giveafike

[giveafike]

Azzie, my dear. leaving us on a cliffhanger like that is super harsh 😞😞💔💔

check what Santa left u all under the tree 😛

(a bonus to the 12 day series)

[giveafike]

The Best Christmas Yet - B.T.S

TLDR: Merry Christmas, to you and to Ben. This is a bonus of Azzie's Advent Calendar 2024!

Word count + info: 5k + dialogue.

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW! slightly suggestive towards the end but clean : )

Azzie Notes ✚: C'mon! You think I'd leave you on that note from yday? And without a Christmas gift? Pfftttt cmon now! srry if i sent u to bed pissed off yday bahahaha Santa told me that u deserve a little extra so..here we are! He delivered this post, not me

I know Christmas can be lonely at times and everyone's super duper busy, (me included, when this goes up, I am prob knee deep with work, being my parents' Patissier + sous chef + a childminder/nanny with the kids + cleaner...- GOD) so here's something to sink into <3

With that being said, I won't be posting for a small bit, just catching my breath before getting back into all the inbox reqs + I'll prob get into my other writing reqs, let's give Ben a break and time to relax before he gets thrown back in :)

Merry Christmas, have fun and be safe! sending u joy, love and peace :) - Azzie

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“Hey, get up.”

A hand nudged your shoulder, hesitantly but firm, and then you felt a poke to your cheek.

“Baby, c’mon, I need you up!”

A peck to your lips stirred you from the depths of sleep, and you groaned softly, burrowing further into the blankets. He was entirely too alert for such an ungodly hour.

“It's Christmas! Don’t make me drag you out of bed,” Ben teased, his voice low but insistent, laced with excitement.

You blinked your eyes open, humming in confusion the world still fuzzy at the edges. Ben’s face hovered over yours, the faint glow of the twinkle of Christmas lights from outside gleaming through the curtains, casting soft shadows across his features. He was already dressed, his dark hoodie pulled snugly over his body, curls surprisingly neat and tamed, and the brightness in his eyes completely at odds with the still, sleeping house around you.

“What time is it?...you’re ...like, too awake right now” you mumbled, your voice hoarse with sleep.

Ben laughed softly, crouching by your side. “Trust me, you’re gonna wanna see this. Get dressed, grab your presents, oh, and don’t forget my stuff. Y'got 10 minutes.”

“What are you even talking about-?” you started, but Ben was already pulling back the blanket, tossing you one of his spare hoodies onto the foot of the bed.

“No questions,” he interrupted, voice smiling but firm, pointing at the hoodie. “Up. Now. And quietly.”

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you sat up, the chilly air of the house nipping at your skin and cementing that this wasn’t a dream, or if it was, this was a very realistic one, painfully realistic. The stillness was too real, the kind of quiet that could only exist when the world was still deep in slumber. Groggily, you swung your legs over the side of the bed, feeling the cold floor beneath your feet.

As you tugged on the hoodie and shuffled to grab your gifts from the paper bags you hid away in his wardrobe, the faint hum of the central heater became your only companion. You picked up the neatly wrapped presents you’d gotten for Ben, stacked in a bag alongside a few smaller ones for Lisa, Bryan, and Emma. The ones for his family were quietly tucked under the Christmas tree as Ben instructed as you passed through the dimly lit living room.

The sight of the living room warmed you, even in your grogginess. Air mattresses sprawled across the floor, the family nestled under thick blankets and quilts on the far side, away from the tree. The faint glow of coloured lights danced off the walls from outside, highlighting the care that went into decorating the house.

Ben’s hand found yours as you found him back in the hallway, his grip warm and steady as he led you toward the front door. You glanced back at the sleeping family, a flicker of hesitation in your mind.

“Ben…” you whispered, casting him a questioning look when he opened the front door, ushering you out into the chilly early morning air.

He turned back to you with a grin, tugging you gently outside. “Just trust me. You’ll see soon enough.”

The world outside was quiet and dark, the air crisp and laced with the scent of crispness that only a breeze could carry. His white G-Wagon idled in the driveway, already heated, the soft rumble of the engine breaking the silence of the dawn. You gently set your presents for Ben down in the backseat which sat beside a neatly packed bag that definitely wasn’t yours. Ben opened the passenger door, guiding you in with a hand on your back.

“What is all this, Ben? What's goin' on?” you asked, twisting to look at the suspiciously full back seat.

“You’ll see, just hold tight for a bit longer, m'kay?” he pleaded, sliding his hand over yours on the console.

The drive was peaceful, the world outside still dark as Ben navigated quiet roads. His thumb rubbed lazy circles over your knuckles as he drove, occasionally lifting your hand to kiss it, all mixing into your drowsy state, amplifying it.

“Sleep if you want,” he murmured, almost as if he read your mind.

Despite your scepticism on this last-minute rendezvous, your sleep-heavy mind couldn’t keep up with his giddy energy. With the soft purr of the engine beneath you and the rhythmic movement of the road lulling you into this half-sleep you found it harder and harder to fight against. The heated seat didn’t help. Neither did Ben’s low hum as he tapped the steering wheel while thumbing circles like a massage over your skin, every so often glancing at you with a look that screamed he knew exactly what he was doing.

Wherever he was taking you, you knew it had to be worth it. You could still feel the warmth of the house on your skin, the chilled morning air battling the heat already building inside the car.

“Just relax, babe,” he laughed softly, brushing his thumb over the back of your hand. “I’ll wake you when we get there.”

You didn’t intend to fall asleep, but the next thing you knew, the car slowed to a stop, the engine idling quietly as the faint sound of waves lapping at the shore reached your ears.

“Hey,” Ben’s voice was soft as he brushed your hair back, his lips brushing against your temple. “We’re here.”

You blinked blearily, looking out the window to see the dark silhouette of the ocean stretching into the horizon, the faint light of dawn beginning to break on the edges. The air smelled salty and fresh, completely different from the Christmas scents of cinnamon and pine you’d left behind.

“The beach?” you asked, your voice still thick with sleep.

Ben grinned, shifting in his seat to face you fully. “Not just the beach. Look out your window.”

That’s when you see it.

You noticed the cozy little beach house, its soft lights glowing warmly against the backdrop of the dark waves. A Christmas wreath hung on the door, and through the large windows, you could see the flicker of a Christmas tree and decorations inside.

“Ben…” you trailed off, your voice catching in your throat as you turned to him.

His grin widened as he reached for the packed bags in the back. “Merry Christmas, baby. This is all ours for the day. Just you and me.”

Your eyes widened. “Ben, wait… Does your family know? What about the rest of Christmas-”

“They know,” he interrupted chuckling like a kid, leaning over to press a kiss to your cheek to calm your spiralling thoughts. “They’re all in on it. That’s why we did Christmas Eve so big yesterday. Mom even helped me set this up.”

The realisation hit you like a wave, and all the little moments over the past week clicked into place, the way Lisa had brushed off his odd behaviour, the quick glances between him and Emma, even Bryan’s playful teasing.

“You planned all this?” you whispered, still trying to wrap your head around it while you woke up.

Ben nodded, his eyes soft as he looked at you. “You deserved something special. You’re always thinking about everyone else, making sure they’re happy, fittin' in for our traditions and family. I wanted this to just be for us.”

You couldn’t say anything. Instead, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug. He held you tightly, his hands warm against your back as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

“You’re ridiculous,” you mumbled into his shoulder, the tiniest smile tugging at your lips.

“Maybe,” he murmured back. “But you love it.”

You pulled away just enough to look at him, your nose brushing his before you pressed your lips to his. “I really do.”

Ben grinned against your mouth before pulling back and nodding toward the house. “C’mon, let’s get inside. Santa apparently dropped something off for us.”

Ben hopped out of the car with a bounce in his step, grabbing the bags from the backseat before coming around to your side. He opened your door with an exaggerated bow, motioning for you to step out.

“After you, Mrs. Claus,” he teased with a wink.

“Not funny,” you mumbled, still not entirely awake but following his lead.

The soft crunch of sand under your shoes mixed with the rhythmic sound of the waves, the faint golden light of the rising sun beginning to spread across the horizon. Ben unlocked the front door with a set of keys he’d clearly had ready, and as he pushed it open, a wave of warmth hit you immediately.

Inside, the beach house was something out of a Floridian winter wonderland fever dream. A towering Christmas tree stood proudly in the corner of the open-plan living room, its branches heavy with warm white lights, delicate glass ornaments, and strands of ribbon that shimmered in the soft glow. Garlands of greenery were draped over the fireplace mantle, complete with stockings embroidered with reindeer. The massive hard-topped kitchen island sat proudly in the shared kitchen-living room space. The wooden beams overhead gave the space a cozy, cabin-like feel, a stark contrast to the sandy shores just steps away outside.

“Wow…” you breathed, taking it all in.

“Thought you’d like it,” Ben said, setting the bags down near the couch.

Your gaze drifted to the couch, where a set of red-and-white Christmas pyjamas were neatly laid out. They were embroidered in gold stitching: “Mr. Claus” and “Mrs. Claus.”

You shot him a look, mock disgusted holding up the “Mrs. Claus” set. “Oh, so that's why you said that earlier...really, Ben?”

He shrugged, utterly unapologetic. “No idea what you're talking about. Santa must’ve been here early.”

You shook your head, but a laugh bubbled out anyway as you grabbed the pyjamas. “You’re something else.”

“Something you love,” he corrected, grinning as he grabbed his set and disappeared down the hallway to change.

Once you were dressed, you stepped back into the living room to find Ben waiting by the tree. He looked ridiculously good, the festive pyjamas fitting tight and snug over his broad shoulders and long frame.

You let yourself melt into his embrace, your cheek resting against his chest as the scent of his cologne mixed with the faint aroma of pine and cinnamon filling the air. His arms tightened around your waist, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

“For what?” he asked, his lips grazing your temple.

“For… all of this. You didn’t have to do it.”

Ben leaned back just enough to tilt your chin up, his brown eyes meeting yours. “Of course I did. How could I not? You’ve done nothing but make this year the best of my life, and this whole month has just been me falling in love with you all over again. I wanted to give you something special in return.”

Emotion tightened in your chest, and instead of responding, you leaned up to kiss him. It was slow and unhurried, the kind of kiss that felt like sealing a promise.

When you finally pulled back, you stayed close, your forehead resting against his. “I really don’t know how I got so lucky.”

“I think it’s the other way around,” Ben said softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek before he pulled you back into his arms, holding you like he never wanted to let go.

After a moment, he gently nudged you toward the couch. “C’mon, let’s get these gifts out and under the tree.”

You smiled, setting down the gifts you’d brought for him under the tree, neatly stacking the carefully wrapped packages and bags. Ben joined you, unloading his own pile, which looked suspiciously extravagant.

“Are those all for me?” you asked, eyeing the growing stack with amusement. His weren't the most neatest, but in fairness, they were oddly shaped and done with love.

“Guess you’ll have to wait and see, but first, let's get breakfast, hm?” he said, nudging your side playfully.

With the tree glowing warmly beside you and Ben at your side, it felt like the rest of the world didn’t exist.

You quirked an eyebrow, sinking into the plush couch as you pulled a blanket over your lap. “You cook now?”

He shot you a faux-offended look, grabbing a spatula from the utensil holder on the counter and spinning it dramatically like a tennis racket.

“First of all, rude. Second, I’ve been practising. So buckle up, baby, this is gonna be five-star dining.” Ben clapped his hands together as he stood, stretching his arms above his head, rolling his neck dramatically like he was back on court.

You laughed, resting your head on the sofa's arm as you watched him bustle around the kitchen. The open floor plan allowed you to see everything, Ben digging through the cabinets, pulling out pans, eggs, and a loaf of crusty bread. He moved with purpose, humming under his breath as he worked, occasionally throwing a smug glance your way as if to say, See? Totally got this.

The warm smell of cinnamon and butter soon wafted through the air, mingling with the faint salty breeze that slipped in from the crack he’d left in the balcony door. Outside, the sun was beginning to rise in earnest, golden light spilling through the floor-to-ceiling windows and painting the space in a soft, dreamy glow.

“French toast?” you guessed, eyeing the griddle where slices of bread sizzled to perfection.

“French toast,” Ben confirmed with a wink. “And bacon. Because, y’know, balance.”

You chuckled softly, feeling the last bits of morning grogginess melt away. Leaning back, you turned around and let your gaze drift to the ocean visible through the windows. The waves rolled lazily onto the shore, their rhythmic crashes blending with the quiet clatter of Ben moving around the kitchen.

A few minutes later, he appeared beside you, holding a plate piled high with perfectly golden French toast, a generous drizzle of syrup glistening on top, and crispy strips of bacon on the side. “For you, my dear,” he said, bowing dramatically as he handed it over.

“Why, thank you, Chef Shelton,” you teased, accepting the plate with a grin.

He returned with his own plate and settled beside you, the couch dipping under his weight as he pulled the blanket over both of you.

“Might as well enjoy breakfast with the best view,” he murmured, nodding toward the windows.

You both dug in, the first bite of the warm, sweet French toast melting in your mouth. “Okay,” you admitted, pointing your fork at him. “This is actually really good.”

Ben smirked, leaning back against the couch. “Man, I told you! I’ve been perfecting my craft.”

The two of you ate in comfortable silence for a while, the rising sun painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. The light reflected off the water, casting shimmering patterns across the walls of the beach house.

At one point, Ben reached over, his fingers brushing against yours as he stole a piece of bacon from your plate. “Hey!” you protested, laughing as you swatted at his hand.

He grinned, unabashed, chewing triumphantly. “What’s yours is mine, remember?”

“Except for food,” you shot back, but your mock irritation was betrayed by the smile tugging at your lips.

As the conversation lowered and plates set down, Ben wiped his hands on a napkin before leaning closer, his voice dropping to a softer tone. “You look beautiful, y’know that?”

You blinked at him, caught off guard. “Ben, I’m literally in pyjamas. My hair’s a mess. I look like I just woke up-”

“And yet,” he said, his eyes warm and sincere, “still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. By far.”

Heat rose to your cheeks, and you looked down at your plate, a soft smile curling your lips. “You’re unbelievable.”

He reached over, gently tilting your chin up so you’d meet his gaze. “And you’re unforgettable.”

You rolled your eyes at the cheesy line, but the flutter in your chest betrayed how much it melted you. “You’re lucky I love you so much.”

Ben laughed, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your lips before settling back with his plate. “Lucky doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

As the last of the French toast disappeared and the sun fully crested the horizon, you leaned into Ben’s side, his arm wrapping securely around your shoulders. The warmth of the morning, the salty breeze, and the quiet intimacy of the moment made it feel like you were in your own little world.

But of course, it wasn't long until Ben had grown jittery while eyeing the wrapped presents under the tree. You both sat on the wooden floors, smiling as you gathered the presents together.

Ben shifted, reaching for a small, neatly wrapped box from the pile beneath the tree. “Alright,” he said, a playful grin tugging at his lips as he handed it to you. “Ladies first.”

You took the gift, your fingers brushing over the smooth wrapping paper, the tag reading your name in Ben’s slightly messy handwriting.

You raised an eyebrow at his boyish gummy grin as you glanced between him and the box. “What’s with the smug look? Is this one of those gag gifts that’s gonna explode confetti or something?”

“Guess you’ll have to open it and see,” he teased, leaning back against the couch with his arms crossed, watching you with barely contained excitement.

Peeling the paper back carefully, you revealed a high-end leather handbag, sleek and elegant in design, with subtle gold hardware, its rich, buttery material practically glowing in the soft light of the tree. Your jaw dropped as you ran your fingers over it, the quality undeniable.

“Ben…” you trailed off, lifting the bag to inspect it. “This is stunning. It’s too much.”

“Nothing’s too much for you,” he said simply, his voice softer now.

You set the bag aside carefully, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you. I love it- I love you."

“My turn,” he said eagerly, his eyes lighting up as you reached for one of the boxes you’d wrapped for him.

Ben tore into the wrapping paper like a kid on Christmas morning, which, technically, he was. He pulled out the McLaren Lego kit, his face lighting up as he turned the box over in his hands.

“No way! You actually got it!” he exclaimed, holding it up like it was a trophy. “I’ve been eyeing this forever, man! You are the best!”

“Figured it’d keep you busy when you’re bored,” you teased.

“Nah, I’m building this today,” he declared, setting it aside carefully.

You smiled, watching the joy on his face as he set the box aside. “Figured it’d keep you busy on those days off you pretend you don’t need.”

He shot you a look, mock offended but still grinning. “Careful, or I’ll make you help me build it.”

“I’d be honoured,” you teased, reaching for another gift he’d picked for you.

This time, it was a plush teddy bear, soft and fluffy, with a small ribbon tied around its neck. As you pulled it close, the faint, familiar scent of Ben’s cologne wafted up, wrapping you in comfort.

“You sprayed it with your cologne?” you asked, laughing softly, sniffing it as you hugged it to your chest.

Ben shrugged, a bashful smile tugging at his lips. “Figured it’d keep you company when I’m not around. Plus, he's the only one I'm approving to cuddle you when I'm on tour.”

You shook your head, grinning as you kissed the bear’s head, before kissing Ben's. “It’s adorable. Thank you.”

The two of you continued taking turns, the room filling with laughter and quiet gasps of surprise. You got him new headphones, one that came with tracking so he couldn't lose them, though you knew he'd find some way of making that happen. You also got him a box of different snacks and sweets, all his favourites from his time touring abroad or ones he meant to try but couldn't for one reason or another.

When you handed him the velvet pouch containing the custom silver keychain you bought at the Christmas market, his brow furrowed curiously.

"This one’s… special.” You handed him a velvet pouch, watching as he untied the drawstring and pulled out the custom car keychain.

He pulled it out, his eyes widening as he read the Roman numerals of your anniversary engraved on the sleek metal.

“Woah…” Ben murmured, turning the keychain over in his hands. The Roman numerals gleamed softly in the light of the Christmas tree, and his thumb brushed over the engraving as if committing it to memory.

“They’re the Roman numerals for our anniversary,” you said quietly, watching his reaction.

“This is incredible. I’m putting this on my keys the second we’re done here.”

Ben’s smile was slow but brilliant, and he reached over to pull you into a hug. Before you could respond, Ben looked over the metal again, then sprang to his feet, excitement bubbling over. “Nah, I’m putting this on my keys right now. Hold up!”

He darted toward the hallway, his socked feet slipping slightly on the polished wooden floors. You couldn’t help but laugh as he caught himself on the doorframe, looking back at you with a sheepish grin.

“I meant to do that,” he called back, laughing at his own clumsiness.

“Sure you did,” you teased, shaking your head as you watched him disappear into the other room.

A moment later, he was back, his keys jingling triumphantly in his hand. He slid the keychain onto the ring, holding it up to admire it before stuffing the whole thing into his pocket.

“There,” he said, flopping back down beside you with a satisfied grin. “Now it’s official.”

You smiled, leaning into him and resting your head on his shoulder. “I'm almost getting jealous of that car.”

“I don't kiss my car,” he quipped, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before pulling you closer.

"Mm, not yet." You smiled, handing him the velvet box. His fingers brushed over the soft velvet before he pulled out the custom silver ring. His initials sat on one side, yours on the other, a simple but meaningful design that made his eyes glisten.

“You didn’t have to…” he started, his voice soft with emotion.

“I wanted to,” you interrupted gently. “Something just for you.”

Ben slipped the ring onto his finger, flexing his hand as if to test the fit.

“You really thought of everything,” he said softly, slipping the ring onto his finger and holding it up to admire. “This is perfect.”

Ben stared at the silver ring, a teasing smirk curling his lips as he wiggled his fingers. “Y’know, giving a guy a ring this nice but… people might start talking,” he quipped, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “Shouldn't you be down on one knee right now, or…?”

Your laughter bubbled out before you could stop it, the warmth of the moment loosening your nerves. “Oh, don’t even start,” you shot back, shaking your head.

Ben grinned wider, leaning closer to nudge your shoulder with his. “What? I’m just saying, you’ve got the whole package ready, like we're in matching pjs and you got me a custom ring… Feels kinda like a proposal if you ask me.”

“Yeah? Well, maybe I should’ve gotten a little speech ready while I was at it,” you countered, trying to hold back your smile.

Ben laughed, low and warm, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Alright, alright, I’ll back off,” he said, lifting his hands in mock surrender. “But seriously, this means a lot. You didn’t have to go this far. I'm gonna be wearin' this everywhere, showin' everyone what my girl got me.”

“It’s not just a gift, it’s a reminder. Wherever you go, you’ve got a piece of us with you.”

Ben’s expression softened, and he reached out to cradle your face in his hand, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack, babe,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss you gently.

“Good,” you teased, pulling back just enough to nudge his nose with yours.

Ben chuckled, slipping the ring back on and holding it up like he was admiring a priceless artefact. “Alright, your turn,” he said, nudging the next box toward you with a grin. “Let’s see if I can top this.”

Now that it was your turn again, Ben handed you a small, flat box.

Inside was a stack of many, many postcards, each one from a place he’d travelled to. Turning them over, you found messages written on the back of each short, heartfelt message that ranged from funny memories to sweet sentiments about missing you over the duration of the tour.

You picked one at random, noticing Ben’s handwriting on the back, dated from his trip to Paris for the Paris Masters. On the back, he’d written, ‘I missed you so much while I was here. Beat Moutet today, was exhausting though. The Eiffel Tower was pretty, but not as beautiful as you. I can’t wait for us to visit together someday. Thinking of you, like always - your Ben. 29th October 2024.’

Your throat tightened as you read it, picking up another, each postcard a snapshot of his travels and his thoughts of you and a recap of his day.

“Ben…” Your voice wavered as you blinked back the sudden sting of tears.

“I thought… you know, since I can’t always bring you with me, this might be the next best thing...show you 'm always thinkin' of you..,” he said, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you leaned forward, cupping his face in your hands. “I love you so damn much,” you whispered, kissing him softly.

The last gift from him was a music box, its sleek wooden exterior engraved with delicate designs. When you opened it, a soft, familiar melody filled the room, your song, the one that played on loop the night of your first date together, the one that followed you around on dates, whenever you thought of him, when he asked you to be his.

The song that holds you while he's away, swirling you in memories and warmth.

You couldn’t speak, the lump in your throat too heavy, so you simply leaned into him, letting the music wash over you both as he held you close while tears spilt.

“Best Christmas ever?” he murmured against your temple, his arms wrapped securely around you.

You nodded your voice barely a whisper. “Easily. Thank you. For all of this. For everything.”

Ben grinned, pressing a kiss to your hair. “Good. ‘Cause it’s only getting better, every year we spend together. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Ben.”

The day melted into an easy rhythm, filled with shared smiles, easy conversation and soft laughter. Ben slid onto the couch beside you with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate, the faint aroma of chocolate and cinnamon wafting through the air. Tiny marshmallows floated on the surface, slowly melting into sugary perfection.

