/her

[lancearcherinrippedjeans]

Eternity - Chapter 8

*************

Starring - The OC’s, MJF, Ricky Starks, Kenny Omega, Hangman Page, The Dark Order, Matt Jackson and so much more.

Word Count - 5,627

Category - Fluff, angst and violence

Chapter 8/?

Summary - It’s a few days before Full Gear, and Sawyer and Veronica’s match. Will things be a breeze, or will there be blood in the water?

Warnings - VIOLENCE, LOTS OF IT. And drinking and manipulation

Other Author’s Notes - Follow @adriii-omega!!!

*************

Sawyer lay in her bed, curled up in the blankets, some shitty Netflix reality tv on her laptop. There were tissues all around her, and a tear stained pillow right under her. It had been like this ever since her “breakup” with Chuck, she hated it, she wasn’t even like this when her and Wardlow broke up the first time.

“Why couldn’t me and Chuck end up like those two! It’s not fair.” She started to tear up again when she heard banging on her door. She sat up, confused, she wasn’t expecting anyone, in fact she told everyone to leave her alone until she died. She got up to look through the peephole, to see it covered. She sighed, “Who the hell is it and why are you knocking on my door?”

“It’s Maxwell, honey. Open up.”

Sawyer audibly groaned, annoyed that he even spoke, before opening the door. Max almost jumped, looking at her. He gave her a look before pushing past. “Excuse you,” She whined, “You can’t just walk into someone’s room uninvited.”

Max looked around the room before turning back towards Sawyer, who had closed the door and now looked at him, confused. “You look like you’re having a good time.” He sarcastically commented, raising an eyebrow, plopping onto the end of the couch.

Sawyer shuffled her feet and sat next to him, as he examined her and the room, while she stared into space. “Messy room, reality tv,” He paused, “basketball shorts and a shirt that is 3 sizes too big so it definitely doesn’t belong to you. Did you and Wardlow break up?”

Sawyer looked down at her shirt, and began to sob. “T-this is the shirt he gave to me after he spilt his apple juice on me.” she snuffled. “But Wardlow hates apple juice, he’s an orange juice type of guy…that nasty man.” Max shook his head, having Sawyer kick him with her foot.

Hearing the word breakup caused Sawyer to start crying, get up and to plop on her bed, “No you idiot! Your friend forced me to stop being friends with Chuck! And it’s not fair! I miss him! And even after I did it, Michael hasn’t talked to me in four days for ‘punishment’ for being sad about it!”

Max looked at Sawyer, scared, before she continued, “And people won’t leave me alone and it’s so annoying! Can’t I just deal with the fact that I had to stop communicating with the dude I’m in love with?” Sawyer gasped, snapping up and covering her mouth.

Max's mouth hung a bit, his eyes wide. “I did not…I mean-”

“I knew it.”

She instantly shut her mouth, a perplexed look taking over, “You knew what?” Max lightly chuckled before sitting on the opposite side of the bed. “That you’re in love with Chank.”

“His name is Chuck.”

“And, I don’t give a shit. All that matters is that man made you light up in a way Michael never could.” He paused, before taking a deep breath.“The problem with Wardlow is, he can only give so much in a relationship…but with Chuck, the guy’s not even dating you, and he’s willing to give you the whole world, Sawyer. Please tell me you’ve seen the way he looks at you when you’re doing absolutely nothing, or the way he crouches over his phone because he’s grinning like an idiot from just texting you. If that man walked through that door right now, and you looked like this, he would still think you were the finest girl he’s ever laid his beady little eyes on.”

Sawyer wiped her eyes, and sat up. “You’re not funny.” She tried her best to keep her smiling from growing, “Shut up. You know I’m knee slapping hilarious.” She finally let her laugh out, not being able to hide it. “There’s that smile I love.” he sent her a toothy grin before leaning over, and placing his arm around her shoulders, “Everything’s going to be just fine,” he placed a kiss on the top of her head before getting up, “NOW clean this room up, what are you? 7?”

“Alright, mom.” Sawyer shot back, rolling her eyes. “Y’know…I’d prefer if you called me Daddy-”

“GOODBYE MAX.” She shot up, hurryingly shoving him out the door. “Come on Sawyer, you should have known that was coming.” He laughed, as he reached the doorway. “I still hate you by the way.” He lightly punched her shoulder. “Yea, I hate you more though.” She smiled before raising her middle finger, making him act offended. “As if, I came all this way just to get DISRESPECTED. The audacity of some people.”

“We’re in the same hotel.”

“YOU take my kindness for GRANTED!” he shouted as he made his way down the hall. Sawyer shut the door leaning on it for support, as she laughed to herself. “I can’t believe him sometimes.” A vibration from her phone caught her attention, as she finally went to pick it up from where she threw it on the floor a couple days ago. She opened it, letting a chuckle escape as it was a picture of Max with his middle finger raised. Another text came through. “Even my middle finger is better than you. Love you I guess.”

Daily’s Place

Hangman hasn’t had a peaceful sleep in days. His eye bags were more noticeable than usual, and even though his match with Kenny was coming up in a few short days, it wasn’t even his number one priority anymore. He made his way to a familiar locker room, quickly knocking and stepping back as if the door was on fire. “I got it!” a muffled voice yelled from the other side. A small smile escaped, as he could tell who that voice belonged to. to., “Yeah? Oh… it’s you.” Veronica said with a frown, “I don’t really think right now is a good time, Page.” She stared at the ground trying to avoid his green eyes burning holes through her. “No, I really need to talk to you. I know I messed up and-”

“Hey, who was it V?” Matt Jackson popped his head out, opening the door more to reveal Hangman standing in the hallway. “Oh for the love of god, what are you doing here,” he threw his hands in the air, “YOU’RE NOT WITH US ANYMORE.” He shouted, causing  Veronica to jump. Hangman shot a look at both of them, biting the inside of his lip, “With all due respect Matt… I wasn’t here to bother you, I never was, but you always seem to be where she is…so if I have to put up with you to talk to her, so be it. Veronica, come on.” He grabbed ahold of her wrist, before Matt put his hands up and shoved him, “Don’t touch her.” he warned, as he got closer. “Go back to the bar man, you’re embarrassing yourself again.” Matt said with his jaw clenched not breaking his stare.

“You don’t control her…if she wanted me gone, Veronica would tell me herself,” he chuckled, noticing his stance. “You’ve changed.” He blurted. Matt opened his mouth to protest, then was cut off by an annoyed voice. “Are you kidding me?” Veronica squeaked.

“MATT has changed? You’re out at three in the morning getting absolutely WASTED every night, and he’s the one who’s changed? You cost Matt and Nick a championship opportunity, because you know you couldn’t defeat them again. You selfishly thought about yourself to save YOUR title.”

“Veronica, what are you talking about? We-” he spoke up.

“There is no WE Hangman!” She frustratedly pointed between them. “I sat in that bar, and talked to you because for a little bit I actually felt SORRY for you.”

He went quiet for a couple seconds before speaking up again, “So then why the hell did you keep coming back?” His voice rasped within each word, “To make sure for your match at Full Gear, Kenny Omega would be able to pin you in the middle of that ring clean, and you couldn’t make any excuses this time…seems it didn’t work, because the only way you would man up and talk to me is if you had a bottle of whiskey in your system.”

“You’re wrong,” he choked out, “But fine. I won’t talk to you ever again.” He tipped his imagery cowboy hat at her, before turning down the hall with a sober mind but now even a drunker heart.

Hangman couldn’t get the image of Veronica out of his mind, the real Veronica was out of her eyes, she wasn’t herself anymore. Because of them.

He drank the next glass of whiskey in one gulp, before putting it down for another. All sounds surrounding him were just white noise, not even processing that people were speaking to him. “Adam!” He finally snapped out of it, jumping and looking around him, the Dark Order surrounded him, concerned. Adam looked at all of them with sad eyes, “Hey guys. Good to see you.” He turned back to his whiskey glass, taking small sips this time, Veronica now made him too embarrassed to drink.

Stu stepped forward, “You alright, bud? We were going to go out for lunch before Dynamite but we saw you here.” Hangman waved them off, “No, I’m not fine, but go to lunch, I’ll be okay.”

Alan shoved himself in front of everyone, “What happened, Adam?”

Adam took another sip from the glass, before starting to ramble, “I don’t know what I did to her guys. We were fine and now she thinks I'm a drunk who doesn’t have a right to be upset.” The Dark Order all looked at him with worried eyes, “Who?” Uno asked, putting his hand on Adam’s shoulder.

“Veronica! We were doing fine, we were…I don’t even know what we were, she’s with Kenny but she says she wants to be with me…but she doesn’t, she’s confusing! And now she’s changed!”

“Changed?”

“She’s completely under their control! She treats me like I’m garbage, she’s “too good” to drink, and she treats her friends like shit!” Adam ranted, causing other bar patrons to look over. “Who are her friends?” Anna asked, knowing the answer, but not wanting to believe it.

“Sawyer and Nova! They were doing fine when they got here, now Veronica thinks she’s above them. I mean, she says Nova is ‘always in her business’ when she clearly wants to fix things. And don’t get me started on how she treats Sawyer! Veronica let’s Kenny walk all over her! And then proceeds to call her overdramatic! I can’t even say it to her face cause then I’m automatically the bad guy, like Nova or Sawyer,” Hangman finished his drink, slamming the glass down and paying the bartender, “I’m gonna go and try and forget this morning happened. I’ll see you guys later.”

The group watched as Hangman walked away, they all looked at each other, but most of the attention was on Anna and Alan, who were fuming.

“How can she treat him like that! After all he’s been through!” Alan scowled.

“Sawyer and Nova too! They’ve been best friends for years and suddenly she’s above them?” Anna ranted, the two nodded at each other, both thinking the same thing and walked towards the door. “Woah woah, where are you two going?” Preston asked, quickly stepping in front of them.

“We’re not gonna let her hurt our friends anymore! It has to stop!” Alan said, looking towards everyone else to back him up. “Look, we know, we’re all upset,” Stu spoke, “But you both are way too mad. Things could go wrong instead of the way we want them to.”

John Silver stepped up, “Then I think that’s the job for me and Alex.” Alex smirked, giving John a high five. “No way.” Anna said, having some sense of logic.

