visionsoffutile

[visionsoffutile]

new fanfic

Hi guys i know i haven’t been online for months but right now i am currently writing a sabrina carpenter fanfic right now so i think you guys will like it. I hope i can answer some of yall’s questions in the comments.

[visionsoffutile]

let me take care of you

Ariana grande x reader

You lay on the couch, leg propped up with pillows, wrapped in a brace after your recent ACL surgery. The dull ache in your knee was a constant reminder of the tumble you’d taken a week ago, but what made it bearable was the angelic hum coming from the kitchen.

“Babe, are you okay? Do you need anything else?” Ariana called out as she emerged with a tray of snacks. Her hair was in a casual ponytail, and she wore an oversized sweatshirt that almost swallowed her petite frame.

“I’m fine,” you replied, though the soreness made you wince slightly as you adjusted.

Her eyes narrowed as she gently set the tray down on the coffee table. “Mmm, I don’t believe you.” She perched on the edge of the couch, her delicate fingers brushing stray hair from your face. “You’re in pain, aren’t you?”

You sighed, not wanting to admit it. “Just a little. But it’s okay, really.”

Ariana pouted, crossing her arms in mock indignation. “You’re not ‘okay’ if you’re in pain. That’s why I’m here—to take care of you.” She leaned over, placing a soft kiss on your forehead before grabbing the remote. “Okay, let’s distract you. Movie marathon time. What’s the vibe? Rom-com? Action? Ooh, or Disney classics?”

You couldn’t help but smile at her excitement. “Disney classics sound good.”

“Perfect choice.” She scrolled through the options, stopping to click on Cinderella As the opening notes of “Cinderella” began, she snuggled next to you, careful not to jostle your injured leg.

Halfway through the movie, you found yourself more focused on Ariana than the screen. Occasionally, she’d turn to you, spoon-feeding bites of your favorite snack, insisting, “You’re the queen; let me treat you like one.”

By the time the credits rolled, you felt a lot better—not just because of the pain meds, but because of her unwavering care. She noticed you smiling at her and raised an eyebrow.

“What?” she asked with a smirk.

“Nothing,” you said softly. “Just... thank you for everything. You’re amazing.”

She leaned closer, her warm brown eyes locking with yours. “You’d do the same for me, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Then no more thanking me. Just focus on getting better so we can dance around the house again.” Her lips found yours in a sweet, lingering kiss before she pulled away, grinning. “Now, let’s watch Alice in Wonderland. I’m not leaving your side until you’re fully healed, you hear me?”

You nodded, feeling the warmth of her love wrap around you like a cozy blanket.

[visionsoffutile]

hi would you be able to make a masterlist? i’m having a hard time finding all the beginning parts of your stories and reading them in order

Yes the master list is in works, I just been so busy with life and stuff

[visionsoffutile]

Running in circles chapter 5:

The weekend passed in a haze of slow shifts at the music store and late-night thoughts that wouldn’t leave you alone. The quiet hum of the turntable, the familiar scent of vinyl, none of it was enough to drown out the memory of Regina’s words.

"Why you’re not falling at my feet like they do."

It replayed in your mind more than you wanted it to. You had stared into those ice-blue eyes, trying to figure out whether she was playing her usual mind games or if there was something more behind them. Despite your best efforts to shake it off, a part of you couldn’t stop thinking about that moment in the store. You had glimpsed something vulnerable in Regina—a crack in her usual mask—and it made her more intriguing than ever.

But today was Monday, and school was back in session. The dull buzz of the day filled your senses as you moved from class to class, hoping gym would be as uneventful as the rest. You weren’t in the mood for drama.

Gym class. You weren’t one of those people who dreaded it, but you didn’t love it either. Running laps around the track wasn’t the worst way to kill time, especially with your headphones in, tuning out the world. You could zone out, focus on the steady rhythm of your feet hitting the ground, the pulse of the music in your ears, and forget about everything else.

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the track. You kept a steady pace, your playlist keeping you locked in your own world. A slow, methodical beat. Footsteps in time with the music. No distractions.

That was until you felt a tap on your shoulder.

