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smusherina · 20 days

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yard work - chapter 6 (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: You'd been in the same class as Regina George since kindergarten. You'd lived on the same street even longer. Once upon a time, when life was sandbox disputes and who got the swing first arguments, you'd even been friends. Now, in junior year of high school, you doubted she even remembered you. The same couldn't be said about you. You definitely remembered her.

warnings(s): 2004 was not a good time for the gays. homophobia persists. insecurity about weight and insulting oneself about it.

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 7

You dipped into your savings and got Regina a new, fancy moisturizer. You couldn't count on her using it instead of the lard, but well. Guide a horse to water, can't make it drink, and all that.

You didn't tell her about the Homecoming prank, though. She'd been pissed about that. Not for long, because then it turned into a sort of trend at Northshore and it only boosted her popularity.

You were perhaps more upset about it. Upset you'd let it happen, upset they'd done it in the first place, upset Regina stood there with Aaron. He didn't even look like he wanted to be there.

Regina managing to turn it around for her benefit didn't stop you from feeling bad. It was the principle of the thing. You'd taken some distance from her. Everybody, actually. People just didn't feel all that great to be around. You were betraying Regina by letting her be essentially bullied by Janis, you were tolerating Regina's abusive reign over the student body, Aaron was getting on your last nerve by simply existing, and your mom's death anniversary was coming up.

You went to the Georges' less. Regina came to yours when you didn't lie about having to catch up on homework or doing a project. You did do some yard work for them since you still needed the extra cash. Just basic things like raking leaves and doing small repairs here and there. You also covered the pool with Mrs George's help.

"Whew, I forget what a chore that is every year!" She wiped at her forehead. You laid on the grass, chest heaving. You'd carried maybe seventy per cent of that thing.

"You said it, Mrs George." You managed to get out.

"How many years have I been telling you to call me Jude. Or just mom." You looked up at her. She looked so much like Regina. Or Regina looked so much like her.

She'd known your mom. Cried harder at her funeral than your dad or even yourself. You hadn't really gotten it, at that point. She'd hugged you tight and told you what an amazing woman she was, that she hadn't deserved to go yet. She sent you food for weeks after, which you appreciated because dad was too busy sorting stuff out to cook for you.

She'd been more of a mom to you than your own had ever gotten to be. Still, it felt wrong to call her anything other than Mrs George. It was weird. Word association gone all wrong. Mom meant a casket being lowered into a hole on a bleak November day, an echoing house and an empty kitchen, sad and wistful things. Mrs George meant afternoons spent running around in the backyard, eating 'till your belly was full to bursting, happiness and summer.

"Many, many years." You groaned as you got up. "Is Reggie home?"

You figured it would be weird if you didn't go say hi, at least. You didn't want to cut her out entirely. It was just hard being around her when the weight of your own actions, and inactions, weighed on your shoulders.

She smiled in a way that told you she'd noticed your deflection. "In her room."

"Great. Oh, by the way, what did you do with the apples this year?"

"I convinced Rick to donate them to the women's shelter downtown. They'll be put to good use there."

"That's awesome," You put your hands to your hips and looked around. "Anything you want me to do?"

"I'll just hose down the rose bushes, you head on inside. Avoid the living room, Rick's on a conference call." She waved you off with a smile.

You trod through the house carefully, shoes in hand. You knew the Georges were a shoes-on household, but it just never felt right for you to walk on carpeted floors with your shoes on. What if you had stepped on dogshit? What then?

"Reg?" Her door was open a crack, so you peeked in. "You decent?"

"Yes, I'm decent." You could hear the eye roll in her voice. "What do you want?"

Yikes. She wasn't happy.

You walked in and closed the door behind you. She was on her bed, reading a book on her belly. She was snacking on some candy bar.

"I just came to say hi. I put the pool cover on with your mom." You walked up to her. "What're you reading?"

"I could hear you huffing and puffing all the way up here." She turned on her side to look at you. "The Catcher in the Rye. It's boring."

