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Bound to you

Gifts and Mix-ups

Beca stared at the simple box with the tasteful red bow.

She had never been one for wrapping presents. It always started well enough—clean edges, careful folds—but somewhere along the way it turned into something that barely resembled a square, an uneven, wrinkled, over-taped mess that betrayed her impatience. The bow, though. A simple, long, neatly knotted red bow. That she could do. Tight. Intentional. Controlled. The only part of the process she trusted herself with.

She kept staring at it, waiting for a reaction that wasn’t going to come. Waiting—more honestly—for her heart to stop trying to claw its way out of her chest.

It didn’t.

She tucked the box under her arm, took a steadying breath, and got out of the car. Her heels clicked loudly against the pavement as she walked the familiar steps up to the Bella House. She didn’t love many places, not really, but this house was different. It had seen her at her best, her worst, her drunkest—and a few versions of herself she still wasn’t sure how to account for.

The box felt heavier with every step.

And nope. Her heart wasn’t settling at all.

In fact, it was getting worse—because this stupid, bare box with the red bow wasn’t just a gift. It was a risk. And Beca Mitchell knew risks. She knew how to take them, how to flirt with them, how to survive them. But there was one particular arena where risk made her uneasy, where vulnerability felt less like a thrill and more like a free fall.

And it was all sitting right there in that box.

She paused long enough to catch her reflection in the glass beside the door. Immediately, instinctively, she did a last-minute check. The red dress with a red bow in the front above her bust. It was festive without being precious, Christmas-adjacent but edged with dark accents that still felt like her. It fit her the way she liked—intentional, confident. Black heels. No compromises.

The door burst open before she could second-guess anything.

A familiar redhead with a broad smile pulled her into a hug.

“Yay! You made it!”

“Hi to you too,” Beca said, breathless, adjusting automatically.

“I’m so glad you’re here—and—” Chloe pulled back, eyes lighting up as she took in the dress. “Wow. Dime piece. Becs. Are you coming back from a date or heading to one?”

“What? No. I just came from a holiday party. The internship,” she added quickly.

“Well, you look incredible,” Chloe said warmly. “You’re going to make the rest of us feel underdressed.”

Beca glanced down at Chloe’s outfit: very festive, very colorful, aggressively comfortable pajamas.

“Why are you—”

“I told you we were doing a pajama-party White Elephant. Like last year?”

Beca stopped in her tracks and did her best impression of a deer caught in the headlights. Last year? I don’t even remember what I had for dinner.

“Wait,” she said slowly. “White Elephant?”

She had thought it was just… a Christmas party. Cookies. Music. Chaos, yes—but not this.

Her brain immediately spiraled.

Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. This is my actual nightmare.

Before she could course-correct, she was swept into the middle of the Bellas’ Christmas party.

The living room had been rearranged in the kind of way that only happened right before something went very wrong—or very memorable. Sometimes both.

All the furniture had been pushed back. A beautifully decorated Christmas tree stood tastefully lit but shoved into a corner like an afterthought. Somehow, wrapping paper was already torn and strewn across the floor even though the game hadn’t officially started yet.

And of course, no Bella party was complete without music. The playlist was a chaotic compilation of everyone’s preferences—festive and nostalgic, modern and retro—and then, inexplicably, deeply horny.

The air smelled like hot cocoa, Christmas-scented candles, mulled wine, and whatever Fat Amy was drinking from her thermos. No one dared to ask.

Beca perched on the arm of the couch, knees pulled in, heels clicking rapidly against the wood floor. The small box was tucked securely against her thigh like she could anchor it there by force of will.

How could I forget White Elephant?

She hadn’t just forgotten the game—she’d forgotten this. The Bellas’ annual insistence on chaos disguised as tradition.

“Okay,” Chloe said brightly, clapping her hands together. “Rules are the same as last year. One gift at a time, stealing is allowed, don’t be a jerk, and please don’t open anything that’s leaking or breathing.”

Fat Amy lifted her thermos in salute. “No promises.”

Beca’s heart started doing that thing again—fast, shallow, wildly unhelpful. Instinctively, she glanced across the room and found Aubrey immediately.

Aubrey was leaning against the wall near the tree, arms folded, posture immaculate, face neutral in a way Beca knew better than to trust.

Their eyes met.

Aubrey’s gaze flicked down to the box. Then, back up and frowned.

Beca looked away first, doing her damnedest not to let the heat in her face match the stupid dress.

Aubrey caught the discomfort instantly. She made a subtle gesture toward the bathroom and slipped away into the hallway.

A minute later, while the girls argued over which present to start with, Beca inhaled deeply and followed.

***

Close to you

She opened the bathroom door to find Aubrey doing that thing she did—checking her reflection, adjusting her posture, slipping seamlessly into that award-winning smile of hers.

“Hey,” Aubrey said lightly, like nothing was wrong.

Beca thought she could see straight through it. Absolutely loved that she could.

And before she could even say hi back, she became acutely aware of how small the bathroom actually was. How close they were standing. Close enough that she could smell cocoa and peppermint on Aubrey’s breath.

She wondered, distantly, if kissing her would taste like Christmas.

The thought made her heartbeat stumble.

It wasn’t just the room—it was her. The blonde in teddy-bear pajamas could make her pulse race like no one ever had.