He handed you a mug before settling in, his arm naturally curling around your shoulders. You nestled into his side, your legs draped lazily over his lap as the opening scenes of Home Alone flickered across the screen.

Ben's fingers found your knee, tracing lazy, absentminded circles as Kevin's antics brought out bouts of laughter from both of you. The sound of his laugh, deep and warm, made your heartache in the best way. You couldn’t help stealing glances at him, at the way the soft light of the TV played against his features, highlighting the curve of his smile.

As the afternoon slipped away and the golden hues of the setting sun painted the sky, Ben stretched, the movement causing you to shift slightly against him. He leaned back, his head tilting toward you with a familiar, mischievous glint in his eye.

“You know,” he started, his tone playful but laced with something deeper, “I think I still haven’t unwrapped the best gift.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking as you caught the suggestive lilt in his voice. “Oh?” you asked, feigning innocence.

Ben’s grin spread wider, the kind that sent a thrill straight through you. “Yeah. Pretty sure it’s sitting right next to me,” he said, his voice dropping lower as he leaned in closer, his nose brushing yours.

Heat crept up your neck, and you couldn’t hold back the shy giggle bubbling from your lips. “You’re terrible,” you murmured, unable to resist the teasing spark between you.

“Terrible?” he echoed, mock offended as his free hand slid to rest on your waist. “I think you mean charming.”

The air between you seemed to hum, charged with the promise of more as his thumb traced a slow, deliberate pattern over your hip.

“Mm, that's debatable,” you replied, your voice quieter now, the space between you shrinking.

Ben laughed softly, his lips grazing your temple before lingering near your ear. “Yeah? Let's change your mind then. I've been waitin' to have you all alone...” he whispered, the words full of warmth and something unspoken.

And in that moment, with the soft glow of the screen and the ocean waves whispering beyond the windows, the rest of the world fell away. Everything felt simple and complete, wrapped in the quiet kind of love that made the memory of this Christmas one you’d carry forever.

[giveafike]

Azzie you’re killing rn… I have been waiting for the Chrismas eve special like literally all day; my patience is died now 😭

hehehe I’m glad! But also…Ben never opened his gifts or talking about what he’s planning? What’s going on…

Let’s hope Santa has a surprise for us tmr…shall we? hehehe <33

[giveafike]

Silent Night, No More - B.T.S

TLDR: CHRISTMAS EVE! This is part 12/12, the last part of Azzie's Advent Calendar 2024!

Word count + info: 5k + dialogue.

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW! No warnings : )

Azzie Notes ✚: Christmas Eve chapter! Finally here, phew! Enjoy reading, and have a lovelyyyy holiday szn my loves <3 be safe and I wish nothing but peace and joy for u and ur loved ones :)

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Christmas Eve dawned on the house, and as soon as the house awakened, excitement and joy immediately lit the house throughout each room. Lisa’s kitchen felt like the heart of the house, beating warm and alive, with an aroma that wafted through the house, every surface serving a purpose as she began cooking the dishes, getting everything for the feast set to ensue later. The counters were a cluttered symphony of ingredients, flour-dusted bowls, glass jars of different herbs and spices, and a large array of serving dishes and other equipment. The oven hummed, working overtime while the gas stoves remained alight with several pots atop, as trays of stuffing and casseroles exchanged places. Lisa moved with the confidence of a seasoned cook, wielding her wooden spoon like a wand.

You, Emma and Ben, had weaved in and out throughout the day, helping clean up the kitchen or assisting in tasting and aiding in preparing some of the dishes. Still, truly Lisa seemed to have it under control, especially with all the prep you both had done the other day. Now it was more a case of gossiping and talking, keeping company while the minutes ticked away while Ben got shooed away to set up the large dining table and the kid's table for dinner.

Emma leaned against the counter, sneaking a piece of carrot from the chopping board while Lisa’s back was turned. “Caught you. Down, girl,” Lisa said without even looking, and Emma’s hand froze mid-air.

“Dang it,” Emma muttered, popping the stolen piece into her mouth anyway. “You’ve got eyes in the back of your head.”

“Mother’s intuition,” Lisa replied, her tone amused as she sprinkled paprika over a bubbling dish. Then, she turned to you. “You keeping her in check?”

You raised both hands in mock surrender. “She’s a free spirit. What am I to do, Lis?”

Emma giggled, linking her arm through yours. “Come on, let’s get ready before Mom ropes us into something else.”

In Emma’s room, Christmas jumpers were laid out on her bed like a festive fashion show. “We’ve got options for the both of us, but you have to wear a Christmas jumper - no escape,” she declared, holding up two hangers.

One featured a fluffy snowman surrounded by tiny, twinkling LED lights; the other was a maroon sweater adorned with white snowflakes and reindeer. “Which one says ‘I’m the life of the party, but also an excellent gift recipient’?”

You laughed, pointing to the reindeer sweater. “Definitely this one.”

She handed it to you before holding up another for herself, a green jumper with a cheerful Santa Claus and jingling bells stitched onto the sleeves. “Perfect,” she declared. “Let’s get festive.”

As you pulled on the sweater and paired it with a sweet black pleated skirt, you glanced at yourself in the mirror and couldn’t help but smile. It was cozy and just the right amount of ridiculous. You pulled your hair back and did light makeup, just blush and concealer and a touch of mascara. Emma, already fully dressed, fluffed her hair and tugged you into a selfie. “Documenting this for the archives,” she said, sticking out her tongue.

The two of you headed back downstairs, where Ben was crouched by the Christmas tree, adjusting the gifts as he snuck his Secret Santa present there too. He stood up as you entered, his eyes lighting up when he saw you. His own jumper, a deep red one with white reindeer, matched yours almost exactly.

Emma burst out laughing. “You two look like you planned this!”

“We didn’t!” you protested, feigning annoyance though your cheeks burned as Ben looked at you, his smile widening.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he said, tugging at his sleeve. “Guess great minds think alike.”

Back in the kitchen, Bryan had just returned, jingling his keys as he carried in a bag filled with snacks.

“Got the goods!” he announced, setting the bag down on the counter. “And before anyone asks, yes, I did mean to buy candy canes the day before Christmas.”

“Uh-huh,” Lisa said, arching an eyebrow. She reached into the bag and pulled out a pack of marshmallows. “And these were on the list?”

“Essential for s'mores,” Bryan said, unrepentant. Then, leaning closer to Lisa, he added in a low voice, “I stopped by the PO Box.”

Lisa smirked knowingly. “Last-minute gift retrieval?”

“Shh,” Bryan replied, holding a finger to his lips as he glanced at you and Emma. “Not a word.”

“Don’t worry,” Emma said, her tone dripping with faux innocence. “Your secret’s safe with us…for now.”

As Bryan moved past you, he clapped a hand on Ben’s shoulder. “You all set up here, kid?”

“Mostly,” Ben replied. He gestured to the table with a sweeping hand. “You want to check my work?”

Bryan squinted at the table like a coach assessing a play. “Not bad, not bad. You might have a future in hospitality if this tennis thing doesn't work out, son.”

Ben rolled his eyes, a grin tugging at his lips. “Good to know I’ve got options.”

As the sun began to set, the kitchen became a flurry of activity. Lisa transferred dishes to serving platters while Emma handled the gravy, stirring it with exaggerated care while you got the cranberry sauce ready. “Gotta keep the lumps out,” she said, winking at you.

Bryan circled back, snagging a piece of bread from the cutting board and earning a sharp “Bryan!” from Lisa.

“What? Quality control,” he defended, chewing unabashedly. Then he turned to you. “By the way, you’re fitting in around here like you’ve been part of the family for years. Good job surviving this lot.”

“Thanks,” you replied with a laugh. “I’m enjoying every chaotic minute.”

Bryan smiled warmly, and for a moment, the teasing glint in his eyes softened as he pat your back. “We’re glad to have you here. Really.”

Ben leaned against the counter beside you, brushing your shoulder with his. “Told you they’d love you,” he said quietly.

Your chest warmed as you turned to him, your voice soft. “Guess I’m just lucky to have the best companion.”

Ben smirked, nudging you lightly. “Please, lucky’s an understatement.”

“Alright, you three,” Lisa called, pointing her spoon at you, Ben and Emma as you stood near the cabinets. “The nice plates and cutlery are in the top drawer, and the good cups are wrapped in the linen closet. Don’t break anything.”

Emma rolled her eyes with a grin, nudging you. “She acts like we’re five. Come on, let’s make this table look like a magazine spread.”

The two of you dug out the plates, admiring the intricate designs that only ever came out for Christmas. Emma carried the stack carefully, while you followed with the silverware and cups, setting them down on the dining table where Ben was already arranging the candles and centrepiece.

“Keep it neat, Benny,” Emma teased as she set the plates down. “This isn’t your tennis playstyle; exactness matters.”

Ben shot her a playful glare, adjusting a placemat just to spite her. “Precision’s my speciality, Em. You’re lucky I’m not measurin' angles here.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you placed forks and knives neatly beside the plates. The three of you worked in unison, the table gradually transforming into a picture-perfect setup with now lit candles, a centrepiece of poinsettias, and a sprinkling of gold and red decor.

As the sun dipped low, the food was plated onto the good dishes and placed in warming trays, bowls and serving trays, the kitchen alive with the clatter of lids and Lisa’s cheerful humming. Bryan returned to the rest of you, a sheepish smile plastered on his face after swiftly tossing his Secret Santa gift beneath the tree.

With the house organised and ready it wasn't long before the family began to arrive.

The door opened to a flood of warmth and sound. Aunts and uncles piled in with cheerful exclamations, small children rowdy and excited darting through your legs, and laughter filled the space as Ben’s family began their Christmas Eve takeover. The smell of cookies, pine, and faint notes of perfume wafted in with them, making the house feel even cozier.

Ben and Emma led the welcoming committee, diving into hugs and playful jabs like they’d been waiting all year for this moment. You followed closely, feeling the contagious energy of their enthusiasm.

One of Ben’s aunts, her arms full of baked goods, set them down to pull you into a tight hug. “Oh, so you’re the one,” she said with a knowing smile. “Ben’s talked about you nonstop. We were beginning to think you weren’t real!”

“I’m real, I promise,” you replied, laughing as she squeezed you again.

Ben’s grandmother was next, her soft hands wrapping around yours as she studied you closely. Her eyes crinkled with warmth. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” she said, her drawl wrapping around the words like a melody. “This boy better be treatin’ you right.”

“Oh, he is, it's a pleasure to finally meet you,” you assured her, feeling your cheeks warm under her kind gaze.

Ben appeared behind you, throwing an arm around his grandmother’s shoulders. “Nana, you’re embarrassing me,” he teased, though the fondness in his tone was unmistakable.

“Good,” she shot back, giving his arm a light slap before turning back to you, squeezing your hand tight before letting go. “We’ll talk more later, sweetheart.”

The uncles were just as welcoming, their handshakes firm and accompanied by wide grins. One leaned in conspiratorially, muttering, “If Ben’s giving you any trouble, let me know. I’ve got plenty of stories that’ll keep him humble.”

“Noted,” you said, unable to suppress your giggles.

Before long, the younger cousins made their presence known. They were a whirlwind of energy, zipping through the living room like tiny tornados. One darted behind you hiding, clearly using you as an advantage for a game of tag, giggling maniacally as another launched themselves at Ben, wrapping their arms around his waist.

“Ben!” the little one squealed.

“Oh no, not again,” Ben groaned dramatically, lifting the child effortlessly and perching them on his shoulders. “Alright, who’s next? Form a line!”

Three more cousins swarmed him, clambering up his legs and giggling as he tried to fend them off with mock protests. “I’m not a jungle gym!” he shouted, though his wide smile betrayed him.

You watched from the side, laughing at the chaos. One cousin paused mid-sprint to look up at you with curious eyes. “Are you his girlfriend?”

Before you could answer, Emma swooped in. “She’s our new favourite family member,” she said with a wink, ushering the little one back into the fray.

Dinner was nothing short of a spectacle. The dining table stretched to its limit, every inch covered with dishes that looked like they’d been lifted from the pages of a holiday cookbook. Platters of turkey, mashed potatoes, green beans, and cornbread vied for space with glasses of sparkling cider and wine.

Lisa stood at the head of the table, raising her hands to gather everyone’s attention. “Alright, everyone,” she said, her voice calm but commanding. “Before we dig in, let’s join hands for a quick prayer.”

You reached for the hands nearest to you, finding Ben’s warm grip on one side and his grandmother’s gentle hold on the other. The room quieted as Lisa spoke.

“Dear Lord,” she began, her voice steady and heartfelt. “Thank you for this family, for this meal, and for the blessing of being together on this special night. May we remember the joy of giving, the love that binds us, and the hope that tomorrow brings. Amen.”

“Amen,” echoed through the room, and then the feast began.

The meal was a lively affair, filled with overlapping conversations, clinking glasses, and occasional bursts of laughter. Ben’s younger cousins, who had temporarily calmed down enough to eat, couldn’t resist sneaking off with a plate of sugar cookies halfway through dinner. They reappeared moments later with suspiciously sweet-smelling fingers and wide-eyed innocence.

Ben caught them red-handed. “Hey! Those are for dessert, y'all are some sneaky lil-!” he feigned anger, chasing them around the table while the rest of the family laughed.

"He always finds a way to sneak back to the kid's table, huh?" one voice laughed.

Bryan just shook his head, pretending to be disappointed as he took a deep sigh, "Every year..."

Once everyone had eaten their fill, the group naturally drifted to the living room, bunching up together. The kids wasted no time sprawling across the carpet in front of the TV, eyes glued to the animated version of The Grinch that played on the screen while milk, cookies and other sweet treats were shared amongst them. Their giggles punctuated the festive chatter, pillows and blankets passed between them like treasures.

The adults, meanwhile, settled into clusters around the room, the cozy couches and armchairs filling quickly. Ben was at the centre of one group, effortlessly juggling questions about his career with that easy charm of his.

“So, what’s next for you, big shot?” one of his uncles teased, though the pride in his voice was unmistakable. “Still aiming for top 10?”

Ben leaned back against the couch, his posture relaxed but attentive. His arm rested along the back of the cushion behind you, a subtle but comforting presence.

“That’s the plan. It’s been a good year so far, but next season’s gonna be a whole new level. A lot of travel, a lot of long days, but I’m ready for it.”

Another uncle nodded approvingly. “As long as you’re enjoying it,” he said, his tone warm. “That’s what matters. Doesn’t hurt that you’re putting our name on the map, either.”

Ben smiled, the corners of his mouth lifting with quiet pride. “Yeah, it’s been fun. It’s a lot of work, but honestly, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

One of his aunts, sitting on the edge of a loveseat nearby, chimed in. “Well, it’s been amazing watching you shine, Ben. Just make sure you’re taking care of yourself too.”

“I’ve got that covered,” Ben assured her, his eyes briefly flicking to you. “It helps to have good people around to keep me grounded.”

The conversation naturally shifted, as all eyes subtly turned toward you. It wasn’t sudden or forced, just a gentle pivot, like a tide rolling in.

Ben’s aunt leaned forward slightly, her expression curious but kind.

“So,” she began, her eyes twinkling with curiosity, “what’s it been like being with Ben? I mean, being with someone who’s on the road so much, always on tour. That’s gotta be… a lot on your shoulders too, sweetheart.”

Ben glanced at you, his expression softening in quiet encouragement as if to say, It’s okay, be honest.

“It definitely has its challenges,” you admitted. “There’s a lot of planning and juggling schedules, but honestly, it’s worth it. Ben has a way of making every moment feel important, even if we don’t get as much time together as we’d like. Quality time over the quantity of time, y'know?”

One of the uncles grinned knowingly, his voice teasing but kind. “Sounds like our Benny’s doing something right for a change.”

Ben rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. “You’re not wrong,” he quipped, earning a round of laughter from the group.

Another voice chimed in, tone pensive. “I can imagine it takes patience. And maybe even a little creativity? It's not like you can always go out or be public, goodness...”

You nodded, humming in agreeance. “Exactly. But it helps that he’s so passionate about what he does. It’s easy to root for someone when you see how much they love what they’re doing. And we're both good at making time for each other and communicating, it works out well.”

“She’s been good around here, huh?” one of the uncles said, gesturing toward you. “Lis, I don’t think we’ve seen you this relaxed in a long time.”

Lisa raised an eyebrow, looking mock-offended. “Excuse me, I am the epitome of relaxed all the time.”

Bryan, returning from the kitchen with a plate of s'mores for the kids, snorted. “Mmhmm, sure you are.”

Lisa waved him off but smiled warmly, her gaze landing on you. “She’s been a breath of fresh air, that’s for sure. I don’t know how Ben managed to talk her into coming down here to spend it with us, but I’m glad he did.”

Ben’s grandmother nodded in agreement, breaking into a gentle smile. “Me too,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “It’s been lovely having you here with us. How’s it been, spending the holidays with all of us? We can be a little… energetic.”

The warmth in the room was palpable, and you felt your cheeks heat at the attention. “Thank you,” you said, your voice earnest. “It’s been incredible. I think I’ve been smiling nonstop since I got here. Everyone’s been so welcoming, it really feels like being part of something special.”

A ripple of murmured appreciation and smiles went around the room, and one of Ben’s uncles, seated with a glass of cider in hand, grinned broadly. “Well, that’s good to hear. We don’t exactly do quiet, but we do a whole lotta love.”

“It shows,” you replied, a genuine smile on your face. “It’s a good kind of chaos. It’s been easy to feel at home.”

The kids erupted into another round of laughter, their voices catching the attention of the room as one tried to mimic the Grinch’s dramatic sly walk, much to the delight of the other children. Their antics drew the group’s attention for a moment, lightening the mood even further.

Ben's hand found its way to your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. His voice filled with pride but just above a whisper. “You okay?” His gaze held yours, steady and sincere.

You turned to him, your smile growing softer. “Yeah,” you said quietly, just for him. “Better than okay.”

He smiled that private little grin that was just for you, and gave your shoulder another reassuring squeeze and a pressing kiss to your temple before turning back to the room. His arm stayed where it was, a silent claim and sign of pride.

As the conversation dropped into a story time of some incident earlier this month you took a moment or two to just sit there surrounded by laughter, chatter, and warmth, feeling entirely at peace. It wasn’t just Ben, it was the family, the energy, and the way they opened their home and hearts to you. You glanced at him again, finding him already looking at you, and you couldn’t help but think, this feels like home.

The room quieted slightly as the conversation dwindled down, which prompted Bryan to stand and clap his hands once, the sound cutting through the chatter. “Alright, everyone, settle down, I think it’s Secret Santa time!”

The announcement was met with cheers, laughter, and some playful groans from the kids, who had long forgone the Grinch and were more interested in a game of play-fighting each other and bouncing on the couch. Lisa emerged from the kitchen with a tray of hot cocoa for the younger ones, while the adults pulled their chairs closer into a semi-circle around the Christmas tree.

“Okay,” Bryan started, grabbing a gift and reading the tag, “this one’s for… Em!”

Emma squealed in delight and scrambled forward, nearly tripping over one of the little cousins who stuck themselves out last minute. She took the neatly wrapped gift from Bryan’s hands, plopped down cross-legged in front of the tree, and tore into it with dramatic flair.

“Oh my gosh!” she shrieked, holding up a beautiful matching outdoor all-weather jacket set, one for her and Halo, alongside a bracelet and dog collar. The colours complemented Halo’s coat perfectly, and there was even a little charm engraved with Halo’s name. “This is so cute, all I put on my wishlist was somethin' for me 'n Halo, who did this?”

You raised your hand a little shy. “That’d be me.”

Emma’s pout was instant and exaggerated, but her eyes sparkled. “You! You’re too good at this!” She bolted up, practically leaping at you as she enveloped you in a tight hug. Her lips pressed a loud, playful kiss to your cheek before she pulled back. “Seriously, this is the best. Thank you!” She immediately began calling Halo over to try on his new gift, beaming with excitement.

Bryan reached for the next present, his grin wide. “Alright, next up… this one’s for Ben.”

Ben took the box with an exaggerated bow, earning laughter and applause. He made a show of shaking it next to his ear, grinning mischievously. “Hmm, feels important,” he teased, glancing at you like you might give something away.

“Just open it, drama king,” Emma called, rolling her eyes.

Ben tore the wrapping away, revealing a sleek black journal and a beautifully designed scratch-off world map. His smile softened as he turned the journal over in his hands, fingers grazing the cover. “This is perfect,” he said, his voice quieter now. He looked around the room, his expression genuinely touched. “I’ve been wanting something like this, I'll do a review on tour and write it down. Thank you, secret Santa.”

“You're welcome,” Lisa admitted, raising her hand with a proud smile. “I figured you could use it for your next season. Better than the normal bunch I get you.”

Ben crossed the room in a few strides, leaning down to kiss his mom on the cheek. “You nailed it,” he said, his gratitude evident.

The next few rounds brought a mix of hilarity and sentimentality. One uncle unwrapped a set of novelty socks featuring flamingos in Santa hats, which sent the room into fits of laughter. An older cousin received a set of gourmet spice blends for their newly discovered love of cooking. One of the younger kids was delighted with a jellycat plushie and various popular blind-boxes, which they immediately hugged to their chest.

Finally, Bryan reached for the gift labelled with your name. “This one’s for you,” he said, handing it over with a grin.

You took the gift, noticing the impeccable wrapping job. “Someone had this done professionally,” you teased, shaking the box gently before pulling at the tape. The room watched eagerly as you opened it, revealing a beautifully curated gift set: an engraved charm bracelet and a luxurious throw blanket in your favourite colour.

“Wow,” you murmured, touched by the thoughtfulness. You glanced up after a few seconds, your eyes scanning the room until they landed on Bryan, who was sitting suspiciously still, legs crossed, a smile tugging at his lips as he tried to cover his mouth from giving him away.

“Bryan!” you exclaimed, laughing as you stood. His wide grin gave him away immediately. "Terrible poker face."

“Guilty,” he admitted, rising to meet your hug. His arms wrapped warmly around you, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Glad you like it.”

“Like it? I love it!” you said, squeezing him back before sitting down again.

As the gifts continued to be opened, the room filled with laughter and joy. Lisa’s gift, a handmade quilt stitched with everyone’s names, earned her a round of applause, while Ben’s grandmother unwrapped a stunning piece of holiday artwork for her mantle, bringing tears to her eyes.

By the time the final gift was opened, everyone was either laughing, hugging, or marvelling at the thoughtfulness of the night, not one present unappreciated. It was pure magic, exactly the kind of warmth and connection that made this holiday unforgettable.

It wasn't long before the well-loved karaoke machine turned into the centrepiece of the late evening. After the initial warm-up of Feliz Navidad with you, Ben, and Emma leading the mission to get everyone in the mood, the night unfolded with a lively lineup of songs. Bryan’s spirited Jingle Bell Rock performance had everyone laughing and clapping, his dramatic hip wiggles earning him a standing ovation from the kids. Lisa’s O Holy Night was a showstopper; her voice soared so beautifully that even the little ones paused their antics to listen momentarily.