"I dunno, I liked it." You climbed in hesitantly. When she didn't protest, you settled down on your side facing her, head leaned against your palm.

"You've read it?" She tossed the book on the floor next to the bed, now giving you her full attention. "Can you write my paper?"

"Depends on how much you'll pay me." You grinned and rubbed your fingers together like you were handling cash.

"Boo, you whore." She pouted. "Aren't we supposed to be beyond that?"

"I don't do charity, my friend." You flopped onto your back and crossed your arms. Shit, she had a comfy bed. So soft but just firm enough, too. You let your eyes close. You were so tired from all that physical labour.

"Get off my bed, you traitor." You opened your eyes too late. She was already on you, pushing you, and you had no time to resist until you were toppling onto the floor. You clambered down in a mess of limbs and sheets, which you'd grabbed in your desperate attempt to stay aboard.

"Reg! Your bed is actually high up! Help me!" You felt like Mufasa clinging to the face of the cliff, fingers digging into the slippery bedding. One of your legs was still on the bed, but not securely enough that you would've been able to pull yourself to safety.

"Just put your leg on the floor, dumbass." She cackled, watching you panic over such a small drop.

"No, look, it's not that- close." You lowered your leg and your knee made contact with the floor. Regina fell back, gasping as she laughed. "Shut up, you teapot!"

"No! I'm not-" She tried to stifle the laughs escaping her, the real wheezing ones she didn't let out of their cage willingly, but one look at you set it off again. "Your hair!"

You lifted your hands to your head. "It's not my fault your sheets are fucking static."

By the time Mrs George came to inform you that she'd be starting on dinner, thus signifying you should probably go, Regina had stopped laughing, if just barely.

"Have you been using the moisturizer I gave you?" You tried to analyze her face. It didn't look any less flawless than usual.

"Yeah, it's really great. My old night lotion started smelling weird for some reason. Maybe it expired early or something." You just hummed in response.

"I should probably go home and make myself dinner too."

"I'll walk you down."

You walked down the stairs and to the backdoor, avoiding the living room despite the blaring of the TV. Mr George was definitely not on a call anymore.

"What're you making today?" Regina asked, standing somewhat awkwardly on the porch.

"Probably tacos. I found a great deal on some corn tortillas at the store. They're all going bad today, so. Gonna stuff myself."

"Save some for me, yeah?"

You weren't sure what she meant by that. "Sure."

You walked home and as you'd said, got started on dinner. Moving around the kitchen without Regina there in the way, chopping whatever vegetables into misshapen cubes, felt weird. She wasn't over that often, but you'd gotten used to it regardless.

It was perhaps your biggest flaw as a person, how intolerant you were to being alone. Ironic, considering how much time you had to spend alone.

If it was up to you, you would've made Birria tacos with a good cut of sirloin, but you didn't have the money for fresh cuts of beef. Besides, you hadn't even started on the stew, and that took a whole day. So, you settled on some basic ground beef filling. You had made Pico de Gallo earlier that day, so it was nice and flavourful by the time you were constructing your tacos.

Back when you'd still needed a babysitter, there had been this one Mexican lady who appeared on the roster most often. It was so long ago you couldn't remember her name. She'd made you call her Abuela. She was sweet and taught you the wonder of Latin American cuisine. From what you could understand, she'd been well-travelled and really loved food everywhere.

She stopped coming when all of your babysitters did. The last time you saw her, you hadn't known it would be the last time.

This time of year really made you a monster. A dull grey, depressing monster. You'd have to find some exciting hobby because even you were getting sick of this. Maybe cliff jumping?

A knock on your door was the last thing you expected when you were finally ready to chow down. Making such a huge amount of food took time.

"What?" You barked to whoever dared to disturb you. "Oh, shit."

"Is that how you greet all your dinner guests?" Regina asked, batting her eyelashes. She had on a deep red dress, shiny satin that licked at the curves and edges of her body just right. It reached all the way to her feet, where you could see black heels peeking out from under the hem. She stood taller than usual, but still so short you could see above her head. The dress was strapless as far as you could tell as her jacket was covering her shoulders. Sweetheart neckline and a clutch to match. She had a thin gold chain around her neck with a small R-charm on it. Gold hoop earrings, hair done up in curls.