Uno put his hand up to stop Anna from objecting, “Look, it wouldn’t hurt for them to try. Alex, John…don’t do anything stupid.” John and Alex had a small celebration before walking out the door, everyone knowing this was a huge mistake.

Ricky paced around his locker room, throwing things around randomly. “This is so,” He throws a bag, “Fucking stupid!”

Nova, hearing the commotion, walked into the locker room, where Ricky and Brian Cage were. She almost got hit by a flying water bottle, which was thrown by Ricky. “What the hell, babe?” Nova squawked, throwing it back at him. He flinched, before apologizing over and over, sitting on the bench to calm down, now that Nova was there.

“What’s going on here? This room’s a mess!” Nova yelled, starting looking around. Brian leaned down to whisper in her ear, “He just found out about Darby and Cody at Full Gear.”

Nova snapped her head up, “Wait WHAT? The producers told you months ago it would be you and Cody?” Brian sighed, “So neither of you knew about this?”

They both shook their heads at him. “That title shot should’ve been yours! We aren’t gonna just let this happen!” She yelled, thinking.

She felt a lightbulb turn on above her head, “Here’s what we’ll do. If Darby wins that title, you guys go out and attack him and Cody. Slam Darby through some tables, and use his ‘special entrance’ he planned against him. We’ll show him that Team Taz aren’t people to just mess around with.”

Ricky and Cage thought about it, before agreeing to that plan. “Babe, you’re a genius. We just gotta keep watch for that meathead Hobbs and we’ll be fine.”

Nova blushed as Ricky walked over, hugging her. “Taz has GOT to let you into the team after saturday, no way he won’t.” Brian said, patting Nova on the shoulder. “Let’s hope,” Nova said, “Cause I’m helping you take down Darby.”

“Okay, John we’re here for ONE thing, and one thing only.” Alex Reynolds tried to explain. “Veronica needs to be put in her place for not hurting not only Sawyer and Nova, but now Hangman. She’s been acting funny lately…and she needs to know that.” he said. “No funny business, and nothing to make her too upset. Understand?”

“Yeah, I got it… here she is! FREEZE HOE!” He shouted, making all the makeup artists stop what they were doing. Veronica turned in her chair, perplexed. “JOHN?!” Reynolds slapped his friend on the back of the next, “You can’t call her that!” he ran his hands through his hair, as Silver rolled his eyes. “Well she is!”

“I’m sorry? Can I help you?” She asked, her arms crossed. “I’m sorry for him…he’s just a little upset.” Alex tried to reason. “YOU HURT OUR FRIENDS YOU BLOOD SUCKING INSECT!” John lunged at her, before Reynolds grabbed him by the back of his shirt. “What he’s trying to say is…what you did to Hangman-” “AND SAWYER AND NOVA!” John interrupted.

“What you did to Sawyer, Nova, and Hangman…was wrong. In more ways than one. This isn’t the Veronica who was once more than excited to just sit in the crowd for a couple match tappings…this is a downgrade. We just want you back.”

Veronica uncrossed her arms, shooting a brow to the two men. “A downgrade? I’m still the same person who I was when I first arrived here…I just finally opened my eyes, and realized my worth. Maybe if you two did the same, you’d be used to something other than comedy skits on other people’s youtube channels.” She walked over to one of the mirrors, fluffing her hair a bit, “Plus, Hangman has a match to worry about, and as “friends’' of his you should be helping him prepare.”

Silver and Reynolds walk to where she was staring at their own reflection. “How can you look at yourself knowing Kenny Omega is playing you like a puppet?” Silver asked with disgust, making Veronica turn around. “Listen here meat man, I don’t need this okay. I’m about to go on NATIONAL TV to promote my match that’s going to main event an enormous pay per view. You’re lucky Orange Cassidy has enough star power, or you wouldn’t even be on the card.” Silver and Reynolds gasped. “You heartless bitch,” Reynolds mumbled.

“YOU TAKE THAT BACK!” John pointed his finger. “Truth hurts boys, wake up or you’ll drown with Hangman AND Sawyer.” She shrugged before beginning to walk out the door. “That didn’t go as expected…” John began.

“Sawyer’s going to kick your ass at Full Gear!” Alex shouted, making Veronica stop in her tracks. “She can try, but I doubt it.”

“No she will. On my unborn child, Sawyer is coming for blood.”

“She is?” John Silver and Veronica asked at the same time. Alex turnt his head towards Silver and clenched his teeth. “YES. YES. SHE. IS.” John widened eyes, realizing what his friend was trying to imply, “OH. RIGHT. Yeah, Sawyer’s gonna make you wish you’d never cheated to get to the finals-”

“I DIDN’T CHEAT,” She cut him off, “But how are you so sure about this…did she say anything?”

Alex began to shake his head trying his best to throw Veronica off her game. “Oh yea, all the time she talks about renting a couple buses just to run you over with them.” Silver began to blab, “You should have heard her when she found out you actually made it in the finals…” he slowly leaned in, “Kind of got me tight in the crotch area.”

“That’s disgusting.” She backed up a few inches.

“Hey, it’s Sawyer.” Alex raised his hands in defense, going along with Silver’s plan. “She was all,” he cleared his throat, and tried his best girl impression, “She’s gonna wish Nyla actually broke her arm… I’ve carried her throughout the independent scene her whole career… She’ll never live up to the legacy she wanted to create.”

“She actually said that?” Veronica let her guard down, as her eyes softened. “Every word.” Silver lied. She sucked on her bottom lip, nodding her head slowly. “You know what…I’m actually glad you guys told me this. Everyone needs a Silver, and Reynolds in their life.” She plastered a fake smile, before pulling them both in for a hug. “Enjoy the rest of the show.” She waved, before making her way to the curtain.

“We just did something bad…didn’t we?” Silver asked Reynolds with concern in his voice.

“Yea, we just fucked up.”

Sawyer quickly put in Leva Bates for the Canadian Destroyer, getting the victory. She let the ref raise her hand before lending Leva a hand to get up. They shook hands while Leva exited the ring, leaving Sawyer, talking to the camera.

Her small victory was interrupted by Veronica’s theme song, she strutted out with a mic, evil smile on her face. Sawyer faced away from the camera, just to give Veronica a quick smile, ready for this planned face-off.

Veronica’s smile quickly went away as she stepped in the ring. “Well, congratulations on that win Sawyer. Unfortunately, come Full Gear, it won’t be that easy.”

Sawyer smiled, grabbing a mic for herself, “I’m sure it won’t, Veronica. I’ll be facing the best of the best. It’s some tough competition. I’m looking forward to it.” Veronica let out an evil chuckle, “Well, this “best of the best” is going to kick your ass, Sawyer. I don’t care how many matches you’ve won. I am not scared of your Canadian Destroyer.”

“And you think I’m gonna let your two feet on the ropes stop me from winning? You got another thing coming for you.” Sawyer said, still smirking.

“Kinda like how you think Best Friends are gonna be there to save you again? You and your pathetic little friends aren’t stopping me from becoming the next number one contender.” Veronica snapped, getting in Sawyer’s face.

Sawyer’s confidence suddenly left her, the Best Friends comment wasn’t planned when they discussed this last night. Veronica knew a comment about Chuck would throw Sawyer off, and Sawyer was gonna fight fire with fire.

“Unlike you, I don’t need any man to fight my battles for me. Sorry that you’ll need your boyfriend, Kenny Omega, to come out and save your ass.” Sawyer stared into Veronica’s eyes, before smiling as the crowd hyped up Sawyer.

Veronica didn’t even say anything else, like was planned, she just nodded, backing up a bit. Sawyer thought she was leaving the ring, the whole plan of the ref breaking up their petty bickering now out the window. Instead Veronica threw her arm back, delivering a cracking slap that echoed through the whole arena.

Sawyer was slapped so hard that she stumbled, she looked back at Veronica, who had no sign of remorse in her eyes. Sawyer saw red, her chest clearly heaving up and down from anger, before she ran towards Veronica, cutting her in half with a spear.

“Oh come these two girls were best friends one time, are they really going to let a championship get in between them-”

“Yes they are Schiavone! This is a wrestling company, not a romantic movie! I hope they destroy each other before Full Gear even gets here!” Taz evilly commentated, though he wasn’t fully sure what was happening.

More referees had started to pour out of the entrance tunnels, trying to grab Sawyer from where she was trying to claw Veronica’s eyes out. “Get her off of me!” Veronica did her best to kick her legs, not succeeding until Bryce and Aubrey had a strong grip on Sawyer.

“What the hell was that Veronica?” Sawyer shrieked from across the ring. Veronica fixed her clothes before pulling the refs by their shirts onto the mat, and delivering yet another slap, this time not putting a lot of distance between them, as she repeatedly began to punch her in the back.

“Urm— I think we need some help out here, folks. These two are fighting like scolded dogs.” Jim Ross looked at the backstage crew, signaling for more assistance.

A strong pair of arms wrapped around Veronica’s waist, and lunged her across the ring. She quickly dusted herself off to be met with an angry Wardlow. “Veronica, calm the fuck down.”

“No! SHE-”  Veronica was met with a collision, as Sawyer pushed Wardlow to the ropes, and shoved Veronica back into the turnbuckle making her gasp. Sawyer’s knuckles connected with Veronica’s ribs making her hurdle over. The women’s locker room began to pour out, with Shida leading she put herself between the two playing peacemaker. “Save it for Sunday!” She tried to reason with Sawyer, as she placed her hands on her shoulders. Veronica’s blood boiled, as she saw the championship she wanted so badly, and the person who wanted to keep her from it being so close together.

A flipped switch in Veronica’s head, as she turnt Shida harshly to make her look at her. “Stay out of my business!” She yelled. “She’s just trying to help your crazy ass!” Britt yelled as she grabbed her friend’s arm trying to drag Veronica out of the ring, failing as she kicked her in the shin, and headed for Shida, but accidentally knocking her into Sawyer. Anna Jay did her best to check on Sawyer, but was met with a hard hit to the back. “Move!” Veronica screamed, as she tried to grab Sawyer by her hair, but she reversed it and started punching her anywhere she could.

A loud commotion was made, as the rest of the locker room was sent to the ring. John Silver and Alex Reynolds slowly follow behind, trying their best to act like this wasn’t their fault. Ricky Starks, and Nova pulled Sawyer by the shoulders snapping her up.