Startled, you glanced over, pulling one earbud out. You almost stopped dead in your tracks when you saw who was running beside you—Regina George.

She was effortlessly keeping pace, looking annoyingly composed despite the heat. Her blonde hair was tied up in a high ponytail, not a single strand out of place, and her North Shore High gym uniform somehow looked better on her than it did on anyone else. As usual, she radiated control, like nothing could touch her.

You removed your second earbud, confusion and curiosity swirling in your mind. “Regina?” you asked, breath slightly heavy from running. You slowed your pace slightly, and she mirrored you, still keeping stride. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” she replied, her voice annoyingly steady. “I’m running.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly, not buying it. Regina George didn’t just run with random people. There had to be more to it. You glanced around to see if any of her friends were nearby, waiting to laugh at some prank she was about to pull. But no one else seemed to be paying attention to the two of you.

“Well, congrats,” you said, trying to play it cool. “You found the track.”

She smirked, that same unreadable expression playing on her lips—the one that said she was always two steps ahead of everyone else. “Funny,” she said, though her tone didn’t sound like she was laughing.

You weren’t sure what her angle was, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was about what happened over the weekend. You turned your gaze forward, picking up your pace slightly. “So, what do you want, Regina?”

For a moment, she didn’t answer, just kept running beside you, her breaths controlled and even. Finally, she spoke, her voice quiet but clear. “I’ve been thinking about you.”

You almost tripped over your own feet.

"What?"

You glanced over at her, surprised, but she wasn’t looking at you. Her eyes were focused ahead, as if she were carefully choosing her words.

“What do you mean by that?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady, though your mind was racing. Regina George—*thinking* about you? It didn’t make sense.

She shrugged, but it wasn’t casual. There was something deliberate in the way she did it, like she was testing you. “You’re... different,” she said, her eyes briefly flicking to meet yours. “You don’t fall into line like everyone else. You don’t care what people think.”

You kept running, the steady thud of your shoes hitting the pavement helping you process what she was saying. It wasn’t like Regina to compliment anyone—not without some kind of ulterior motive. But there was no hint of her usual sarcasm, no cold detachment in her tone.

“You didn’t care what Gretchen said about me,” she continued, her voice softer now. “Most people wouldn’t ignore her.”

You ran in silence for a few seconds, the weight of her words settling between you. You thought back to the store, to the way she had looked at you, that strange vulnerability she had shown for just a moment.

“Maybe I just want to see you for myself,” you said, shrugging. “I’m not interested in the rumors or the reputation.”

She glanced at you, and for the first time, you saw something that looked almost like approval. “Most people are,” she said, her voice low. “You’re not like them.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. You weren’t used to Regina being... sincere. Was it genuine? Or was it just another one of her tests?

You slowed down, breathing a little heavier now as you came to the last stretch of the track. Regina stayed with you, still looking as composed as ever.

“So, why me?” you asked, deciding to be direct. “You have your friends, your minions. Why bother with me?”

Regina was quiet for a long moment, her face unreadable again. You thought she might brush it off, say something dismissive, but instead, she surprised you.

“Because I don’t get it,” she said, her voice just loud enough for you to hear. “I don’t get you.”

She stopped running, and so did you, both of you standing at the edge of the track, your breaths heavy in the thick afternoon air. Her words hung between you, filled with something more than just curiosity.

“Maybe you don’t need to,” you said, after a beat, locking eyes with her.

For the first time since you met her, Regina didn’t have a quick comeback. She just stood there, studying you, as if you were a puzzle she hadn’t figured out yet. Finally, she smirked, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes this time.

“Maybe,” she said, turning on her heel and walking away, leaving you standing at the edge of the track, watching her retreating figure.

---

The last stretch of the run was quiet. You were still replaying Regina's words in your head as the two of you ran the final lap. "I don't get you." It lingered, gnawing at the back of your mind, raising more questions than answers. What was she after?

You peeled off the track and headed to the locker room, drenched in sweat and more confused than ever. The cool, tiled floors and the scent of body spray greeted you as you stepped inside. The other students were still filtering in slowly, chatting loudly, their laughter echoing through the space.