A grin crept up onto her face as you continued to gape at her visage. "I know, right?" She posed, one hand holding the clutch at level with her thigh and one poised at her waist. "I'm so sexy."

"Yeah, uh, yes, you are." You stuttered, stunned and flustered. You wanted to touch her, feel the fabric of the dress with the tips of your fingers, grab a hold of her and press close to her. She looked so fucking good.

"Thanks, baby." She took a couple of steps forward to reach you and, nonchalant as could be, brushed her hand at your shoulder as if she were brushing off dust.

Your knees wobbled.

"I have dinner for us." You blurted out. "I, uh..." You needed to pull it together. "I'm gonna go change."

"You do that," Regina said with an indulgent smile. You shot up the stairs.

When you came back down, still tucking your shirt into your trousers and tie undone, Regina was sitting on the couch perusing a magazine. It was probably from last year or something, you didn't exactly update the stuff under the coffee table.

You coughed to get her attention. "Ready for dinner, Reggie?"

"Ugh, don't ruin the moment. Anything other than that."

"I'm Jorts and you're Reggie, that's how it's been." You reminded and gently plucked her clutch from her hands before gesturing for her to turn around. She did, looking a little confused. When you reached to take her jacket off, she recoiled.

"Um, I would like to keep it on." She said, the confidence from before diminishing.

"Oh, why?" You asked. "Are you cold?"

"No, it's just, um..." Regina George stammering. You didn't think you'd live to see the day. "I don't look like I used to before."

"What does that mean?" You checked her out, toes to forehead. Drop-dead gorgeous as always.

"I've gained a bunch of weight." She looked down as if she needed to be ashamed. "I barely fit into this gown. I had to suck in even with the Spanx. And I still look like a whale."

As much as you would've liked to be incredulous and loud about just how wrong she was, it didn't seem like the right course of action. She was being open and vulnerable with you.

"I don't think you look like a whale." You stepped close to her tentatively. You set the clutch on the coffee table. Then, just as tentatively, circled your arms around her. You slotted your fingers together at her lower back and pulled her to you so that your bellies touched.

"I couldn't hug a whale." You pointed out helpfully, leaning back slightly to still look her in the eyes. "I'd love to see the dress in its full glory."

Regina, hands fussing with unmade your tie, bit her lip in contemplation.

"Careful, don't mess up your lipstick." She rubbed her lips together at that, a smile threatening to break out.

"Fine. But you can't laugh or stare or anything."

"I swear." You put one hand on your heart and the other up. "Now turn around."

She did as you asked. "You're being awfully chivalrous."

"It's what you deserve, Reggie." You crooned jokingly, pulling the jacket from her shoulders. The dress was cut elegantly so that there were no straps, but bits of fabric hanging by her upper arms. Cold-shoulder. You hoped the jokes in your tone hid how nervous you were.

"What did I just say?" As if that little moment between you two hadn't even happened, she was right back to her normal self.

"Fine. But you'll always be my Reggie. I guess tonight we can pretend." You sighed. "Whatever you say, honey."

"Better." She turned and tugged at your tie. "Now, let's get you sorted."

"I had very little notice, okay?" You grumbled but bent down obediently so she'd have an easier time tying your tie. You'd used to play dress up mixed with house all the time. You'd nearly always been the dad and so, you had to wear a tie. Obviously. Mrs George had gotten tired of constantly being asked to do it, so she'd taught Regina.

Now, it felt a little different. For one, you were taller. Secondly, this wasn't a children's game. Maybe you were playing a little bit, pretending, but it didn't quite feel like that. There was something undeniably real about this.

"There." She said once she was finished, smoothing it out against your chest. "You couldn't find one matching the dress?"

"You're impossible to please." You chuckled. "I'll make sure to go tie shopping as soon as possible."