“You need to chill out.” Nova furiously stated, Ricky nodding in agreement. “She slapped me-”

“AND I’LL DO IT AGAIN!” Veronica yelled from the other corner where Eddie Kingston and Scorpio Sky held her back. “I DARE YOU TO TRY AGAIN, I’M DONE WITH THIS BULLSHIT!” Sawyer screamed back. “I’m ending you.” Veronica cracked her finger, and silently apologized to the two men holding her, before delivering a left and right hook to both of them making their grip loosen and let her slip free.

She shot out dropkicking RIcky and Nova out the way, and marching towards Sawyer. They both began to repeatedly punch each other before Sawyer got a good uppercut in making Veronica stumble. “That’s enough!” Brandon Cutler snapped, as he began to tug at Veronica’s heels. “We’re going back. NOW.”

It must have been a big deal, if The Elite sent Cutler. “Fine.” She put her hands up in defense, rolling out the ring. Cash Wheeler held her by the wrist behind her back, as Cutler began to tell her some stuff about how she was going to be in big trouble, when she got to the back… but it all went through one ear, and out the other as she never dropped her eye contact with Sawyer, who was fighting back a man three times her size, Lance Archer. “Just let me at her one more time!” she pleaded. “Sawyer. You’ve done enough. She’s being escorted out the building. It’s over.”

She looked around the ring, seeing everyone with fear in their eyes…except a man in the corner who tried his best to avoid eye contact. Sawyer stared long enough causing him to look up. “Please.” She mouthed while looking at him, he shook his head fast. Making her pout her lip out. “Fine.” Chuck Taylor mouthed as he pulled Orange to whisper something into his ear. Orange looked over at Sawyer, slightly nodding trying to time everything just right. Lance took a big sigh, before finally moving out of her way and making almost a clear path… with just a few dark guys…and Marko Stunt in her way, she could do this.

She backed up in the farthest turnbuckle before running with all her might and jumping right into Chuck and Orange’s arm where they flipped her into Veronica and many other wrestlers who all tumbled down. “What the hell is wrong with you, you psycho!” Veronica screamed as she did her best to get back up, clenching her side. Chuck and Trent soon pushed her back, “Get out of here.” Orange Cassidy waved. “Buh-Bye!” Chuck exaggeratedly flicked his middle finger off making Sawyer laugh. Veronica rolled her eyes, before feeling Jungle Boy grab her by her shoulder, and Luchasaurus lightly shoving her.

“Thanks for the backup.” Sawyer awkwardly said, as Chuck gave her a tight lip smile and Orange nodded his head, “You’ll beat her Sunday, I know you will.” Taylor lazily said, as he slapped her shoulder. “See you around.” He hung his head, and made his way back to Orange following behind him.

Veronica was dragged backstage first, The Acclaimed had a hold on her arms, while Britt, Jurassic Express and Penelope Ford followed behind, making sure she didn’t run back out there.

Soon after, Sawyer entered the backstage area, Lance Archer’s arms wrapped around her body, carrying her, so she couldn’t escape, the Dark Order, Nova and Sonny Kiss walking ahead to make sure Veronica wasn’t around. “How the hell did you jump over 5 people and the ropes?” Lance asked before setting her down. “I did the long jump in school,” Sawyer looked around frantically, “Where is she? I’m gonna fucking kill her!”

Wardlow finally made his way through the crowd, “Are you okay? Were you hurt?” “I’m fine, I’m just…” Sawyer slowly stopped talking when she made eye contact with Nova, who didn’t look too happy. She spoke up to try and speak with her, but it was all interrupted by a booming voice.

“Veronica! Sawyer! EVP office! NOW!” The crowd slowly split into two, as Veronica and Sawyer looked at the red and angry face of Kenny Omega. He wasted no time walking to the office, and they slowly followed behind.

As they walked through the crowd, all they could see was the disappointed, furious, sympathetic and concerned faces of people like Private Party, Eddie Kingston, Tay Conti and so much more. Sawyer’s heart dropped when she made eye contact with Chuck, he tried to say something but she walked past him quickly. It felt like the class was watching them as they were going to the principal’s office, they hated it.

Once they reached the EVP’s office, Kenny Omega shut the door behind him, and started tearing into them.

“That was SO unprofessional! It was not approved this morning when you came to us. Veronica, I love you, but you slapping Sawyer was NOT needed. I had to convince Tony to not get you fired.” Veronica shrunk, suddenly embarrassed.

“And Sawyer, I don’t care how you feel about me, but keep your anger issues away from my girlfriend! You almost injured her AND other superstars brawling!” Kenny scolded which made Sawyer feel bad.

“Look, Kenny, I’m sorry. Personal issues aside, I love working with you and everyone here and I shouldn’t have-” Kenny put a hand up, stopping Sawyer.

“Save it. Your match at Full Gear is now changed, to a death match,” He turned to face his girlfriend, “One of Veronica’s specialties.” He smirked, pulling Veronica in by the waist.

Veronica looked at Kenny, surprised, before looking at Sawyer with an evil grin, “Well, Sawyer, you better get ready then, you know yourself I don’t play nice in these matches.”

This was music to Veronica’s ears, her and Sawyer have had a death match before, and it didn’t end well for Sawyer. “And you and I both know, I’ve carried more championships.”

Sawyer shook her head out of her thoughts, “Kenny, that isn’t necessary. And, you chose a match that’s specifically Veronica’s specialty! Was it on purpose?”

Kenny got in Sawyer’s face, “This match is the reason you still have a job Sawyer. Stop acting like a fucking brat who doesn’t get her way and get the hell out of my office.” Sawyer shrunk, she eyed Veronica, hoping maybe she would step in, but just smirked as her boyfriend now made Sawyer feel small.

Sawyer just nodded and walked out, leaving the door open.

“Wow babe. You sure told her.”

“You too, Veronica. I can barely look at you right now.” Kenny said, not even giving her a glance as he started to pack up his things for the night.

Veronica stood stunned, before leaving the office herself, and couldn’t help but blame Sawyer as well as Silver and Reynolds for Kenny being angry at her.

Sawyer and Veronica walked away from the EVP office, planning to go their separate ways for the night, not even wanting to look at each other; but they were stopped in their tracks by Nova, furious.

Nova stood in front of them with her arms crossed, fuming. “You okay Nova?” Veronica asked, with a bit of sarcasm. Nova grabbed both of the girls by their arms, not letting go until they reached the Ricky Starks’ locker room. Taz looked at Nova with a surprised yet angry expression, “Woah woah woah! Don’t bring those two psychos in here! This is for Team Taz onl-”

“Taz, this is MY MAN’S locker room, I can be here all I want, and with all due respect. Get. Out.” Taz flinched back, motioning Brian Cage and Ricky to follow.

Ricky whispered “Good luck.” to his friend, Sawyer, before shutting the door behind him.

Nova turned towards Sawyer and Veronica, wild expression in her eyes, “What the fuck was that! I thought you guys were all good but you can’t even let your differences go in the ring?!” Veronica scoffed, “Nova, this doesn’t concern you alright? Me and Sawyer will work this ou-”

“The hell it does! I just had to stop a BRAWL between you two, hell, the whole damn locker room did! Now tell me what the hell is going on between you too before I lose it even more!” Nova snapped, ready to go insane.

Veronica sighed, “Nova, nothing is going on. Sawyer is just all in her head, thinking I’m against her but I’m not. That whole thing was planned and she took it too far.”

Sawyer almost broke her neck looking towards Veronica, “What? The slap was never supposed to happen! We planned this last night and this never came up! And all in my head? If anything it’s you! And Kenny who thinks that I’m-”

Veronica chuckled, “See here we go again. ‘Kenny doesn’t like me.’ ‘Aw it’s all Kenny’s fault.’ ‘Oh poor Sawyer.’ When will you face the facts? Kenny is just trying to be a good boyfriend yet you can’t handle that!” Sawyer stood there silently. “Sawyer isn’t worried about Kenny, Veronica,” Nova said, “And, Sawyer, Veronica isn’t out to get you. Will you both just get over yourselves? You’re making this so hard on everyone who cares about you.”

Sawyer glared at Veronica while V’s face softened. “So, are y’all good?” Nova asked, looking between them. ”Yeah,” Veronica nodded, smiling, “I wanna be good.” She held her hand up, waiting for Sawyer to shake it.

Sawyer could see the manipulation behind Veronica’s eyes, and she wasn’t going to fall for it. She grabbed Veronica’s hand, but instead of shaking it, pulled her forward so they were almost face to face.

“No. We’re not good. You can try all you want, but I won’t fall for your victim bullshit. I’ll see your sorry ass at Full Gear.” Sawyer snarled, Veronica pulled her hand away, Nova watched in horror.

Any sign of Sawyer before was gone from her eyes, just red and hatred as she walked out the door, slamming it, ready for this death match.

[pureanonofficial]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jason "J. D." Dean/Veronica Sawyer Characters: Jason "J. D." Dean, Veronica Sawyer Additional Tags: Fluff, Loss of Virginity, Canon Compliant, Pillow Talk Summary:

“You were also my first,” he admits quietly, the fifth time she sneaks into his house.

[hope-you-brought-kneepads-bitch]

Chandler has a rule to never mention name Betty Finn around Veronica. Because if you do... oh boy. The girl will talk your ears out, about her best friend. Sometimes, all Heathers feel a bit jealous about it.

Poor heathers 🤦‍♀️ it’s even worse when they’ve been drinking

Mac: did you hear how well Betty did on that test?

Chandler:.......oh fuck me

Veronica shoots up: MY BEST FRIEND DID SO WELL ON THAT TEST

Chandler throwing a pillow at Veronica’s head: will you shut the fuck up sawyer, we get it she’s your best friend I’m still your girlfriend though

Veronica: yeeeseaahhh you are and your a little jealous

Duke and Mac just stare in amusement at their friends 😂

[thedukedudeinadress]

Look Alive, Sunshine (extended)

Originally one shot from my Wattpad

———————————————————————

Roman's POV:

I had been awake for a few hours when I decided it was time for the anxious side to get out of bed, it was almost 12PM and he shouldn't sleep all day!

