Baby's Winter Wobble ❄️💔💃
A/N: Thank you anon for patientlly waiting! Here is your fic for a sweet Christmas moment in July.
Summary: The “Jingle Bell Rock” routine was supposed to be flawless. Sparkles. Sass. Applause. Instead? Regina George faceplants in front of the whole school—and it wasn’t an accident. With her pride bruised and her ankle worse, it’s up to you, Gretchen, and Karen to pick up the pieces (and feed her sour gummies).
Tags/ Warnings: Regina George falls (and feels things), Poly!Plastics x Reader, fluff + hurt/comfort, sapphic chaos, holiday-themed sleepover, ice packs & emotional support gummies, post-performance drama
The fall wasn’t even that bad.
But this was supposed to be the highlight of the winter.
Sparkles. Applause. Synchronized ass and sass. Instead, Regina George fell. Hard. In front of the whole school.
One wrong step in four-inch thigh-high boots, a twist of the ankle, and bam—Regina George was on her ass in the middle of the stage, surrounded by fake snow and tinsel.
A gasp echoed through the auditorium, sharp and synchronized, like the entire student body had inhaled at once. And then—silence. A breathless, frozen second where no one moved.
It was almost graceful. Almost.
Except Regina George didn’t do falling. Not in front of a crowd. Not during her own choreographed “Jingle Bell Rock” performance. Not in front of her mom. Or her enemies. Or her girlfriends.
You saw it happen like it was in slow motion — the stumble, the gasp, the way her arms flailed like even gravity was betraying her. The music didn’t stop. No one rushed to help. Just laughter, camera flashes, and whispers spreading like wildfire.
You didn’t see the full push, not with all the chaos and lighting and stomping heels, but there was no mistaking it. The slight shove. The look on Cady’s face. The way Regina hit the stage like it had been waiting for her.
Regina George was sprawled across the stage like a fallen goddess. One heel twisted, her knee bent awkwardly beneath her. Her glitter-drenched hair clung to her temple, and the look in her eyes wasn’t pain.
“Oh my god,” Karen breathed. “Is she dead?”
She disappeared backstage before the applause even started, leaving a trail of broken pride and one slightly cracked black stiletto.
By the time you, Gretchen, and Karen found her in the dressing room, Regina was sitting on the velvet bench with her arms crossed, her left foot up on a chair, and her face thundercloud-level pissed.
“Oh my god, babe,” Karen breathed. “You ate it.”
“Karen,” you said gently.
“What? I mean it in a sexy way!”
Regina glared daggers at all three of you. “You have five seconds to stop breathing in my direction.”
“Baby,” you said, kneeling beside her, “you twisted your ankle. You're not dying. We just want to make sure you’re okay.”
She looked away sharply. “I’m fine.”
“She says through gritted teeth,” Gretchen murmured, digging through the mini-fridge for an ice pack. “Your ankle’s swelling. Don’t be a hero.”
“You fell so gracefully,” Karen said, wide-eyed and sincere. “Like a swan being shot with glitter.”
Regina looked up slowly. “Say one more word, and I will set your Highlights account on fire.”
Karen gasped. “You wouldn’t.”
You stepped in quickly, crouching in front of her. “Hey. Breathe. You’re okay.”
“I’m not okay,” Regina snapped. “I fell in front of everyone. My mother. The crowd. That junior who vapes in the orchestra pit. And my ankle feels like it got personally hexed by God.”
Gretchen appeared beside you with a pink ace wrap and two half-melted ice packs. “Okay but like, plot twist—you falling? That’s gonna go viral. And not in a bad way! Like in an ‘I’m-hot-even-in-humiliation’ way.”
Regina’s head fell back dramatically. “My mom recorded it.”
Karen made the sign of the cross. “RIP.”
“She’s gonna post it,” Regina muttered, bitter. “With a caption like ‘My baby’s winter wobble❄️ 💔💃’. This is so humiliating.” she sighed
Karen gasped. “No! It’s not your fault the stage was slippery. That floor was a death trap. Someone should sue.”
“I agree,” Gretchen added, finally sitting down. “This isn’t on you, Reg. Everyone’s gonna forget it by tomorrow. We’ll spin it. Say it was part of the choreo.”
You snorted. “A dramatic fall to symbolize what, the death of tradition?”