“Uh—hi,” Beca said, suddenly aware they hadn’t been alone since… a few days ago, actually.

Aubrey took a small, almost hesitant step closer. “I really love your dress.”

Beca instinctively stepped back until her spine hit the door. “Thanks. I, uh—love your pajamas.”

“And you forgot it was a pajama party?”

“Dude,” Beca muttered. “That’s not all I forgot.”

“What?”

The words tumbled out in a panicked rush. “I forgot about White Elephant. And I brought a gift. For you. Not for this stupid, chaotic steal-everything game that makes no sense.”

Aubrey tilted her head. “What kind of gift?”

Beca swallowed. Lowered her voice. “Cuffs.”

Aubrey blinked. “Like… handcuffs?”

“Yeah,” Beca rushed on. “And they’re nice. Classy. Stainless steel. Not cheap fuzzy Amazon ones.”

“Okay,” Aubrey said slowly. “So you brought handcuffs. I have… many questions. But you know the girls, they’ll laugh and move on, right?”

“Sure, and that would be fine and dandy… Except—”

“Beca?”

“I kind of had them engraved.”

“Engraved?”

“And they have my initials. I’m pretty sure I’m the only B.M. here.”

Aubrey’s eyes widened. “Oh god. Why did you—”

“Because I wasn’t thinking!” Beca snapped. “I was thinking about doing something romantic. Sorry, I’m not good at this!”

“Romantic?” Aubrey echoed. “Not good at what?”

“Trying to be a good girlfriend!”

The words landed between them.

Aubrey gasped. “…Girlfriend?”

Beca nearly shouted, mortified. “I didn’t mean that—okay, I meant it, but I didn’t mean to say it, and I don’t know what I’m doing because you’re perfect and I panic—forget it. Just forget I said anything.”

She stormed out.

Aubrey stood there, red-faced, stunned. She pressed a palm to her chest and whispered, almost reverently, “Girlfriend. Oh god.”

***

Unfolding

Beca made a beeline for the kitchen, desperate for a drink; anything with a skull and crossbones sign on it would do.

Aubrey emerged a moment later and sat beside Chloe, who immediately rubbed her thigh and smiled a subtle, friendly gesture meant to convey the warmth only she could.

Back in the living room, numbers were drawn. Complaints followed. Cynthia Rose laughed softly from where she sat cross-legged on the floor, mug cradled in her hands, her expression amused and observant—like she was watching a chessboard she had no intention of interfering with.

“Alright,” Stacie said, bouncing on her heels. “Let’s do this.”

The first gift earned polite applause. A scarf. Then a mug. Then something very distinctly phallic, and looking battery-powered, that made Jessica choke on her drink while Ashley laughed too hard, and the rest of the girls made dirty comments. While Stacie leaned back on her seat, smiling smugly.

Beca barely registered any of it. Her attention kept snagging on the small, impossible weight beside her leg.

And her.

Then it was Stacie’s turn, and of course, she went for that box near her leg.

Beca felt it before she saw it—the way Aubrey went rigid across the room, the way the space between them suddenly tightened.

Stacie carefully unwrapped the bow. And as she opened the lid, she glanced towards Beca, who was beet red at this point, and then back at the box and grinned.

“Oh,” she said brightly. “Now this has potential,” and she turned the box to show everyone.

For some reason, the cuffs caused the room to explode. The girls ooo ing and cooing and making dirty jokes left and right.

Fat Amy shrieked. “Yes! That’s what I’m talking about.”

Jessica leaned forward. “Wait, are those—”

Ashley cut in. “Don’t play dumb!”

Stacie held them up, admiring the gleam of metal under the lights.

Beca’s stomach dropped. Her mouth went dry as she prayed that Stacie wouldn’t notice the engraving,

“Why—” she heard herself snap, much sharper and than intended, enough to get everyone’s attention, “-is everyone making such a big deal for those?”

The room quieted—not suspicious. Curious.

Since no one answered, Beca just snapped again, “Seriously? There’s a dildo in one of those boxes, and you guys didn’t make this much of a big deal.”

Stacie stood up, outraged, and putting a hand on her hip said, “Excuse me? Just a dildo? No ma’am, that’s Lelo brand, Lelo OK? Soraya Wave Luxurious G Spot, it is—” Stacie paused and for a second seemed to shiver at a private memory. “Quality. Capisce?”

Ashley turned to Jessica and said, “I thought the price limit was 40 bucks.”

Jessica rolled her eyes, “Cheapskate.”

“Settle your panties, short stack, besides a fancy vibrator is just on brand for Stacie, or… Aubrey.”

“Aca-excuse me?” Aubrey exclaimed, doing her best impression of outrage and confusion.

“Naw, yeah, you right, Bree, you’d be less uptight.”

“How did this become about me?”

“OK, fine! I get it, the fancy vibrator, sure we could all use—” she paused, noticing that all eyes were on her, and they were all sharing those devious smirks, “Anyway, but like seriously though—who in here would seriously use those anyway?” Beca demanded as she ignored the voice that said, Other than me.

Fat Amy squinted. “Are you kidding? These are multi-purpose.”

“For what?” Beca shot back, pulse hammering.

“Fat Amy reasons.”