I ran up the stairs and opened Virgil's door, seeing the anxious aspect entangled in a few blankets. I chuckled slightly as I walked over to his bed and shook him a little.

"Hey, Virgil~ time to wake up!" I then said as I poked him a little. He groaned and buried his head deeper into his pillow.

I then got an idea and grinned a little as I cleared my throat to get the right tone before leaning in close. "Look alive, sunshine"

It was clear he was about to get mad as he suddenly shot up into a sitting position and looked at me with wide eyes.

"Did- did you just make a My Chemical Romance reference?" The shock in his voice matched the look on his face.

I tilted my head slightly, a little confused why he was so shocked and almost scared. "Uhh... yeah?"

He looked down at his hands. "And it wasn't just that... it was the way you said it... on point" he mumbled before looking back up at me. "Who are you?"

"Uh.. Veronica!. Sawyer!" I answered before chuckling a little.

He raised a hand to his heart and exhaled. "Oh thank God, it's actually you"

"Of c-" before I could complete the short sentence he grabbed my collar with both hands and kissed me forcefully. I gasped as my eyes widened but then kissed back with just as much force.

"Don't scare me like that!" He said breathlessly as he broke the kiss, he took some deep breaths and then continued "I thought you were Deceit or something there for a second"

I chuckled a little breathlessly. "If that means you'll kiss me-"

"Oh my fucking God! I KISSED YOU!" He said and got out of his bed, not taking his eyes off me.

"Virge-"

"I FUCKING KISSED YOU!" He interrupted as he paced around his room.

"Virgi-"

"WHY WOULD I DO THA-!" I sighed, stood up, grabbed his wrist and spun him around to look at me.

"Maybe because you like me?" He looked away and I sighed again as I let go of his arm.

After a moment of silence I took a shot and wrapped my arms around his waist and kissed him passionately, eliciting a gasp. I was just gonna break it when he kissed back. His hands found their way into my hair as I backed him up against the wall. Our lips moved in sync, only breaking apart to catch our breath once in a while.

"You might wanna close the door the next time" a sudden voice said. I turned my head, seeing Logan standing in the doorway. "Patton wants the two of you down for lunch. Shall I inform him that you are busy?"

"Tell him we'll be down in a minute" Virgil said. Logan nodded and left.

I looked back down at Virgil, we were both blushing deep red. "So... we should, probably-" I said, gesturing towards the door as I unpinned him.

"Yeah" he answered with a nervous chuckle and snapped his fingers to change from his pyjamas, fix his hair and eyeshadow. I did the same to fix my messy hair. He began to walk out of the room as I called after him;

"Oh and, Hot Topic" he turned around and raised an eyebrow at me. I walked up to him to peck him on the cheek. "You're a pretty good kisser" I whispered into his ear before continuing to walk out of his room and then downstairs.

A/N: Well, wasn't that cute? Not even any angst in this! *nervous laughter*

[sprnklersplashes]

not beyond repair (15/?)

AO3

Seven months earlier.

JD bites on his nail, like the action is going to stop the seemingly bottomless pit that’s forming in his stomach. He scoffs at himself, hidden from view in the backseat. He’s being stupid. It’s just another foster home. Just another foster home which he can handle, and apparently, can handle him this time around. Handle him and all his baggage.

Except it’s not just another foster home. It’s another foster home in Sherwood, Ohio. The last place he saw his dad. The last place he had a real home… he guesses. He doesn’t go as far as saying a real family because the only thing that bonded him and his father together was the blood in their veins. DNA, numbers and letters that mean nothing to him and never did. But still. The car drives past his-their-old house and he can’t help but shrink down in his seat. In the front yard, he sees a little girl with pigtails trying and failing to make a tricycle move forwards, her mom hanging sheets out on the line. Not a care in the world. When that kid goes to bed, her mom’s probably going to be tucking her in and reading her bedtime stories and telling her she loves her. They’re the antithesis of what was there before them.

If those walls could talk, what would they say? The story of a little kid making dinner for his dad and a fridge with more booze than actual food in it. For a moment, he feels like he’s there, back in the kitchen, standing on a chair to reach the stove, money he’s earned sitting on the counter. He gasps before he can stop himself and tears his eyes away from the window, blocking it out. He imagines the past behind him, dissolving into the exhaust fumes, and it helps. Sort of.

“Are you okay, Jason?” He nods weakly, mumbling a half-response. His social worker nods in the front seat, but she’s unconvinced, as per usual. He can bullshit foster moms and owners of group homes and other nosy/concerned kids, but not her. Never her.

There were endless arguments about sending him here. Some with him in the room and some behind closed doors with him pressing his ear to the wall. He even did that trick with an empty glass. The same phrases kept coming up and going around, like those little toy trains the kids in his home played with, endlessly circling around the same tracks. “His father” “an unhealthy environment” “bring back memories” “he’s made a lot of progress”. He could rhyme them off the same way he could rhyme off his favourite poetry.

But then his social worker Aimee piped up, calm as the morning sea “well, Jason has told me he enjoyed Sherwood”. And behind the door, JD had pumped his fist in victory. “He said he had even made his friends there. Maybe going back to a familiar setting will be good for him.”

And that’s the other thing. Sherwood, Ohio isn’t just where he had last seen his father… it was where he had last seen Miss Veronica Sawyer. The girl who had kissed him in the playground and held him tightly until he had to leave. His first real friend. Maybe more than that. They never really got to dinner and movies.

He had been looking around since they passed the beaten up ‘Welcome to Sherwood’ sign, as if she was going to pop up the moment he crossed the town line. When they stop at a traffic light, he sneaks a glance at the car beside them, wondering if maybe he’ll see that wild mane of dark hair, a denim jacket swung over a floral dress the way only she could pull off. Maybe he’d hear her laugh, loud and carefree, and he’d-

He’d what exactly? Run up to her and shout “surprise, it’s me?” Or maybe something a little more charming. Ask her if she had missed him. Would she have missed him? He got that letter she sent him all that time ago. Slept with it under his pillow. Kept it folded carefully in his jacket pocket, and then between the pages of his book, read it until the ink burned onto the backs of his eyelids. But maybe she didn’t feel the same. Maybe she read his reply and tossed it aside, went back to her normal life of sleepovers and homecooked meals and geography projects.

The thought terrifies him.

Still, he’s due to start (restart) at Westerberg next week. Maybe he’ll get his answer then.

They pull up outside of a small house, red brick and lace curtains, silver Ford parked in the driveway. Potted plants in front of the blue front door and a sloped roof. It looks exactly like its pictures, he guesses. Nothing special. It’s a lot smaller than what he’s used to, but he was told to expect that. No other kids in here, just him. He’s not sure how he feels about that. He supposes he’s grateful for the privacy and tranquillity, but he’s grown used to having kids of all ages running around at his feet and hiding under the table and jumping on his back as he tries to do homework. It’ sort of became comforting to him. And well…. He never disliked having them hang around and ask about his books or be asked to fix a TV or glue a Barbie back together.

“Here we are,” Aimee says.

“Home sweet home,” he replies, swinging his backpack onto his shoulder and getting out of the car. There’s a chill in the air that penetrates through his coat and hits deep down in his gut as he gets his other bag out of the trunk. His entire life is in these two bags and not for the first time, he feels how sadly light they are.

He bites on the inside of his cheek as he and Aimee walk up to the door, skirting past the patch of grass that’s growing slightly wild in front of the house. He would say he doesn’t know why he’s so nervous but let’s be real-of course he does. Who wouldn’t be? He’s done this once before and thought maybe this time would be easier. Maybe this time it would be easier to stand on someone’s doorstep and silently beg them to like him.

He was wrong. Somehow it’s more terrifying, despite him having overheard Aimee tell people that this woman-Claire-has experience with kids like him. He takes her word for it, having only spoken to Claire on the phone, once, for her to tell him how happy she is to have him. He doesn’t know if all that makes him less relaxed or more.

“Hi there.” He was so lost in himself he didn’t even notice the door opening. He’s not sure what he imagined, but she’s small, messy brown hair back in a half-braid and glasses perched on top of her head, pink sweater slightly too big for her, hanging over her floral print jeans. Her looks match her voice, he thinks. He guesses that greeting was directed at Aimee too, but he can’t know for sure, because all her attention is on him. The soft way in which her mouth turns up into a smile is painfully comforting to him, the open sincerity in her eyes scares him and almost draws him in. He doesn’t want to get too secure here. Comfortable yes, but not secure. Miss it when he leaves, but so much that it hurts.

“Hey,” he says after a while, realising he hasn’t spoken.

“Nice to meet you, Jason,” she says, holding out her hand. “Officially.”

“Thanks,” he says, shaking her hand. “You too.”

She steps back, opening the door a little more, the sun shining on wooden floors and white-painted walls, and lets him come in. He almost feels too big for this place. Like he’ll move in the wrong direction and snap something in half.

“I’ll show you your room,” Claire tells him warmly. There’s something about her gentle voice and seemingly real smile that make his stomach flip. Something that makes him either want to run out of this house and never stop or follow her up the stairs. He picks the latter.

She doesn’t do anything when she opens the door. Every other place he’s been in open it dramatically, flourishing arms, one even did a “ta-da!”, like they were showing him the grand ballroom on the Titanic. Claire simply props the door open with the same smile she’s had since they met and leans against it. Maybe she knows he’s a little too old for those kind of theatrics. The silence leaves him to take in the tidied bed and empty shelves, the spotless rug on the floor and TV set up in the corner.

“I get a TV?” he asks, a laugh lining the edge of his voice.

“One of the perks of being the only kid here,” she replies, folding her arms and shrugging. “Got it for one of my first placements. It’s a little old, but it’s in colour at least.” With his back to her, he smiles. He may not use it that much, but he feels like there’s some deep part of him that’s just glad it’s there. Like he’s high-fiving his little twelve year old self. “I know you’re used to group homes. Think you’ll cope well here?”

“Well there’s no one to steal my food or draw in my books,” he says flatly, making Claire chuckle. “I’ll be fine here.”

“Good. Cool. Also you’re set to start at school next week.”

“Westerberg High,” he says, toying with the edge of his coat. He burrows into it out of habit. Like if she sees more trench coat than person, she won’t see what’s going on inside.