The room erupted into applause when she finished, with Bryan dramatically wiping away a fake tear and declaring, “That’s my wife!”

Throughout it all the kids, despite their sugar highs, began to wear down with a sugar crash. One by one, they started curling up on couches, leaning against older cousins, or lying on the plush carpet in front of the tree. Ben surprised everyone with a charmingly off-key rendition of Last Christmas, dedicating it to you while his family howled in laughter when he purposefully butchered the high notes.

“Don’t quit your day job, son,” Bryan teased, throwing a decorative pillow at him.

“Oh, I think I nailed it,” Ben shot back, winking at you as he handed the microphone off to the next brave soul.

You even found yourself roped into a duet with Emma, an upbeat version of Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree, earning a cheer when you both ended with exaggerated bows and somehow, tinsel garlands around your necks like scarves. The energy in the room shifted to a more relaxed hum as the night wore on. Conversations grew quieter, and laughter turned softer as the clock ticked closer to midnight.

By the time the last notes of karaoke faded, the practical task of winding down the house began. Air mattresses were pulled from closets and inflated in the living room for the family staying over. Emma tossed pillows and blankets onto each one, laughing when Ben dropped onto one mattress dramatically, testing its bounce like a kid.

“Ben, you’re gonna pop that thing!” Lisa called from the kitchen, her voice holding a mix of amusement and warning.

The others slowly began to filter out, gathering their coats and wishing everyone a cheerful goodnight and a Merry Christmas. Hugs were exchanged at the door, the promise of seeing each other bright and early the next morning lingering in the air.

The house finally quieted as only the immediate family remained on their feet.

Together, you, Ben, Lisa, Bryan, and Emma tackled the cleanup. Dishes clinked in the sink as Bryan dried them off while Lisa packed leftovers into tupperware with precision. You and Emma worked side by side, wiping down the counters and collecting the last of the wrapping paper scattered near the tree.

“Teamwork makes the dream work,” Emma quipped, passing you another wet cloth.

Ben appeared behind you, reaching for the glasses you’d just dried. “Or at least keeps us from being here until morning,” he added, flashing you a quick grin.

As the final crumbs were swept and the house was put back in order, you found yourself in the kitchen with Ben. He leaned against the counter, his phone in hand, its faint glow casting a soft light across his face. When he caught a glimpse of you, his brows unfurrowed as he quickly tucked his phone back into his pocket.

“Caught you,” you teased, stepping closer. “Being sneaky again?”

“Maybe... just trust me, alright? You’ll see soon enough.”

You tilted your head, pretending to scrutinize him. “You’re lucky tonight was perfect, or I might press you for answers.”

“Perfect, huh?” He pushed off the counter and closed the space between you, his hands brushing yours before settling gently on your waist. “So, my crazy family didn’t scare you off?”

“Not even close,” you murmured, smiling up at him. “They’re wonderful. Tonight was… everything.”

His eyes softened, and he leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I’m so glad you’re here with me.”

The clock above the stove caught your eye as it ticked past midnight. A small laugh escaped you. “Ben,” you said, nudging him gently, “it’s officially Christmas!”

He caught a glimpse of the clock, his eyes wide as a smile broke out on his face.

“Merry Christmas,” you mumbled before the moment could pass, he leaned down and kissed you, a soft, unhurried kiss that made the world outside of this moment melt away.

When you finally pulled back, his forehead rested gently against yours, his hand cradling your face, breath warm as it mingled with yours. For a moment, neither of you said anything, the hum of the dishwasher and the faint creak of the settling house the only sounds around you.

His hands slid down to yours, fingers intertwining as he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice low and sincere. “For being here. For everything.”

You smiled softly, giving his hands a gentle squeeze. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

The warmth between you was all-encompassing, as though the world had shrunk down to just this kitchen, just this moment. The kitchen remained as the heart of the home, and your heart was here, holding you in his arms, eyes boring into yours with an immeasurable amount of love for you. His thumb brushed across your knuckles as his lips curved into a quiet, contented smile.

From the living room, a faint rustle sounded as Emma and Lisa talked their quiet laughter a reminder of the family still tucked away nearby. The twinkling Christmas lights cast a soft glow over the house, and in the stillness, everything felt whole.

Ben leaned in again, pressing another kiss to your forehead, his voice barely above a whisper. “Merry Christmas,” he said once more, as though savouring the words.

“Merry Christmas,” you echoed, the words wrapping around you both like a blanket. Together, you stood there a moment longer, letting the night settle into your hearts before finally, hand in hand, you turned off the last of the lights and let the warmth of the day carry you both forward.

---

hm. what a weird way to end...right?...

[giveafike]

✧ not a lot, just forever — Ben Shelton smau

☆ a/n: it is my first time writing for ben so isjdjsj i am kinda anxious.. let’s see how it goes!!

☆ summary: you and ben have been best friends when you were kids, the destiny pulled you apart, until your friend coco got you the finest tickets on the US open match.

☆ face claim: Jorja Douglas bc why not

☆ warnings: none really, probably mentions of drinking!!

usopen

liked by benshelton, cocogauff, atptour and 592.918 others

usopen Local boy takes over the Semis! Ben Shelton plays today at the center court of the US Open.. See who there?

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cocogauff yoursername that’s the match for today

emmashelton_ let’s goooo 🔥

benshelton to put up a show

bigfoe1998 that guy likes to show off

↳ benshelton who can blame me?

user4 HE IS SO HOT

user01 please god let him bring it home

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yourusername

liked by cocogauff, moorrgs, atptour and 15,829 others

yourusername coco gave me some nice tickets to my childhood best friend match and honey deuces, guess i love tennis now

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benshelton you look very good in red too 🔥

↳ cocogauff CALM DOOOWNN

cocogauff if i knew you knew him i would never..

yourfriend invite me next!!!

moorrgs you are the best! can you come back to taylor’s match please

↳ yourusername i am too into tennis to say no 😭 count me in

cocogauff i can’t believe you have never been to an open before

atptour can’t blame shelton for winning and playing like that

↳ benshelton have to impress the girl

emmashelton_ can’t believe you and ben found each other again!!! 😊

bigfoe1998 ayan loved you!! hit us up when you in town again

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✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

yourusername

liked by cocogauff, emmashelton_, benshelton and 23,829 others

yourusername always a party when i am home!!!! 🇺🇸🐊

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emmashelton_ PLEASE NEVER LEAVE!!! 🩷🩷

↳ yourfriend give her back 🤺🤺🤺🤺

cocogauff how can i not get a cake when i go to florida????

benshelton i surely know how to throw a party

emmashelton_ we look so good tho 🔥

sheltonsgf OKAY you look insanely hot

sheltoonss BEN COULD NEVER BAG U

↳ benshelton do not doubt on my game

taylor_fritz morgan is going to make me fly to florida please

ayan.broomfield hair looks INSANE please drop the routine

↳ yourusername i literally copied yours

holgerrune 🔥 (liked by the author)

bennysheltz OKAY WHAT IS RUNE DOING HERE???

↳ user71 and she liked it??? OKAY

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deuxmoi

liked by cocogauff, bigfoe1998 and 172.918 others

deuxmoi It looks like tennis player Ben Shelton is out there having fun with a mysterious woman! Any guesses?

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bennysheltz i would give a lot of money to be yn

sheltongirl lets wake up bc it’s probably a girl we will never know about

cocogauff benshelton care to explain????

↳ sheltonsgirl the way even coco has no idea who it is 😭😭😭

tennisworlds can yourusername move i need to know if it’s her

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yourusername

liked by benshelton, holgerrune, emmashelton_ and 33.929 others

yourusername fooling around europe

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holgerrune switzerland pride

emmashelton_ that is a very beautiful bouquet 😍😍

bennysheltz A MANS HAND???????

sheltonupdates and no ben in the comments???

cocogauff and no visiting me??

↳ yourusername as soon as this foolery ends my love

atptour our favorite fashion icon 🫶

↳ yourusername please give me paris tickets.. need to serve more

↳ sheltonsgirl u in basel queen?

↳ yourusername indeed! 😊

user10 what is your favorite drink!!!!????

↳ yourusername dating a tennis player doesn’t really allow u to drink

↳ benjaminshelton U DATING A TENNIS PLAYER??? WHO???

↳ runeshelton don’t know but both my men are running only one won…

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benshelton

liked by yourusername, atptour, rogerfederer and 718.018 others.

benshelton did not return with a trophy but secured my best win 🤍

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yourusername so proud of your run this week 🤍

yourusername you are the best win ever

↳ cocogauff please say thank you coco for the tickets

↳ benshelton i owe u my life coco

atptour bring her to paris on us!

↳ yourusername I LOVE YOU ATP

rogerfederer 🙏 keep it on!

emmashelton_ probably 10 years later finally

↳ benshelton i have a crazy pull game

bennysheltz I CANNOT BELIEVE HE DID IT

sheltonscaraz this is insane she is way too pretty

arthur.fils 🖕🏾❤️ glad you won something tho

holgerrune favorite couple ❤️‍🔥

sheltonupdates bring it home for her next time

yourfriend she is worth more than that trophy so u won

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

yourusername

liked by benshelton, emmashelton_, cocogauff and 44.019 others.

yourusername life as a shelton groupie

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emmashelton_ never been happier 🤍

benshelton never letting you go again

cocogauff match made in coco’s heaven 🔥🥲

bigfoe1998 how did he pull you that’s the real question

moorrgs i am in love with you twooo, welcome first lady!

[giveafike]

A Merry Menu in the Making - B.T.S

TLDR: Cooking and preppin' everything for the big day. This is part 11/12 of Azzie's Advent Calendar 2024!

Word count + info: 3.7k + dialogue.

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW! No warnings : )

Azzie Notes ✚: Semi-finale! I can’t believe the season flew by so quickly :( but…can’t wait to share the Christmas Eve special next!! Also...what's Ben planning? hm, weird.

————————————————————————

The morning had arrived with a sense of bustling energy that could only mean one thing, Lisa Shelton was in full prep mode. The extended family would be coming over for Christmas Eve, which only meant a feast needed to be ready. Things from Lisa's perfected sugar cookies that she had tested earlier during the holidays to big roasted meats and sides that all required an unlimited amount of love and attention, and by no means did she have any intention of delivering anything short of that.

The house was alive with the hum of holiday anticipation. Outside, the Florida sun peeked through a light cloud cover, a crisp but not uncomfortable breeze carrying the faint scent of citrus and pine. Christmas was just around the corner, and the Shelton matriarch had everything running on a tight, cheerful schedule.

Lisa stood in the kitchen, her hair pulled back in a claw clip and an apron tied neatly around her waist. The counters were already cluttered with an impressive array of equipment ingredients: flour, sugar, fresh herbs, canned goods, and every seasoning imaginable. A meticulously written list rested on the island, each item ticked off with a firm stroke of a red pen.

"Okay," she muttered to herself, scanning the list. "Ham glaze, cranberry sauce... prep veggies...still pending."

The sound of footsteps shuffling into the kitchen drew her attention. Ben appeared in the doorway, his hair sticking up in all directions, wearing sweats and a t-shirt that had clearly seen better days.

"Morning, Mom," he greeted, yawning as he stretched. "What's all the chaos about? It's like, 8 a.m."

Lisa shot him a look that was equal parts amused and exasperated. "It's 10:30, Benjamin, and Christmas doesn't prep itself. The entire family is coming before we know it, and if we don't get ahead of this, we'll have to be workin' at sonic speed on Christmas Eve mornin'."

Ben slouched into a chair at the kitchen table, propping his chin on his hand. "You say that every year, and somehow everythin' turns out fine. Can't we just...wing it?"

"Ha!" Lisa exclaimed, pulling a bowl of pecans toward her. "Do you remember Christmas 2015? When your father insisted on 'winging it'? We had half-cooked turkey and unseasoned store-bought sides. Never again."

Ben chuckled, shrugging. "I thought it was fine."

Lisa rolled her eyes, cracking an egg into a bowl with practised precision.

"Well, I didn’t. Now, make yourself useful and grab me the nutmeg, I forgot to get that."

Ben groaned but got up to rummage through the spice rack. As he handed her the jar, Emma breezed into the kitchen, her phone in hand.

"Mom, the cousins texted me, they’re bringing a charcuterie board for Christmas Eve," Emma announced, sliding onto a barstool.

"Perfect," Lisa said without looking up. "That frees me up to focus on the main meal."

"Wait," Ben interjected, his brow furrowed. "What's a cha-coochie board again? Fancy cheese and crackers?"

Emma rolled her eyes, correcting him, knowing he was mispronouncing on purpose for the sake of a joke. "Yes, Ben. A charcuterie board is cured meats, cheese and crackers. Try to keep up."

"Good," Lisa said, ignoring the sibling banter. "That’ll go perfectly with the cooked meats too. Now, you two and your dad need to get the front room and the dining room cleaned and tidied up. Meanwhile, me and my saving grace are gonna be preppin' and makin' them sugar cookies...about 3 dozen?"

Emma raised an eyebrow. "Three dozen?!? Who’s eating all these cookies?"

"Those darn kids," Lisa said with a laugh. "You know how those angels get with my cookies."

Ben grinned. "They're gonna demolish that plate of cookies in five minutes flat."

As the conversation flowed, the house seemed to come alive around them. Bryan was outside, stringing up a few extra lights on the porch and muttering about one particularly stubborn strand. Halo darted in and out of the kitchen, his tail wagging excitedly as he sniffed around for crumbs.

Everyone fell into their tasks, including you being Lisa's "saving grace", spending the day with in the kitchen with her, warmth amplified by the cozy sounds of Christmas music playing softly in the background and the excitement that lingered around you. The faint aroma of spices already hung in the air, promising a feast in the making. Lisa, ever the picture of efficiency, handed you a worn recipe card, the edges browned with years of use and love.

“Here you go,” she said with a smile, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. Her hands were already dusted with flour and oil. “This is my sugar cookie dough recipe. Don’t let the stains fool you; it’s been perfected over time. Just triple it while you make the dough.”

You looked down at the card, the handwritten instructions looping neatly across the paper. “So, let me guess, this is the part where the magic happens?”

Lisa chuckled, reaching for the cutting board where she’d been peeling potatoes and carrots. “That’s the spirit. Just make sure to cream the butter and sugar until it’s fluffy. That’s the trick. The rest? Foolproof.”

You grabbed the nearby mixing bowl and began pulling the ingredients out of the cupboards. “I feel like I’m being let into a sacred family tradition here.”

“You are,” Lisa replied with mock seriousness, pointing her knife at you before turning back to her work. “And there’s no room for error!”

It was lighthearted, but you could feel the gravity of being part of this moment. The preparation for Christmas dinner wasn’t just a task, it was an act of love, a way to ensure everyone who walked through the door tomorrow felt warmth and care.

Meanwhile, in the living room, Bryan scrubbed furiously at the base of the coffee table. A stubborn stain from last week’s cocoa spill refused to yield, and Bryan muttered to himself under his breath as Emma perched on the couch behind him, her legs tucked beneath her. She was writing Christmas cards, one for each of their extended relatives.

"Uncle Tom gets 'Merry Christmas!' or 'Warmest Wishes'?” Emma asked, glancing at her dad.

Bryan paused mid-scrub and looked thoughtful. “Tom’s more of a ‘Warmest Wishes’ guy. Keep it classy.”

Emma nodded, scribbling it down, then turned her attention to Ben, who was dusting the bookshelves and muttering under his breath about how there was "no way" anyone actually looked at these books.

“So,” Emma started casually, her tone light, as she pushed up her glasses, “everything ready for Christmas?”

Ben froze, his dust cloth hanging mid-air. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what I mean,” Emma teased, smirking over the top of her cards.

Ben shot her a look, then glanced at Bryan, who had stood and was now looking right back at him with a knowing grin.

“I’m just saying,” Emma continued, twirling her pen, “I hope you’ve got it all under control.”

Bryan chuckled, folding his arms. “He does. Don’t you, Ben?”

Ben huffed, clearly flustered. “Yeah, it’s fine. Everything’s fine. They're gonna call 'n confirm it all today. Can we just leave it alone? Don't make it weird, y'all.”

Emma ignored his plea, setting her cards aside with a dramatic sigh. “She’s going to freak out. Like, in the best way. It's gonna be the best Christmas yet, I reckon."

Ben muttered something unintelligible under his breath, something along the lines of "great, no pressure" as he dragged a hand over his face, ears turning a shade of red that didn’t go unnoticed.

Bryan clapped him on the shoulder, laughing. “Relax, son. We’re just messing with you.”

Emma giggled, leaning back against the couch. “Seriously, though, it’s super sweet. You’re such a softie.”

Ben groaned, turning back to the shelf. “Can we just focus on cleanin'?”

“Fine,” Emma relented, though her grin lingered. After a pause, she added, “Oh! By the way, I saw what she got you for Christmas.” Her eyes twinkled mischievously as she leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand.

Ben spun around, his brows raised. “What?”

“I’m just saying,” Emma teased, dragging out the words with dramatic flair, “you’re going to love it.”

Ben narrowed his eyes, though the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “You’ve seen it?”

Emma nodded, her grin growing. “Mmhmm. And ’m not telling you what it is. But trust me, it’s perfect.”

Bryan chuckled, picking up the vacuum cleaner. “Good to know someone’s ahead of the game around here.”

“Hey!” Ben protested, pointing the dust cloth at him. “I’ve got everything under control, okay? All my gifts are coming today.”

Emma raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying his mild panic. “Cutting it close, aren’t we?”

Ben sighed, muttering, “They’ll be here. It’s fine.”

Bryan shot him a knowing look as he plugged in the vacuum. “It better be.”

Ben ignored him, turning back to the bookshelf with a huff. Emma stifled another giggle as she returned to her Christmas cards, but the teasing lingered in the air like the faint scent of the tree.

Meanwhile, the counters were a mosaic of bowls, trays, and cutting boards with the scent of cinnamon and nutmeg mixed with savoury hints of garlic and rosemary. You stood by the sink, rinsing your hands and drying them on a dish towel after carefully spacing out rows of sugar cookies on the baking trays. Their pale, doughy shapes waited for the oven, a promise of sweetness to come.

Lisa, across the island, was meticulously rubbing a blend of spices onto the beef, setting it away for roasting tomorrow. She glanced up briefly, nodding toward the oven. “All right, cookies are ready to go in. Can you call Ben in to handle them? He’s on dish duty.”

You poked your head around the corner, calling out, “Ben! Your mom wants you in here!”

A muffled groan preceded Ben’s appearance. He shuffled into the kitchen, a dishrag slung over his shoulder, his hands still slightly damp from wiping down the dining room table. “What now?”

Lisa shot him a look, her hands busy kneading herbs into a bowl of softened butter. “Less whining, more helping, mister. Cookies in the oven, timer set, and dishes. Let’s move.”

Ben sighed dramatically but obeyed, picking up the trays of cookies. “I’m just saying, I’m overqualified for this.”

You smirked, folding your arms. “Oh, yeah? And what exactly are your qualifications, Mr. Shelton?”

“Pro athlete,” Ben quipped in a small smiley mumble, sliding the trays into the oven with practised ease. He set the timer on his phone, tossing it onto the kitchen island before heading to the sink. “I’ve got fast hands. You’re welcome, ladies.”

Lisa chuckled, rolling her eyes as she slid a bowl of diced onions toward you. “Here, sweetheart, start working on the mix. And ignore him. He’s only fast when it suits him.”

Ben glanced over his shoulder with a grin. “I heard that.”

As Ben got to work on the dishes, the three of you fell into a comfortable rhythm. Lisa hummed an old Christmas tune as she prepped the chicken, you worked on blending herbs and breadcrumbs for the stuffing, and Ben scrubbed the last of the mixing bowls, offering occasional commentary.

“You know,” Ben said, rinsing a pan, “I feel like I’m doing the grunt work here.”

“Grunt work?” Lisa shot back, her hands now expertly tying twine around a pork loin. “You’re lucky you didn’t get stuck peeling veg for an hour.”

“Fair enough,” Ben conceded with a shrug, his tone light.

Just then, the faint sound of Ben’s phone buzzing broke the flow of conversation. You glanced toward it instinctively.

“I’ve got it,” you said, starting to reach for the phone. “It’s probably just-”

But before you could even read the name on the screen, Ben darted across the kitchen, snatching it up like it was a lifeline. “I’ll take this,” he muttered quickly, his voice tight.

Before anyone could respond, he bolted out of the room, his phone pressed firmly to his ear. The low murmur of his voice faded as he disappeared into the hallway.

You blinked, your hand still hovering midair. “Okay... what was that?”

Lisa, who had been quietly observing the entire exchange, immediately jumped in. “Oh, who knows. You know how he is, probably something from the tour or a last-minute Christmas thing.”

“Right…” You frowned, your gaze lingering on the empty doorway. “But why the rush? He doesn’t usually-”

“Sweetheart, can you grab the garlic powder for me?” Lisa interrupted smoothly, her tone deliberately cheerful. “It’s in the pantry, top shelf.”

You hesitated for a moment, clearly still suspicious, but Lisa’s easy smile coaxed you back into the task at hand. “Uh...sure,” you said, heading toward the pantry.

Lisa exhaled softly, shaking her head with an amused smile as she turned back to her work.

Ben returned to the kitchen a few minutes later, looking slightly dishevelled. His hair was tousled like he’d run a hand through it in a rush, and there was an unmistakable flush to his cheeks. He was smiling, a little too broadly, like someone trying too hard to appear casual.

“Everything okay?” you asked, trying to sound offhanded, but your curiosity was hard to mask.

“Yep! All good,” Ben replied quickly, his voice a touch higher than usual as he leaned down to peck your cheek quickly. He grabbed a clean dishtowel and wiped his hands even though they weren’t wet. “Just, uh... a call from one of the guys. Nothing big.”

You raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, but Lisa jumped in smoothly.

“Ben, those cookies aren’t going to check themselves. Timer should be going off soon.” She gestured toward the oven without looking up from the roast beef she was finishing with a final rub of spices.

Ben latched onto the distraction with obvious relief. “Right, cookies. On it.”

He turned to the oven, fiddling with the mitts, and Lisa gave you a knowing smile. “He’s always like this during the holidays,” she said lightly as if it explained everything. “Trying to juggle too much at once.”

You weren’t entirely convinced, but the holiday bustle kept pulling at your attention. Between Lisa needing help prepping marinades and other bits, there wasn’t much room to dwell on Ben’s strange behaviour. Still, the unease lingered. He wasn’t usually so sly and cagey, at least not with you, at least. The way he darted out of the kitchen with his phone pressed to his ear had been uncharacteristic, talking in hushed whispers, and now his overly chipper demeanour didn’t quite sit right.