“Research, especially in terms of reliability and…. inescapability,” Stacie added plainly.

Jessica raised a hand. Ashley raised hers immediately after, giving her a playful glare as if it were a contest.

Cynthia Rose tilted her head, smiling faintly. “All I’m saying is that… those are the kind of items that say a whole lot about trust.”

Beca stared at them. Dumbfounded, this was not the reaction she was hoping… like at all, “You’re all serious?”

And after a second, Chloe raised her hand. She wasn’t blushing, she wasn’t hesitating, just smiling in the way only she could.

All the Bellas turned towards her.

Chloe, noticing that all eyes were on her, shrugged unbothered and said, “What? I like being tied up.”

Fat Amy blinked for a second and broke the silence, rolling her eyes and saying, “Damn, redhead ok-urr.”

What the fuck, Chlo! Beca thought as she stared at the redhead with the seemingly innocent grin, and in a way, she wanted to be surprised, but… yeah, no, okay, that tracks.

Aubrey coughed loudly, getting everyone’s attention. “Can we move on?”

After they all gathered their wits, the game continued. The cuffs were stolen. Then stolen again. The Bella House was filled with the laughter of the Bellas. Their voices overlapped as they joked and bickered. Someone knocked over something or other. While Cynthia Rose watched it all with quiet amusement, letting the proverbial storm pass without stepping into it, and thoroughly enjoying it.

Beca, on her side of the couch, the knees pressed together, barely even noticed the noise.

All she could think about was the metal handcuffs. The small engraving she had paid extra for. And how something meant to be intimate had slipped into the open because her dumbass was stressed with life, with her internship as the Bellas co-captain, but mostly because she was happy.

She risked a glance over to Aubrey, who was biting her thumb as she watched the gift meant for her pass from Bella to Bella.

Until it landed on Chloe. The redhead bounced on her seat and curiosity getting the best of her, she opened the lid to study the prize, and then her eyes narrowed, as if she was trying to read something.

Beca panicked and lunged, “Wait, Chlo—” and in less than a second, she had crossed the room and accidentally tripped on Fat Amy’s legs and tumbled. Her face landed exactly on Chloe’s crotch, while her hands knocked Aubre’s cocoa into her lap.

“Jesus Mitchell!” Aubrey screamed as the thankfully lukewarm cocoa landed on her lap.

Everyone jumped and panicked, some trying to help clean, others wondering if the cocoa had landed on them.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!”

Aubrey, keeping her composure, grabbed the box from Chloe, placed the lid back on, and placed the box with the rest of the presents, then she stomped her way to the bathroom.

Beca yelled after her, “I’m sorry, Bree…” and went to check on her.

***

In a Cramped Space

Inside that same small and cozy bathroom, Aubrey dabbed the cocoa of her pajama pants, frustrated and shaking, whispered, “This is a disaster.”

Beca also helped her clean herself, said, “I’m sorry I panicked, your—”

“No, I don’t care about these… It’s just—If anyone sees your initials, they’ll know. And I don’t want them finding out like this.”

That honesty hit Beca hard. “I know,” she said softly. “I don’t want that either.”

“We just aren’t ready.”

Beca cracked. “I always do this. I panic. I ruin things.”

Aubrey, hearing the crack in her voice, leaned over and whispered, “Hey, it’s ok, we’ll figure this out—” then she stopped. There was something in the fear in her eyes, and she said, “Look, I… if we um…”

“What?”

“We don’t have to rush this… we don’t have to be public or defined if it’s making you this anxious.” She paused and swallowed. It felt as if the words were heavy, difficult to even say, “I know the word girlfriend was officially dropped, but… I don’t want you to feel trapped in something you didn’t mean to—”

Beca shook her head quickly—the word trapped felt wrong, very wrong, “Trapped? No, that’s not— no, that’s not what this is.”

“Then what is it?”

I bought the cuffs because… I trust you. And trust is not something… that comes easy to me. And you know what… You know I gave that part of myself to someone… and I didn’t feel safe. But with you… it’s just easy and—”

“But you’re the only person I’ve ever actually felt safe with. And—”

Aubrey’s breath caught, both shocked and moved, “Beca—”

“Look! I didn’t mean to say this,” she added, already unraveling, “I don’t know if I’m even ready to say this… but—” Beca paused and taking a deep breath to steel herself blurted, “I can’t stand the idea of you thinking this is casual or accidental or something I could just walk away from because—” She stopped. Swallowed. “Because I think I’m falling for you.”

Aubrey stared at her, stunned. “You… are falling for me?”

The regret hit instantly. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I just said that. I’m such an idiot.” Beca muttered. “Please just—ummm forget I exist, OK?”

Beca, her face still red, her eyes still wavering, turned on her heels and just stomped out of the bathroom.

Aubrey stayed, breathless, hand over her mouth, on the brink of tears and laughter. She’s falling for me?

Then she looked up, and allowed herself to let the laughter die down on its own, and then she exhaled, relieved, and said, “I’m not the only one…”

***

War

Chloe was the first to notice Beca coming back and asked, “Hey, is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine, Beale,” it came across as more curt than anything.

Chloe was a bit taken aback but nodded and decided to drop it for now, knowing her friend would need space.