“You know… I have talked it over with Aimee,” Claire begins. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees her picking at her nails. “If you want, you can go somewhere else.”

“You and I both know there’s no other schools in this town,” he sighs, sitting down on the bed, half-facing her. “Except for that Catholic school and I’ll be damned if I….” His voice trails off when he catches sight of her. Her mouth is still turned up into a smile, but it doesn’t look real anymore, like someone took a sticker and put it on her face. She holds her wrist tightly, twisting it in her hand. He’d been around enough to recognise a nervous habit when he sees one and wishes he could stuff the stupid shit he said back inside of him. He can’t though, so he clears his throat and offers her what he hopes is a friendly grin. “I’ll be fine there, really.” He shrugs. “And maybe it’s fate. You know if I’d have stayed here with my dad, I’d have ended up at Westerberg anyway.”

An unspoken ‘yeah right’ hangs in the air. They both know if he had stayed with his dad, he’d have been out of Sherwood in three months, max. As long as it took for his dad to find a new job somewhere else. He suppresses a sigh, the wave of self-pity looming over him and threatening to crash. He guessed he was always going to leave Sherwood, leave Westerberg, leave Veronica. He just left quicker than he expected. At least this time around, he’s got a written guarantee that he’s here until he graduates high school. And three verbal ones, just to make sure.

“I’ll let you unpack,” Claire says, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Get settled in. I have some stuff to talk about with Aimee anyway. T’s to cross, I’s to dot.” He nods, knowing what she means, of course. She’s not the type to say ‘okay well I’m off downstairs to talk about your many, many problems and what therapist you’re going to and what medications you need and what you get like on the bad days’. He flinches at an old memory, of him creeping downstairs and listening behind a kitchen door to a woman lamenting on the phone that she couldn’t cope with him. At least his experience of foster care went up from there.

“Cool,” he says.

“And I was thinking for dinner… do you like risotto?” she asks. “It’s an old family recipe. I only wheel it out on special occasions.”

So now he’s special?

He tries not to smile too much at that.

“That’d be great, thanks.”

Claire heads downstairs, leaving the door slightly open, exposing a sliver of the white walls of the hallway. He sets about putting his clothes on hangers, arranging his books on the shelf. Outside, the September sun turns lawns and sidewalks golden, playing a trick on him, telling him it’s still summer. He leans against the glass, watching mums and dads and kids and teenagers walking and running. He finds himself looking for messy brown hair and scolds himself for being creepy. Instead he looks beyond his new neighbours, his eyes drawn to the building looming in the distance. Westerberg High. Building a semi-decent home life, that’s one thing. He’s gotten kind of okay at that. All he really needs is the right people and Claire hasn’t set off any warning bells so far. But school… Veronica aside, building a good school life is another thing. So far his grades have ranged from below average to fair and his social life from decent to dismal. His breath fogs up the glass, spreading across until the school is nothing but a smudge in the distance.

“Okay, Ohio,” he says, shrugging off his coat and tossing it on the bed. “Let’s make it a good one this time.”

                                                                                               *****

Present Day

He gets better.

It takes time. Some days are better than others. Some days he sits and laughs and makes jokes and throws grapes into MacNamara’s open mouth. Some days he passes Veronica little notes during study hall, compliments written in tiny scribbles with a badly drawn cartoon.  Some days he spins her under his arm as they walk home together. And some days… some days he walks slowly and takes deep breaths before going into the cafeteria. Some days he holds her hand that much tighter and buries his face in her shoulder when they hug.

But she feels him coming back to her, the bad days getting fewer and further between.

He apologises to her, whispering ‘I’m sorry’ against her collarbone, and it tears at her heart every time. She kisses his head and tells him that it’s okay, that he’s forgiven, completely forgiven, and he will be in the future too. For the present she just holds him, playfully kissing his hair and nuzzling into his shoulder, smiling against him and watching the sun breaking through the grey clouds.

                                                                                               *****

When he comes out of his therapist’s office on Friday, Claire’s car is parked right outside, one of three on the street. Friday night, everyone else’s cars are in the drive, after long weeks at work or school or whatever. And she’s here instead, sitting in the front of her car with her sudoku book waiting for him, after driving all the way across town to pick him up.

“Hey, kid,” she greets brightly, marking her page with her pen and sliding it into the glove compartment.

“How many did you get?” he asks.

“Two by the time you got out,” she says proudly. “Next time maybe take a little longer in there and I can make it three in a row.”

He laughs, but it’s half hearted. He’s been in for longer than usual these past weeks, sessions sometimes running five or even ten minutes overtime and he’s just glad he’s the last one she sees before closing. Still, as time goes on, his mind gets brighter, and he’s sure they’ll be back to their regular, done-at-five-on-the-dot schedule.

He follows her into the house, swinging his backpack from his hand, toying with it like it’s a weight, while Claire makes inquiries about what he wants for dinner, telling him about some new curry recipe she stumbled upon that she’s been dying to try out.

Rather than giving a vague answer and running up to his room, JD leans on the table and discards his jacket, listening to her as she takes stuff out of the fridge and flips through a magazine. It wasn’t too long ago now when he was sitting here, his eyes vacant, his blood cold, with her sitting opposite him, pushing a plate of food in front of him and rubbing his back while he let out everything, a million thoughts and memories rushing out of his mouth and painting the room red with his anger, grey with his grief. And she had stood there and held him in the midst of that hurricane. She was there until he dragged his ass back up to bed and even after that.

He thinks he should know by now that she gets paid for this, and she’s a nice enough person to do it for anyone else, but there’s a familiarity that’s both soothing and scary, one that tugs on old memories and brings them into the light without making them hurt. There’s a feeling that comes along with her, with this house that almost makes him feel like he’s meant to be here. That almost takes the foster out and leaves the word ‘home’.

“Hey, Claire?” The words battle their way from his mind to his lips, pushing past the last defences, the ones that still think he’s better off on his own. He guesses they’ve been crumbling for a while now anyway. He must have sounded like he feels, because Claire stops dead in her tracks and turns to him, concern shining in her brown eyes, half-hidden behind a smile. He coughs as if that could clear the butterflies in his stomach, his hand curled into a tight fist.

“Thank you,” he manages. “For taking care of me. When I was… you know…” He taps his nails on the table, searching for words to describe something he doesn’t even know. “Thanks.”

“Aw, kid.” She comes over to his side, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and squeezing softly, resting her head on his shoulder. “You don’t need to thank me, Jason.”

“I know I can’t have been easy to deal with,” he says quietly, guilt causing his voice to crack. He wraps his hand around her arm and doesn’t let go.

“Don’t,” she tells him sternly, her fingers stroking in a steady rhythm against his shoulder. “Don’t talk like that, kid. You were just having a rough time. You just needed a bit of help, that’s all.” He nods while Claire runs her hand up and down his arm. Just needed help. “Besides, you’re not that hard. Not for me, kid.”

“Oh stop,” he sighs, half-laughing, fighting back the rush he feels flowing through him, colouring his cheeks a faint crimson. He still hears past ghost’s words ringing in his ears and trying to slap down any good feeling he can have, but they’re weak, weaker than they’ve been before.

“I mean it,” she replies, stroking his hair. Her weight lifts off him as she steps back and JD finds himself oddly empty when she does. “Now come on. You want lamb or chicken in this curry?”

“Whatever you’re having,” he says, sliding off the chair and hoisting his bag on his shoulder.

“Well I need your seal of approval if I’m going with the lamb,” she warns. “Because I’m not having you complain to me that you don’t like it once I make it.”

“Have you ever known me to complain?” he asks.

“You want an answer?” she retorts. Warm laughter escapes from both of them.

“Lamb’s fine, Claire,” he assures her. “I’m going to go start my homework.” She grins, shaking her head fondly, not enough to make it obvious but enough to make him notice. He guesses she thought he was halfway up the stairs by now. “What?”

“Nothing,” she says. She’s not built for lying. “Just… really excited about this curry.”

“Okay…” he replies, making a swift ‘I’m watching you’ gesture, to which she replies with a lazy, two fingered salute.

He swings around the doorframe and heads up the stairs two at a time, the books and pencils in his bag tapping out a mismatched tune. Despite what he told Claire, he’s not entirely sure what-if any-he’s going to get done tonight. March has brought a steady tide of deadlines and tests and homework, and not to brag, but also a steady tide of As and Bs for him. He attributes them to Veronica, but she shakes her head, telling him that he’s the one with the brains. She’s just there to push him. And sometimes he takes a minute to congratulate himself, to remember that Veronica has had less cause to push.

He flips open a copy of The Great Gatsby he got in a thrift store last year, covered in highlighter pen and biro. In the quiet of his bedroom, he hears Claire at the stove, the news on the radio as she cooks, and smiles to himself before he even realises why.

He could have ended up with anyone, he knows that. Anyone in quite a few states, even with all of his issues. There’s fewer than he’d like, but group homes for “troubled teens” and foster parents who think they’re up to the challenge exist, only to hold him at arm’s length or send him back to the group home with the first two weeks. Who aren’t willing to drive an hour to get your to a therapist or to hold you when your mind is falling apart or make sure you have enough meds to get you through the month. And the more he thinks about it, he guesses he’s really, really lucky he ended up with Claire.

                                                                                               *****

Veronica won’t, and has never, claimed that she’s experienced in relationships. Her experiences before JD were Simon Andrews kissing her on the cheek at Ram’s tenth birthday party and reading old romance novels from the more neglected parts of the library. And with that inexperience, she vaguely wonders if there’s meant to come a point where her boyfriend kisses her and she doesn’t feel a thrill running down her spine.

If there is, she’s yet to reach it. Because right now, JD is on top of her and the backboard of her bed is behind her and his lips are on her neck and she feels the same kind of breathlessly giddy as she did the night she climbed into his window. She grabs his shoulders as his lips meet hers, their legs tangling and kicking notes and textbooks off her bed. Her hands trail down his body, leaving phantom marks on his back.

She hopes she never loses this feeling because holy hell, does she love it.

“You know, I thought you brought me over here to study,” he teases breathlessly.