You shook yourself out of your thoughts and grabbed a small jar of some herb that was listed in a recipe sheet, realising you've been in a trance over the small gesture for the last 20 minutes. C'mon, it's nothing, focus.

Just as you were coming out of the pantry for the second time today, the doorbell rang. You paused for a second, realising everyone was up to their eyes with tasks, so, naturally, you took a step forward.

“I’ve got it!” You called over your shoulder, moving toward the front door.

But before you could take another step, Ben shot past you like a lightning bolt, his phone still clutched in one hand.

“I’ll get it!” he shouted, practically skidding to a stop by the door.

You froze, surprised. “Ben, I’m literally right here-”

“Don’t worry about it,” he cut in quickly, flashing you an almost boyish grin before yanking the door open just enough to wedge himself through the door without giving you a glimpse past his body.

Lisa’s voice rang out from the kitchen, cutting through your confusion. “Hey, can you bring that jar over here? I need it ASAP!”

You hesitated, glancing back toward Ben, squinting. He was already leaning out the door, exchanging a few quick words with whoever was outside.

“Packages! Finally!” Ben’s triumphant shout followed as you reluctantly turned back to the kitchen.

Lisa greeted you with a warm smile when you handed her the jar. “Perfect timing,” she said. “Now, grab that whisk for me, will you? This needs a little extra love.”

You nodded, though your thoughts were still half in the hallway. “He’s acting... so weird,” you said, unable to hold it in.

Lisa chuckled, brushing off your concern as she stirred away, huffing a bit. “It’s just the holidays. You know how he gets, always running around last minute. Let him have his little secrets; it’s part of the fun.”

“Right...” you murmured, but the pit in your stomach didn’t ease.

From the hallway, you heard Ben shouting something about “wrapping presents” as he sprinted up the stairs toward his room, the sound of boxes rustling and his phone still firmly in hand.

Lisa’s gentle nudge brought your focus back. “Trust me,” she said softly, her tone almost conspiratorial. “Whatever he’s up to, you’ll love it. Now, how about we finish this up so we can get those cookies iced?”

Her reassurance was enough to keep you grounded, for now. Whatever Ben was hiding, it seemed like everyone but you was in on the secret. And despite your suspicions, a small part of you couldn’t help but smile, imagining what he might be planning.

As you and Lisa moved onto labelling and planning times and whatever else was left to prep, it didn’t fully register that your "timer" had left the room and cookie duty was back on your shoulders; Ben had been on timer duty, after all, or he was supposed to be, but the sudden hush of his absence echoed as you both worked through the mess of pre-dinner prep.

Lisa moved from one station to another with the precision of someone orchestrating a symphony. “All right, that's the mains sorted. Can you fetch that tray so we have it ready to go? I'd hate to accidentally use it for something else, or worse, misplace it entirely,” she mumbled to herself, pointing off to the side to a large enamel tray.

“Got it,” you said, as you made your way to the the tray, humming along softly to the faint music.

The vague scent of something… off… reached you first as you moved around the kitchen. You hesitated, sniffing the air. It was faintly acrid, barely noticeable over the aroma of cinnamon and butter. But then, Lisa froze mid-step as you caught her eye, her head tilting slightly.

“Wait a second...” she said, lowering the pan she was holding. Her eyes widened. “Oh my- the cookies!”

Both of you scrambled to the oven, the timer now forgotten as the sharp smell of burning sugar hit full force. Lisa grabbed a mitt and yanked open the door. Smoke billowed out, curling ominously into the air. The once-promising golden batch of cookies now sat in the oven, charred and blackened beyond salvation.

“Oh no!” Lisa groaned, waving a towel at the smoke. “I knew something was off, it was going so well-where is that boy?”

You grabbed the trays and set them on the counter, grimacing at the crispy remains as you let out a heavy sigh, failing to believe you forgot the second batch in the oven. “Ben had the timer on his phone… which he took with him.”

Lisa groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “Of course, he did. That boy and his last-minute holiday antics…” She sighed, scooping up the burnt cookies and tossing them into the trash with a resigned shake of her head. “Oh well, these things happen, something always goes a bit sideways every year. Better now than tomorrow with a house full of guests.”

You both paused for a moment, catching your breath, recuperating from the unfortunate minor disaster. Then Lisa patted your shoulder. “All right, let’s whip up a quick extra batch and get those in. No sense crying over burnt cookies, sweetheart.”

As she measured out the ingredients diligently like it was second nature, you helped clean up the counters and dishes and prepare the last tray for baking. The third batch went in smoothly, and the kitchen slowly returned to its festive warmth. Lisa began prepping tomorrow’s meal for the fridge while you started assembling a tidy icing station.

When the successful batches cooled, you both set to work icing the cookies. The sugar-sweet scent mingled with the faint hum of holiday music, filling the kitchen with a cozy buzz despite the earlier mishap. Lisa’s hand moved a little slower than before, and her shoulders sagged slightly as she leaned over the counter.

“Hey,” you said gently, pausing mid-icing. “Is it just the cookies left? Or do we still have more?”

Lisa gave a small, tired laugh, brushing a loose strand of hair out of her face. “No, sweetheart, just the cookies, thank God. The rest is ready to go for tomorrow.”

“Okay, then,” you said, your tone gentle but firm. “Go rest. I’ve got this.”

Lisa blinked, clearly taken aback. “Oh, no, I couldn’t-”

“You’ve been on your feet all day, Lis," you interrupted with a soft smile. “Go sit down. I’ll finish these, I promise.”

It took a bit of back-and-forth convincing, but eventually, Lisa relented with a grateful sigh. “All right, if you insist. But only if you promise to call me if you need help.”

“I promise,” you said, watching as she shuffled off to the living room.

You made her a small cup of tea and added two iced sugar cookies to a saucer, carrying it out to her a few minutes later. She gave you a warm smile as she sank onto the couch, sighing relieved, wrapping her hands around the tea.

Back in the kitchen, Emma popped in just as you were finishing the icing on the last tray. “Mom finally let you take over?” she teased, tying an apron around her waist.

“Only after a little arm-twisting,” you replied with a laugh. “You want to help?”

Together, the two of you worked quickly, catching up on the day while piping neat lines of icing and sprinkling coloured sugar and sprinkles on top.

Then, finally, after what felt like an eternity, Ben reappeared. He strolled into the kitchen with a bit of sellotape stuck to his sleeve, his hair slightly mussed, and his smile suspiciously wide.

“You’ve been... busy,” you commented, raising an eyebrow as you finished the last cookie.

“Just...wrapping stuff,” he said, leaning against the counter with a grin that didn’t quite mask his nervous energy.

You set the icing bag down and crossed your arms. “Ben, you’ve been acting so weird all day.”

“Have I?” he asked, his tone light but his eyes avoiding yours.

“Yes,” you said pointedly, stepping closer. “And I know you’re up to something.”

Ben’s grin widened, his face lighting up with that boyish charm you could never quite resist. “You’ll see soon enough,” he said, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Please... just trust me?”

His words did little to ease your curiosity, but the warmth in his eyes softened your resolve as you nodded softly, studying the sweet, brown eyes that you first fell in love with. Whatever he was planning, it was clear he was excited and nervous about it, and for now, that was enough to hold you over, at least for a bit.

[giveafike]

The Stories We Keep - B.T.S

TLDR: Trip down memory lane with the Sheltons. This is part 10/12 of Azzie's Advent Calendar 2024!

Word count + info: 1.8k + dialogue.

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW! No warnings : )

Azzie Notes ✚: finally into the double digits! Once again short one but cute one, we're literally diving straight into it today!

————————————————————————

The evening unfolded in quiet anticipation. Outside, a light breeze swept gently against the windows, painting a serene backdrop to the warmth inside the house. The scent of hot cocoa lingered in the air, mingling with the soft glow of the Christmas tree lights.

Lisa stepped in from the rain, shaking droplets off her jacket as she kicked off her shoes. In her hands was a neatly wrapped package, the result of her quick trip to the photo store.

“Guess what I’ve got!” Lisa’s voice rang out, bright and excited.

Ben was sprawled across the couch, one arm behind his head as Halo dozed contentedly at his side. He looked up, already smirking. “Don’t tell me, don't tell me...is it dinner?”

Lisa shot him a look. “It’s the prints from last night, smartpants. And they came out perfect.”

Ben sat up a little straighter, glancing toward the staircase where footsteps could be heard. “Well, that’s one way to get everyone excited here.”

Emma emerged, her hair tied back, wearing a hoodie she’d practically lived in all week. “Prints?” she asked, her face lighting up.

Lisa nodded. “All from the digital camera, the candids, everything. Wait, where's Bryan?”

At the mention of his name, Bryan’s voice carried from upstairs. “ 'm up here. Lis! Y'all might want to sit down for this.”

Ben groaned, his shoulders slumping theatrically. “Oh no. Don’t tell me it's time for-”

“Oh yes!” Bryan thrilled, descending the stairs a moment later with a wide grin and a large frayed, leather box tucked under his arm. The box was iconic in its own right, its slightly worn exterior bearing years of wear and memories. Brass accents gleamed faintly in the light, and when Bryan placed it on the coffee table, it landed with a satisfying thud.

Emma beamed. “The box! It’s about time.”

You tilted your head curiously as you moved closer to the couch. “What’s the box?”

Ben sighed, but there was a fondness in the sound. “It’s our whole history, basically. Like, all of our lives are documented in these albums. Every goofy Christmas outfit, every bad haircut, every single moment Mom thought was ‘so precious’, it’s all in there. Every year before Christmas we just reel in the years, looking back at the year and before that too." He paused, the smile on his face melting into a fondness as his expression deepened into something more pensive. "I used to find it corny but over the last few years since college and tour, it's nice to go back and see how everything's changed so quickly. Plus seeing Dad's glory days on court are always fun.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Ben would act like he couldn't care less about it, but he's the first one to get emotional over it every year.”

“Lies,” Ben shot back, smiling, shaking his head. “Absolute lies.”

Bryan laughed as he sat down, flipping open the lid of the box. “All right y'all, let’s get started.”

Inside were stacks of photo albums, each meticulously labelled with dates and themes, Lisa's and Bryan's meticulous work evident. The first one Bryan pulled out was marked 1999. Its burgundy leather cover gleamed under the soft light, and Lisa let out a soft laugh as Bryan opened it.

“This,” Bryan announced, holding up the first photo, “is where it all began.”

The picture was of a radiant, young Lisa in her wedding dress, caught mid-laugh. Her hair framed her face, and her eyes sparkled with joy. Bryan stood beside her in a suit, his grin as wide as the day was long. The following pages held more treasures: Lisa caught in the middle of moving, her tossing her bouquet, Bryan dancing awkwardly with his groomsmen, candid shots of their parents, family members that were unfamiliar to you and a photo of the two of them sneaking a kiss under a canopy of lights.

“You had so much hair back then, Dad” Emma teased, squinting at Bryan’s younger self.

“And you had so little hair when you were born,” Bryan quipped back. “Life has a way of evening things out.”

The group laughed, and the album was passed around, fingers pointing out people alongside small anecdotes and funny moments remembered. Each photo felt like stepping into a memory.

Ben held up a small, pocket-sized, well-loved hardback album of Lisa's junior years playing tennis and Bryan's professional career, photographed at key moments; Wimbledon, triumphant moments frozen in time at the US Open, the French Open, the Australian Open and various other ATP tournaments. Photos of him holding trophies and caught mid-celebration between points. Each image was electric with history, capturing the sweat and grit that had built their legacy. Ben’s fingers lingered on the pages, his eyes glassy with emotion. It wasn’t just their story, it was the foundation for his own journey, a roadmap he was still following, determined to upkeep.

As Lisa pulled out the 2000 album, filled with siblings, cousins and friends of the parents photos of parties, house gatherings, barbeques and celebrations filled out the pages. You smiled and laughed at a few as you heard the backstories and read the somewhat cheeky notes scrawled throughout the pages beside the grainy pictures.

"Lisa! You've got to find me a cocktail dress like that, my goodness, look at you!" you oohed, giggling while the elder lady shook her head, smiling, a small blush creeping up.

"Mhm, I was so glad I had put a ring on her before she showed off that dress..."

"Dad!" Emma and Ben both shuddered and groaned, leaving Lisa and Bryan smiling and softly laughing.

From there, Bryan pulled out the next album, marked 2001, and the next, 2002. These pages chronicled the arrival of Emma and Ben, both wide-eyed and endlessly curious. Lisa had taken the time to jot little notes in the margins for these too, notes like Emma’s first smile! or Ben discovers spaghetti, I think he's found a new favourite food!

Emma pointed to a picture of herself, sitting on a vanity table with makeup smeared across her face. “Why did you guys let me do this?”

“Because it was hilarious,” Bryan replied.

“And messy, that was my favourite lipstick, missy,” Lisa added with a mock scold.

You smiled softly alongside the jokes and quips, not wanting to interrupt as you flicked through the pages tenderly, precariously, admiring the aged photos and notes, gliding over the faces. A picture of toddler Ben with his cousins and Bryan playing soccer, several chaotic photos of Ben and Emma soaked while holding a water hose and a bucket of water balloons, tennis tournaments with the game results and set notes added in by Bryan; so many warm memories in this house that was basking in memories, in love and joy.

As you progressed through, you found a photo of young Ben with his tongue out while a young Emma leaned on him, both wearing University of Florida t-shirts. Another photo of Ben signing his first contract while the next page had Emma's first college tennis tournament. The notes scrawled on the side made Lisa's pride undeniable and palpable, tangible, even if she mightn't be there for every match or moment.

You couldn't help but feel yourself getting choked up as you got just a small glimpse of your boyfriend's life, being able to be here, to be present and so welcomed not only into the present but into their past as well. And as for the future? Well, you could only hope and wish that you could hold just as much tenderness that Bryan and Lisa had held.

They moved on to the Christmas album, a thick book overflowing with festive cheer. Each page told the story of holidays past: small, modest trees in the early years, ornaments hand-painted by tiny fingers, and later, larger gatherings with extended family. The photos grew fuller with cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents. There were snapshots of backyard football games, and warm Floridian afternoons playing impromptu tennis matches that always ended in laughter.

“God remember this one!” Bryan exclaimed, holding up a photo of the kids in matching red pyjamas. Their grins revealed matching gaps where front teeth had been. Both were holding up a gingerbread house slightly lopsided and dripping with frosting, overloaded with several types of candy and sweets.

Emma squinted at the corner, where Lisa had written, Emma finally lost her last baby tooth this Christmas. “I remember this one! I was so mad Ben’s fell out first.”

“Because I’ll beat you at everything,” Ben teased.

Emma jabbed him in the ribs, earning a laugh from everyone. Lisa began sorting through the newest prints, sliding them into blank slots in the Christmas album, while Emma busied herself grabbing Polaroids and following suit.

You found yourself lingering over a different album, still stuck on one labelled Ben, 2002–2005. Its pages were filled with a tiny version of him, all curly hair, big teeth and chubby cheeks. One photo showed him toddling across the backyard in overalls, gripping a toy tennis racket. Another featured him fast asleep in a pile of presents, a stuffed animal tucked under his arm.

“You were so cute,” you murmured, jutting out your bottom lip a bit as you held up a page with him caught mid-fall trying to ride a tiny bike.

Ben leaned over, peeking at the photo. “Still am, aren’t I?”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile. “Sure, if you say so.”

But there was something heartwarming about seeing these moments captured forever. The same grin you’d come to know so well was there in every picture, just smaller and slightly messier. The same spark in his eyes, the same playful energy, it was all there.

“You’re gonna get emotional,” Emma teased, catching you wiping at your eyes.

“Am not,” you said, though your voice wavered. “It’s just… this is incredible. You’ve documented so much.”

“That’s the point,” Bryan said, his tone soft. “So when you look back, you can see just how much love has gone into this family.”

Lisa leaned over to squeeze your hand. “And you’re part of it now.”

The comment made your cheeks warm, but before you could respond, Ben nudged you gently. “Told you it’s a lot to take in, I'm just glad it's you, not me this time. Get used to doin' this every year.”

You laughed lightly, brushing it off. “I’m just saying… you were an adorable kid.”

“Still am...your words not mine” he repeated, winking.

By the time the albums had been flipped through and the photos from this year found their places, the evening had settled into a comfortable lull. Bryan carefully closed the Christmas album, now updated with memories from 2024, and placed it back in the box. Halo had migrated to a spot by the tree, curled up near the lights, and Emma was already scrolling through her phone, likely plotting how to repost some of the photos for her story.

Ben, however, stayed beside you, his arm draped casually across the back of the couch. He reached out, flipping back to the page of himself as a toddler in overalls.

“You really think I was that cute, huh?” he asked, glancing at you with a crooked grin.

You nudged him. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late.”

Lisa’s voice carried from the kitchen, where she’d gone to fetch a refill of her cocoa. “Are you two coming to the kitchen for dinner, or are you just gonna keep looking at old photos all night?”

Ben glanced at you, his grin softening into something warmer. “What do you think? Still need time to catch up on all this?”

“I think we’ve got plenty of time for both,” you replied, smiling back.

And as the evening stretched on, filled with laughter and quiet moments of reflection, you felt deeply grateful to be part of something so grounded in love.

[giveafike]

This is so, so important you guys.

[giveafike]

Picture Perfect Moments - B.T.S

TLDR: Making memories and keepsakes. This is part 9/12 of Azzie's Advent Calendar 2024!

Word count + info: 2.4k + dialogue.

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW! No warnings : )

Azzie Notes ✚: This is a little shorter, but the next few ones are prettyyyy heavy and/or longer! FINALLY FINISHED MY FINALS TOO - still have 2 assignments. Made a taglist too, I won't be tagging anyone here just yet, but for the next ones + new year's, that's gonna be for that! it'd be nice to have some of u guys on there, esp since Ben is basically my whole acct atp.

————————————————————————

The evening was peaceful, the warm glow of the Christmas tree casting a cozy light over the living room. The TV played a stream of festive recipes, but no one was paying much attention, either scrolling away or immersed in conversations until a recipe piqued interest for a bit. Emma was sprawled on one end of the couch with Halo at her feet, scrolling through her phone. At the same time, Ben sat beside you, half watching the screen with his fingers swirling your hair, the other hand fiddling with his own phone, watching some NFL edit on loop. Bryan and Lisa were seated nearby, Lisa was flipping through a holiday magazine and some letters from the mail while Bryan was casually checking his emails, muttering the words as he read along.

Then, all at once, a familiar notification chime went off on everyone’s phones, including yours.

“Group chat,” Emma announced, sighing without looking up.

Ben groaned, already unlocking his phone. “Please don’t let it be another chain message, when is someone gonna send a PSA to let the old folk know they won't get bad luck if they don't send every scam message they see?”

It wasn’t, but it was close to a chain message. The Shelton family group chat had erupted with a series of holiday photos from Ben’s uncle, his wife, and their kids, all decked out in matching red and white outfits in front of their fireplace.

“Oh, how cute, look!” Lisa exclaimed, holding her phone up as she squinted through her reading glasses to study the photos while leaning in to show Bryan. Then, as if struck by a sudden realisation, she gasped.

“We haven’t done our holiday photos yet!”

“Mom,” Ben groaned, “we don’t need holiday photos. You make such a big deal every year, and it’s always chaos.”

Lisa shot him a pointed look. “Of course we need them, Ben. You guys grow up so quick and I can't keep track. You know we always print and add them to the family album. The rest of the family does it too, why shouldn’t we?”

Emma smirked. “You mean to say, the rest of the family is showing off, why can't we?”

Lisa ignored her, already standing up. “We need a plan. Everyone, get ready and I'll see you in the car in 10. We’re doing this tonight. And yes Ben, before you start, I mean everyone.”

Ben groaned dramatically, but you couldn’t help but laugh as Lisa rallied everyone into action. Within a few moments, you had all piled into the car, a bit crammed, and headed to the store for matching outfits. It didn’t take long to settle on a fully plaid theme: you, Emma, and Lisa had versions with bows and tailored fits, while Ben and Bryan stuck to classic pyjama sets. You had even found Halo a tiny plaid dog coat, as you pictured him wagging his tail.

Back at the house, the chaos resumed as Lisa set Bryan to study up the living room and sweep away any spare pine needles shed from the tree while the rest started getting everyone ready. You smiled in the mirror, seeing the matching outfits with soft white lace frills and bows on the hem and collar, then caught eye of Emma and then Lisa too. It was heartwarming to be involved in such a way, and though you couldn't imagine wearing this set anywhere else, you're glad you at least had a physical keepsake, a reminder that you were here, that you belong here. They claim you as their own just as much as Ben does.

You couldn't let it linger for too long however, as time was of the essence - Halo would conk out at any given moment if you delayed any longer, that is, if he didn't somehow tear apart the plaid winter jacket first. And Bryan and Ben would be huffing with a lack of patience only family men could possess. You, Emma, and Lisa worked on your hair and light, Christmassy makeup in the bathroom, music playing softly in the background. As you swept your hair back and secured it with a cute red bow, you called Lisa in to get herself in sorts. She managed to do her base but asked for some help with her makeup, while Emma got started on straightening out her hair.

As Lisa sat in front of you, her cheeks turned slightly as you brushed on some blush.

“A little more here?” she asked.

“Got it,” you said, smiling as you leaned closer. “And close your eyes for the eyeshadow too, Lis.”

On the other side of the bathroom, Emma was carefully straightening her mom’s hair, humming along to the music.

“Not too much, Emma!” Lisa warned.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Relax, Mom. I’ve got it.”

As you worked, Lisa glanced at you in the mirror while you stood to her side, gently sweeping across her cheek. Her expression softened, and she hesitated before speaking. “Can I be honest with you?”

You paused, meeting her gaze. “Of course, always.”

“I don’t want to scare you or anything,” Lisa began, her voice low and gentle, “but it’s a big deal, spending the holidays away from your own family. I know it can’t be easy, but... how are you finding it here? With us, I mean? Be honest with me.”

You smiled warmly. “It’s been wonderful. Honestly, I feel so welcomed. You’ve all been amazing, truly.”

Lisa’s eyes softened further, and she reached for your hand, giving it a squeeze. “I just want you to know how special it is that you’re here. I was telling Bryan the other day, that you and Ben- the two of you just work so well together, like in tandem. I know you've been good to him during the tournaments and the ups and downs and- well, seeing it in front of me, how he looks at you? I haven’t seen him this happy, this confident, in such a long time, maybe ever. And I know that’s because of you. It's like I have my sweet little boy back, the one who believes in magic and saves cookies just for Santa.”

You felt your throat tighten with emotion as she continued. “You’ve been such a perfect addition to this family. I know I’m just his mom and I'm partial, but I can see it, feel it. You bring out the best in him.”

Unable to hold back, you leaned in and hugged her tightly. She held you just as tight, rubbing your back soothingly, her warmth and sincerity bringing tears to your eyes. When you pulled back, she held your face in her hands, looking into your eyes with a soft smile.

