Musicals x Reader OneShots

Veronica Sawyer x Reader (Heathers) +~Fluff~+

Requested?: heck yeah, by gay4barrett

Title: Rivals

Veronica's POV

Why did evil girls always have to be so damn cute?

Let me explain. I was referring to (y/n) (l/n), probably the prettiest girl in school. Who was also the second smartest, after me. But we were rivals, we hated each other. I mostly hated her since not only was she smart, but she and Heather Chandler used to date, and she was the true demon queen. So (y/n) was obviously cruel too, right?

I snapped back to reality in the middle of my math quiz, where I'd been staring at (y/n) for a while. Goddammit, and now she was getting up, smugly shooting me a glance. She smirked, intentionally brushing her hand along my shoulders as she walked to the front of the room to turn it in.

And I really hated that the touch sent butterflies fluttering in my stomach. Why couldn't I just digest them? It had been this way for two years, and I still hated her, and she still sent electricity through my veins when she touched me. I detested it.

I quickly finished up, seeing as I was really good at math when I was actually looking at the paper. I handed it in, shooting a glare (y/n)'s way. Sure enough, she was watching me, and raised a brow, still gloating in her victory. God, I fucking hated this girl.

I sat back at my seat, pulling out a collection of Edgar Allen Poe stories and began reading. After finishing The Cask of Amontillado, the bell rang and freed me from my torture of feeling her eyes on me, leering and grinning at her excellence.

The day went by relatively quickly until English, when I had class with (y/n) again. I swear, the school hated me. I was gonna get out of here soon, and get to an Ivy League school with people I can actually befriend and be a successful lawyer.

"Now, for the next two weeks you will have a project working in partners where you write a ten page analysis of the symbolism and themes of Edgar Allen Poe's story, The Cask of Amontillado." Mrs. Fleming started enthusiastically. I smiled, knowing this was exactly my forte. And Heather McNamara, the only nice Heather, was in this class.

"I have picked your groups, so as to really allow you to bond with someone new. And also you're with the person closest to your level, so I have certain expectations to your group. Let's get to it!" She continued. I nearly groaned out loud. Assigned groups were never a good thing.

"First off, Heather M and Riley S." She called out. Heather sent me an apologetic look but I just shrugged.

"Veronica S and (y/n) (l/i)." My heart nearly stopped at that. No, no, no, this couldn't be real. I had to work on this project with (y/n)? She was smart, yes, but I hated her. She was absolutely awful!

I ignored Fleming calling out all the other pairs, stuck in my head. Then, someone sat next to me. I looked over, still in a daze, to see (y/n).

"Look, I don't like this any more than you, but can we just be civil for this project? I'm not tanking my grade for you. You're not worth it." She said. I rolled my eyes and nodded, sticking out my hand for her to shake. She reluctantly did so, and I had to notice how cold her hands were. What was she, an ice witch?

"Fine. I need your phone number, to organize meeting for the project." I told her. She nodded, turning and grabbing a pen and a purple sticky note from her black backpack. When she handed it to me, I stuck it in my pocket, not bothering to read it.

The bell rang, freeing us from more uncomfortable conversation. I got up quickly, slinging my blue backpack over my shoulder and nearly running out to my car.

When I got home, I went immediately to my room, setting my backpack down on my desk chair and plopping in my bed. I took out my phone, and remembered (y/n)'s neatly folded phone number was in my pocket. I made a new contact, shooting her a "Hey, it's Veronica." and exiting off the texting app to scroll through Instragram. I'd start on homework in a little while, after my short brain break.

She texted back almost immediately: "hi. can I come over? I've asked all my friends and they haven't responded, and my brother and his girlfriend are fighting." I felt a pang of guilt, and texted back. "Yeah sure, since your friends aren't answering. I'll send you my address." I told her, before in a separate text sending it to her.

I waited, scrolling the depths of Insta once again, but I was shortly interrupted by the doorbell, and my mom yelling "Ronnie, it's for you!"

I meandered my way down the steps and to the door to see a frightened looking (y/n) standing there, holding her keys in one hand and her backpack in the other. I nodded my head, waving her in.

"Thanks mom, we'll be up in my room." I told her, heading up the stairs to show (y/n) where we'd be working.

She gratefully set everything down, taking a seat on the floor. We grabbed a couple papers and pencils to write down ideas, and she grabbed the Edgar Allen Poe book I'd been reading recently.

We got to work, playfully discussing themes and symbolism, teasing one another as if we'd been friends for years. Everything was relaxed until she decided to take off her hoodie. It was the pullover kind, so she had to escape by pulling it over her head, and exposing a sliver of her stomach that nearly made me go completely red.

Did I have a crush on (y/n)? No, no no, I couldn't! I didn't. I definitely didn't.

We continued working, with me a bit distracted by my thoughts, when I noticed she was sitting so close to me our legs were pressed together. I looked at her face, causing her to look up and do the same.

We both naturally leaned in until our lips met. I melted into it, my eyes fluttering closed.

(1065 words)