Aubrey followed soon after, and once she was settled, she leaned forward.

Beca risked a glance at her again; her whole demeanor had changed.

Aubrey wasn’t smiling, and she wasn’t panicking either.

She sat very carefully next to Chloe and leaned in. She was watching the room—calculating, composed, eyes sharp in a way Beca recognized immediately.

The hardness in her clear blue eyes meant that Aubrey was ready for war. A look that for once gave Beca immesurable relief, and beneath all that, admiration.

Up until that moment, Aubrey had been playing it cool. Cool and collected.

She hadn’t lunged. Hadn’t postured. Hadn’t so much as glanced at the box when it passed through the circle. She’d laughed at the right moments, sipped her cocoa as the entire situation amused her, like she hadn’t noticed the way Beca flinched every time the metal flashed under the lights.

She knew the rules. She knew the room and every single person in there; hell, she had intricate dossiers of each of them. But more importantly, she knew exactly when to stop pretending she didn’t care.

That moment came quietly, and right when she wanted, the cuffs landed in Fat Amy’s hands.

Fat Amy held them up like a trophy, grinning. “Well. Looks like Bumper’s about to have a very good Christmas!”

A ripple of laughter followed. Someone clapped. Someone booed. Stacie looked up and raised an eyebrow.

Aubrey tilted her head, casual. Almost bored.

“I thought you’d be used to those by now,” she said mildly.

Fat Amy squinted at her. “What are you going on about Posen?”

Aubrey shrugged. “Oh, nothing, really, except—.”

She waited. Let the moment sit. Let Fat Amy puff up a little, preen under the attention.

Then, lightly—too lightly to be anything but a joke—Aubrey added,

“I did a very thorough background check on you, I mean, I do for all the Bellas…”

She let that sink in, enjoying the subtle squirms here and there from the women in the room, and then she turned back to Fat Amy, “and I found some interesting stuff in there,”

Fat Amy blinked. “L—like what?”

Aubrey smiled into her mug. “The kind of stuff that could get someone’s student visa revoked.”

The room stilled.

“And I mean, I might have a friend. Hypothetically. Who works in Immigration and would be very interested to know what happened in South Carolina in 2009.”

Fat Amy’s triumphant smile morphed into one of quiet panic, and then she burst out laughing, a little bit too high-pitched for her. “Wow. Okay. You know what? Never mind. I think I have a pair somewhere in my room anyway.”

She stood, crossed the room, and dropped the cuffs neatly into Aubrey’s lap as they’d always belonged there.

“Congratulations, Posen. Looks like you got yourself a nice pair of handcuffs, for some bloody reason.”

She immediately turned and stole the scarf, “I could probably still use this…”

The room erupted again, but Aubrey barely heard it. Her fingers curled around the box, pulse jumping, breath steady only because she forced it to be.

She didn’t smile. Not yet. The game wasn’t over yet.

“Steal!” someone called.

There it was. Aubrey barely had time to shift when Chloe leaned forward.

“Oh, my turn, and I’m definitely stealing that,” Chloe said, cheerful and unapologetic.

She reached over to grab the box from Aubrey’s lap.

Aubrey didn’t pull away. She just gave her a deep look, the kind a friend gives a friend when they are about to ask for a favor.

“Chlo,” she said quietly. “You don’t actually want these.”

Chloe paused. “I literally just said—”

Aubrey looked deep into her friend’s eyes, and calculated, and then, seeing how Chloe’s smile never shifted, the gleam in her eyes never dimmed, her stare softened, and her voice resembled a whisper. “Please… Let me have this one.”

Chloe hesitated. But seeing the pleading in her eyes, she relented and sighed dramatically. “Ugh. Fine”.

She flopped back against the couch, already pulling out her phone. And after a few seconds of scrolling, she smiled.

Jessica frowned. “Wait—why are you smiling?”

Chloe didn’t even look up. “I’m ordering a pair on Amazon.”

“Of course you are,” Stacie said fondly.

Aubrey exhaled slowly. The box was still in her hands. Still hers where it belonged.

“Last steal,” Stacie announced brightly, eyes glittering. “And I am taking advantage.”

She stood, stretched theatrically, and sauntered toward Aubrey.

Aubrey raised an eyebrow. “You already have like three sets.”

“Four,” Stacie corrected. “But not these and these are really nice, I can tell quality cuffs from a mile away.”

She leaned in, close enough to whisper, “I know you want these—convince me.”

Aubrey didn’t flinch; the only movement was a slight twitch in her right eyebrow, but she still met Stacie’s gaze evenly. “If you take them, I’ll tell everyone about the dream you had with Cynthia Rose.”

Stacie's face twitched, “…You wouldn’t.”

Cynthia Rose almost spat out her drink, “Excuse me!”

Aubrey smiled, glancing over at Cynthia Rose. Then the initially playful glance turned to Stacie, and it turned into something imposing, delicious, and lethal. “Try me.”

Within those ten seconds where Aubrey and Stacie's eyes met, the light in her eyes dimmed as she went through all stages of grief. And when acceptance rolled around, Stacie laughed out loud in front of everyone and threw her hands up in surrender. “Wow. Okay. Respect. All yours, killer.”