"Good." She liked to ignore your sardonic tone pretty often. "Now, what's on the menu?"

You tucked the rest of the shirt into your pants and, voila, you were done.

"Tacos, my lady." You offered up your arm half in jest. She hooked her wrist into the bend of your elbow with an incline of her head. Clearly, she was a girl that liked to be wined and dined.

You snuck a bottle from your dad's wine collection, hoping it wasn't some speciality. Looking at the label, it wasn't very old. Wine quality was assessed like that, right?

You ate your fills and then some, drinking wine all the while, then retreated to the couch to recover, and turned on the TV to watch while eating dessert. Sharing a pint of ice cream, curled up on the couch in fancy clothes, warm and away from the cold of late November, you wondered what had brought this on.

It wasn't an official date, that much you knew. Regina wasn't a lesbian like you. Maybe she was indulging you. That would mean she knew you had a crush on her. You hoped that wasn't true. Regina was an observant person, though. Fuck, that'd be humiliating.

It didn't feel like she was playing with you. It looked like she was having as much fun as you. Maybe she wanted to have a nice, romantic dinner without the pressure of having to impress or perform for her date.

It was nice she'd chosen you. Regardless of why she'd come here tonight, you were just glad she was with you. You'd had a lot of people leave, most of them never coming back. The exceptions to the rule were Regina and your dad. They were similar in that, but nothing else. When dad came back, he brought with him a never-pleased frown and a stifling presence. When Regina came back, she brought light.

She had her flaws. You had yours. Thanksgiving was right around the corner and Christmas would soon follow. You had no doubt that Janis had something nefarious planned for at least one of those events. Nothing was sure, things were undecided.

"I'm going for a smoke." You said when the episode ended.

"I'm coming with."

"You won't be getting one."

"I don't want it anyway. Cigarettes taste like shit."

You laughed and walked to the backdoor. Through it and onto the patio, you slumped onto the bench swing. Regina followed a lot more gracefully, heels chucked somewhere in the house, bundled up in the blanket she'd claimed as hers since the first time she slept over. She sat next to you and spread it over both your laps. You hummed in thanks and lit up.

Regina might've been a massive bitch. She had, and there was no denying it, done some awful things. And maybe it was fucked up for you to like one part of a person and not the whole of them, but did that count if you were sure that the undesirable part was all a facade?

"So..." You started. "Better than any of the dates Aaron took you to?" You couldn't help but ask. Veiled under a joke, you hoped your jealousy didn't show.

"Don't be cocky." She admonished, resembling her mom almost creepily. "He didn't really take me out."

"What? Why?" If you could openly date Regina there wouldn't be a limit to how much you'd be taking her out, showing her off to anybody who'd listen.

"How should I know?" She shrugged indignantly. "We broke up a little after Homecoming."

"What? I didn't hear about this."

"Really? I thought you would've since it was pretty big news for a while." You didn't want to admit you'd been purposefully avoiding rumours about the couple for the majority of their relationship. "He outlived his purpose."

"The Halloween Party and Homecoming." You clarified and she nodded.

You took a drag. Regina pulled what seemed like a candy bar out of her clutch. It was the same brand she'd been eating earlier today.

Considering she'd been insecure about her weight, you didn't comment on it. You took another drag. You couldn't shake off the feeling that there was something weird.

"Hey, can I look at the packaging of that?"

Wordlessly, Regina handed it over. You looked at the product info. Great, it was all in Swedish.

"Where'd you get these?"

"Cady got me a box of them. They're good for weight loss. Like, they just burn all your carbs." You furrowed your eyebrows and looked back at the product info. The numbers didn't seem like that of a weight loss product.

You didn't like she was eating something that would empty her stomach right after dinner. That couldn't have been healthy.

"You're trusting something Cady gave to you?"

She tilted her head, as if about to question you. Her mouth opened, then closed, and opened again.

"Shut up. Shut up."

You took a long drag.