You found your locker near the back of the room and began to change out of your gym clothes, slipping on your shirt. As you reached for your bag, the locker room emptied out, and you realized you were alone. Or at least, you thought you were. That’s when you heard the familiar click of heels on the hard floor behind you.

You turned, already knowing who it was before you saw her.

Regina.

She stood there, leaning against the row of lockers, her gym uniform looking perfectly pressed despite having just run laps. She had that same unreadable look in her eyes, arms crossed, lips slightly curved—not quite a smirk but not a smile either. The other girls must have already left, leaving just the two of you in the dim light of the locker room.

“Are you following me, or is this a coincidence?” you asked, trying to keep your voice casual despite the strange tension building in the room.

Regina raised an eyebrow, pushing off the lockers and walking closer, the sound of her footsteps echoing in the quiet space. “I don’t do coincidences,” she said simply, her eyes never leaving yours.

You swallowed, turning back to your locker to grab your things, pretending not to be affected by her presence. But you could feel her eyes on you, watching, waiting.

“So, what is this?” you asked, your back still turned to her. “You trying to figure me out again?”

There was a pause before she answered, and you could almost feel the air shift as she came closer. “Maybe,” she said, her voice lower now, more intimate in the quiet of the empty locker room. “Or maybe I’m just curious why you’re still pretending you’re not interested.”

You stopped, turning around to face her. “Interested?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow. “In what?”

Regina took a step forward, closing the gap between you. Her blue eyes were sharp, but there was something else there too—something softer, more vulnerable, just beneath the surface. “In me,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper now, the challenge clear in her tone.

Your breath caught for a moment. She was close now—closer than she had been on the track. You could feel the heat radiating off her skin, the scent of her perfume, still light and floral despite the workout. The locker room felt too small suddenly, the air thick with the tension that had been simmering between you both since that first moment in the music store.

“You think I’m interested?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady, though your heart was racing in your chest.

Regina smiled then, but it wasn’t the cold, detached smirk she usually wore. It was something softer, almost playful. “I think you’re intrigued,” she said, her gaze flicking to your lips for the briefest of moments before meeting your eyes again. “And I think you don’t like that you are.”

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, but you kept your cool. “And what if I’m not?” you countered, your voice calm, though you knew you weren’t fooling either of you.

Regina’s smile widened, her eyes narrowing slightly as if she were enjoying this little game. “You are,” she said confidently, taking another step forward, leaving only inches between you now. “Why else would you still be here?”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you couldn’t think of a response. The truth was, she wasn’t wrong. You *were* intrigued. You had been since the moment she walked into the music store. But that didn’t mean you were going to let her win so easily.

“Maybe I just like messing with you,” you shot back, holding her gaze, refusing to let her see the effect she was having on you.

Regina let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “You think you’re messing with me?” she asked, her voice dripping with amusement. She took one more step forward, closing the space between you completely. “No one messes with me.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. She was so close now that you could feel her breath on your skin, her presence completely enveloping you. It was overwhelming, and for a split second, you thought about stepping back, about creating space between you.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you stood your ground, meeting her gaze head-on. “Maybe I’m not like everyone else,” you said quietly, the tension between you both almost suffocating now.

Regina’s eyes flickered with something—recognition, maybe even respect. For a moment, the world seemed to stop, the two of you standing there in the middle of the empty locker room, locked in some kind of unspoken standoff. It was as if the air itself was waiting to see who would make the next move.

Then, just as quickly as it had started, Regina stepped back. The tension broke, leaving you both standing there in the aftermath. She tilted her head slightly, that familiar smirk back in place.

“Maybe you are,” she said softly, her tone laced with something almost...admiring. “We’ll see.”

Without another word, she turned and walked toward the exit, the sound of her footsteps echoing through the now-quiet locker room. You watched her go, your heart still pounding in your chest, unsure of what had just happened—but certain that whatever this was, it was far from over.

As the door swung shut behind her, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, staring at the empty space where she’d been just moments before.