Stacie turned on her heels and looked around the room, and the wide variety of gifts she stole the NutriBullet Blender from Jessica instead. Leaving her pouting.

The girls loved it and roared in laughter.

Aubrey gave herself a satisfied, “Hmph,” and sat back, ignoring her heart hammering and ground herself, feeling the almost non-existent heft of the box on her lap.

She’d done it. Against chaos. Against temptation. Against herself. She glanced across the room, just once.

Beca wasn’t looking at the box. She was looking at her.

And for a brief, dangerous second, Aubrey let herself believe— that it was over and she’d won.

Then—

“Steal.”

It was barely a word. Almost not one at all. A breath with intent behind it. If the room hadn’t already been trained to listen for Lilly’s voice — that low, even register that slipped under conversations instead of over them — no one would have caught it.

But they did.

Aubrey felt it before she saw it.

Lilly moved.

No hesitation. No flourish. She reached into Aubrey’s lap and took the box with the same quiet decisiveness she brought to everything else.

Aubrey couldn’t move; her eyes were wide. How did she overlook Lily?

She didn’t have another steal.

Didn’t have another move.

Didn’t even have a joke ready.

The room went still.

Lilly opened the box.

She didn’t smile. Didn’t react. She lifted the cuffs out carefully, turning them once in her hands, examining the metal with a focus that felt almost clinical. She ran a thumb along one edge, noting the faint scratches — not damage, just use. Familiarity. History.

She saw enough.

Then she placed them back into the box, closed it, and set it gently back in Aubrey’s lap.

“You really wanted these,” Lilly said calmly. “And they look scratched.”

After a second, she nodded and said, “Merry Christmas.”

That’s it? Just a simple return, like she was handing back something she’d borrowed by mistake. No gloating, no boasting… just kindness? Aubrey had no idea what to do with it.

The room exhaled all at once.

Someone laughed nervously. Someone else reached for a different gift. The moment passed — or pretended to.

Aubrey stared down at the box, heart pounding, fingers curling around the lid like it might vanish if she let go. She looked up at Lilly, her eyes wide and all-knowing. Aubrey mouthed carefully, “I owe you one.”

Lilly met her gaze. Steady. Unbothered and louder. “Yes, you do.”

And then she leaned back, already disengaging, attention drifting elsewhere — as if she hadn’t just seen straight through something private and chosen, deliberately, to protect it.

Aubrey sat there for a long moment after, the weight of the box grounding her.

***

Gifts and Revelations

By the time the house finally quieted, it wasn’t because anyone had made a conscious decision to go to bed. They just agreed to watch Christmas Hallmark movies and then…

It just… happened.

One by one, the Bellas melted into couches and floor space, still comfy in their pajamas, limbs tangled, empty mugs abandoned wherever gravity had last won. The Christmas lights were still on, and the corny, predictable Hallmark movie played on, all melding and glowing softly against half-lidded eyes and slow breathing. The playlist still on but turned down, had long since drifted into something low and instrumental, like even the speakers had decided it was time for everyone to chill out.

Beca had fallen asleep on one end of the couch. Aubrey was stretched out on the opposite side, and right in the center was Chloe—her legs draped over Beca’s lap, her head resting comfortably on Aubrey’s thigh.

Almost at the same time, both women opened their eyes and glanced toward each other. A wordless exchange passed between them—questions asked and answered, reassurance given without a sound.

Then they smiled. Soft. Relieved.

Beca tilted her head subtly toward the stairs, and Aubrey nodded in agreement.

Carefully, Beca lifted Chloe’s legs, bending her knees upward just enough to free herself. At the same time, Aubrey gently slid her hand beneath Chloe’s head and eased a pillow into place, lowering her onto it with practiced care.

They moved slowly and deliberately—gentle enough to make sure their best friend stayed comfortable and safe before they slipped away.

They stood quietly, stepping over bodies, collecting shoes in silence.

Beca led her up the stairs, past walls hung with pictures of vibrant memories, and into her room.

Inside, even the subtle sounds of life and the holidays had muted.

Aubrey paused just inside the doorway, taking in the room that she had gotten to know so well in the past months.

There was something new. There was a small Christmas tree in the corner.

Not big. Not dramatic. Just tall enough to matter. Colorful twinkling lights, a handful of ornaments — some mismatched, some clearly sentimental and handmade— and a little cheap foil star that leaned just a little to the left.

Aubrey was somewhere between surprised and amused. “When did you put a tree up?”

Beca winced slightly. “Like two days ago….Chloe insisted.”

Aubrey smiled despite herself. “Of course she did.”

“She said it was ‘fun way for us to bond,’” Beca added dryly. “And then she cried when I tried to argue, so I just went with it.”

“That tracks,” Aubrey said fondly.

They stood there for a second longer than necessary, the weight of the night still clinging to them — the chaos, the near-misses, the way the world had almost found something that wasn’t ready to be named yet.

Then a knock.

Both women turned slowly towards the door. And without ceremony or warning, opened, and Stacie, standing there, her arms crossed, asked,

“Okay,” she said calmly. “You two. Fess up.”

Beca, for the one millionth time, froze.

Aubrey, to her credit, didn’t.

Stacie stepped into the room, closed the door behind them, and leaned back against it, making a very clear statement: no way out.