“I honestly see you as one of my own,” Lisa said, her voice thick with emotion.

“Thank you, I-I have no words,” you whispered, your voice breaking slightly.

She smiled, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Alright,” she sighed and scanned you once over before she got up, her tone shifting back to practicality, “I need to find the tripod and the camera. Don’t take too long getting ready, girls!”

As she left the room, Emma leaned against the counter, packing away the straightener, watching you with a knowing smile. “She’s right, you know.”

You turned to her, tilting your head.

Emma shrugged. “You and Ben. You’re so good for him. Honestly, you’re like a Shelton already.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Em, not you too..-”

“No, I mean it!” she interrupted, her tone sincere. “As his older sister, I know I can be... claws out. Protective, y'know? But I haven’t had to be with you. Not once. You just fit, right from the start. And that’s rare.”

Her words hit you harder than you expected, and you felt the sting of tears in your eyes. “Em, stop,” you said, laughing through the lump in your throat. “You’re gonna make me cry.”

Emma laughed and pulled you into a quick hug. “Well, let’s go then. Don’t want to miss Mom’s photoshoot extravaganza.”

You both left the bathroom, arm in arm, ready to face the evening and the inevitable chaos with full hearts.

Downstairs, the scene was already set for what promised to be a hilariously chaotic photo session. Halo sat proudly in the centre of the room, his tiny plaid coat fastened snugly around him, his tail wagging excitedly as if he knew he was the star. Ben and Bryan were lounging on the couch, phones in hand, but they looked up as you and Emma entered, their expressions brightening.

Ben’s gaze softened when he saw you. “Look at you,” he said, his tone warm and teasing. “Stealing the show already.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but you couldn’t stop the smile creeping onto your face as you leaned up to peck his lips.

Lisa bustled in with the tripod and camera, barking orders like a seasoned director. “Alright, everyone, let’s get this organised. Bryan, Ben, phones away! Halo, stay put!”

“Because he’s going to listen,” Emma quipped, earning a snicker from Ben.

Eventually, Lisa arranged everyone: Lisa, then Bryan beside Ben and to his side, Emma. You stood between Ben and Bryan, front row and centre while Halo sat at your feet, his tail wagging in delighted circles.

The first few attempts were a disaster. Halo decided to chase an imaginary speck of dust, Bryan blinked, and Emma leaned behind to whisper something to Ben, making him laugh right as the shutter clicked.

“Ben! Stop laughing!” Lisa exclaimed, exasperated.

“Emma started it!” Ben shot back, earning a pointed glare from his sister.

It took at least five more tries before you managed the first decent shot where everyone was in it, no one was blinking and it wasn't blurry. By then, everyone was either laughing or rolling their eyes at the several attempts, but the photos started to flow out now as you all got into the swing of things.

“Okay,” you said, brushing your hands together like you were in charge. “Now we are really gonna get the family shot, let’s go!”

“Do we have to?” Ben groaned.

“Yes,” Lisa said firmly, her mom voice in full force. “Get over here.”

Grumbling, Ben moved to stand between Lisa and Bryan, while you scooped up Halo to keep him in frame. After some good shots, you coaxed everyone to get some photos of just the four of them and Halo, everyone smiling genuinely despite their initial reluctance. It was frustratingly endearing how conscious they were to include you in the family, they felt bad for taking that set of photos without you.

“Bryan and Lisa, your turn,” you suggested.

Bryan raised a brow. “We’re doing couple shots now?”

Lisa shot him a playful glare. “You’re lucky I didn’t ask you to do all this when we were dating.”

That earned a laugh from everyone as Bryan relented. They took a few pictures by the tree and on the sofa, one with Halo on Bryan’s lap and one without.

Next up were Ben and Emma. They posed reluctantly in front of the tree as Bryan held the camera, their arms crossed, pretending to look annoyed with each other.

“Smile like you like each other,” Bryan teased as he clicked the shutter.

“Never,” Emma replied, but right as they both grinned for the camera, the battery died.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Bryan muttered, inspecting the camera.

"That photo would've been up on the fridge" Lisa sighs as she sinks into the sofa, petting Halo who sat between her legs.

Emma suddenly brightened. “Wait, I have a Polaroid camera upstairs! Alex gave it to me last year. I think it’s got film!”

She dashed off, returning a few moments later with the camera in hand.

Bryan examined it with a nostalgic smile. “Man, I haven’t used one of these in years. Let me do the honours.”

He snapped a Polaroid of Ben and Emma, capturing a rare moment of warmth between the siblings. The photo developed slowly, the colours warming into a perfect, slightly vintage frame.

“Not bad,” Ben admitted, tilting his head to inspect it, squinting at the brand name.

Then Bryan turned the camera on you and Ben. “Alright, you two. Smile!”

Ben slid his arm around you, pulling you close. You rested your head on his shoulder, and he leaned his head against yours, grinning wide. The result was perfect: effortless, warm, and priceless.

Lisa smiled softly as she watched, pulling a small box from a nearby shelf. “I know what this needs.”

From the box, she pulled out an old Santa hat and reindeer antlers. She handed the antlers to you and plopped the hat onto Ben’s head, fixing a tuft of his curls to poke out, before adjusting your hair around the hairband.

“This is from when Bryan used to dress up as Santa,” she explained fondly. “Ben and Emma loved it as kids.”

Ben adjusted the hat with a mock sigh. “If this isn’t Christmas spirit, I don’t know what is.”

As the photoshoot wrapped up, Lisa sent the best ones to the family group chat, the camera now charging up while the polaroids sat on the coffee table while the parents sunk onto the sofa with a satisfied sigh. You and Ben plopped onto the other couch, his arm draped lazily around your shoulders.

You took off the antlers, smoothing your hair, when Ben grabbed a second Santa hat from the box by his feet and tugged it onto your head.

“Perfect,” he said, brushing your hair so it framed your face.

You laughed softly. “What, now I’m Mrs. Claus?”

“Exactly,” he teased, leaning closer. “And Mrs. Claus needs a kiss for puttin' up with all this.”

Before you could protest, his lips were on yours, soft and sweet, the world around you fading for a moment.

“Alright, you two,” Emma said, snapping a Polaroid with a smirk.

As the photo developed, she grinned. “Lisa, add this one to the group chat. It’s too good to leave out.”

You felt your cheeks flush as Ben pressed kisses to your cheek, grinning against your skin.

“You’re ridiculous,” you murmured, trying not to smile.

“And I’m glad I get to be ridiculous with you,” Ben replied, his voice full of warmth. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[giveafike]

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thank you for your support!

[giveafike]

Twinkling Tales - B.T.S

TLDR: night drive w your darling boyfriend, Ben. This is part 8/12 of Azzie's Advent Calendar 2024!

Word count + info: 5k + dialogue.

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW! No warnings : )

Azzie Notes ✚: only one third left to go! Oh goodness, where did the time go?? These next few are gonna be quite the cutesy, kissy, smoochy ones - hope u enjoy! Super romantic shtuff as the holidays and the idea of family really starts getting to Benny <3

————————————————————————

Ben’s bedroom was warm and quiet, the soft hum of the heater blending with the occasional creak of the house settling. It was just the four of you now, Emma and Alex took their leave in the morning for some "private time", whatever that had entailed. Lisa and Bryan are downstairs somewhere, leaving you and Ben cocooned in the privacy of his room.

You lay sprawled across his chest, the plaid of your pyjama pants brushing against his, matching perfectly with the navy tops he’d bought for the two of you weeks ago. The scent of his cologne lingered faintly on his shirt, a clean, woodsy comfort you’d grown to associate with him. One of his hands absently combed through your hair, fingertips occasionally trailing along your scalp, lulling you into a cozy stillness. Around the room, bits of Ben’s past clung to the walls and shelves; posters of tennis and NFL legends, a few wrinkled, aged post-its on the mirror and desk, and books that charted the years of his life. Your gaze caught on a shelf where Diary of a Wimpy Kid books sat next to heavier finance textbooks from college, the juxtaposition making you smile.

“You really had it all, huh?” you teased lightly, pointing over to the well-worn book spines. “From Greg Heffley to… whatever these numbers mean.”

Ben chuckled, not bothering to look up from his phone. “What can I say? I’ve got layers, babe.”

You smiled, shifting a little to get more comfortable against him, your cheek pressed against his chest as you lazily traced the seams of his shirt. His breathing was steady beneath you, and his fingers continued their soothing path through your hair.

A quiet “Oh, woah... shoot,” broke the moment as Ben tapped at his phone screen.

You tilted your head slightly, looking up at him. “What?”

“They set up the Christmas lights drive-thru already,” he said, tilting the screen toward you so you could see an Instagram story of a mutual friend’s car rolling through a glowing tunnel of lights. Reds, greens, and golds blurred in the video, capturing the festive chaos of it all.

“That’s so cool,” you murmured, resting your chin on his chest to get a better look, eyes half-lidded.

Ben nudged you gently, his voice soft. “Yo, you with me?”

“I’m here,” you replied, smiling sleepily as you glanced up at him. “Barely, though. This head massage is putting me out.”

He smirked, locking his phone and tossing it onto the nightstand. “Well, stay with me for one more minute. Got an idea.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh no. Do I even want to know?”

“How about a late-night drive?” he asked, his tone light but his eyes earnest.

You blinked, the suggestion catching you off guard. “Now?”

Ben shrugged casually, but his smile grew. “Yeah. Just us. Fresh air, Christmas lights, good vibes.”

You hesitated, looking at him. “You just want an excuse to show off the G-Wagon, don’t you?”

“Maybe,” he admitted with a small laugh. “But mostly, I just wanna spend some time with you. Come onnn baby, what do you say?”

“Urgh, Ben,” you groaned, half-burying your face in his chest. “I don’t want to get dressed. It’s so cozy and warm in here.”

Ben chuckled, fingers still playing with your hair as he shifted slightly beneath you. “Then don’t,” he said simply.

You glanced up at him, skeptical. “What do you mean, don’t?”

“I mean exactly that. Stay like this. We’ll match in our PJs,” he said, grinning as if the thought was brilliant. “Just throw a coat on if you’re cold. You’ll still look cute, as always.”

You raised a brow. “You’re really not letting this go, huh?”

He smirked, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “Nope. Come on, my baby. Let’s go.”

With a resigned sigh, you rolled off him, and the two of you made your way downstairs. The house felt quieter now, with Lisa and Bryan the only other ones left at home. As you reached the bottom step, Bryan popped his head out from the living room, eyeing Ben like a hawk.

“Where you headed?” Bryan asked, leaning casually against the wall.

“Just for a quick drive,” Ben said, slipping his hand around your waist.

Bryan’s gaze softened as it flicked to you with a smile, and he nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips as he eyed the matching pjs. “Be safe. That’s precious cargo you’re carrying there.”

Ben smiled back, his grip on your waist tightening slightly. “Don’t worry. I’ll always take care of her. Always be my best for her.”

Bryan gave him a small nod of approval before retreating into the living room.

You tugged Ben’s arm, leading him toward the garage. “Precious cargo, huh?” you teased.

Ben smirked. “Well, he’s not wrong.”

When you stepped into the garage, Ben walked ahead to the car, unlocking the car with a beep, but then stopped and leaned with his back against it, his eyes soft as they settled on you, watching you tug one of his old zip-up hoodies onto your smaller frame.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, the words quiet but heavy.

You tilted your head, confused. “Ben, I’ve been right here.”

“Yeah, but not just you,” he clarified, his gaze dropping briefly before meeting yours again. “I miss being around just you.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten, and before you could respond, he stepped forward, wrapping his hands around your face, his thumbs brushing gently along your jawline. He kissed you then, slow and sweet, but there was a longing in it that made your knees weak. His lips moved against yours like he was trying to make up for lost time, and you melted into him, your hands clutching the soft fabric of his cotton shirt.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours as his breath mingled with yours in the cool garage air. He lingered a moment, looking at you like he didn’t want to let you go, before finally opening the passenger door for you.

You smiled softly at him before you climbed into the passenger seat, and before you could even settle in, Ben leaned over again, his hand brushing your hoodie aside to sneak around your waist as he kissed you again. This one was deeper, more desperate, his lips moving fervently against yours as though he needed you to know how much you meant to him, pushing you against the headrest. Your hand instinctively cupped his face, and as you gently broke the kiss with a giggle, he leaned into your palm, his lashes fluttering closed. His lips pressed softly to the centre of your hand, and when he opened his eyes, there was nothing but tenderness in his gaze.

“I love you so, so much,” he murmured, the words low and reverent.

Your heart swelled, and you smiled, leaning in to kiss his cheek, mumbling an 'i-love-you' back before he finally straightened up and made his way to his seat.

As Ben buckled in and started the car, you glanced over at him, curious. “What was that second kiss for?”

Ben smirked, his eyes flicking toward you before focusing on reversing out of the driveway. “I just needed to, didn't get enough the first time. What, I can’t kiss my girlfriend now? ”

You rolled your eyes, but a soft smile tugged at your lips. “You can, but that one felt… different.”

“Different how?” he teased, his tone light but with an undercurrent of something more serious.

You shrugged, trying to put it into words. “I don’t know. Just felt… extra.”

He chuckled as he turned onto the main road, the faint hum of the heater filling the comfortable silence. “Maybe because it was,” he admitted after a beat. “Sometimes I just can’t help it. You make me want to kiss you all the time.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you glanced out the window to hide your grin.

The roads were clear, the snow from the past days now a mushy slush on the shoulders, but the air still carried that crisp, wintry bite. Ben drove at an easy pace, one hand on the wheel and the other resting on your thigh. He looked so at ease, but there was a spark in his eye like he was up to something.

As Ben guided the car onto quieter streets, the faint glow of Christmas lights decorated the houses you passed. Some were understated, a single wreath or a strand of lights framing the roofline. Others had gone all out, with inflatable Santas and elaborate displays synchronised to music. You leaned back in your seat, your eyes roaming over the decorations, while Ben’s voice became your personal tour guide.

“That house,” he said, pointing to a modest, single-story home with a lone string of flickering icicle lights, “that used to be one of the best on the block. I’m talking full-on winter wonderland. They had those old-school, oversized bulbs that looked like they’d burn your house down if they got too hot.” He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Guess they’ve toned it down. Probably ran out of steam, time catches up to everyone.”

You tilted your head toward him. “Do you think that’s what happens when you grow up? Your holiday spirit just… fades?”

Ben shrugged, slowing the car as you approached another row of homes. “Maybe. Or maybe you just find different ways to celebrate. It’s still there; it just looks different, y'know?”

He glanced your way, and his lips quirked into a smile before continuing. “Or maybe you just need a reason to light it back up again.”

You smiled, rolling your eyes as warmth spread through you despite the coolness of the night.

As you moved down the road, Ben motioned toward a house with a swing set in the yard. “That’s where Emma and her friends used to set up their lemonade stand every summer.”

“Emma? Selling lemonade?” You grinned at the thought, already amused.

“Oh yeah,” Ben said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “And bracelets. They were super into making those friendship bracelets, you know, the ones with the tiny beads and string? She’d make me buy them with my allowance.”

“Did you actually wear them?”

“Pfft, no...not really.” He laughed, tapping his thumb on the wheel. “I’d give her the money and then mysteriously ‘lose’ the bracelet by the next day. I wasn’t gonna walk around with a neon-pink bracelet that said ‘Best Bro.’ forever. She always threatened to never make me one ever again after we'd fight...I'd yell back 'Thank God! Hated it anyways'. But really they're all in a drawer somewhere in my room.”

You laughed, the mental image of a young Ben, begrudgingly supportive yet entirely uninterested, making your chest warm.

“She actually had this whole setup,” Ben continued. “Like a real little businesswoman. She made her friends call her the boss. Wouldn’t let them eat the lemon slices because it ‘cut into profits.’” He shook his head, his laugh deep and affectionate. “It was ridiculous.”

“And yet, you bought into it,” you teased.

“Hey, she’s my sister. What can I say?” Ben grinned, clearly enjoying the stroll down memory lane. “Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna clown her for it, though. It’s my job as her brother.”

The car crested a small hill, and the neighbourhood gave way to the outskirts of town. Ben pointed to a street corner where a chain pharmacy now stood. “That used to be a candy store,” he said, his voice softening with nostalgia.

“What kind of candy?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“All kinds,” he said, gesturing with one hand as he drove. “They had these huge jars of sour candy that would wreck your tongue if you ate too much. Hershey bars that were somehow fresher than the ones you get now, man I loved them bad. And they always had those peanut butter cups in seasonal shapes. Like, in December, it’d be Christmas trees. Emma and I would race to see who could finish one the fastest without choking.”

You grinned. “Let me guess, you won every time?”

“Obviously.” He shot you a smirk. “She’d get halfway through and start laughing, and then it was game over.”

The car slowed as Ben turned onto Main Street, the downtown area glowing softly under strings of lights that crisscrossed above. He nodded toward a retro-looking diner. “That’s where we used to hang out after school. Back when I didn’t have a license, I’d walk here with Emma and some of her friends. She’d order a massive milkshake every time, and she always made me drink the last bit because she’d get too full.”

“She sounds resourceful,” you said, amused.

“She’s something,” Ben replied, shaking his head with a fond laugh. “But yeah, we had good times there, Dad would sneak us there sometimes if Mom was workin' late or held up at work. Lots of bad decisions were made there, too. Like seeing who could eat the most fries dipped in a chocolate shake before feeling sick.”

“And again, you won, didn’t you?”

“Naturally,” he said again, feigning arrogance.

You leaned back in your seat, your smile lingering as Ben continued pointing out spots that had shaped his childhood: a tree where he once built a makeshift swing with friends, a now-closed theatre where he saw his first movie, a small patch of grass by the elementary school where he fell off his first bike.

With every story, you felt like you were stepping deeper into Ben’s world, seeing the layers of his past that made him who he was. It was simple, yet so intimate, and as the car rolled onward, you reached over to intertwine your fingers with his, giving his hand a small squeeze. He glanced your way, his smile warm and genuine, and you knew he felt the same.

The car’s soft hum filled the air as Ben took a smooth turn, guiding you onto the highway. The town lights dimmed behind you, replaced by stretches of open road and the occasional car passing by. You glanced over at him, the soft glow from the dashboard illuminating his profile, the strong line of his jaw, his hand relaxed on the wheel.

For a while, neither of you spoke. It wasn’t uncomfortable; it was the kind of quiet that felt natural, as though the moment didn’t need words. But then, Ben let out a soft exhale, like he’d been holding onto a thought that he wasn’t sure how to voice.

“You know,” he began, his tone easy but introspective, “I think I forgot what the holidays were supposed to feel like for a while.”

You tilted your head, watching him. “Go on...”

He shifted his grip on the wheel, his thumb tapping lightly against it. “I don’t know. It’s just… these past few years, I’d come home from tour or tournaments, and I’d be so worn out. The holidays just became this time to stop, to rest, to not think about anything. Which is fine, you know? But it was always just… quiet. A little… empty, I guess.”

You frowned slightly, your brows furrowing in concern, but Ben quickly glanced over and shook his head, giving you a soft smile.

“Not really in a bad way, babe,” he reassured. “It’s just that I think I stopped caring about the little stuff, like decorating or traditions. Like had no energy to do anything. Even the big stuff, like feeling excited about Christmas morning.”

He paused for a moment as if considering his words. “But having you here this year? I don’t know… it’s different. Better. It’s like I feel all that magic again. Like, when I see the tree or hear a Christmas song, I don’t just think about how it’s another thing to check off the list or somethin' to tolerate. I actually feel it.”

Your heart softened, and you squeezed his hand. “Oh, Ben…”

He smiled, glancing at you briefly before looking back at the road. “I’m serious. Having you here with my family, it’s like I’m a kid all over again. Like Santa’s real, and I’m trying to catch him in the act or something.”

You laughed lightly, the sound filling the car as you leaned closer to him.

“That’s so silly,” you teased, though your voice was tender.

“Maybe,” he admitted, a slight chuckle escaping him. “But it’s true. You make everything feel… fuller. Like, all those little things that used to seem like a chore, they’re exciting again.”

You looked out the window for a moment, watching the faint glimmers of lights from distant houses as the car sped along the highway, helping you blink back tears. The way Ben spoke, so honest and warm, wrapped around you like a blanket. You turned back to him, your smile soft.

“You’re really gonna make me cry on this drive, Ben,” you said, your voice half-teasing but thick with emotion.

Ben laughed, low and deep, shaking his head. “Hey, I’m just tellin' you the truth.”

He shifted slightly, stealing a glance at you again, his gaze lingering a little longer this time. “I just… I hope you know how much it means to me. You being here. It’s not just about the holidays, either. It’s everything. Like you came here to me. You make things feel lighter, like even the messiest, busiest days aren’t so bad if I know I get to come home to you.”

You swallowed hard, your throat tight with emotion. Reaching out, you gently placed your hand on his arm, feeling the warmth of him through the sleeve of his shirt. “I know, Ben. And I feel the same way.”

His lips quirked up in that small, crooked smile of his, the one that never failed to make your heart flutter. He gave your hand a quick squeeze where it rested on his arm.

“I don’t say it enough,” he murmured, his tone softer now. “I know I’m not the best with words, but I’m trying to get better. Because you deserve to hear it. You deserve to know how much you mean to me.”

The highway curved ahead, and Ben’s hands stayed steady on the wheel, but his voice carried all the weight of his feelings. “It’s just second nature, you know? Loving you. It’s like breathing, honestly babe.”

You blinked rapidly, trying to keep your composure as his words settled over you. The warmth of his sincerity was overwhelming but in the best way.

“Ben,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. “I don’t think you realise just how much you mean to me, too. You’re-”

He grinned, interrupting you with a quick laugh. “Careful, you’re about to get sappy on me, and I'm drivin'. Precious cargo, remember?”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t hide the grin tugging at your lips. “Says the guy who just gave me a whole movie monologue.”

Ben laughed again, his head tilting back slightly as the sound filled the car. “Okay, fair. You win this one.”

The two of you fell into an easy silence again, the kind that only came when everything felt right. The road stretched ahead, and just as the first distant glow of the drive-thru light show came into view, Ben reached over and threaded his fingers through yours, holding on tightly.

“Hey,” he said, his tone quieter now but just as warm. “I won't say more but....thanks for coming along for the ride. In every sense.”

You smiled, leaning your head against the seat and squeezing his hand back. “Always, Ben. Always.”

Ben leaned over to kiss you, your lips lingering for a moment. His smile widened, and before you knew it, his hand left your thigh to playfully scruff up your hair.

“Ben!” you shrieked, batting at his arm as he laughed.

“What? I’m just showing some love!” he teased, his chuckle low and warm.

“You’re so annoying,” you said, smoothing down your hair, though your own laughter betrayed you.