[visionsoffutile]

Another encounter chapter 4:

It was another dull Saturday at the music store. "Dynasty" by KISS blared softly over the speakers, the distant wail of guitars and thumping bassline barely covering the quiet hum of fluorescent lights above you. The faint scent of aged vinyl hung in the air, mixed with the sharp, metallic tang of the record cleaner you were using. A typical slow day. You'd been here for hours, wiping down old turntables, reorganizing shelves, waiting for something, anything, to break the monotony.

You heard the familiar jingle of the bell over the door. Another customer. You straightened up behind the counter, reaching for the next record player, expecting to greet someone distracted by the vintage posters on the walls. But instead, when you looked up, you were met with piercing blue eyes.

Regina George.

She stood just inside the doorway, like a painting in motion. Her blonde hair cascaded in loose waves over her shoulders, and she wore a perfectly fitted casual jacket over a tank top that looked effortlessly chic. There was an air of indifference around her, but even that was carefully constructed. The way she scanned the room, the subtle lift of her chin as if she were surveying her domain—everything about her screamed *calculated*.

Your pulse quickened, but you forced yourself to keep it cool, masking any reaction. It had only been a week since school had started, but somehow Regina was already playing games. Gretchen Wieners had tried, in her overeager way, to strike up a conversation with you—an obviously staged effort to get you into Regina’s orbit. You turned Gretchen down, politely but firmly, deciding you’d rather deal with Regina herself than through her minions.

Now here she was. It seemed like you had her attention, for better or worse.

She strolled through the store, taking her time, running her fingers lightly over the edges of albums as she moved through the aisles. Her gaze briefly flickered to the racks of vinyls, then to the CD section, though you got the feeling she wasn’t actually interested in either. She was here for something else.

After a long moment, she walked toward the counter, her heels barely making a sound on the polished wood floor. Her eyes landed on the record player you were wiping down.

“Do you have anything... better than this?” she asked, her voice smooth but edged with the faintest hint of condescension, gesturing vaguely toward the album sleeve beside you.

The question was deliberately vague, but the way she said it felt like a challenge. You looked at her, holding her gaze, and wiped your hands on the cloth.

“That depends on what you’re into,” you replied, leaning against the counter with casual indifference. “But I’m guessing you’re not here for music recommendations.”

Regina’s lips quirked into a half-smile, almost imperceptible, but it was there. You got the sense she didn’t hear no often—or ever. “You rejected Gretchen,” she said, cutting straight to the point. Her eyes narrowed slightly, studying you as if you were an equation she was trying to solve. “Why?”

There was no pretense in her tone. No fake sweetness. Just a directness that caught you slightly off guard.

You shrugged. “I don’t fall for the minion routine. I’d rather talk to you.”

For a split second, you saw something flash in her eyes—something like surprise, or maybe amusement. It was brief, but it was there. Regina stepped a little closer, her body language shifting ever so slightly. The confidence she exuded wasn’t something she put on; it was something that came naturally to her, as if she knew she could command any room she walked into.

“You really think you’re different, don’t you?” she said, voice lowering, almost as if she were sharing a secret. “Everyone else is dying for my attention. And yet, here you are, playing hard to get.”

The air between you felt thick, almost charged. You could see the way she was watching you now—like she was expecting you to break, to start fawning over her like everyone else. But you weren’t going to give her that satisfaction.

“I’m not playing anything,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “Maybe I just don’t care about your games.”

Regina tilted her head slightly, her gaze unwavering. There was a flicker of something behind her eyes—maybe curiosity, maybe frustration. Whatever it was, it was clear she wasn’t used to this. You weren’t falling into her carefully constructed traps, and she didn’t know what to make of it.

She stepped even closer, the space between you now barely a foot. The subtle scent of her perfume—something floral and expensive—filled the air, mixing with the musky scent of the store. Her voice dropped, intimate but sharp. “Everyone plays games. The difference is, I know how to win.”

There was a moment where it felt like the whole world had narrowed down to just the two of you. Her eyes bore into yours, and for the first time, you saw past the facade. Beneath the cool, untouchable exterior, there was something deeper—something vulnerable. But just as quickly as you noticed it, she masked it again, the walls going back up.

