Heathers Requests/One Shots

Princess Crimson

This one features dark!Veronica, nice!Duke, and dark!Mac (kinda..?). I don't know if this one makes sense, but I hope you like it! Please remember to vote and comment! TW//Implied death, swearing, brief mentions of suicide

Heather McNamara had vanished. Well, vanished for a couple of days. Heather Chandler was dead, Duke seemed actually human, and the school was frenzied.

"We really need Mac," Duke said, twisted her fingers anxiously. I noticed blankly that her nails were bitten raw. "She's the schools favorite, and she would know what to do."

"She would," I said. J.D. wouldn't have gone after Mac, would he? No, he wouldn't. Footsteps echoed through the halls, along with gasps. The atmosphere shifted.

"Hey guys!" Mac's voice echoed through the halls. It was different, though. Less melodic, more confident, like... just like Chandler's.

Had we really killed Chandler? Because all I could see was red. Crimson matte nails, sharpened to dangerous points. A large red scrunchie, the crown of Westerburg High. Red blazer, which hugged her skin tightly. Ram Sweeny fell out of his chair.

"H-Heather?" Duke cried, feeling the dark green scrunchie that rested in her own dark curls, and looking at the navy one that sat it my hair. I saw J.D. walk in the cafeteria. He was holding a cigarette in one hand and a pistol on the other. He raised an eyebrow at me.

"Yup!" Her eyes sparkled and her tone looked like she should be smiling wide enough to crack her face, but no. It was a smooth mask of porcelain. "Sorry guys, the mall was calling me. I shop, therefore, I am." 

That was Heather Chandler's line. It wasn't Mac's line. Mac didn't wear red. Mac didn't look Ram Sweeny up and down, poised and ready like a lion. This wasn't Mac. This was Chandler. But no, Chandler was there, hovering over her shoulder.

I never thought Mac would have the guts, she observed, eyeing Mac appraisingly. But better her than Duke. Veronica couldn't ask her, because she would look like a psychopath. And Chandler, because she loved making her life difficult, said no more.

Veronica just left. Left Duke, who looked like she was in shock. Left Mac, who looked too proud of herself. She ran all the way to the lake. It was surrounded on all sides by high cliffs. After someone committed suicide a couple years ago, they put fences all around it.

"Hey. I was thinking, it's gonna keep happening. A new bitch is gonna take charge each time the next one is bumped off." She turned to look at him. He had an enticing smirk playing on his lips. 

"Yeah? What do you suggest?" He laughed, as if it was obvious. Maybe it was. I felt like I didn't know anything.

"I suggest," he said, swinging himself over the rail. He tipped forward, almost falling off. "We blow the whole damn place up." His words were soft but full of excitement and determination.

Hadn't Veronica wanted to blow up Westerburg? She had, many times, most noticeably the day the Heathers had recruited her. What had stopped her? The Heathers had. Now, the Heathers were broken. So why not?

She looked up at his dark eyes, glittering with what could be considered starlight. Veronica, Veronica saw it as the hellfire that would soon consume Westerburg. She pressed her lips to his.

"Sounds perfect. I'll bring the marshmallows."

(527 words)