Ben’s laughter softened into a smile as he let his hand drift to your cheek, cupping it tenderly. His thumb brushed over your skin, and despite still driving, he made the moment feel like it was just the two of you in the world.

“I love you so much,” he said, his voice deep and steady, his eyes flickering between you and the road up to the drive-thru.

Your heart squeezed, the weight of his words settling over you like a warm blanket. You placed your hand over his, holding it against your cheek. “I love you too, Ben,” you said, your voice soft but sure.

He gave your cheek a quick, affectionate squeeze before placing both hands back on the wheel, his smile lingering as the glow of the drive-thru lights began to grow brighter.

As you approached, the massive entrance to the light show came into full view. It was unlike anything you’d seen before, a distinctly Floridian take on Christmas, quirky and completely endearing.

The first thing to catch your eye was a giant glowing gator decked out in a Santa hat, lounging with a candy cane between its teeth. Next to it, animatronic palm trees were strung with twinkling green and gold lights, swaying side to side, their trunks wrapped in spiralling patterns. Instead of traditional snowflakes, neon orange slices were hanging from the branches, their vibrant colours popping against the dark sky.

“Okay, this is so Florida,” you said, grinning.

Ben laughed as he slowed the car to a crawl, taking in the scene with a mixture of amusement and appreciation. “Right? Gotta love how we just lean into it.”

Further down, a massive glowing sun-wearing sunglasses and a Santa hat loomed over the pathway, its animated rays waving cheerily at passing cars. Beneath it, Santa was stretched out on a sunbed, sipping from a coconut with a tiny umbrella sticking out. The sign beside him read: “Merry and Bright, Sunshine Style!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sheer absurdity of it all tugging at your heart. “This is so ridiculous! I love it.”

“Ridiculous in the best way,” Ben agreed, his grin widening as he pointed out another display, a beach scene with reindeer building sandcastles, their antlers strung with Christmas lights.

“Look at those reindeer! They’ve got flip-flops on!” you said, your laughter bubbling up as you leaned forward to take it all in.

Ben chuckled, his eyes darting between the road and your delighted expression. “You’re loving this way too much,” he teased, though the way his voice softened gave him away.

The path curved through more displays: dolphins leaping out of a glittering blue ocean, flamingos in Santa suits, and even an orange tree with ornaments shaped like snowflakes. It was silly and over-the-top, but it was also so uniquely Floridian that it warmed you to the core.

“Whoever designed this deserves a raise,” you said as a giant neon Santa waved you through a glowing archway that read “Warm Wishes from the Sunshine State!”

Ben reached over to squeeze your hand again. “Glad I could share it with you. You’re making it even better, you know?”

You turned to him, your heart swelling at the sincerity in his voice. “You’re such a softie, Ben,” you said, but your smile gave you away.

“Only for you,” he said, his voice teasing but warm as he guided the car through the final stretch of the light show.

The two of you basked in the glow of the lights, the soft hum of holiday music playing faintly from one of the displays. It was quirky, silly, and completely charming, a perfect little moment shared just between you and Ben, the warmth of his presence making everything feel just right.

As the drive-thru came to its grand finale, the path opened into a small rest area where they sold hot chocolate and offered a “Meet Santa” experience. You and Ben pulled up to the window, where a man in a Santa suit leaned out to greet you, his red hat slightly askew.

“Merry Christmas!” Santa said, extending a gloved hand through the window.

“Merry Christmas!” you both chimed back, grinning like kids.

Ben shook Santa’s hand and, with a completely straight face, said, “Thanks for bringing her to me this year. Best present ever.”

You burst into laughter, covering your face as Santa chuckled warmly. “Well, you’ve been good this year, haven’t you?” Santa said.

Ben winked at you. “Oh, she keeps me in line.”

You rolled your eyes, still laughing as you took the hot chocolates handed to you through the window.

The drive home was quieter, the soft glow of the dashboard lights illuminating Ben’s face as he focused on the road, ready for the drive home. You sipped your hot chocolate, feeling the warmth seep through the cup and into your fingers.

“Tonight was perfect,” you said softly.

Ben glanced at you, his smile faint but genuine. “Yeah?”

You nodded and sighed contently as the car glided through the quiet night, the world outside a blur of soft lights and shadows. Inside, it was just the two of you, cocooned in the hum of the engine and the warmth of your joined hands. The earlier laughter and excitement of the drive-through light display still lingered, but now, a comfortable silence had settled. You glanced at Ben, his profile illuminated by the dashboard’s gentle glow, the curve of his lips softened in thought.

Then he spoke, his voice quiet and reflective. “I want this every year.”

You turned to him, your curiosity piqued. “What do you mean?”

He took a moment, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as he gathered his thoughts. “All of it,” he said earnestly. “The matching pyjamas, the silly late-night drives, baking disasters that somehow work out in the end. I want to look over at you smiling, even if it’s just because you think I’m being cheesy and annoying.”

A small laugh escaped you, but his words had already begun to stir something deep inside.

“I want you to meet all my friends and fit into every corner of my life, and see it too, y'know? I can’t wait for Christmas Eve when the rest of the family comes down from Atlanta, and man, I get to show you off to them, too. But more than anything…” His voice dipped, softer now, almost vulnerable. “I just want you here. By me. Every time, all the time. Now, next year, and every year after that -hell, every day.”

Your heart swelled at his words, a lump forming in your throat as you tried to process the depth of what he was saying. He hesitated, casting a quick glance at you before focusing back on the road. “I know it’s still soon, and I don’t want to rush anything. But you mean so much to me. I’ve never felt this way about anyone, and it’s not something I take lightly.”

You didn’t trust your voice just yet, overwhelmed by the honesty and vulnerability in his tone. Instead, you lifted his hand to your shaky lips, pressing a tender kiss to his knuckles. His gaze flicked to you briefly, and you caught the boyish grin that always made your heart flutter.

“Ben,” you finally managed, your voice soft and steady, “you have no idea how much that means to me. Being here, being with you and your family, it feels like I’ve found something I didn’t even know I was missing.”

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, his smile deepening.

“And your mom adding me to the family group chat?” you added with a laugh. “That might’ve been the highlight of my month. It’s such a small thing, but it made me feel like I belong. I’ve never had anything like this before, Ben. And I just… I love you so much. Being here with you, with all of you, it’s the best thing I’ve ever known.”

His grip on the wheel tightened slightly as he glanced at you, his gaze soft but intense. “I love you, you don’t even know how much. every day, I feel like I can’t love you more, and then… I do. you make everything better, babe. I can’t wait to see where this goes, our future. I know what I want, and that’s you. Now, later, always.”

You reached over, placing your hand on his thigh as your own emotions bubbled to the surface. “You don’t have to wait, Ben,” you said quietly. “I’m already here. I’m not going anywhere.”

The smile he gave you then was brighter than any Christmas light you’d seen all night. When you finally pulled into the driveway, the house quiet and dark, you both lingered in the car for a moment, soaking in the magic of the night.

As you leaned against him, you couldn’t help but feel like this was the start of something beautiful, a foundation not just for the holidays, but for everything yet to come.

[giveafike]

Frosting Foundations -B.T.S

TLDR: cake comp in the house! This is part 7/12 of Azzie's Advent Calendar 2024!

Word count + info: 3k + dialogue.

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW! No warnings : )

Azzie Notes ✚: half way over! Icl atp I was running out of ideas, this is one of my least fave of the series...moreso a filler chapter, but it was fun to shake dynamics up and mess around a bit. But it’s a cute idea, making a something as homely as a cake :) promise this is the last baking one hahaha

————————————————————————

The house buzzed softly with warmth, the heater humming in harmony with the low chatter drifting from the living room. Outside, the snow had resided but the sludge and black ice remained, meaning it was still too hazardous to begin trekking out, at least for one more day. Lisa had been begging Bryan all day to get groceries and it didn't take much convincing for him to melt, although it didn't come without a few groans and complaints as he begrudgingly stepped into the snow, excessively wrapped up for the lack of contact he was going to make with the weather. It was no wonder where Ben got his theatrics from.

The faint crackle of the fireplace in the living room added a cozy backdrop, making the icy chaos outside feel worlds away. As the rest of you lazed in the living room, trying to find more games to play and contests to hold against each other, the boredom started to creep in as a killer. The most exciting thing was hearing Bryan come rushing through with a few bags from his expedition. You could hear him shuffling as he put away the groceries, humming along as he did so. Then, cutting through the serene moment like a starter pistol at a race, Bryan’s voice boomed from the kitchen.

“Alright, family! Get in here! Fun’s about to begin!”

You lifted your head and turned to Ben who groaned from his place sprawled on the couch, his phone balanced precariously on his chest.

“Does we have to?” he whined, not even bothering to lift his head.

You smirked, reaching down to grab his hand and giving it a playful tug. “Come on. Knowing your dad, ‘fun’ could mean anything from a bonfire to building an igloo. It’s worth investigating.”

Ben sighed deeply, the epitome of melodrama, but let you pull him up. Together, you shuffled toward the kitchen, where Emma and Alex had already wandered in, both looking sceptical, their arms crossed in perfect synchronisation. Lisa followed from her perch by the fire, her expression hovering between curiosity and cautious optimism.

Emma glanced at the kitchen table, then narrowed her eyes at Bryan. “What now-?”

The table was a kaleidoscope of chaos: jars of dried fruit gleamed under the overhead lights, a bottle of brandy took centre stage like a guest of honour, and baking ingredients were scattered with a sort of deliberate disarray. Sitting at the heart of it all was a mixing bowl so enormous it could probably double as a birdbath.

Bryan grinned wide, gesturing like a magician unveiling his greatest trick. “Listen, I know we've had our fair share of 'sweet treats' but it seems like it's the only thing that piques interest in this family... so...we’re making Christmas cakes!”

Ben blinked. “Why?”

“Because it’s Christmas! It's...eh...tradition! Except normally it's just me and your mother making it,” Bryan replied with the enthusiasm of a game show host announcing the jackpot.

Lisa crossed her arms. “This isn’t going to turn into one of your team-building fiascos, is it?”

Bryan placed a hand over his heart in mock offence. “Fiasco? This is family bonding, Lisa. Pure and simple. And just for that, teams are going to be shaken up.”

Lisa muttered something under her breath about “pure chaos,” but Bryan was already in full coach-mode.

“Alright, here’s the play-by-play. Ben, Alex, you’re on fruit duty. Soak it in brandy. Be generous but not reckless.”

Alex’s face lit up with mischievous glee as he grabbed the bottle. “Generous is my middle name.” He waggled his eyebrows, unscrewing the cap.

Lisa pointed a stern finger at him. “For the fruit, Alex. Only the fruit.”

“Sure, sure,” Alex said innocently, already pouring a hearty glug over the pile of raisins and currants.

Bryan moved on, unfazed. “You two,” he pointed at you and Emma, “batter up! Eggs, butter, sugar, and so on. Lisa will quarterback your efforts.”

Emma leaned against the counter, her brow raised. “And what exactly are you doing, Dad?”

Bryan puffed out his chest and held up the oversized mixing spoon like a sceptre. “I’m quality control. Someone’s gotta oversee the masterpiece.”

“Control or chaos?” you murmured, earning a snicker from Emma.

Meanwhile, Ben and Alex were at the far counter, fruit and brandy flowing freely. Ben poked at the mountain of dried fruit with a wooden spoon. “Are we supposed to measure this or just... wing it?”

Alex waved him off. “Who measures fruit? That’s not in the Christmas spirit.” He grabbed another handful and tossed it into the bowl with gusto before tipping the brandy bottle dramatically.

Ben side-eyed him. “You’re not even trying to measure, are you?”

Alex grinned, then took a quick sip of the brandy. “It’s called quality assurance. You should know this from your business degree, c'mon man!”

Ben sighed, though there was no real conviction in it. He caught your eye as if to say, "God, help me" before Alex nudged him, prompting the bottle into his hands. He shook his head but took a deep sip and giggled with Alex as they passed it back and forth.

At the other end of the kitchen, you and Emma worked under Lisa’s steady gaze. You cracked eggs into a bowl while Emma measured out vanilla extract with laser focus.

“How many eggs does the recipe say?” you asked, holding up a shell-speckled hand.

“Three,” Lisa said confidently, flipping through the recipe book to double-check.

Emma tilted her head. “Three? Not four? This is a Shelton-sized cake we’re making.”

Lisa shot her a look. “Three. Trust me. I’ve been baking longer than you’ve been alive.”

Emma smirked. “Doesn’t mean you’re always right.”

You bit back a laugh, stepping in before a friendly kitchen brawl could erupt. “I think we’re good with three. Besides, there’s no way Ben and Alex are sticking to the recipe anyway. Something needs to be the control here.”

Emma glanced over and snorted. “Looks like they’re making a fruit-and-brandy punch instead of cake filling.”

Bryan called for attention, clapping his hands. “Alright, team! Let’s see what we’ve got.”

Alex held up the bowl proudly while Ben bit back a hiccup. “Our fruit is thoroughly... infused.”

Lisa wrinkled her nose. “It smells like a distillery over there.”

“Festive right!” Alex shot back, unrepentant.

Bryan took the wet and dry ingredients, stirring and folding them together with the enthusiasm of a man on a mission. He muttered something about “perfect consistency” and “the Shelton legacy,” and before long, the kitchen filled with the rich, spicy aroma of cinnamon, nutmeg, and brandy-soaked fruit.

Finally, Bryan divided the batter into three cake tins, smoothing the tops with exaggerated care. “Into the oven they go!” he declared, sliding the trays in with a flourish.

Ben leaned toward you, whispering, “Why does he look so proud of himself?”

“Because he is,” you replied, stifling a laugh.

As the cakes baked, Bryan rubbed his hands together. “Now, the real fun begins: competition. Each team gets a cake. You’ve got one hour to come up with a masterpiece. The winner gets bragging rights and a prime spot on the Christmas table.”

Ben grinned at you, slightly tipsy and flushed as his hand made its way to your waist, squeezing softly. “Ready to crush the competition?”

Bryan's hand went up. "Not so fast, you're sticking with the teams I assigned. You're not getting a free win while your girlfriend carries you."

“Dad, what! That's not fair! I'm stuck with him!" Ben whined as he pointed at Alex who was still lightly sipping the brandy bottle with a look of love written all over his face.

Emma laughed, throwing an arm over your shoulder protectively. "She's mine, Benny. Go work away, let us get to work."

He grumbled something along the lines of 'this is bullying' and 'I don't wanna work with drunk Alex' before turning to his partner for the night, sighing with pleading eyes as he looked over to you, eyes big and puppylike.

The kitchen buzzed with anticipation as everyone took their corners to create their cake plans. Bryan, naturally, started pacing like he was coaching a championship game as he distributed markers and paper.

“Alright, teams! No peeking, no copying. Keep it clean and creative. You’ve got until the cakes are cooled to lock in your designs.”

You and Emma huddled close to your side of the counter, a pen and paper between you. Emma tapped the table rhythmically, her mind clearly racing.

“Alright,” she began, “let’s not overthink it. A skating rink with fondant. Simple but charming.”

You nodded, sketching a rough oval in the centre of the cake outline. “Right. Blue fondant for the rink. Maybe some piped snowbanks around it?”

“Yeah, and little gumdrop skaters! Little people with scarves and hats,” Emma added, her enthusiasm growing.

You smiled, adding details to the sketch. “We could scatter some powdered sugar snow around the edges. Clean, cohesive, but still cute.”

Emma nodded decisively. “Done. We’re keeping it classic but fun. No gimmicks.”

On the other side of the room, things were far less... cohesive.

Ben and Alex sat side by side, the brandy bottle planted firmly between them. Alex had already taken a swig and was doodling lazily on their design paper. Ben leaned over, chin in his palm, bored as he was watching as Alex drew what looked like a lopsided triangle with a jagged mouth.

“Is that supposed to be...?” Ben trailed off, squinting.

Alex grinned, handing him the pen. “A gator. Duh.”

Ben heaved but couldn’t help grinning. “That looks like it’s been hit by a car.”

“Okay, Picasso, you try,” Alex shot back, passing him the paper.

Ben grabbed the pen, drawing a more refined shape, a wide, toothy snout with sharp eyes. Then, with a flourish, he added a Santa hat on top.

Alex leaned in, impressed.

“Now we’re talking. Big green Gator, bright red hat. We can use white frosting for the trim. This thing’s gonna look sick.”

"Yeah, I know a thing or two about my Gators" Ben folded his arms across his chest, smiling proudly.

“Mhm...I'm sure. And for the teeth, we could break up a candy cane and use the shards. Sharp, candy cane-striped,” Alex replied, side-eyeing Ben as he taking another swig of brandy. “And crushed cookies around the edges for dirt. You know, like a swamp.”

Ben nodded, grabbing the bottle and taking his own sip. “But snowy. A Christmas swamp.”

Alex snapped his fingers. “Exactly. Florida meets the North Pole.”

They sat back, admiring their chaotic, messy sketch, every few moments adding more colour, more noise, more mess to the page. Ben grinned, nudging Alex. “This is either genius or an absolute disaster.”

Alex grinned back, holding up the brandy bottle like a toast. “Here’s to finding out.”

Across the room, Bryan and Lisa were working in near silence. Bryan carefully outlined their traditional wreath design, piping perfect swirls on the paper to demonstrate his vision.

Lisa crossed her arms, unimpressed. “That’s it? A wreath?”

Bryan huffed. “Not just a wreath, a perfect wreath. Clean lines, festive colors, edible bow on top. It’s classic.”

Lisa smirked, leaning back. “You mean boring? We've done that every year, we have two guests stayin' with us and you're showing off with that?”

“Classic,” Bryan corrected firmly, pointing his pen at her. “And unbeatable.”

By the time the cakes were cooled and ready for decorating, the energy in the room was electric. Bryan clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention.

“Alright, let’s do this. No whining, no shortcuts, and remember: winning is about teamwork.”

Emma glanced at you, smirking. “We’ve got this.”

Ben and Alex shared a sly grin, the brandy bottle clinking as Alex set it down. “Prepare to be amazed,” Alex called out.

Bryan, ever confident, grabbed the piping bag. “Let’s see what you’ve got, rookies.”

And with that, the decorating showdown began.

Ben and Alex had finished the bottle in the midst of decorating, the two of them loud and rambunctious as they fumbled with fondant and stabbed their own fingers with the candy cane shards. Every now and then, you and Emma would glance over, almost icked by the lack of composure the boys demonstrated in front of you. Your cake was definitely more uniform by miles but still looked...homemade and interesting for sure.

Lisa and Bryan worked in tandem like a true power couple. They took turns like it was second nature, cleaning up as they went along, making a wreath and small red berries and leaves, detailing it with perfection.

The timer dinged, signalling the end of the decorating round, and Bryan immediately clapped his hands, his coach voice kicking in. “Alright, kids! Step away from your cakes. Let’s see what we’re working with!”

You and Emma exchanged a glance, a mix of pride and slight embarrassment flickering between you. “Okay, ours isn’t terrible,” Emma whispered, nudging you.

“I think it’s cute,” you said with a smile, stepping back to survey your creation.

Your ice rink cake wasn’t professional by any means, but it had charm. The rink itself was outlined in white icing, its slightly wobbly oval shape giving it a whimsical, handmade look. Tiny gumdrop skaters stood, or rather, leaned precariously, on the fondant ice, their colourful bodies wrapped in frosting scarves. The edges of the cake were dusted with powdered sugar snow, and you’d added little piped trees at one corner, though they leaned at odd angles as though they had grown in windy conditions.

“It’s... endearing,” Emma said, crossing her arms with a satisfied nod. “Like a snow globe someone dropped once.”

Bryan and Lisa’s cake stood in stark contrast, pristine and traditional. The piped green wreath encircled the cake with mathematical precision, each leaf identical, each golden and red sugar berry perfectly placed. A red fondant bow sat squarely on top, glossy and flawless. It looked like something out of a catalogue, which, of course, was exactly how they intended it.

Bryan stood beside it with his arms crossed, a smug grin on his face. “A thing of beauty,” he declared, looking around as if daring anyone to challenge him.

Lisa, holding a piping bag with an air of professional disinterest, shrugged. “We’ve done better.”

But all eyes were quickly drawn to the disaster that was Ben and Alex’s cake.

The green fondant gator head sprawled across the top like it had barely survived a hurricane. Its “Santa hat” was unmistakably more of a baseball cap, red fondant lopsidedly draped with blobs of white frosting for trim. Two mismatched candies made up its eyes, one staring off to the left, the other slightly sunken into the fondant, pointing downwards. Around the edges, jagged shards of candy cane jutted out of its mouth and around the cake like some sort of festive swamp disaster.

“Is that…?” Lisa began, squinting.

“Go gators!” Ben giggled proudly, throwing an arm around Alex, who was still holding the now empty brandy bottle. “In a Santa hat. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Alex echoed, grinning like a kid who just finger-painted on the walls.

Bryan stared at it, blinking in stunned silence. “That is... not a Santa hat.”

“No, it’s conceptual,” Alex countered, waving the bottle for emphasis.

“And it’s wearing a baseball cap,” Emma pointed out, biting back laughter.

“Gator went to UF,” Ben said with a straight face, as if that explained everything. “Die-hard fan.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “It looks like it went through a blender.”

“It’s festive,” Alex argued, pointing to the crushed cookie crumbs and powdered sugar sprinkled haphazardly around the edges. “Swamp meets snow globe. Florida Christmas.”

Lisa sighed, covering her face with her hand. “It’s a hazard, that’s what it is.”

Bryan, trying his best to keep a straight face, leaned over the table and surveyed all three cakes. “Alright, let’s judge this properly. First, execution.”

“Wreath’s perfect,” Lisa said immediately.

“Obviously,” Bryan added.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Ours is adorable. Look at the gumdrop skaters! They have hats.”

Bryan tilted his head. “One of them is missing an arm.”

“It’s cold on the ice, injuries happen,” you quipped, earning a snort from Emma.

“And then there’s…” Bryan hesitated, looking at Ben and Alex’s monstrosity.

“Art,” Alex supplied, completely unbothered.

“Nightmare,” Emma muttered under her breath.

“Alright, let’s move on to creativity,” Bryan said, valiantly trying to keep the process professional.

Ben straightened up, placing a hand on his chest. “Ours wins. Hands down. Y’all made cliché, typical, run-of-the-mill cakes. We made one in a million. Nobody else thought of a gator in a Santa hat.”

“Because nobody else should,” Lisa shot back, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Bryan clapped his hands again. “Fine. Let’s call it a tie between execution and creativity. The real winner? Christmas spirit!”

Emma groaned, throwing her head back. “Cop-out! Dad, you just had this competition to show off your cake!”

But you couldn’t help but laugh as Ben and Alex raised the brandy bottle in mock triumph and saluting. “To the gator,” Alex said solemnly.

“To the gator,” Ben echoed, grinning wide.