“So,” you said after a beat, not breaking eye contact. “Why are *you* here, Regina? Really?”

The smirk on her lips faltered for the briefest moment. You had called her bluff. For a second, you thought she might just leave, walk out of the store without answering. But then, she leaned in a little closer, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Maybe I want to know why *you* aren’t like everyone else. Why you’re not falling at my feet like they do.” There was something almost... vulnerable in the way she said it, though she tried to hide it behind her usual confidence.

You held her gaze, refusing to look away. “Maybe I’m just waiting for a reason to.”

Her blue eyes flickered with something unreadable. For a moment, it felt like you were on the edge of something, like she might say something real, something honest. But then, just as quickly, she straightened up, the mask slipping back into place.

“Well,” she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder, her tone turning back to its usual casual arrogance. “I guess we’ll see if you’re worth my time.”

Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked toward the door, her footsteps echoing softly in the empty store. The bell chimed as she pushed open the door, and with that, she was gone, leaving a strange heaviness in the air behind her.

You exhaled slowly, not realizing you’d been holding your breath. For a moment, you stood there in the quiet, trying to process what had just happened. Regina George wasn’t someone who got rattled easily. But today, for just a moment, it felt like you’d seen something more—something real.

And you had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last time she walked through that door.

[visionsoffutile]

The queens curiosity Chapter 3:

The cafeteria at North Shore High was buzzing with the usual lunchtime chaos, but today, it felt quieter than usual to you. Maybe it was because you were sitting alone at a table near the window, absentmindedly picking at your salad. You weren’t used to eating alone, but the new school year had come with a shift in the usual groups and cliques, and you hadn’t quite found your place yet.

Your mind kept drifting back to yesterday’s encounter in gym class with Regina George. The way she walked up to you, flashing that signature smile that could mean anything—charm, malice, or something in between. The entire conversation had felt like a chess match, except you weren’t even sure if you were playing the same game as her. And the way her eyes lingered on you for just a moment too long—it sent a shiver down your spine.

You stabbed at your salad again, trying to brush the thoughts away. But the more you tried to forget, the more vivid the memory became. Her voice, her confidence—it was like Regina had imprinted herself in your mind, and no matter how much you wanted to stay out of her orbit, it was impossible to ignore her gravitational pull.

"Hey, do you mind if I sit here?"

You looked up, startled out of your thoughts. Standing in front of you was Gretchen Wieners, clutching a tray of food and offering a hesitant smile. You blinked in surprise, glancing around the room. The Plastics’ usual table was in full view, and there she was—Regina George herself, talking to Karen but occasionally casting a glance in your direction. Your stomach knotted, but you managed a nod.

"Uh, yeah, sure."

Gretchen slid into the seat across from you, setting her tray down. You had no idea why she would leave the comfort of Regina’s side to sit with you of all people, but then again, this was North Shore High. Nothing ever made sense when Regina was involved.

"So, how’s the second day of school treating you?" Gretchen asked, taking a bite of her sandwich like this was a normal conversation.

"Fine, I guess," you replied cautiously. You tried not to glance over at Regina, but it was hard not to feel her presence from across the room. "Why are you sitting here, though?"

Gretchen looked a little taken aback by your bluntness, but she quickly recovered with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

"Oh, I just thought it’d be nice to get to know you better. You know, we don’t really talk much, and you’re new here, right? It can be tough finding where you fit in at North Shore."

The explanation sounded rehearsed, almost as if Gretchen had been sent on a mission. You couldn’t help but wonder if it was Regina pulling the strings, especially after yesterday’s encounter. Still, you decided to play along, at least for now.

"Yeah, I guess it can be," you said, trying to sound casual. "So, what do you want to know?"

Gretchen’s eyes flickered with interest. She was eager, clearly not expecting you to engage so openly. "Oh, just the usual stuff. You know, where you're from, what you like to do for fun… anything, really."

You raised an eyebrow. "Anything? That’s kind of vague."

Gretchen laughed nervously. "I mean, Regina—" she stopped herself, glancing down at her tray. "Well, we were just curious. You seem, um, interesting."