Taglist: @autorasexy, @wedfan2, @unadulterated-moron, @modernsapphicism, @9unknown0, @sage-rose2000, @massive-honkas, @nattys-swiftie, @likefirenrain, @luz-enjoyer, @dandelions4us, @natashamaximoff-69, @alexkolax, @jareaul0ver, @here4theqts, @charleeeesworld, @natsbiggestfan1, @brocoliisscared

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#mean girls #mean girls 2004 #mean girls 2024 #regina george #regina george x reader #regina george x you #regina george x oc #regina george x ofc #renee rapp #mean girls x reader #lesbian regina george #mean girls musical #mean girls movie #mean girls broadway #wlw #fic: yard work

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youaintnothinbuta · 5 months

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Hi, love your writing

I would love to see more Jack Kelly images and little bulbs, fluff, smut literally anything.

Maybe one where reader and Jack just spent time cuddling in jacks penthouse, trying to hide from the other boys cus they keep tease them.

“they won't find us in here” — jack kelly x reader

Summary: you and Jack are hiding away in his room, trying to have a little cuddle, which the other boys always like to make the centre of their amusement

Pairing: jack kelly x fem!reader

Word count: 556

Warnings: none, fluff, maybe typos if so sorryyy <3

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The dingy light of the Lodging House barely reached Jack's room, casting a warm, golden glow on the worn-out furniture and scattered newspapers and clothes. You and Jack, seeking a quiet escape from the high energy of the other newsies, found solace in his bedroom. The laughter and banter of the other boys still echoed through the air, but Jack had expertly tucked the two of you away, hidden from their teasing eyes.

As you settled into the cozy space, Jack draped an extra blanket over his bed, creating a makeshift nest. The soft sounds of hushed laughter and the muffled chatter of the boys outside filtered through, creating a comforting background noise.

Jack motioned for you to join him on the bed. “They won't find us in here,” he whispered with a mischievous glint in his eyes. You couldn't help but giggle, realising the absurdity of the situation. "Is this really how much effort it takes, just for us to have some cuddle time?" you teased.

Jack chuckled, a sheepish grin playing on his lips. "I wouldn’t say this is a lot of effort- they're just nosy."

With a playful roll of your eyes, you nestled into the blankets beside him. Jack pulled you into a warm embrace, the scent of newsprint and a hint of cologne enveloping you. The soft touch of Jack's fingers traced patterns on your back, a rhythmic motion that seemed to synchronise with the beat of your hearts. “This is nice,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. You couldn't help but agree.

As you rested against him, the teasing banter of the boys outside became more audible. The distinctive voices of Race, Albert, and the others echoed in the hallway, their comments gradually becoming more pointed.

“Where's Jack?”

“Probably off being bottle fed!”

“Whispering sweet nothings I bet.”

“Can't believe he turns into a softie around a girl.”

Jack, his brows furrowing, shot you an apologetic look. “Sorry about them. They're relentless.”

You laughed. “Hey, I’m not the one they’re insulting. They just don't get to see this side of you often."

He smiled, the warmth in his eyes deepening. “You're right. It's our little secret.”

Jack's fingers idly played with a strand of your hair, continuing their gentle caress. The quietude of the room invited a sense of relaxation, your words slipped out almost as a murmur.

“You’re so comfy. I could just fall asleep.”

He grinned, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You can do that, sweetheart.”

With a sigh of contentment, you allowed the gentle embrace of sleep to envelop you, feeling the rise and fall of Jack’s chest as he held you. Jack listened to the fading banter with a mix of amusement and exasperation. As the night unfolded, Jack carefully adjusted the blankets around you, ensuring your comfort. The usual mischievous glint in his eyes instead softened into a tender gaze as he watched you sleep peacefully.

The creak of the door signaled the return of the newsies, their laughter now reduced to tired murmurs. Jack, ever protective, shot a warning glance at the doorway, silently urging them to keep their distance. The boys, catching on to Jack’s mood, exchanged knowing looks and dispersed, respecting the unspoken boundary around Jack’s room. Eventually, he allowed himself to drift off to sleep too.

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