“I did,” she replies, poking his cheek. “Not my fault you distracted me.” He laughs again, kissing her lips and her neck and her cheek. While he’s distracted, she sees her chance, wrapping her arm around his waist and pushing him over, grateful for the size of her bed giving him a comfortable landing, even if it does shake and creak against her floor, the headboard knocking against the wall. It’s messy; he lands on his side and traps her arm underneath him and she’s almost too busy laughing at his expression to remember that the whole point was to get on top of him in the first place.

“Jerk,” he says playfully, tapping her nose.

“Oh is that what I am?” she asks, bending to kiss him, deep enough to leave him wanting a little more. “Am I still one now?”

“Um… a litt-no,” he replies, shaking his head, his charm deserting him, leaving him helpless and bewildered. “No you are not.”

She kisses him again, one arm around him, the other pressed against his chest. She’s not going to straight-up have sex on a school night, least of all in her own house with her parents downstairs, but she is up for something halfway there. She presses a kiss to his jaw and buries her hand in his hair, tilting her head to make it a little more-

“Veronica!”

She flies off the bed, landing in a heap on the floor. In the split second between her mom knocking and the door opening, she does what she can only assume is an Olympic level stunt to get to her desk. The door opens to her mom holding a green plastic tray of food and Veronica would groan, if she wasn’t still trying to catch her breath.

“Did someone fall?” she asks. JD- who thankfully had the sense to sit up and grab the nearest thing to him, her French textbook-shakes his head, the very picture of innocence.

“Um, no,” Veronica says, avoiding her mom’s knowing gaze. “I-uh-my bag fell off the bed.”

“Uh-huh,” her mom replies, utterly unconvinced. Veronica waits with crossed fingers, hoping her mom is too innocent (or too oblivious) to catch onto them. “Well, remember what we said, when company’s over the bedroom door stays open.”

“You know, Mrs Sawyer, that is exactly what I have been telling her,” JD replies, his voice at least half an octave higher, gesturing with the pen in his hand before burying himself back in the textbook of the class doesn’t even take.

The freaking audacity. And he just smiles, butter wouldn’t melt expression on his face and a knowing glint in his eye.

Little shit.

“Well I’m sure you’ve been given the same speech by your-your foster parent, JD,” she tells him.

‘You are unbelievable,’ Veronica mouths at him over her mom’s back.

“I just came up to bring you kids a little snack,” her mom says, placing the tray carefully on Veronica’s desk. “I know you’re working hard up here.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Veronica says, making a show of looking through notes.

“You two need anything else?”

“Nope, we’re fine,” she says, shooting JD an apologetic look while half-hiding behind her hair. She waits with a sharp impatience before her mom takes the hint and leaves, the door staying wide open behind her.

“Oh my god,” she grumbles, pushing herself up from her chair and closing the door as much as she can get away with. “Sorry, J.”

“Sorry for what?” he asks. “Is it selfishly hoarding the snacks on your desk so your poor boyfriend can’t get at them?”

“Are your legs broken?” she asks. Still, she picks up the plate and brings it over to the bed, motioning for him to scoot over before she sits down. Wholemeal crackers, some with smushed avocado and salmon, some with pate. It’s better than when the Heathers were over and she made them little finger sandwiches, cut into triangles and everything. Veronica had never wanted to die more than she did in that moment.

“Hey.” JD pokes her in the cheek, pulling an exaggerated pout that gets a laugh out of her. “Why are you Miss Frowny Face? Don’t be Miss Frowny Face. Be Miss Smiley Face.”

“Okay how much sugar have you had today?” she asks. JD raises an eyebrow playfully, and she gives in with a sigh that screams ‘you’re lucky you’re cute’. She flops backwards, bouncing a little as she hits the bed. “She’s making me snacks. I’m 18 and she’s making me snacks and bringing them up to my room and reminding me to keep my door open.”

“And that’s… bad?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she groans. “I can make my own snacks if I need them. And I can do whatever I want in the privacy of my own bedroom.”

“Ew.”

“Oh shush, you know what I meant,” she scoffs, slapping his leg lightly. “Just… I don’t need her to bring me food.”

“Wow. I’ve heard a lot of shitty parent stories in my time, but this one truly takes the cake. Veronica Sawyer, the girl whose parents made her snacks. The fiends.” She feels a pang of guilt at what he said. Has she really been walking through her life that blindly? She doesn’t believe herself to be callous, she’s always thought of herself as a good person, even now. But now she feels like someone’s opened her window for the first time and she’s looking outside, looking out at the world of Big Bud Deans and kids who cook their own food, parents who raise voices and hands at their kids. She’s looking at it all, and she’s kicking herself.

She sighs and turns onto her side. Her face must tell everything, or maybe he can just read her like that, because he starts running a gentle hand through her hair, as though he can run the bad stuff out of her brain.

“Come on,” he says quietly. “Why does that make you feel bad?”

“It’s stupid,” she sighs. It’s also not something she wants to admit, not verbally. It’s something for her diary, where she can let her thoughts out and keep them hidden and at bay at the same time.

“No it’s not.”

“How do you know? I haven’t even told you.”

“Because it’s you, and you can’t be stupid if you tried.” She buries her grinning face in her covers. “So you want to talk about it?”

“Fine,” she replies, half-peeking out. She reaches out and strokes the fabric of his jeans, the rhythm building her nerve and dampening her shame with each stroke. She shouldn’t feel ashamed anyway, and she doesn’t want to be, not with him, but without a little hint of shame, would she be human? “She made me snacks when I was a kid. Like when me and Martha were having sleepovers. And that was fine. And then I got bigger and people had cooler parties that I didn’t go to and their moms didn’t bring them snacks and-” She lets out a long breath as JD pets her hair. “It’s not cool.”

“And you care about being cool?”

“Yeah.” She closes her eyes and remembers Heather Chandler’s kitchen dwarfing her, Heather Duke’s parents giving her full, unrestricted access to the kitchen, her flaming cheeks as Chandler had looked from her mom to the liverwurst on the plate with equal amounts of disgust.

“Well, look at that,” JD sighs. “Your mom brought you snacks, and yet I still think you’re cool.” She huffs a laugh as he pokes her stomach. “Especially since your mom makes amazing food.”

“I should count myself lucky that she makes me stuff at all,” she sighs, pushing herself up onto her elbows. “Right?”

“Just a little,” he admits, smiling softly at her. “Come here, love bug.” He pulls her against his body, too comfortable amongst her pillows to get up properly, settling her head below his chin and legs amongst his. She supposes there is one upside to her mom’s “open door” policy, and that’s that at least she can hear her coming as well. His knuckles run slowly up and down her back. “There are worse things in life than your mom making you snacks, Ronnie.”

“I know,” she murmurs into his chest. An ‘I’m sorry’ plays on her lips, but she holds it back, nervous of awkward conversations, and almost sure he already knows. He kisses her head, taking a moment to nuzzle into her hair. “J?”

“Mm-hm?”

“Never call me love bug again.” His laughter shakes the bed, and her, and if there was any awkwardness or tension left, it chases it away.

Mindful of her parents in the living room, she makes do with a quick, chaste kiss on the cheek when JD leaves.

“See you at school,” she tells him quietly.

“See you,” he agrees. His eyes move behind her, over Veronica’s shoulder, and he straightens up. “Goodnight, Mrs Sawyer.”

Veronica keeps her eyes on JD has he leaves, mainly because she knows the lecture she’ll get if she catches her in the eyeroll. She only turns around when he’s out the door and down the front path and her mom is back in the kitchen.

“So did you guys have fun?” she asks her once she steps into the kitchen and flicks on the kettle.

“Yeah, studying is so much fun,” she says flatly, running her hand through her hair and stretching her neck out. Her momentary study breaks only distract her so much, but the pressure still weighs down on her and presses against her back.

“Come on, sweetie, you know it’ll all be worth it when it’s over,” her mom says, running a hand up her back.

“So you keep saying,” Veronica sighs, running a hand over her face. She’s heard it said that the more you say something, the more you believe it. She’s wondering if there’s an inverse; the more you hear it said, the less you believe it.

“How’s JD finding Westerberg?” her mom asks, as though it’s October and he just rolled into town. Sometimes his presence is so natural Veronica finds it had to really believe that he ever left.

“Fine, Mom,” she replies.

“He’s still not planning on going to college?”

“Not as far as I know. I don’t think so. I don’t really ask him about it. Where’s the peanut butter?” Her mom hums behind her and doesn’t move when she turns around. She has to skirt around her just to get to the counter, trying not to notice the vacant look in her mom’s eyes, or the way she wrings her hands, or the question sitting on her almost-parted lips. When she’s doesn’t even flinch at the PB&J she’s making herself, that’s when Veronica begrudgingly gives into the ringing alarm bell in her head. “Mom? Still with me?”

“Fine,” she manages, giving her a toothy smile. “You’ve met his foster mom, haven’t you?”

“Yeah. She’s awesome.”

“And he’s happy with her?”

“Yeah. He really likes her.” Veronica straightens up against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest, right where the heavy weight is sitting. She curls her clammy hands into fists. “Mom what’s going on?”

“Why do you think something’s going on?” She crosses her arms too, but she’s not Veronica’s reflection. Her mother is on the defence, and Veronica’s on the offense.

“Because you’re acting… weird,” she answers. “You kind of do a lot whenever JD’s around.

“Don’t use that word,” her mom replies, so sharp that Veronica’s only hurt for a second before she realises how false it is. “Weird.”

“Well that’s what you’re being.” She can’t really work out if it’s a persistent curiosity or frustration at being lied to or genuine worry that’s causing her to push like this. “Why… why do you care so much about JD?”

“Am I allowed to worry about people? I’m a Mom, Ronnie. I can’t help it.”

You’re not his she thinks. Instead of saying it, she keeps her eyes locked on her mother with a laser focus, quietly demanding the truth from her, while she hides behind a titanium shield. Veronica’s hands wrap around her arms, realising she’s locked herself in a battle of wills with one of the people she never thought she’d fight with. She almost wishes she was back making them study snacks. Despite what her mom might think, she doesn’t like fighting with her. But she also doesn’t like her hiding things from her.

When mom bristles under her gaze, she’s not just smiling because she’s winning. She’s breaking because it’s almost over.

“You really want to know?” she asks. Veronica nods stiffly.