And despite the chaos, the mismatched cakes, and the questionable choices, the kitchen felt warm and alive, filled with the laughter of a family who clearly knew how to embrace the imperfect joy of the season. You smiled back at the cakes, looking at the silliness of it all, but this is what family is, isn’t it?

[giveafike]

azzie 😭😭😭 these fics make me wanna jump off a cliff but in a good way. they’re so cute!!!

heyyy 😍 don’t do that! 😍 pls! 🤞😍

I’m glad u love em!! Bc I love u! bro, imagine how hard it was for me drafting these up in November and trying to keep my mouth shut. Like, I’m giggling over this and can’t even tell u guys? But I’m glad u guys are freaking out over em and the fluff. Nothing beats it! I luv u bb 🤍💋

[giveafike]

The Winter Whiteout -B.T.S

TLDR: snowed in...sort of. This is part 6/12 of Azzie's Advent Calendar 2024!

Word count + info: 4.8k + including a LOT dialogue. this is acc mainly dialogue.

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW! No warnings : )

Azzie Notes ✚: can u believe we're halfway through the calendar? what'll I do when this is all over?? D: - all the inboxed requests, that's what haha, don't worry I'll still be here. Since I'm writing all these in advance, I wonder if you all have caught onto the little connections throughout...like the ornament on the tree yday, or the snow being on your wishlist... so exciting im giggling. ANYWHO, let's move on.

P.S.Azzie from present: special thank u + shoutout to the Bennies twt gc, what a bunch of funny and silly cuties! (even tho I've been falsely accused and threatened multiple times.) Highly, highly recc u guys to join the twt community it's so fun over there, it's like a little family! Also, if you followed me on there and I haven't followed back, just dm me! I want to be moots w all my fave ppl hehehehehehe

————————————————————————

The soft grey light of dawn seeped through the blinds, gently pulling at the edges of your dreams as you slept beside Ben's warm body. You stirred, the cozy cocoon of the blankets hugging you tightly against the slight chill in the room. As you burrowed further into the warmth, you felt a nudge at your shoulder, soft, almost hesitant, but insistent and annoying enough to pull you closer to waking.

“Babe...babeee...,” Ben’s voice whispered, hushed but tinged with urgency. A second nudge followed, this one paired with the light pressure of his hand against your arm, gently shaking you. “Hey, babe. You gotta wake up.”

You groaned, rolling onto your side, eyes barely cracking open. “Mmh...hm? What’s wrong?” Your voice was thick with sleep, and you buried your face into the pillow, trying to keep your eyes sheltered from the light filtering through.

Ben crouched by the bed, his curls a messy halo around his head, his expression caught somewhere between panic and awe. “...we’re snowed in,” he announced in a whisper-shout, his brown eyes wide as if he were delivering life-altering news.

Your brow furrowed. What? The snow had begun to melt by the time you had come in last night, and now it rebuilt? In Florida of all places? As you attempted to capture Ben's words, you stirred a bit more.

“Snowed in?” you mumbled, voice muffled by the pillow. The words sounded foreign, nonsensical even, especially in your still-sleepy haze. “What’re you talking about?”

“Come look!” he urged, rising to his feet and gesturing dramatically toward the window. The mattress dipped slightly as he stood, and you shivered as the absence of his warmth let the cool air creep in.

With a reluctant sigh, you lifted your heavy head up and swung your legs over the side of the bed, the chill of the floorboards making you wince and pull your feet back for a second. Finally, you pushed up, the sleep-heavy blanket slipping from your shoulders as your eyes blinked away any chances of going back to rest. The sudden loss of warmth made you groan softly, but Ben was already pacing near the window, his hand chewing at the edge of his nail.

“C’mon, babe, you gotta see this,” he pressed, his other arm wrapping tightly around his torso like he was physically holding himself together. His tone was so frantic, that you half-expected to find a blizzard raging outside.

You shuffled to the window, your body still waking up with every step. Pulling the curtain fully back, you squinted against the soft brightness of the snowy morning. The scene outside unfolded like something out of a dream, a thin but pristine blanket of white covered the lawn, cars, and the tops of the palm trees. The road glistened faintly, a mix of ice and slush, while the grass had completely disappeared beneath the powdery covering.

There was snow, for sure. But “snowed in”? That was a stretch. Half an inch, maybe. At best. You blinked, your groggy brain taking a moment to process the panic Ben woke you up in versus the reality that met you outside, the fact you were standing by the window looking at a dusting of snow and ice, bound to melt by afternoon, the fact the cold wooden floor was taunting you for getting up your golden retriever boyfriend without even second guessing.  

You turned around only to find Ben staring at you with wide, anxious eyes. His hand hovered near his mouth as he gnawed at the skin, and he was bouncing faintly on the balls of his feet like he didn’t know what to do with himself. His navy cotton tee hung slightly askew, and his curls still miraculously standing in all directions and faces. The whole picture, his anxiety, his dishevelled state was so endearing that you couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips as your exhaustion melted away.

“Oh, Benny,” you murmured, soft laughter bubbling up in your chest. “Sweetheart, it’s not that bad.”

His face crumpled into a mix of indignation and disbelief. “What?!? Not that bad?” He gestured toward the window as if the sight spoke for itself, his eyes widening while his hands were extended. “This isn't normal! The roads are iced over, the grass is gone, this is serious! What if we can’t get groceries? Oh my God, and if the pipes freeze? What if-”

“Ben,” you interrupted, crossing the room to him. He stopped mid-rant as you reached up, cupping his face in your hands. “You poor Florida baby,” you cooed, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose.

His brows knitted further, the beginnings of a pout forming on his lips. “You’re making fun of me,” he accused, though his hands instinctively settled at your waist.

“Only a little,” you admitted, laughing softly as you peppered kisses across his face, his cheeks, his jawline, the furrow between his brows. “You’re too cute, getting all worked up over this.”

“I’m not cute,” he grumbled, but his voice lacked bite. His hands tightened slightly at your waist, drawing you closer. “And this isn’t funny! What if the power goes out?”

You kissed him again, this time lingering for a second longer. “We’ll survive,” you murmured against his cheek, your hands sliding down to rest on his chest. Beneath the soft cotton of his shirt, you could feel the faint thrum of his heartbeat, faster than usual. “I promise.”

He sighed, his posture softening just a bit. “You’re not taking this seriously.”

You giggled, standing on tiptoe to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Oh, I’m taking it very seriously,” you teased, your tone light. “I’m seriously finding this adorable.”

He groaned, dropping his head against your shoulder in mock defeat, planting a small kiss on it. “You’re impossible,” he mumbled, though the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him.

You laughed, brushing your fingers through his curls before stepping back. “Let me get dressed and wash my face, okay? Then we’ll figure it out, this whole snow emergency of yours.”

He lifted his head, his eyes still clouded with worry but softening slightly as he nodded and exhaled a deep breath. “Okay,” he said, though his tone carried a lingering trace of doubt.

You kissed his cheek one more time before heading to the bathroom, his voice following you as you went. “Don’t forget! If we’re trapped here, we’re gonna need a plan!”

“Got it, babe,” you replied through your laughter as you closed the door behind you, shaking your head. Trapped. Sure. Only Ben could make a snow flurry in Florida feel like the start of a survival movie.

By the time you got dressed and ready for the day, the smell of comfort wafted its way up from downstairs. The rich smell of coffee mingled with the sizzle of bacon and the soft clatter of plates as you stepped into the kitchen, ridding any fatigue from your body. Ben was hunched over the coffee machine, his shoulders tense with concentration like he was performing surgery.

“Morning, soldier. See you've been put to work,” you mumbled, your voice still thick with sleep.

Ben spun around, holding up a mug like it was a trophy. “Morning! Coffee’s almost done. Got my priorities straight today.”

You smiled, leaning against the counter next to him. “How thoughtful of you. For us or for yourself?”

He gave you an innocent look. “For everyone, thank you very much.” Then, lowering his voice, he added with a smirk, “But mostly me.”

Across the room, Emma and Alex were bickering good-naturedly as they set the table.

“Forks go on the left, Alex,” Emma said, swatting his hand.

“No, that’s knives, Em,” Alex replied, holding up the utensils like he was solving a riddle.

“You’re thinking of fancy tables, and this ain’t fancy!”

Lisa chuckled from the stove, flipping a pancake. “As long as there’s food on the table, I don’t think anyone’s gonna care, y’all.” She turned to you, her smile warm. “Can you help me with the syrup and butter? And maybe make a small fruit salad too please?”

“On it, I can take over pancake duty, if you're getting tired on there, Lisa,” you said, moving to gather the items.

Bryan wandered in, pausing in the doorway with his hands on his hips. “Smells like a diner in here,” he said, his voice laced with approval. “That’s how you know it’s gonna be a good morning.”

Emma plopped down the last of the silverware, shooting a look at Alex. “There. Done. And you didn’t even help.”

“I did help,” Alex protested, gesturing to the crooked line of plates he’d set out.

“Barely,” Emma shot back, grinning as she nudged him.

Lisa glanced over her shoulder. “Y’all done bickering yet? Food’s almost ready.”

“Almost,” Emma replied before turning to Alex with a teasing smile. “We’re heading to Alex's place later, by the way.”

Bryan’s head snapped up. “What? Absolutely not, Emma.”

Emma groaned. “Dad, come on. It’s not even far!”

“It doesn’t matter,” Bryan said firmly. “You’ve got no experience driving in snow, and if the roads get icy, you’ll be stuck there.”

Emma sighed, muttering. “Yeah, that’s kind of the point, Dad...”

Alex, trying to defuse the situation, leaned in, clear that panic was etched on his face. “Your dad’s right, though. Imagine if the power went out. We’d be stuck, freezing, with nothing but...” He trailed off dramatically. “...each other.”

Emma, predictably, melted at that. “Ugh, fine,” she muttered, her resolve crumbling as she stared at him.

Bryan threw his hands up in mock exasperation. “Of course. Listen to your boyfriend over your dad. That’s fine. Totally fine.”

Lisa shook her head as she began plating the pancakes. “Bryan, stop being dramatic and sit down. You know you weren't any different either at their age. Breakfast’s ready.”

Everyone settled around the table, the warm smell of coffee and syrup wrapping around you like a veil. Ben handed you a steaming mug, his fingers lingering on yours for a moment before he sat beside you.

As the meal got underway, Ben leaned back in his chair, cradling his coffee like it was a lifeline.

“So... what’s the plan for today? Are we just staying in?”

Lisa looked over her mug, smiling indulgently. “Ben, it’s just a little snow. We’re not actually snowed in.”

Bryan nodded. “Exactly. But I’d rather everyone stay put for a few hours. No sense in slipping on an icy road when it’s gonna melt by noon.”

Ben perked up, his eyes lighting with mischief. “So... we’re basically treating this like a snowed-in day?”

Lisa groaned, shaking her head. “If that’s what you want to call it, fine.”

Ben smiled with that playful grin. “Snowed-in day! Let’s make it fun. Blanket forts, hot cocoa, maybe we bring back the snowball fight, whaddya say Alex? Round Two-”

Before anyone could humour him, Bryan raised a hand, cutting him off. “Ah, ah, ah. You just had a snowball fight last night. If you really wanna get out in the snow today, you’re gonna be helping me clear the driveway. I got de-icing rock salt, too, don’t want none of that slush or black ice out there.”

Ben groaned dramatically, slumping back into his chair. “What? No- Dad!”

“Oh, and you’re helping me clear the neighbourhood roads, too,” Bryan added, pointing a finger. “You and Alex.”

Alex, caught mid-bite, looked up, wide-eyed. “What? But I--wait, that was all Ben!! I mean...” He caught Bryan’s look and sighed heavily. “Yes, Mr. Shelton. Of course.”

Lisa, who had been scrolling through her phone, barely looked up as she mumbled, “We still haven’t done the Secret Santa name distribution this year. When on earth are we meeting with everyone for that?”

You brightened, looking up. “Oh, we could do it online, if that's handy for you. I can send the link and set it up.”

Emma perked up at the idea. “Yeah, that’s smart, that's what me and the girls did in college. Easy, no hassle. We don’t all have to meet in person just for names.”

Lisa shot you a grateful smile. “Oh wow...perfect. Thanks, hon I wanna see how to do that. That’ll save us a whole ordeal.”

The conversation wound down as everyone finished their plates. You helped Lisa clear the table, stacking dishes into the sink while Ben dragged himself upstairs to get dressed for the cold. Alex had already shuffled off to the garage with Bryan, muttering something about Floridians and their snow aversion.

When Ben returned, bundled up in layers with a slightly too-big jacket zipped to his chin, he stopped in the kitchen doorway. His expression was mournful, exaggerated with puppy-dog eyes and a deep sigh.

“Babe,” he said dramatically, placing his hands on your shoulders. “I’m heading into action. My fingers are gonna be numb. My clothes? Soaked. Frozen. My body? Part of what it once was.” He let out a long, suffering sigh. “And worst of all? I’m gonna miss you, and warmth, and coffee, and--”

“Ben,” you interrupted, biting back laughter as you cradled his face in your hands. “You’re clearing the driveway, not trekking across the Arctic.”

“Same thing,” he replied solemnly, his breath puffing slightly as he gazed at you.

You stood on your toes, peppering his face with light kisses: one on his nose, another on his cheek, and finally, a soft one on his lips. “You’ll be fine, my brave soldier. Godspeed, Ben. And remember, when it’s all over, you’ll come to me.”

Bryan’s voice bellowed from the garage. “Ben! Quit stalling and get your ass in here!”

Ben sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Duty calls.”

You patted his chest with a teasing smile. “You’ll survive.”

As he shuffled out the door, Lisa chuckled, shaking her head. “He’s always been a bit dramatic, hasn’t he?”

You laughed, returning to the sink to load the last of the plates into the dishwasher. “It’s part of the charm.”

Emma, perched at the table with Halo in her lap, smirked. “Charm, huh? Sure that’s the word you’re looking for?”

Lisa joined you at the counter, rinsing out a pan. “She’s got it bad,” she teased softly, smiling as she glanced at you.

You smiled back, glancing toward the garage door. “Yeah,” you admitted. “I do.”

Emma grinned, reaching for Halo’s food. “Better you than me.”

After his dramatic departure and a chuckle from Lisa, you found yourself curled up in the living room with her and Emma. The soft hum of the heater filled the space, the occasional clink of mugs against the coffee table accompanying the warm, easy atmosphere. You opened your laptop, connected it to the TV, and set up the Secret Santa website as Lisa leaned forward, watching with interest.

“Alright, let’s get this started,” you said, typing in the link. “You just call out the names, and I’ll add them in.”

Lisa tilted her head, fascinated. “Wait, so all this...online? We don’t even need to draw names out of a hat any more?”

“Nope.” You smiled as Emma scooted closer, leaning over the arm of the couch to watch. “See? Everyone gets an email with their draw. And... check this out you can even add wish lists or send anonymous messages to your Secret Santa. It’s really easy.”

“Wish lists?” Emma perked up, her eyes lighting with excitement. “Wait, hold on, show me how that works, I never done that before!”

You clicked through a couple of tabs, pulling up the gift wish feature.

“Right here. You can add whatever you want so your Secret Santa knows what to get you. No awkward surprises.”

“Genius,” Emma muttered, nudging Lisa. “This is way better than what the family used to do. No offense, Mom.”

Lisa laughed, shaking her head in amazement. “I can’t believe this is a thing. Y'all making us look like amateurs.”

You smiled at the compliment, quickly typing in the last name Lisa called out. “And done. I’ll email the link to you so you can send it to everyone.”

Lisa paused, a thoughtful look crossing her face. “Hold on a second, hon.”

She pulled her phone from the side table, fingers moving quickly over the screen. “I’ll just add you to the family group chat. Make it easier.”

The words hit you like a gentle wave, warm and unexpected. Your heart stuttered for a moment as you processed what she’d said. “Oh-! Lisa, you don’t have to do that,” you murmured, caught somewhere between surprise and gratitude.

“Oh please, nonsense, sweetheart.” Lisa glanced up with a knowing smile, her tone light but full of meaning. “You’re family now. No need to overthink it.”

Your throat tightened at the sincerity in her voice, but before you could reply, your phone buzzed. A notification popped up: Shelton Family Group Chat. You swallowed the lump in your throat, blinking against the sudden sting of emotion as you opened the chat and sent the Secret Santa link in.

Emma clapped her hands together, grinning. “Alright, let’s see who we got!”

You clicked the link on your phone, holding your breath as the page loaded. When your draw appeared, your heart gave a little leap: Emma.

It took everything in you not to give yourself away. Your gaze flickered toward her as she was already scrolling through the wish list feature, completely oblivious. Ideas started swirling in your mind immediately, and you had to fight to keep the excitement from showing on your face.

Lisa glanced at you, sipping her coffee. “Good draw?”

You managed to nod, a tight-lipped smile forming. “Yeah. Great draw.”

Emma raised a brow at you, suspicious. “You’re being weird. Who’d you get?”

“Can’t say!” You threw your hands up defensively, shaking your head. “That’s the whole point of it being secret.”

She squinted at you, mock accusing. “If you got me, you better not get me something lame.”

You laughed, trying to keep your tone casual. “You’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?”

Lisa chuckled, leaning back in her chair. “This is already more fun than the usual way. Good call, hon.”

You smiled warmly, the little flutter in your chest from pride and the lingering feelings from her earlier words: Family. You glanced at your phone again, the screen still glowing with Emma’s name as you drew. Yeah, you thought. You had some good ideas.

After some time chatting together, Lisa busied herself away to get started on lunch, an assortment of dishes and sides she had planned to keep everyone full and warm for the rest of the afternoon. You and Emma found yourselves curled up together on the couch with Below Deck, gossiping about all sorts and debriefing episodes after each one.

The door slammed open with a burst of icy air, Bryan leading the way with Alex and Ben trailing behind. The commotion immediately drew your and Emma's attention, both of your heads turning towards the door as you pressed pause on the TV. Lisa glanced up from the kitchen, where she was stirring something on the stove, and offered a welcoming smile to the trio. The contrast between the “three wise men” was impossible not to laugh at.

Bryan entered looking fresh and composed, his jacket dry, his skin just faintly pink and glowing from the chill. “Nothing better than some good ol' boy time together, huh, guys?!?” he beamed, slapping Alex on the back and clapping Ben’s shoulder.

Alex, in stark contrast, had clear signs of his snowy excursion. Damp patches dotted his jacket, and his cheeks and nose were ruddy. Still, he looked far from bothered, rather energised, a light smirk tugging at his lips as he shook off his gloves. His Canadian side clearly served him well. “It wasn’t too bad,” he said, though his gaze flicked to Ben with a hint of amusement.

And then, there was Ben.

He was the picture of misery. He shuffled in like a shell of himself. His curls were frozen stiff in awkward clumps, bits of snow clinging stubbornly to his sleeves and pants, all over him. His shoulders were hunched and his teeth chattered audibly as he tried to stave off the cold. He paused just inside the doorway, his wide, glassy eyes staring ahead with what could only be described as a thousand-yard stare. His face was pale, his lips slightly blue, and he looked downright traumatised.

You sat up, stifling a laugh at the sight of him. “Ben, are you--?”

He didn’t let you finish. Raising a trembling hand, he cut you off with a weak, “hot shower,” his voice soft and almost childlike, before he shuffled off toward the stairs like a man on a mission.

That did it. As soon as he disappeared, you and Emma turned to each other and burst out laughing. Emma leaned into the couch arm, clutching her side as tears of mirth threatened to spill. Bryan shook his head while Alex turned away to hide his laughter.

“Alright, spill,” Emma said to Alex, who was still shaking his head in amusement while hanging his coat. “What on earth happened out there?”

Alex plopped down into the armchair with a groan of effort, unzipping his thermal halfway. “Man, Ben just had the worst time out there. You should've seen it. First, Bryan’s like, ‘I’ll show you how to shovel,’ and instead of aiming for the sides, he accidentally launches the snow right onto Ben who's on the ground trying to tie his shoes with them big gloves.”

Bryan, who had made his way toward the kitchen, turned back to add, “Wasn’t on purpose. Builds character, though.” He gave Alex a knowing nod before joining Lisa.

“It gets better, though.” Alex continued. “Ben was like maybe, 3 shovels in? He somehow gets his foot stuck under the shovel. When he tries to yank it free and ends up using the shovel like a vaulting pole and almost catapults himself over it and into the snowbank. It was gold. He made the weirdest scream too, it was so tragic.”

You clapped a hand over your mouth to muffle your laugh, and Emma was practically wheezing now.

“But that’s not even the worst part,” Alex said, leaning forward conspiratorially.

“Bryan didn’t really do much out there, just stood supervising us while we salted the driveway and iced down the street a bit. But Ben… oh man.” He shook his head, grinning. “The guy slipped on the ice at least five times. By the third, he just kinda laid there like he was questioning life choices.”

“Oh no, my poor baby,” you said, your voice catching as you tried to breathe through the laughter, heart softening at your own Bambi on ice.

“And then,” Alex said, his grin widening, “you remember that kid Ben called ‘funny-looking’ last night during the snowball fight? Yeah, that kid showed up with his friends and destroyed Ben. Full ambush. It was like watching a crime scene. They made a bad situation worse, man.”

Emma was crying with laughter, doubling over so far she almost fell off the couch. “I can’t believe I missed this.”

Lisa’s voice floated in from the kitchen. “Alex, honey! Go warm up before lunch is ready.”

“Yeah, I’m going Mrs Shelton!” Alex said, standing with an exaggerated groan. He looked back at you and Emma, smirking. “Bryan might’ve been dry as a bone, but between Ben’s luck and that shovel? Today was hilarious.”

You and Emma shared another laugh as Alex disappeared down the hall to clean up. Emma wiped her eyes, shaking her head as she said, “He’s never gonna live this down.”

“Not a chance,” you agreed, still giggling.

The faint sound of water running upstairs confirmed Ben was probably still thawing out. You leaned back on the couch, pressing play on Below Deck as you and Emma tried to recover from the sheer comedy of it all.

Just as you reached for the remote to unpause Below Deck, Bryan’s voice carried through the house.

“Emma! I need help figuring out this Secret Santa thing. It’s not working.”

Emma let out a loud sigh, standing up. “Of course. Can’t let me sit down for five minutes. I'll be back.”

You waved her off with a grin. “Go save him. I’ll wait.”

As Emma disappeared toward the kitchen, you leaned back against the couch, stretching your legs out. A few moments later, you heard heavy, slow footsteps descending the stairs. Ben shuffled into view, looking like he’d barely survived a natural disaster. His curls were damp, clinging to his forehead, with a towel draped over his shoulders. He wore soft sweatpants and a sweatshirt, his hands stuffed into the pocket as if he was still fighting off the chill.

He made his way to the couch and flopped down beside you, immediately dropping his head into your lap.