There it was. Regina George had sent Gretchen to find out more about you. But why? What did she want? You couldn’t shake the feeling that Regina’s sudden interest in you wasn’t just friendly curiosity. You could feel it in the way she looked at you yesterday, the way her presence had lingered long after the conversation ended.

You glanced over at Regina’s table again, catching her eyes for a split second. She was smiling at Karen, but there was something in the way her gaze briefly flickered toward you that sent a chill down your spine. Like you were part of some game she was playing, and you had no idea what the rules were.

"I’m not that interesting," you said, turning your attention back to Gretchen. "Just another junior trying to survive the school year, I guess."

Gretchen nodded, but you could tell she wasn’t satisfied with your answer. "Well, if you ever want to hang out, just let me know. The girls and I are always around."

You forced a smile, unsure of how to respond. The invitation felt more like an obligation than a genuine offer, but you couldn’t deny the curiosity bubbling inside you. What was Regina George up to? And more importantly, what did she want with you?

As Gretchen got up to leave, she flashed you one last smile. "See you around?"

"Yeah, see you," you replied, watching her walk back to the Plastics’ table.

Your appetite was gone now, replaced by a knot of unease in your stomach. Regina’s eyes met yours again, and this time, her smile was more subtle, almost calculating. You had a feeling this wasn’t the last time Regina George would cross your path, and something told you that whatever game she was playing, you were already a part of it—whether you wanted to be or not.

Previous

[visionsoffutile]

First day chapter 2:

Chapter 1 chapter 3

The first day of junior year always came with a mix of excitement and dread. You were still thinking about that encounter at the music store, even though you’d tried to push it out of your mind. Regina George had a way of getting under your skin, lingering in your thoughts like an unsolved mystery.

The school halls were buzzing with energy as you made your way to first period, trying to blend in. Everyone was in their own cliques, already picking up where they left off last year. The rich scent of new textbooks, freshly waxed floors, and overly sweet perfume filled the air. You couldn’t shake the sense that this year would be different—more complicated.

Gym class was your last period of the day. You hated gym. It was the one class where you couldn’t hide in the back or avoid social interaction. You entered the gym, the familiar smell of rubber and sweat instantly making you wish the day was over already. But as you scanned the room for a quiet corner, your heart skipped a beat.

Regina George.

She stood across the gym, talking to her friends. It was like seeing her in that music store all over again—only this time, she wasn’t a customer, she was Regina George: Queen of North Shore High. Her flawless blonde hair was pulled into a perfect ponytail, and her gym clothes somehow managed to look designer.

You tried to keep your distance, but it was impossible not to glance her way every few seconds. You told yourself it was because you were still confused about what had happened in the store. Was she playing a game? Or did she really seem interested?

Then, it happened. Regina’s eyes landed on you. It was just a split second, but you knew she recognized you. Her lips curved into a smirk, and she said something to her friends, who all turned to look at you. You quickly averted your gaze, pretending to stretch or focus on anything else, but your body was tense, waiting for what would come next.

“Y/N,” a voice drawled, and you froze.

You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Regina.

Slowly, you turned to face her. She stood there with that same self-assured smile she wore at the music store. Her friends flanked her, whispering behind their hands.

“Well, well, well,” she began, tilting her head as if she were examining a puzzle. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Uh, yeah, well... gym class,” you replied awkwardly, trying to sound casual but feeling anything but. “It’s mandatory.”

Regina chuckled softly, a sound that seemed to carry more meaning than the simple laugh it was. Her friends giggled too, but Regina waved them off, still focused on you.

“So, how’s life in the music store?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with a mix of curiosity and amusement. “Any more record recommendations?”

You felt your face heat up, memories of her teasing words from the store replaying in your head. Was she trying to be nice? Or was this some twisted social experiment?

“It’s fine,” you said, trying to remain cool. “Busy.”

“Hmm.” Regina’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, then she gave a shrug. “Well, I’m sure we’ll see each other around.”