“Well…” Mother and daughter both snap, their battle stances collapsing. Veronica lets herself lean against the counter, but her guard doesn’t drop down. There’s still a simmering tension keeping her upright. “You remember back when you and JD were kids? When he lived here?” Veronica nods again. It seems that’s all she can do. “When you told me about him… how he made his own dinner… I got worried.”

Shit.

“Worried?” she echoes.

“Call it parent’s intuition,” she says wearily. “But what you told me rubbed me the wrong way. So I contacted the school. Asked what they knew about his family.”

“You did what?”

“Well I was right, wasn’t I?” she fires back. “The school, turns out, had the same concerns I did. So they contacted a social work team to investigate.” Veronica grabs the countertop as her legs start swaying. Cold sweat trickles down her back. “And then they found out-”

“I know the rest.”

A wave of nausea takes over her and makes her knees buckle as she sees everything set out before her. She tells her mom. Her mom tells the school. Her school tells social workers. And then JD… JD gets taken off his dad and goes through court and tossed around the system before ending up coming back to her.

All because she told her mom.

“Mom…” her voice trails off, unsure of what she’s even accusing her mother of. She doesn’t even know what she’s feeling, just knows there’s a pit in her stomach and a prickling heat on her cheek and a terrifying realisation.

“I’m going to have to tell him,” she says, more to herself than her mom. Her mom takes it anyway and grasps her hand gently.

“You don’t have to,” she assures her. “Why does he need to know?”

“Would you?” she retorts. “If you found out you wrecked Dad’s life, would you tell him?”

“You think you wrecked his life?” Her mom shakes her head and pushes her hair away from her pale face. “Veronica… was he even happy with his father?”

“I don’t think that matters,” she replies. She swallows past the lump in her throat and pushes herself off the counter, stumbling over her weak legs. “I still have to tell him.”

“Veronica?” She stops in the doorway, looking just over her shoulder at her mom’s anxious wide eyes and wringing hands, and that adds another layer of guilt to the wave she’s riding. Her mom tries to smile, but every attempt fails. “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

Is she? She feels like she should be.

“Depends if he is,” is her answer.

Dear diary,

She runs a hand over her face, the words on the pages almost blurring together after a near-sleepless night. She had a textbook open on the desk and a highlighter uncapped, but she can’t so much as lift it. Her mind is too frazzled to focus on the perfect tense. At least in study hall, she can hide her diary on her lap and people are either too busy or too tired to care.

I have to tell him. I know I do. He has a right to know what happened, how those people found out about his dad.

He knows I’m keeping something from him. And I feel like shit about it. He won’t tell me, but he’s doing all his comforting stuff- kissing my forehead and squeezing my hand and he even hugged me before homeroom. I must look worse than I thought.

I’m telling him. I told him I have to meet him after school. It’s the right thing, if nothing else.

I’m just… scared.

I’ve gotten used to loving him. I’ve gotten used to him maybe loving me. I don’t want to have to get used to him hating me.

I don’t think I could ever get used to that.

He beats her to their garden after school. He’s hunched over a book, his eyes looking at pages that his mind isn’t reading. She knows a pretence when she sees it. She hides behind the doorframe for a second, her heart hammering against her ribs. She thinks that there’s a good chance that all the waiting is going to hurt just as much, if not more, as him leaving her. That’s why she asked him to meet her before she could stop herself, why she’s pushing herself over next to him now. Not knowing is so much worse than knowing.

“Hey,” she greets him, wincing as the words scratch her dry throat.

“Hey,” he replies, looking up at her. He takes her hand and pulls her to sit, her forcing her knees to bend. When he brushes his fingers against her cheek, she pushes his hand away instead.

“Sorry,” she whispers. “I guess I’m a little nervous right now.”

“Ronnie-” His voice cracks. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay. You know-” He shrugs. “As long as you’re not pregnant or anything.”

The concept is so bizarre and so far away that for a second, she actually allows herself to laugh.

“Wait you’re not pregnant right?” he asks, words tumbling out of his mouth in rapid succession.

“God, no, J, I’m not pregnant,” she sighs, the smile falling from her face as quickly as it had come. She looks down at the clasped hands in her lap, her cold fingers fidgeting and picking at each other. “I just… I found something out.”

“Okay. Hey.” He takes her hand, linking their fingers together, and brings it to his lips and kisses it. “I promise. Whatever it is, we’ll be okay.”

She sighs, letting go of his hand to stroke his face. She knows now what this is, this warm calm she feels around him, how settled she feels in his arms, the butterflies she feels when he kisses her, the way she can never seem to have enough of him. She’s in love. And it’s different from what she’d read before. It’s not Buttercup and Westley or Romeo and Juliet or Elizabeth and Darcy. It’s different and it’s better.

And it’s too good to lose.

“Can I ask you to do something?” she asks. “Try not to hate me?”

“Veronica,” he scoffs, like she’s said something offensive. “I could never.”

“Swear?”

“Swear.” He kisses the inside of her wrist, sealing their deal.

She opens her mouth, tears threatening to build in her eyes.  She wishes she was a worse person so she could keep this from him without a guilty conscience.

“JD… back when you came here the first time… remember when someone called social workers on your dad?”

“Of course I do.”

She takes in a deep breath. She’s looking back on everything they’ve been since the day he came into her homeroom, they day she said hi to him at the lunch table. When she had watched him punch the shit out of Kurt and Ram, when something unlocked in her chest for the first time. If she knew then what he’d become to her, would she have kept quiet? If she had known it would mean keeping him?

“That was my mom.”

“What… what was your mom?”

Don’t make me explain it she thinks. Getting words out is hard enough.

“My mom called the school. And the school called social services on your dad.”

She doesn’t look at him. She hears him though, hears the sharp intake of breath. She knows how tense his body probably is, judging by the way he’s gripping her hand tighter by the second. He’s either holding himself together or one second away from falling apart.

“How did she find out?” he asks.

“I told her. I told her when I got back from your house about you making your own food and that tipped her off and she called the school and- JD, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know until last night and I never meant for you to-”

He kisses her. He kisses her quickly and cups the back of her head, probably to stop her from falling off the bench in shock. She kisses him back, mostly in relief.

“What was that for?” she asks, heat rising in her cheek against his cold hand.

“Kind of to get you to stop babbling,” he teases.

“Remind me to babble more often,” she replies. “JD, I-”

“Don’t,” he whispers. He traces her jawline, pressing his thumb gently to the bottom of her chin. “Veronica, why would you be sorry?”

“Other than the fact that I kind of messed up your life?”

“A lot of people messed up my life,” he tells her. “You could never be one of them.”

“I got you put into foster care,” she reminds him. A small voice in the back of her mind asks her why she’s doing this after he’s just kissed her like that. She thinks she should be holding on tighter, not giving him reasons to go.

“You did,” he agrees. “And it was the best thing to ever happen to me. Look, some parts of foster care suck, but they suck a lot less than they did with my dad. I got happy. You’ve seen me with Claire. I’m happier with her than I ever could be with my dad.” She only realises she was crying when he wipes away the tear on her cheek. He smiles breathlessly at her, shaking his head slightly. “Please don’t ever blame yourself. Getting away from my dad was the best thing to ever happen to me.” He kisses her forehead. “One of them anyway.”

“You mean it?” she asks. Despite the question, she starts playing with his necklaces, her fingers brushing against his skin.

“Definitely,” he says firmly. His smile is wider than she can ever remember seeing it. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

She wraps her arm around his and nuzzles into his shoulder, unsure if she’s weak with relief or it’s just him. He wraps his arm around her shoulders and squeezes tightly, punctuating their walk home with gentle kisses and sweet nothings murmured into her ear.

Him leaving was the best thing for him, no one can deny that. And it worked out for the two of them in the end. The universe, or God, sent him back to her, so she figures she can’t complain, especially not if it meant he was safe, emotionally for physically. If she had known what she knows now, would she have still spilled the beans to her mom about JD’s dad? Absolutely she would have.

Even if she’ll always wonder what would have happened with them if he had stayed.

                                                                                               *****

Days turn into weeks after Veronica’s confession, and JD would say they return to normal, but the truth is that they don’t. They somehow become stronger, like something broke between them. They had never shied away from each other before, but JD swears he can feel a difference in the way they hold each other, the way she lays her head on his chest, even if he can’t quite explain it. Maybe it’s him knowing that she saved him. No, not saved him, there’s danger in language like that, but it’s something like that. Maybe it’s a change in her, in that beautiful mind of hers that he’ll never work out. But it’s wonderful, whatever it is and he won’t question it.  

It brings him closer every day to I love you and while that scares him, there’s something about the fear he actually likes.

“Hey, I’m home,” he announces, one Wednesday afternoon. He frowns, the lack of a TV or radio or phone conversation standing out starkly. “Claire?”

“In the kitchen. Jason can you come in here a second?” He frowns, and the idea of company being over is the first that comes to mind. Very quiet company. He checks himself in the hallway mirror for a second, pushing the dark curls away from his face before straightening up and heading to the kitchen. His first guess is an inspection, and while Claire has nothing to hide, these kinds of things have always given him the heebie-jeebies. Like when a security guard passes you in a store; you know you’ve done nothing wrong, and yet all you can think of is all the bad things you’ve done.

His guess was proven wrong though, since the kitchen is empty bar her, sitting on one of the chairs, back straight, glasses perched on her head and some forms on the table. She’s deliberately not chewing her nails, instead tapping them on the table and her lips rolled into a thin line. He’d probably prefer it if she was chewing them.

“What’s up?” he asks, approaching the table like it’s a ticking bomb. “Claire what’s up, are you-”

Then he sees it.

He sees the document sitting on the table. He sees the agency logo at the top. He sees his name at the top. He sees them and he puts them together, one by one, and the big picture is staring him directly in the face.

“You’re sending me away.”

“What?”

“You’re sending me away.”

He explodes. Things he hasn’t felt in a long, long time come rushing back and the strangest part is there’s a degree of comfort in them. There’s comfort in the rage and the terror, even in all its wild chaos as it tears at his throat and eyes and skin. Maybe there’s a part of him that’s used to it.

“You-you promised!” he screams. “You promised I’m here until graduation everyone promised me that! The first day I was here Aimee said to me, and she said to me before that, she told me I wasn’t leaving until I graduated!”