Stacie arched an eyebrow. “Well? It's not like I’m stupid, y’know. I saw you two out there, Beca, you were losing your shit the second the cuffs were on the table, and Aubrey— girl, please, you were worse than day one of that first year Bella practice.”

Beca swallowed. Her fingers twisted together at her sides, nerves buzzing in a way she hated—too exposed, too honest, too close to something real.

Aubrey spoke first. “I'm sorry we weren’t trying to make it weird.”

Stacie snorted. “Well, ya did.”

Beca huffed out a breath despite herself, then shook her head. “We didn’t mean for anyone to find out like this. Or—at all. Not yet.”

Stacie watched her carefully. “So… it’s a real thing?”

“Yes,” Beca said, quickly and eagerly, which made her wince. “I mean—yeah.”

Then Stacie leaned back on her hands, studying the ceiling. “Okay. Start from the part where this stopped being a late-night ‘casual hookup I pretended not to notice’ and became ‘handcuffs with emotional significance.”

Beca laughed weakly. “Wow. Straight to the point.”

“You’re not really the type to ease into things, Beca.” Stacie then stepped forward, “Well, neither am I.”

Beca hesitated, then took a breath that felt like stepping off a ledge.

“Fair, so—OK, God! I can’t believe I’m about to do this. I was seeing someone,” she said. “A while back. After… you know everything that happened with Jesse.”

Stacie straightened just slightly. She knew the man, and no one excepted him to turn fuckboy in LA. And she remembered distinctly how that affected her fellow Bella.

“You know, I was trying things,” Beca continued. “Exploring. Stuff I hadn’t really let myself touch before. And with this girl, it kinda worked out, so we got into different stuff like trust and just being vulnerable.” She shrugged, defensive even now. “Anyway, it wasn’t all bad. It helped me learn things about myself. Things I didn’t know I… was into.”

Aubrey stayed silent, but her presence was solid at Beca’s back—anchoring without crowding.

“But,” Beca said quietly, “it wasn’t healthy. Not really. Things got kinda blurry. And one night it was supposed to be… You know something special. Planned.”

Her jaw tightened. “But… crazy bitch left me there. Handcuffed to the bed. Naked. No warning. No check-in. Just… gone.”

Stacie sat up straighter; she’d heard of this, seen references to situations like this. But hearing it, seeing the fear it instilled

Beca’s voice wavered despite her effort to keep it steady and come across as angry. “I panicked. After I finally managed to get my phone, the first person I dialed blindly….was—” She let out a breath that trembled just a little. “Aubrey… I barely managed to say anything before—the stupid thing fell and.”

Beca went quiet, her mind replaying the moment.

Stacie’s eyes flicked to Aubrey.

Aubrey nodded once. “I was close, and something about the call bugged me, so–”

“You showed up,” Beca said, softer now. “And you took one look at me and—” She huffed a small, disbelieving laugh. “You were so mad.”

“I was not that mad,” Aubrey protested mildly.

“You absolutely were,” Beca countered, then smiled faintly before the memory sobered again. “But even though you were mad, you didn’t ask questions. You didn’t make it weird. You just… fixed it.”

Stacie frowned. “How did—”

“Dude, she lock-picked them,” she cut in before Aubrey could protest, and then she turned to look at her, still a little awed by it. “You still haven’t told me where you picked that up.”

“Hm, every girl has her secrets,” Aubrey said primly.

Stacie blinked and, with a nod, added, “And that you totally do.”

“Apparently, and well, that was the first time I felt…” Beca searched for the word. “Safe. Not just physically. Emotionally. Like I wasn’t being judged for what I wanted—or punished for trusting someone. I was just… safe.”

“Because our great fearless captain was there, huh?” Stacie chimed in, giving Aubrey a proud look.

Beca nodded slowly, “Yeah—so we got coffee. Which turned into more coffee than…texting, video-calls, visits… and then one night.

“One incredible night.” Aubrey playfully corrected.

Beca turned to her, and the softness turned into playfulness with a smirk, “Corny but… yes, one incredible night, it turned into… this.” She gestured vaguely between herself and Aubrey. “And somewhere along the way of this… six months in, I think. We talked about it. About sex. About trust. About handcuffs.”

“Six months,” Stacie repeated, in awe, for the Bellas, well, anyone really, dating in secret for six months wasn’t something to sneeze at. It was something real, something consistent and concrete effort supported by something stronger than just attraction.

Beca nodded. “Yeah, and we agreed. No rushing. No big declarations. Just… letting it be what it is.”

Beca’s eyes went wide as she felt Aubrey stepping next to her and her fingers interlacing with hers, quietly grounding her, and she added quietly, “And it is incredible.”

Stacie just watched, taking in everything. She had known something, but she hadn’t known the depth. And as she watched the two of the hardest women she knew become gentle and soft towards each other, she couldn’t help it. Her eyes watered. The second she caught her, she turned on her heels and walked out, almost slamming the door behind her.

Beca stared at the closed door, her mouth wide, “Wait, is she mad or something?”

“No—let’s just give her a second,” Aubrey said with a small satisfied smile.

There were the muffled sounds of steps, some quiet protesting, and then steps again. And the door opened again, but just halfway, and Stacie peered in and reappeared, tossed something onto the bed without ceremony.