Before you could respond, she turned back to her friends, her attention already drifting elsewhere. But as she walked away, she shot you one last glance over her shoulder, that familiar smirk playing on her lips.

Your heart was still racing long after she left. What did that mean? Why did she keep coming back into your orbit? And, more importantly, why did part of you want her to?

Junior year had officially begun, and if Regina George was part of it, things were going to get a lot more interesting—whether you liked it or not.

Previous part

[visionsoffutile]

"Well, did she make you cry? Make you break down"

Gold dust woman: chapter one

The soft hum of music filled the small, dimly lit music store. You leaned against the counter head nodding slightly to beat of Gold dust woman by fleetwood mac off of the rumors album. You'd picked the album for to start the day off. The air smelled of aged records,wood,and faintly something sweet-like vanilla. The smell made the morning less dull.

It was just another slow Saturday. Or you thought.

The small door bell chimed as it opened, letting the cool autumn air in.

In she walked.Regina George.

It was not hard to notice her, it never was. Blond hair, perfectly styled. An outfit that scremed 'fall core', from designer boots to the soft cashmere sweater that hugged off her shoulders just right. She carried that self confidence that most people don't have.

But she walking straight towards you. You swallowed hard,pushing off the counter and trying to compose yourself. Regina fucking George in a music store? This felt like a storm was upon you. Couldn't figure out why she came in or hell even picked this store.

"Hi, can I help you?" Your voice came out more casual than you felt. Inside your heart was racing. You were used to customers, but not customers like her.

She didn't respond right. Instead her eyes roamed the shelves, barley acknowledging your presence at first, as though she was weighing whether you were worth her time. She drifted her fingers across a row of vinyl records, her expression unreadable then finally glanced up at you with those piercing blue eyes.

"I'm looking for something...I have to get a friend a birthday present" she said her voice smooth as a honey but with edge. "Like a taylor swift or lana del rey album."

"Well uh,I got a few suggestions." You said stepping around the counter and making towards lana del rey and taylor swift records. You could feel her watching as you moved, and it sent a shiver down your spine. 'Don't trip, don't trip' mentally chanted.

You pulled out two records one from both artist and showed to her. "So whose birthday?". "Karens" she responded. You put the lana del rey record back. "Taylor is definitely her is vibe."

She stepped closer, inspecting the record in your hands. She was so close now you could smell her perfume, something expensive and intoxicating. You could feel the heat rising in your face.

"You're cute when you're nervous" she said causally, like she was commenting on the weather. Your brain short circuited for a moment. Was Regina George flirting with you? Or just playing some twisted game like she known for?

You cleared your throat, trying to pull yourself together. "So you want the record or...".

Regina looked at One more, Then back at you."Yes." She shrugged , but there was something in her gaze that felt almost... predatory. It sent a thrill through you.

As you rang her up at the counter you couldn't help but still glances at her. She was on her phone looking on bother, like she hadn't just made your heart do a weird flip.

When you handed her the bag she took it with a smile. "Thanks, what's your name?". You stammered it out, surprise she even cared to ask.

"Hmm." Regina smiles deepend,eyes flickering over you one last time. "I'll see you around y/n."

With that she turned on her heel.And walked out of the store leaving you dumbfounded. The door swung shut behind her soft chime, and the store was suddenly quiet.

You exhaled a breath you hadn't realized you were holding.

Somehow you knew this wouldn't be the last time,Regina George walked into your life.

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Im still wishing I’ll get to see TTPD set live

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HELP- SHES SO FINE

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AHHHHHHHHHHH

NOT PREPARED AT ALL

The first single from The Tortured Poets Department is…………. Fortnight featuring @postmalone 🤍 I’ve been such a huge fan of Post because of the writer he is, his musical experimentation and those melodies he creates that just stick in your head forever. I got to witness that magic come to life firsthand when we worked together on Fortnight. Honestly can’t wait for you guys to hear this song at Midnight TONIGHT and see the video at 8pm ET TOMORROW.

forafortnight.com

[visionsoffutile]

🤍

[visionsoffutile]

I love reneé

no media training whatsoever and i love her for it. reneé rapp, the icon you are 👏👏👏👏