“I know, Jason, I’m sorry-”

He can’t breathe. His chest is too tight so that it can’t do anything but burn. His thoughts crash over him and drown him and leave him flailing helplessly, trying to grasp for a clear line, but everything moves too quickly and jumps too suddenly. He tries to remember everything he’s learned in therapy, not just now but since he first started going, but they’re half-formed and vague, the voices distorted and garbled. His head aches, fragmented pieces of his mind ricocheting like bullets until something becomes half-clear to him.

“I can change,” he says. His hands curl around the kitchen chair and cling tighter than he’s ever held onto anything. “Claire just tell me what I’m doing wrong and I’ll stop.”

“Jason, you’ve got it all wrong,” she says, her own voice shaking in desperation. Her fingers brush against his strained hand. “Jason… I’ve been getting the paperwork to adopt you.”

His knees his the ground after his hands fall from the chair. He only manages to throw one hand in front of him to stop himself. He takes in huge gulps of air, the tight chord that had been wound around his lungs cut now. All that’s left of the frantic racing of his mind seconds ago is a ringing in his ears.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to scare you like that,” she says as she rubs his back.

“You’re doing what?” he asks breathlessly.

“Adopt you,” she replies.

The word adoption has sort of become synonymous with Santa Claus. A far off dream that’s fun to think about, something that little kids talk about with wide smiles and laughter in their voices he can’t bring himself to correct. Something that’s reserved for kids and kids only. He was never lied to and he appreciates it; his chances of being adopted have been slim since he entered the system and dwindled with each passing birthday. The closer he gets to aging out of the system, the less likely someone is to look at him and want him around. He can’t really argue with them-who would want a teenager instead of a cute tiny baby or squealing toddler they can have all the firsts with. All the excitement has gone out of him. Add all his baggage on top of that and he’s a turn-off for perspective adopters.

Well, he thought so anyway.

“Really?” is all he can ask.

“Yes, really,” Claire says, laughing. “I never wanted to do anything without your permission. I mean, I legally can’t. You’re 18 soon anyway.” She hesitates before wiping his face. “Sorry I scared you.”

“I’m sorry I freaked out,” he replies. He shrugs weakly. “I guess I just saw the papers and…” He bites the inside of his cheek. He’s seen similar papers once before, last year, accompanied by the excuse that ‘It’s nothing personal Jason. You’re a lovely boy, just a little too much for us to handle right now’. “I don’t know.”

“It’s okay, kid.” She sits back, wrapping her arms around her knees. “So what do you say?” She swallows and adjusts her glasses. “I know I’m not your Mom, kid. I know no one can replace her. I just want you to have a home here. With me, if you want it.”

“You’re not kidding?” She shakes her head. He pinches himself under his leg, where she can’t see. He pinches until it can’t hurt more, and he’s still sitting there. Nothing’s changed… so this is real.

He crashes into her, his weight nearly sending them both toppling to the ground, saved only by Claire’s quick thinking. He feels the past five years shaking inside him, the uncertainty that had lurked in the background of his life finally calming.

“I’m going to take that as a yes.” He nods against her, nothing but a small, trembling gasp escaping him. Laughing, she hugs him back, somehow enveloping him despite being half his size.

It crosses his mind that he can’t wait to tell Veronica about this. And he will, even if she won’t understand what this all means for him. She can’t, few people can, and that’s more than fine. It’s not lost on him that in some roundabout way, he sort of owes this to her, but at the same time, he and Claire are their own thing. His own… dare he say it, family? Even if she’s not his mom, she’s something close.

He opens his eyes to the same wooden floor he’s trodden over every day for months. Familiar, unextraordinary. Utterly simple. But it’s transformed now. It’s his future now and he’s just as much part of this house now as these floorboards are.

His dad told him years ago that Sherwood Ohio was his new home. And now, five years later, it finally is.

[missjanjie]

hi i got tagged by my love @imalwaysaslutfordrag for this~

Name: Joley

Nickname: i don’t really have one? but it did take me like six months to realize mac calls me jole (as opposed to me thinking it was a typo) so who knows

Zodiac sign: capricorn sun/pisces moon/taurus rising. psychoanalyze that as you will

Nationality: i am american (american)

Languages spoken: english, a passable amount of spanish

What time is it: 5:56pm

Celebrity crush: Margot Robbie, Jameela Jamil, Naya Rivera

Favorite fictional character(s): Kurt Hummel (Glee), Rizzo (Grease), Carrie (Carrie), Veronica Sawyer (Heathers)

Favorite musician: uhhh idk man i dont have a music taste my spotify playlist is just ‘i liked it so its there’

Favorite sports team: does jan sport count

Favorite season: fall

Favorite flower: calla lilies

Favorite scent: i like tropical-y scents

Favorite animal(s): sloths, capybaras

Favorite food: cheesecake, bagels, pasta (be more of a new yorker, i know right?)

Dream car: one someone else drives me in

Dream trip: i’d love to just like, travel through western europe

Instruments: like, musical or of torture? 

Coffee, tea, or hot chocolate: coffee to wake up, tea to calm down, but i prefer iced

Dog or cat person: just give me the animal ill pet it

Following: 466

Followers: 1509 (probably a lot of long inactive blogs there)

Other blogs: joleyssims (simblr)

Blog established: January 2011

Do you have a tumblr crush: what are you, a cop?

Do you get asks: mostly when i ask for prompts but i like all of them!

What are you wearing right now: tank top/shorts

Drink(s) of choice: diet cherry coke

Number of blankets you sleep with: one blanket and like five pillows

Average sleeping hours: probably like 7-9

Random fact: im legally blind in my left eye without glasses

i cant keep up w who’s been tagged or not so like do it if u want xo

[fangirlahead]

“Are you okay?” with a clearly not okay Veronica and mom friend Chandler? basically a Veronica and Chandler request but it’s platonic/sisterly

“are you okay?”

-

All she could feel was the pain. Three days later and she hadn’t been able to sleep or eat, she was just so focused on how much it all hurt. The crying had ended the first day, the screaming and cursing his named ended the second, and now on day three, Veronica Sawyer just felt numb.

He was dead. Gone. The ending to their murderous spree, probably the one who deserved to die the most she’d thought, and yet his death hurt the worst.

Her parents didn’t understand, they couldn’t. They though JD was simply a messed up boy with a dead mother and an absentee father. His death merely reinforced their belief that it truly was a time for troubled youths.

But Veronica knew. She knew the truth. She also knew the truth would land her in jail and she wasn’t rotting in a cell without the knowledge that JD was somewhere else doing the same. So she sat in silence on her bed, hugging a pillow with her eyes unfocused at the wall in front of her.

Unknown to Veronica, a certain red-clothed ghost had taken a front row seat to the breakdown of the century. And while she had once found Veronica’s heartbreak entertaining, she know found herself feeling pity for her ex-best friend.

“Are you okay?” Heather wished she didn’t care but she knew, deep down, that she really did.

Veronica’s world had been completely silent, the only sound her own thoughts in her head, and even now still she wasn’t convinced Heather wasn’t her imagination, but a voice that wasn’t her own was greatly appreciated.

“No.” Her voice was rough, the effect of not talking for several days and not drinking much water either.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Heather found herself at the edge of Veronica’s bed. The two now in a position they’d been many times before, when Heather had been alive and some silly high school drama had taken over their lives.

“No.” Besides what could Veronica say? I wish he wasn’t dead to the girl they’d killed?

“Well then you need to get your shit together.” Heather had never really been one to be sympathetic.

Veronica shot her a glare, one that Heather would’ve crucified her for if she’d been alive but there wasn’t much she could now dead.

“You’re not helpful.” Veronica finally sighed, when even her dirty look wouldn’t get Heather to leave.

“I’m new at this.” She had really wanted to be comforting, it just wasn’t her first nature.

Veronica cracked the faintest hint of a smile, so small Heather almost missed it. But immediately it was replaced by a scowl, as if Veronica had just reminded herself she wasn’t allowed to be happy.

“We killed you.” Veronica’s voice cracked.

“I hadn’t noticed.” Heather rolled her eyes before remembering her role in this conversation.

“I mean,” She paused and took a breath, or whatever ghosts did, “you know, I don’t hate you for it.”

“What?” Veronica has braced herself for the sarcasm, the anger, the whatever Heather would throw at her, but not these soft spoken words.

“Don’t get me wrong, it was certainly not your finest moment, but I’ve come to forgive you.” Heather shrugged. “But only you.”

Veronica nodded, Heather had never once liked JD. She almost smiled once again remembering the first day Jason Dean became a name on their radar. But then the pain returned, and it all fell away again.

“I didn’t think it’d hurt so much.” Veronica would be crying if she had any tears left to give.

“I didn’t cry for you, I certainly didn’t cry for Kurt or Ram,” she continued, “and yet I’ve sat here for the past three days mourning a boy who up until the last five minutes before he died, had every intention of having me take his place.”

“That’s love, I guess.” Heather had never had the chance to experience it herself, but whatever fucked up relationship her best friend had been in, there was love in it.

“Did he love me?” Veronica shook her head. “Or was I just some girl who would help him get what he wanted?”

It’d been a scary thought she’d been going back and forth on since before JD had even died.

“We’ll never know.” Heather frowned at her friend. The once great Veronica Sawyer, a Heather who had college guys eating out of her hand, was now a heartbroken mess with unwashed hair. “But you’ll never get any better if you sit here for the rest of your life.”

“Getting up sounds too hard.” Veronica squeezed the pillow tight against her chest.

“Veronica Sawyer, you single handedly fought for and saved an entire high school full of students,” Heather had taken on her I’m the boss now voice, “you can get up and take a shower.”

The dark haired girl in front of her made no move to get up.

“Don’t do it for me, don’t do it for yourself, don’t do it for him,” Heather nudged, “Do it for everyone else alive you still loves you.”

After a few minutes of silence, Veronica finally swung her legs over the bed and stood up. Taking a few shaky steps, she’d managed to get herself into the bathroom and out of Heather’s sight.

For the next twenty minutes, Heather was alone, and then the shower stopped running and even later, Veronica finally reemerged.

“Are you okay?” Heather asked again.

“No,” Veronica mumbled, “But maybe I will be.”

And first the first time in three days, Veronica felt something besides pain, she felt hope.