A vibrator. The fancy Lelo brand one.

Beca groaned as she understood the not-so-subtle message. “Oh my god.”

“Merry Christmas, you two,” then the door was about to close, but before it did, Stacie peered halfway in, “Just for the record, I’m really happy for you two.”

They both stood there, watching the door, smiling, and then they looked at each other. And it took them less than a second to forget the world. It was finally quiet, and they were finally alone.

Beca covered her face with both hands. “That was embarrassing…”

Aubrey laughed softly, stepped closer, and gently moved her hand to her waist and pulled in. “We’ll get over it,”

Beca met her eyes, and though the urge to run was still somewhere in there, she didn’t listen to it. And as her hands drifted up Aubrey’s arms and settled around her neck, she let herself stay.

Aubrey leaned in, and Beca was about to close her eyes when she remembered.

“Oh wait—” Beca jumped over towards the bed quickly, surprisingly nimble for someone in heels.

Beca grabbed the box and quickly redid the bow. “I guess officially, Merry Christmas, Au— um Bree.”

Aubrey’s surprise melted into a smile, and she stepped closer, slow and deliberate, like she was approaching something sacred rather than a gift. She picked it up, fingers brushing the ribbon, and looked at Beca for permission.

Beca nodded, “Yeah. It’s for you.”

Aubrey opened the box. She didn’t speak right away. She had seen them being passed around like some cheap trinket. But she hadn’t seen them through the lens of Beca’s affection.

Her thumb traced the cool metal, then paused — just barely — where the engraving caught the light. Then she gingerly lifted the cuffs, making out the working. “My safe place,” she read quietly, then, softly, “B.M.”

Her breath hitched slightly, and it all just finally hit. The day was chaos, sure, stressful, sure. But how would it have been for Beca? How hard it must have been for her to do this. Everything she’d gone through. Not just today, but yesterday, and the months before. She could just picture her, red and steaming, ordering them online, then carefully putting them in the box and tying the bow. All of that for these words… meant only for her.

Aubrey’s eyes glistened as tears begane to well up. “Thank you.”

Beca watched her, heart pounding, suddenly very aware of how exposed she felt standing there fully clothed.

“I mean it,” Beca said, voice steady even if her hands weren’t. “All of it.”

“I know,” Aubrey said softly, “In a way, we are kinda alike, we both don’t take trust lightly.”

“I trust you.”

That was all it took for the insurmountable amount of restraint she’s practiced all damn day.

Aubrey dropped the box and hurriedly stepped into Beca’s space, and kissed her — its gentleness lasted less than a second because it turned hurried, hungry, and intent on fulfilling the need to stoke the fire within.

When they broke apart, they were both breathless, eyes half closed, dazed and lost.

“Should we…?” Beca asked softly as she moved towards the bed.

But Aubrey caught her wrist.

“No,” she said, a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth. “Not the bed.”

She guided Beca instead — gently, deliberately — toward the tree.

The lights glowed warm above them, reflected in glass ornaments and tinsel, and the faint shine of anticipation.

Beca let herself be led, lay down, and one of the cuffs went on her right hand. Securing with a pleasant click.

The cuffs clicked closed with a sound that was more grounding than alarming.

Beca exhaled. Taking in the release of control and feeling comfortable in it.

Aubrey’s eyes took in all of her, how her body relaxed, how her breathing hitched but was still even, and her fingers traced gentle lines through her collarbone, up towards her neck, where she used her nails to gently scratch the back of her head.

Beca hmm softly delighted.

Then Aubrey teasingly trailed her fingers down her neck, then the hem of her dress above her breasts, and then they found the bow at the front — large, red, perfectly tied. She ran her fingers through it and caught that the knot was functional. This pleased her, and with two fingers, she playfully tugged at one of the ends, and surprisingly, it made Beca whimper slightly.

“You like bows, too?” Beca asked, trying not to let the tremble escape her.

Aubrey smiled. “Yes. I do.”

She leaned in, voice low. “They’re neat. Intentional. Meant to be tied.”

Her fingers tugged the knot completely, “or loosened.”

Beca laughed softly, breath hitching as the ribbon slipped free and with it the top of her dress loosened significantly. This allowed Aubrey to easily slip the dress beneath her. Beca lifted her body up a little to help her.

And beneath that dress was Aubrey’s second gift. The red lingerie Beca picked up for tonight. It was lacy, expensive, and adorned with white and black, matching the Christmas theme without compromising her design. Aubrey grinned as she admired all of her presents.

The colorful Christmas lights twinkled, as a low hum and Beca’s gentle moans filled the room.

Aubrey’s mouth was a revelation. It wasn’t the demanding, take-no-prisoners kiss from before. This was slow and tender, as if they were meant to whisper a prayer.

Beca’s earlier suspicions were right; she did faintly taste like cocoa and peppermint.

Beca’s hands wriggled against the cuffs, its clinking melodic and subtle. And its song intensified as she felt Aubrey hum against her skin once more, playfully kissing everywhere but the most tempting pair. Each kiss and scrape of her teeth placed on top of her belly button sent warmth and electricity straight down Beca’s spine.

With her hands, she held her down; it wasn’t a gesture of control, but guidance. To even through the intensity, the flinching, to let herself enjoy the electric attention she was receiving.

