youtube ads having the nerve to advertise scream 7 to me as if they expect me to forget what they did to melissa barrera. fuck u i didnt forget and i hope ur movie flops and u regret ever kissing israel’s boots
HiI I was just wondering if you could write about Regina x reader wheee reader is kinda like Karen and Regina just loves it. Just pure fluff!
Thank you!!!!!
You're So Cute, It's Offensive | Regina George x Reader
Floof
Regina George does not get crushes.
Crushes are for underclassmen and girls who still say “OMG” out loud unironically.
Regina George chooses people.
So why is she currently staring across the cafeteria at you trying to drink from a juice box upside down?
“Is she… okay?” Gretchen whispers.
Regina doesn’t even blink. “She’s perfect.”
You finally notice the straw isn’t actually in the hole and blink at it like it personally betrayed you. Then you laugh—soft, breathy, completely unbothered—and fix it.
By flipping the straw. And stabbing the straw hole in the juice box. Even as the juice box was still upside down.
Then drank from the upside-down juice box.
Regina’s heart does something deeply inconvenient.
“She just spent two minutes fighting a juice box,” Gretchen says.
“And she won,” Regina replies immediately. “Iconic.”
--
You’re not dumb. Not really. You just… float through life like everything is kind of sparkly and interesting.
You ask questions mid-class like, “Wait, but what if triangles have feelings?” and then immediately apologize to the triangle.
You forget your locker combination at least once a week.
You once told Regina you liked her hair and then gasped because you “forgot people can just naturally look like that.”
And Regina lives for it.
--
The first time she realizes she’s in trouble is when you’re sitting on her bedroom floor, cross-legged, trying to braid one of her old scarves.
“You’re concentrating really hard,” Regina says, leaning against her bed, watching you like you’re the only thing in the room.
“I want it to be pretty for you,” you mumble. “You like pretty things.”
Regina freezes.
You’re not flirting. You’re not manipulating. You’re just stating it like it’s a fact of the universe.
You finish the messy braid, hold it up, and beam. “It looks like it tried its best.”
Regina laughs—actually laughs—and slides off the bed to sit in front of you.
“You’re ridiculous.”
You tilt your head. “In a bad way?”
“In a devastating way,” she corrects softly.
And then—because she can’t help herself—she reaches out and tucks a piece of hair behind your ear.
You melt. Completely. Like you weren’t expecting her to touch you at all.
That’s what does her in.
You never expect her softness. You never assume you deserve it.
And Regina wants to give it to you constantly.
--
At school, it gets worse.
You sit beside her during assembly, whispering commentary that makes absolutely no sense.
“If the principal was a fruit, he’d be a pear,” you say thoughtfully.
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Pear vibes.”
Regina presses her lips together to stop smiling. “That’s so true.”
You gasp. “You get it.”
“I always get you.”
And you look at her like she just handed you the moon.
--
One afternoon, you’re both lying on the football field after school, staring up at the sky.
You point at a cloud. “That one looks like a cat.”
“It looks like nothing.”
“It’s a cat.”
Regina sighs dramatically. “Okay. It’s a cat.”
You roll onto your side to face her. “You don’t actually see it, do you?”
“No,” she admits.
You smile anyway. “That’s okay. I’ll see it for both of us.”
Something in Regina’s chest aches—in a good way. In a terrifying way.
You’re not impressed by her. You’re not intimidated. You just… like her. Simply. Gently.
She reaches over and pokes your cheek.
“You’re so cute it’s actually offensive.”
You gasp softly. “Me?”
“Yes, you.”
Your smile is slow and shy and so real it makes Regina’s stomach flip.
“You’re my favorite person,” you say, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
Regina doesn’t even hesitate.
“Good,” she replies, brushing her thumb over your knuckles. “Because you’re mine.”
And you light up like she just invented happiness.
She thinks, distantly, that this might be what it feels like to be completely, irrevocably in love.
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