Regina didn’t laugh. But her lips twitched. Slightly.
Gretchen unwrapped the scarf and carefully replaced the cold pack. “Ugh, your ankle’s puffier than my emotional stability. Babe, you need to elevate, hydrate, and stop acting like you're dying.”
Regina narrowed her eyes. “This is a slow death. Of dignity.”
Karen was already digging through her tote bag. “I brought lavender lotion. Not for ankles, but it’s calming. Also...I have sour gummies.”
“You brought snacks to a performance?” Regina blinked.
Karen shrugged. “For emotional support. Turns out I needed them.”
“We’re sleeping over tonight,” Gretchen announced. “I already texted your mom. And brought matching pajamas. And two backup blankets in case your comforter doesn’t emotionally resonate.”
Once you got Regina home, it was full princess protocol.
Karen lit candles like you were summoning a spa demon. Gretchen laid out four different heating pads like a chaotic little nurse. You grabbed all the Regina-approved snacks (aka those weird weight bars she says taste like shit but always finish, anything pink, peach-flavored, or aesthetically pleasing).
Regina sat on the couch, ankle propped up, arms crossed like a queen annoyed with her kingdom but still allowing it to serve.
Gretchen flopped beside her, balancing hot cocoa and nail polish remover. “Okay. Emergency plan: sugar, glitter, emotional inflation. You’re still that girl.”
“I know I’m still that girl,” Regina muttered.
Karen tilted her head. “Then why do you look like the Grinch after Cindy Lou Who gave him therapy?”
“Because my knee bent backward in front of people who wear jeans to the theatre.”
You sat beside her and gently moved her foot into your lap. “Yeah, but you’re still Regina George. One stage slip won’t change that.”
Regina looked at you, and her expression flickered again—just for a second. That thin crack in the armor she only let you see when the room was quiet.
“I didn’t just fall,” she said quietly. “I lost control.”
You wrapped your fingers around her ankle carefully. “It’s okay to not be perfect.”
Regina opened her mouth to object, then paused. “You always say that like it’s comforting.”
“It is. Or... it should be.”
Gretchen leaned over and kissed her knee. “If it helps, you looked incredible while losing control.”
Karen nodded seriously. “Like a collapsing statue of Aphrodite.”
Regina groaned and let herself sink back into the couch, eyes closed. “You’re all so annoying. I hope you know that.”
“Love you too,” you murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her thigh just below her hoodie hem.
All four of you were curled up on the oversized bed.
Karen was asleep half-on top of Regina, her hand resting over the heating pad. Gretchen scrolled with one hand and absently stroked Regina’s hair with the other. You were nestled on the opposite side, fingers intertwined with Regina’s under the blanket.
She still hadn’t spoken much since the cocoa wore off.
You leaned in, brushing your nose against her cheek. “Talk to me.”
She turned slowly, her voice quiet. “I keep thinking about what they’ll say tomorrow. The comments. The reposts. People saying I deserved it.”
You brushed your fingers over her temple. “People say a lot of things. But the ones who matter? Are right here.”
Regina’s eyes closed, lashes fluttering like she was holding back something bigger.
“I felt...stupid,” she admitted. “For the first time in a long time.”
You kissed her forehead. “Then let us remind you how brilliant you are.”
You pressed another kiss—this time to her lips. Warm. Gentle. Full of steady adoration.
Regina kissed you back slowly, letting the tension unravel from her spine.
Gretchen, without missing a beat, slid her phone onto the nightstand. “God, finally. I was about to throw hands at your anxiety.”
Karen yawned and blinked up, still half asleep. “Are we kissing now?”
You smiled. “Only if you want in.”
Karen sleepily scooted forward and kissed Regina’s shoulder, then pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Mmm. Warm. Cozy. Validated.”
Regina chuckled—actually chuckled—and nestled into the center of the group. “You’re all so clingy.”
“You love that,” Gretchen said, smirking as she pulled the blanket tighter around you all.
Karen giggled. “Tolerate us harder, Queenie.”
You kissed Regina’s fingers one by one. “Even if you fall again… we’ll catch you.”
Her eyes fluttered shut. “God, you’re insufferably cheesy.”
She didn’t say anything else.
But her hand tightened around yours under the blanket.
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