This was about trust, and it was quiet, settled with certainty and reassurance. She was here. Aubrey was here. And she was safe.

Aubrey pulled back just enough to meet her eyes and, with a husky voice, whispered, “I’ve been craving you since you walked in.”

Beca let out a shaky laugh. “Dude— I’ve been panicking since I walked in.”

Aubrey’s smile was genuine, unguarded. “Well, you’re not panicking anymore.”

“No, I’m not.”

Satisfied with that response, Aubrey lowered herself. So did her lips. This time, settling into the dip of her hip, just above the red string of her panties. A soft kiss, only slightly wet, so when her warm breath touched it, it sent pure fire into her.

Beca arched into it, a silent plea for more, and Aubrey responded with a gentle bite. She wasn’t marking her, not like this. She was grounding herself on Beca’s skin. Reminding herself that this moment was theirs, and that this was real.

The lights from the tree blurred through Beca’s half-lidded eyes, a constellation of reds, blues, and golds that swam and danced as Aubrey’s mouth went lower and lower.

The soft hum of the house’s heater, the distant, muffled snores of Bellas downstairs—it all faded away, replaced by the sound of her own heartbeat, frantic and hopeful.

When Aubrey’s mouth got closer to the front of her panties, her fingers traced the line of the string and finally slipped beneath and found the skin of Beca’s mound. Beca’s response was to tilt her hips forward, welcoming the touch.

Aubrey’s face was close enough that she could feel her breath on top of her panties, but her touch beneath them, against her skin, was curious and confident, as they lowered and found the source of her wetness. Her pussy was aching, and wanting, and Aubrey traced a delicate line along the hood of her clit.

Making Beca buck and moan her name once more, “Oh, Aubrey.” She unconsciously pulled at the handcuffs. The restraint wasn’t a limitation; it was a focus. It grounded her, keeping her from floating away.

Aubrey took that as a plea for more, and she was eager to deliver. Salivating in fact. And so she yanked the panties to the side. Revealing her true present.

“Oh, Aubrey,” Beca breathed, the intonation turning her name into something both sacred and cursed.

“Right here,” Aubrey murmured against her pussy, her voice a low thrum that matched the building pressure between Beca’s legs. “This is what I’ve been craving all night.”

The musk of her reminded her of something like a fine but sweet single malt, and after the day she had had, she desperately needed a drink. She carefully extended her tongue and tasted her, slick and salty from the panic of the day, and yet there was a subtle sweetness there that she had to get more of.

So she did. With each clever circle of her tongue, each slow, deliberate circling of her fingers, over the hood of her clit, avoiding the temptation to dig deeper and overwhelm her with her touch. Each nuance was thorough and methodical, though shaky in a way only Aubrey could. Because while she wanted to devour her, she wanted her to feel safe and satisfied.

With her tongue and her fingers, Aubrey was rewriting every bad memory, every moment of fear Beca had ever known. She wasn’t just taking Beca apart; she was putting her back together, piece by piece, into someone stronger, someone whole.

The coil in Beca’s stomach tightened, an exquisite, unbearable tension. The lights of the tree swam in her vision, blurring into a watercolor of light and shadow. She could feel Aubrey’s gaze on her, and she looked down to see her. And even through the haze, she could see the intensity and unwavering affection in her eyes, and then there was the sight of her tongue, barely visible, but the effects that coursed through her were unmistakable.

“Oh… Aubrey.” Beca whimpered, this time biting her lip.

“Let go, Beca,” Aubrey urged. Her voice, though slightly muffled, was still gently commanding. “I’m right here to catch you.”

And with a soft cry that was half Aubrey’s name and half a sob, Beca did. And her toes curled as the current of pleasure crashed over her. It started deep in her core and rippled outward, not just once but over and over again, making her tense, making her relax. Making her thank the heavens and making her cry.

Until all that was left was her, trembling and breathless. Her legs were as wobbly as a newborn fawn.

For a long moment, the world was nothing but blue and red blinking lights adorned with the smell of pine and sweat, and the ecstasy of Aubrey’s lips still on her, kissing lightly now, as if each kiss thought electric was meant to recollect, reassure, and relieve.

When Beca finally came back to her own body, Aubrey was on top of her, kissing her, slow and sweet. Beca didn’t mind or care that she could taste herself on her lips, a musky, intimate reminder of what they’d just shared. She fumbled with the cuff, her fingers clumsy with aftershocks, until Aubrey gently stopped her.

“Wait,” Aubrey said softly. She leaned over and picked up the small, silver key from the floor where it must have fallen. With a delicate click, she unlocked the cuff.

Beca’s wrist was free, but she didn’t move. She just looked at the faint, red mark left behind, a brand that felt more like a promise. She looked up at Aubrey, at the woman who had seen her at her absolute worst and her most vulnerable, and hadn’t run. Who had fought for her, protected her, and was now looking at her with an expression so full of love and awe it made Beca’s chest ache.

Beca reached up, her free hand cupping Aubrey’s cheek. “Merry Pitchmas,” she whispered, her voice raw.

Aubrey leaned into her touch, her eyes closing for a second. When she opened them, they were shining. “Merry Pitchmas, Beca.”

The End