Other side of paradise (Jason Dean x reader)

𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧

Walking into the party, all of the Heathers' + Veronica were looking killer.  Plus you.  You were there too.  Chandler was talking about how nice the hosts were, even though you knew they were just some frat boys looking to get laid, and this was their big scheme to get the good stuff.  But it seemed like Heather C and your sister were falling for it, so you guessed there was something to their plan.

"Ladies, throw your coats on the floor," one of the hosts told your clique happily.  "Ah, (y/n), this is Brad!"

The other host, Brad, looked at you and smirked.  You knew what was on his mind, and you didn't like it.  You heard him whisper something to the unnamed host, and you panicked a little.  Especially by how happy the Heathers' + Veronica looked.

"Let's party," Chandler exclaimed.

"She loves to party," the unnamed host said happily, linking his arm with Chandler's.

Brad took your arm and began to lead you away, most likely to a bedroom.  You looked to your sister for help, but she did nothing.  Her eyes held sympathy, yet she did not make a single movement.  It didn't even look like she was breathing.

'Dear Diary,' Veronica thought, not being able to write down in the actual thing.  'I want to kill.  And you have to believe it's for more than just selfish reasons, more than just a spoke in my menstrual cycle.  You have to believe me.'

Brad lead you into his bedroom, and sat you down on the bed, quickly sitting next to you.

"Hey, it's so great to be able to talk to a girl and not have to ask 'what's your major?'"

Brad forced a laugh, and you just stared at him, trying to keep a poker face.  You hoped it made you look bitchy like a Heather, and boys don't want to get laid by someone who's a real bitch or asshole.

"So, when you go to college, what do you think you'll study," Brad asked nervously.

He was getting uncomfortable, and it seemed as if your poker face is working on him.  It was a little relieving to you, but still nerve-wracking to think about whatever dirty and dark thoughts he was having about you.  You were trying to look everywhere but at him, and your shoes seemed to be the best spot for now.

In a different room, Heather Chandler was lying down on a bed, with the yet to be named hope on top of her, practically eating her neck.

"Come on David, we should get back to the party," Heather said.

"We will, it's just... you're so hot tonight, and I can't control myself," David replied.

'Oh Christ, I can't explain it...' Veronica thought.  'But I'm allowed an understanding that my parents and these Remington university assholes have chosen to ignore... I understand that I can not bear to be a Heather!  But it seems in a cruel world, it's the only security I am offered.'

Sitting on a couch surrounded by horny young men was Duke, McNamara, and Veronica.  They were chatting about the different kinds of people and personalities they'd find in their schools.  Then they watched you storm out of one of the rooms in the back, and right out a side door into the alley created by the neighboring building.

You found a small box of matches on the ground, and you knelt over and picked them up, pulled out a small match, struck it across the side, and watched as a small flame began to stretch and grow from the red tip, slowly making it turn black.  You held your hand up to it, but quickly dropped the match, the heat of the flame surprising you.

You had dropped the match right into a trash can that was full of half drunk beer cans and old liquor bottles.  Fire and alcohol are a bad mix, so you watched as blue flames rose from inside.  

In a secluded bathroom, Heather C had stolen David's toothbrush to brush her teeth.  She spit out the sudsy stuff and looked at her reflection in the mirror, sighing.  Being a Heather was hard, even for the original Heather.

You had made your way back inside, and sat down on empty couch.  Brad quickly found you and sat down on the arm of the couch, next to you.  You quickly moved to the other direction, and Brad just moved down on to the couch, but luckily, didn't come closer to you.

"How's my little cheerleader," he asked.

He moved closer to you, and began to caress your thigh.

"Oh, I know everyone at your highschool isn't so uptight.  Come on..."

His hand moved up closer to the danger area, and you suddenly felt nauseous.  The smell of beer and weed wasn't helping, and you decided to use this feeling to your advantage.

"Stop it, I don't feel so good," you told him.

"Hey, let's do it.  It'll be excellent..."

You shot up and began to make your way back out to the door, your stomach twisting and turning.  Brad followed you.

"Come on,  I just wanna get laid," Brad whined.

"Then go talk to someone else!"

'Betty Finn was a true friend,' Veronica thought.  'And I sold her out for a bunch of Swatch-dogs and Diet Coke heads!  Killing Heather would be like offing the Wicked Witch of the West.  Wait, east... west... god, I sound like a fucking psycho!'

You made your way back out to the flaming trash can, only to see that the flames were beginning to crawl up the walls and practically lick the walls.  You leaned against the neighbors wall so you didn't get burned alive, and tried to take deep breaths to quell the beast trying to escape your stomach.

"What is your damage," Chandler exclaimed, emerging from inside.  "Brad says your being a real kuse!"

"Heather, I really don't feel good, can we just leave now?"

"No!  Hell no!"

It was at that moment that the bile crawling up your throat tried to escape, and you vomited right there in front of Heather.

'Tomorrow, I will be kissing her ass, but for tonight, let me dream of a world without Heather... a world where I am free,' Veronica pleaded with her subconscious.

You tried to walk back inside so you could go home, only to get shoved against a hallway wall, and practically pinned there.  You'd assume Heather'd be weaker than this, so this was surprising.

"You stupid fuck," she insulted.  "You were nothing before you met me, you were playing barbies with Martha Dumptruck!  You were a bluebird!  You were a brownie!  You were a girl-scout cookie!  I got you into a Remington party!  And how do you repay me?!  I GOT PAID IN PUKE!!"

"Lick it up," you seethed.

"Monday morning, I'll tell everyone what happened here," Heather whispered darkly.  "Transfer to Jefferson, transfer to Washington, I don't give a shit.  But no one at Remington or Sherwood will let you play their reindeer games.  I don't even think your sister will want to look at you."