“Ben,” you scolded gently, looking at the damp mess of his hair. “Your hair’s wet! You’re going to ruin the couch or my leggings!”

He tilted his head just enough to look up at you with a faint, weak smile. “I’ve been through enough. You can’t possibly be mad at me right now.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling as you ran your fingers through his curls, untangling the damp strands and twisting them around your fingers to reshape them. “I can’t believe you got wrecked that hard by a little snow.”

Ben groaned, burying his face into your lap. “Don’t even. It’s not my fault the Sunshine State doesn’t prepare you for… this.”

“Oh, I know,” you teased, scratching gently at his scalp. “You’re a delicate Florida flower who got bested by a shovel, a patch of ice, and a group of angry children.”

“They had backups, man” Ben muttered into your thigh, his voice muffled. “I didn’t stand a chance.”

You giggled, raking your nails lightly through his hair. “And yet, Bryan came in dry and happy like he was just there to supervise.”

Ben let out a long sigh, finally lifting his head to squint up at you. “I don’t need this slander from my own girlfriend.”

“It’s not slander if it’s true,” you said with a grin, leaning down to press a quick kiss to his temple.

Ben shifted slightly in your lap, reaching over to grab the letters tucked under the coffee table. His freshly showered scent hit you, clean, warm, with a hint of his citrusy shampoo, and you couldn’t help but inhale subtly as he moved. His curls, soft and conditioned, brushed against your fingers as you played with them absentmindedly.

“What are you doing now?” you teased, watching as he scanned the pages with a mix of curiosity and focus.

“Looking for evidence,” Ben murmured, flipping through the letters.

“Evidence of what?”

He didn’t answer, his brow furrowing slightly until he found what he was looking for.

“‘And maybe, just maybe, some snow… even if it’s just for a day,’” he read aloud, in a teasing girly voice, clearly trying to imitate you with the faintest grin tugging at his lips.

Your cheeks warmed, and you gave a sheepish laugh. “What, are you going to make fun of me for that too?”

But Ben didn’t tease. Instead, he sat up, turning to face you fully now, his knee tucked against yours. His grin softened into something more thoughtful as he held up his own letter.

“‘If you could help me make this Christmas together extra special, I’d owe you big time,’” he recited, then glanced at the snow falling gently outside the window. He looked at you, eyes wide with a mixture of awe and warmth. “Santa’s legit. He’s already pulling through for us.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Ben, you’re ridiculous. I can’t believe you even remembered I wrote that.”

Ben set the papers down and met your gaze, his voice lowering, softening to match the tender tone in yours. “Of course I did. You’re my girl. How could I forget something that mattered to you?”

Your heart swelled, a mix of amusement and deep affection making your throat tighten. Before you could respond, Ben leaned in, pressing a kiss to your lips. His hands cupped your face gently, his fingers brushing into your hair as if he were binding himself to you. You melted into him, your lips moving in sync, slow and warm, until you finally pulled back.

Your foreheads rested together, and you smiled, voice barely above a whisper. “Well, maybe snow’s not so bad after all.”

Ben smiled too, his voice soft but laced with that playful edge you adored. “Don’t get used to it. I’m still a Florida boy at heart.”

You giggled, brushing his curls off his forehead. “You handled the ice just fine.”

“Barely,” he muttered, but his grin widened as he leaned in for one more kiss.

For the first time all day, the snow didn’t seem so bad to him. Not when he had you to come back to.

[giveafike]

TUMBLR WRAPPED 2024!

hi!

did i scare you? unexpected post, huh? I wanted to have something fun to wrap up the year before we move on so I thought, why not a "wrapped"?

Keeping it short & sweet with some insights too + i luv statistics and seeing patterns, so this is always super interesting to me. Without further ado, here's our wrapped together!

Stats Recap (nerd stuff):

As of 10/12/2024, I have 106 posts. 21 of those are actual fics, meaning almost 1/5th of my posts are works.

The rest is yapping - need to stfu got it! noted!

I received 1,901 notes and 149 followers.

You people are INSANE!!! I have a more emotional post due for New Year's but truly, that is wild, wild work. I'll save the tears and heartfelt stuff for that one, but I want you to know how eternally grateful I am for all of you. Being encouraged by you guys is not just inspiring—it’s addicting, electrifying, and everything in between.

Thank u for the outpouring love.

Inbox Recap (what to look for in 2025?):

Hold ur horses, there's gonna be a lot to write and get through! Thank you for requesting and trusting me to make your ideas come true, I hope to do 'em justice.

Here's a little "reading" so to speak (I HAVEN'T WRITTEN ANYTHING SO DON'T START @ ING ME):

Dominic Fike/Elliot:

sensing an alarming amount of unrest and horn*ness over here. Sensing two posts, both for elliot....smth smth... NSFW... something to do with Nate as well, joining....? Nate and NSFW has the same about of letters too, not a coincidence!!! Also sensing a blurb with a massively underrated song. u btches ab to pmo, why don't we listen to Açaí Bowl more as a collective get the streams up omfg- sorry got sidetracked. that's ab all I can say.

Jude Bellingham:

Pretending to be shocked when I say: more smut requests? Oh brother. But one's very sweet and cute and respectful awww-- SIZE K*NK? oh gosh guys um..the only way I can describe this one is...desperate smut. Anon... cmon now. I would say more, but anon owned up to it saying "This is a long and sick request but I believe you are the only writer on here that can bring this to life 😭😭" which makes me giggle so FINE i'll let it slide, I'll try to do as best as I can (luv u don't u worry I got ideas brewing)

Ben Shelton:

phew. lot of nsfw. like a lot. like a crazy amount. Talking ab that damn car (I'm gonna do smth DRASTIC to that fkin car if he posts w it one more time) talking ab being a munch, ab a supermodel, talking ab scratches, talking ab laver cup (THROWBACK!), about ben showing off.... it's getting hot under the collar, oh gosh. Ahem. We have some sweet fluff ones too! including reader getting insecure/jelly. Ben being irrational, one about....homesickness? a LOT of pregnancy asks. like A LOT. SHELTON NATION DON'T GET KNOCKED UP. PLEASE. One I'm very excited to write, Ben x a certain Doja song...heheheheehehe oh and also, Ben and a 'knock-on effect' w his precious little car, ykwim? no? you'll find out. shush. A very exciting story ahead, the first one with NSFW incorporated - thank u 'D' for the prompt!! Also, I finally got my hands on them tiktok editors and I've made a promise or two to do something w their works.....catch my drift? you'll see soon. Special little hints as to who: victim no 1 and victim no 2 🙂‍↕️😝😙🥰

Post Recap (what went on the billboard charts for u?):

IN 6TH PLACE:

At 85 notes each, we have a tie between "Yours" and "Come Here". Both Ben posts, one SFW the other NSFW. Writing "Yours" was super fun, writing jealous/possessive and sassy Ben kills me laughing, IJBOL and writing Carlitos too? SO funny (wonder how that'd go down differently since we saw them being bff besties at Garden Cup) - Possessive Ben is a guilty pleasure, hehehe. Writing "Come Here" was really interesting since it was my first NSFW of Ben. Also based off of my fave Dom Fike song that's just as h*rny. Thigh riding being my FIRST one off the dome is lwky crazy lmao. Sometimes, I wish I could write more in my NSFW posts, i feel a bit insecure in my NSFW writing? I believe in quality>quantity in fics always, but I hate how short mine are for NSFW posts...sigh. Maybe I should build up the tension more? Go deeper (no pun intended)? you let me know, that would be incredibly insightful!!

IN 5TH PLACE:

At 93 notes, we have my baby, "Shattered"!!! "Shattered" ended up becoming a mini-passion project for me (clearly). What was meant to be a mid-sized blurb ended up progressing to 10k words - how that happened is beyond me. Everytime I thought I was done and ready to close up and conclude, there'd be another part, another bit that I'd want to add. It even got to a point where I'd be on my bus home from work or college, almost falling asleep when I'd get woken up with more inspo, lol. It was my first time writing angst in a very, very, very long time but looking back now, I really truly enjoyed it and I'm quite proud of it! Maybe more angst reqs in my future? I’m leaning towards YES

IN 4TH PLACE:

At 102 notes, we have the "NSFW Alphabet with Ben" - you people are so horny omg. This was the first EVER NSFW thing written about Ben from me. And honestly? my least fave hahahahaa. I deadass have this blocked out of my memory, like I haven't gone back to read it after I posted it. I feel like I'd read it and cringe, or disagree w it or be like "erm acshully ....that's not canon" it prob needs to be redo - I'd never hate any of my children but I'm just saying if this one went missing, idgaf. If you want a crazy NSFW reading thats prob more accurate than anything, check this reading out. Feral, bye.

IJBOL what in the equality is my top 3 posts- I MEAN, here's the top 3 that you people ate tf up!

IN 3RD PLACE:

At 142 notes, we have the "When it Rains, it Pours" - smut always wins here huh? My 2nd fic post! This is a whole nasty NSFW post w Elliot from Euphoria (aka Dominic Fike) mixed with friends w benefits, rain noises, a homemade fort and w**d! Amazing trio imo. Literally as I'm writing this, I just got another like for that freaky ass blurb. As much as I'm excited to write more Dom/Elliot stuff, ALL OF YOU PEOPLE ARE SOOO HORNY? LIKE EVERY SINGLE INBOX REQ IS SMUT? EVERY. SINGLE. ONE. Idk how many times I can reinvent the wheel, so to speak, but I'll sure as hell try....hehehe

IN 2ND PLACE:

At 143 notes, we have "Game, Set, Match" part 1 - Ben Shelton. AWWWW MY BABY, MY LOVECHILD! This was the first ever STORY and I'm so glad it became a 3 part story too. Triple Platinum, I know that's right!!! I really loved making this, I didn’t plan to add the Instagram element, especially since I’m usually terrible at fake IG fic stuff (finding the right images is so limiting). But for GSM, it just felt right. I think my writing has improved a lot since then, too. I always laugh at my Ben posts because my A.Ns are always like "oh brother a LONG ONE HERE" and then my next post is even longer 😭 Thank u fr for the love on this one, because THAT'S when I really got a whole lottaaa support and love and it rly blew me out of the water, I could cry.

And finally....IN 1ST PLACE:

At 147 notes, it's no surprise that we have the "Waves", a Jude Bellingham blurb.

No surprises here, it was meant to be. I say that because I had this ask sitting in my inbox and decided to do a poll asking what I should post first - after tagging all the tags, I should've known it'd be crazily ratio'd by the Jude community on here, hahahhaha. I think it was something like 80% for Jude and the rest scattered throughout? This was my first ever Jude blurb, and I think it'll be one of many. I have a couple in my inbox but the future is there for me and writing about that silly guy.

Final words:

Was that as interesting for you as it was for me? I've been meaning to talk and reflect to u all inbetween the whole "Advent Calendar" series.

If anything, these stats tell me more about you guys, what you want to see and how I should continue going forward. I always want to write about things that matter the most and stick with you, fics that have you coming back to reread and enjoy.

Having representation in my characters and creating a world where you can sink into time and again is one of the best and only things I can give, so you bet by all means neccessary I don't want to half-ass it.

I might not know where your headspace is at, or what's going on in your life but I hope whatever happens, I can have a little space right here, make you laugh, smile and feel things that take your mind off of reality. At least until you finish reading.

As for the rest of the year, I still have my finals and work this weekend and as the season comes closer, I'd like to spend it with my loved ones while I still can :) The "Advent Calendar" will continue as per scheduled!

I hope to write some more before NYE comes round but we'll see. It's never a burden to write, it's always a destresser, but you bet I'll be enjoying company with family and friends too. That's all I've got for 2024, I can't wait to continue creating silly little imaginary situations in 2025 <3

- lots of love,

azzie.

[giveafike]

Snow Much Fun! -B.T.S

TLDR: snow... in ... Florida...! This is part 5/12 of Azzie's Advent Calendar 2024!

Word count + info: 4k. ON THE DOT! im so proud + including dialogue.

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW! No warnings : )

Azzie Notes ✚: listen... before you correct me and get all factual w me...be open minded... I KNOW IT DOESN'T SNOW IN FLORIDA...but it has before, so who says it can't happen in your imagination? THIS IS AN AU. LET ME DREAM, BELIEVE IN CHRISTMAS MAGIC. God forbid a girl likes to imagine and have fun. do u hate fun? whimsy? And if you can't get behind this teensy bit of snow then I fear for the next part.... erm anyways enjoy...

————————————————————————

The days blended together in that warm, comforting way only the holidays could bring. You and Ben found yourselves curled up on the couch with his family, the quiet hum of togetherness filling the living room. The TV flickered with a lighthearted comedy, paused mid-opening scene as everyone got settled. The selection wasn’t a Christmas movie, though Lisa had made her thoughts on that very clear earlier.

“Y’all know it’s December, right?” she teased as she settled into her favourite armchair, her hands curled around a mug of something steaming and fragrant. “We’ve got, what, two weeks left to make the most of Christmas movies? And this is what we’re watchin’?”

Bryan chuckled, patting her knee affectionately. “Let ‘em enjoy themselves, Lis. They’ll get to the holiday classics soon enough.”

Lisa let out a mock huff, shifting in her chair to settle in more comfortably. “If I don’t see at least one Santa before the weekend, I’m gonna start taking hostages,” she muttered, though the smile tugging at her lips softened the threat.

Ben chuckled before he nudged you gently before standing. “Hang tight. Gonna grab somethin’, ” he said, pressing a quick kiss to your temple as he walked out of the room.

“Where’s he off to?” Emma asked as she petted Halo while Alex lifted his head up from the phone in his hand, arching a brow as his eyes fell on the paused TV screen.

“Kitchen, I bet,” Bryan said, settling further into his seat. “He’s like a kid. Can’t sit through a movie without snacks.”

Moments later, Ben reappeared in the doorway, a triumphant grin tugging at his lips, and a gingerbread cookie sticking out from between them like a makeshift cigar. His hands were full, one balancing a plate piled high with the rest of the leftover cookies and the other holding a heavy metal water bottle.

“Look what I got,” he mumbled around the cookie, his words muffled but still carrying that signature playful tone as he nodded toward the plate.

Bryan folded his arms, shaking his head with a smile. “You couldn’t wait two seconds to eat one?”

Ben shrugged dramatically, biting the cookie to free his hands before setting the plate down on the coffee table. “Couldn’t let the guy go to waste,” he said, flashing the half-eaten now decapitated gingerbread man with a lopsided smile.

Lisa rolled her eyes, but there was a fondness in her expression. “At least share before you eat them all yourself.”

“They’re for everyone!” Ben promised in a whine, nudging the plate a little closer to the middle of the table. “But y’all gotta admit, they’re best when I bring ‘em.”

“Sure, Ben,” Emma mumbled sarcastically as she pressed play on the movie from the other end of the couch.

Ignoring her, Ben turned to you with a flourish, pulling a throw blanket from the back of the couch. He gave it a playful snap before draping it over both of you, his movements exaggerated for effect.

“There,” he declared, tucking the edges around your legs. “Cozy enough for ya?”

“Very,” you replied, laughing softly as he flopped down beside you, his arm immediately finding its place around your shoulders.

He leaned into your face, close enough that you could smell the faint scent of ginger and sugar on his breath. With a quiet smile, he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, holding the two of you there for a few seconds, just enough to make your chest tighten pleasantly before pulling back.

“That’s for makin’ these with me,” he murmured, the words low and warm.

Your cheeks heated as you pressed beside him, letting his solid warmth settle against your side. The movie continued on as you all watched, Lisa's earlier mock protests forgotten, but your attention stayed fixed on Ben for a few moments longer. He rested his head in the crook of your neck, his curls tickling your jawline. Without thinking, your fingers slipped into his hair, toying with the soft strands and scratching gently at his scalp, your attention never leaving the screen. The soft, brown spirals swirled around your fingers looping and intertwining, almost as though they were holding onto your fingers each time you went in to massage them. The quiet hum he let out made your stomach flip, his whole body relaxing even more against yours.

“Keep that up and I’m gonna fall asleep,” he murmured, his words barely audible over the dialogue on the screen.

“That a bad thing?” you teased, continuing the slow, soothing motion.

He didn’t reply just hummed again, his breathing slowing as he melted further into your touch. The warmth of the blanket, the faint scent of gingerbread, and the flickering glow of the Christmas tree lights made everything feel impossibly soft and still.

After a while, Ben stirred, sitting up slightly. You thought he might reach for another cookie, but instead, he turned to you. His gaze was gentle as he leaned down, pressing a string of soft kisses to your hairline, trailing down to your temple and cheek.

“Love you,” he murmured, featherlight against your skin.

You turned to meet his eyes, your voice just as soft. “Love you too, Benny.”

His smile was slow and easy as he settled back into the couch, pulling you even closer beneath the blanket. The movie continued, laughter bubbling up occasionally from his family, but the way you held each other made the rest of the world blur into the background. Across from you, Emma was sprawled out with Alex, both of them clearly more interested in whispering to each other than paying attention to the screen.

The living room was warm, lit softly by the glow of the Christmas tree. The angel ornament you and Ben had picked out at the market was hung proudly near the centre, its golden and silver flecks catching the light. It cast delicate patterns on the walls and floor, moving gently as the branches swayed ever so slightly.

Lisa noticed it too, her eyes lingering on the ornament. “That angel looks just beautiful up there,” she said softly, nudging Bryan. “Did you notice it earlier?”

He nodded, smiling. “I did. Real nice pick, y’all.”

“It’s from the market,” Ben said, his voice low and lazy. He didn’t bother lifting his head from where it rested against yours, but there was a quiet pride in his tone. “We thought it fit.”

“It’s perfect,” Lisa agreed, her gaze warm as it swept between you and Ben.

You smiled at her, then tilted your head back to look up at Ben. “Guess we’ve officially contributed to the family tree.”

Ben smirked, his eyes half-lidded with that relaxed ease he only seemed to show when he was home. “Next time, we’ll bring somethin’ even better. Like a big ol' handpainted bauble. That counts, right?”

“Sure,” you replied with a soft laugh, earning a grin from him.

From the other end of the couch, Emma let out a dramatic sigh. “Okay, but why are y’all so cute? It’s nauseating.”

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Em,” Ben shot back, earning a pillow being thrown at Ben by his sister.

“Watch it,” she warned, though her tone was playful.

“Alright, enough,” Bryan interrupted, his voice holding the kind of fond exasperation only a father could pull off. “Y’all are worse than the kids in this movie.”

Emma rolled her eyes but leaned into Alex, clearly content.

For a moment, the room was quiet again, the hum of the movie filling the space. Bryan and Lisa exchanged a look, one of those quiet, knowing glances that seemed to say look at this, this is what we built. You caught it out of the corner of your eye and couldn’t help but smile, feeling a little grateful and honoured to be part of this small, happy scene.

Ben must’ve noticed too, because he gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You good?” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the TV.

“Perfect,” you whispered back, snuggling into him a little more.

And there you stayed, wrapped in warmth and familiarity, the angel casting its soft glow over the room. The movie might not have been a Christmas classic, but the moment was simple, cozy, and filled with quiet love. It felt more festive than anything scripted.

Midway through the movie, Bryan leaned forward in his seat, his brow furrowing as he squinted toward the window. The movement drew everyone’s attention, and Lisa raised an eyebrow.

“Bryan, what’s the matter?” she asked, her voice soft but curious.

“Is it snowin’ outside?” Bryan asked, squinting as if he could see through the blinds.

Emma snorted, her disbelief immediate. “Dad, c’mon. No way. It’s Florida. Snow?”

Alex chimed in, shaking his head. “Yeah, no shot. You’d sooner see gators tugging Santa's sleigh along the street than snow falling here.”

But Ben, with that trademark half-smirk, leaned forward slightly, his arm still slung lazily around you. “It might be,” he drawled, his Gainesville accent thick with teasing scepticism. “Y’know, hasn’t snowed here in years, but it’s cold enough tonight. Could be somethin’ out there.”

His words sparked a ripple of curiosity. Emma groaned dramatically but leaned forward on the couch anyway, craning her neck to peer toward the window. “There better not be snow,” she grumbled, “I’m not built for that.”

You couldn’t help but bite your lip in excitement, feeling that childhood giddiness bubble up inside of you. You try to hide it but glance over too, the soft glow of the tree lights spilling across your face as you shift. From where you sat, you caught the faintest movement outside. A soft, almost magical swirl danced in the light of the streetlamps, the flakes subtle but unmistakable.

“Oh my gosh,” you whispered, your eyes widening. “It really is snowing.”

Emma gasped beside you, her earlier scepticism melting into childlike awe as she broke into a smile. “Wait, what? No way.”

The two of you scrambled to the window, pulling the curtain fully aside to get a better look. Outside, the streetlights illuminated a delicate flurry of snowflakes drifting down onto the quiet street. Across the way, the Christmas lights strung on the neighbouring houses seemed to sparkle even brighter, their colours reflecting off the thin layer of frost dusting the lawns and rooftops.

“Wow, would you look at that,” Lisa murmured, her voice filled with wonder as she stood up and joined you.

“It’s not a blizzard or anything,” Bryan remarked, standing now, hands on his hips. “But I’ll be darned, it’s snow all right.”

Ben chuckled behind you, staying where he was on the couch but watching you from his perch. “Told y’all it might be somethin’. Y’all never listen to me.”

You turned to him, your cheeks still flushed with the excitement of the unexpected sight. “When do we ever listen to you?” you teased, making him laugh.

“Fair point,” he admitted, patting the spot beside him. “But it’s too cold to stand there by the window gawkin’. Get back over here.”

With one last glance outside, you and Emma let the curtain fall back into place and returned to the couch, settling easily against Ben’s side. His arm found its familiar spot around your shoulders, pulling you close as you curled into his warmth as his strong hand rubbed your arm up and down.

“Snow in Florida,” you murmured, more to yourself than anyone. “It feels… kind of magical, right?”

Ben looked down at you, his smirk softening into something sweeter. “Maybe it’s a sign. Christmas miracles and all that,” he said with a wink.

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway, pressing your cheek against his chest and letting the steady thrum of his heartbeat lull you back into the comfort of the evening. Outside, the snow continued to fall, a rare and fleeting wonder that made the cozy warmth of the house feel all the more special.

The movie carried on, but the mood had shifted just slightly. Lisa leaned closer to Bryan, who had draped an arm around her shoulder. Emma and Alex sat side by side, whispering and laughing, their earlier disbelief gone as they marvelled at the snowfall. For you and Ben, the magic wasn’t just outside in the snow or inside the house. It was in the quiet, unspoken connection between you, a warmth that had nothing to do with the blankets or the tree lights. And for now, that was enough.

As the movie carried on to the last scenes, Ben got up to grab a drink from the kitchen. You were mid-sentence, pointing out a plot hole, when his voice rang out, loud and filled with shock.

“Goddamn, the snow stuck!” he exclaimed, his voice high-pitched and bursting with excitement as he came running back to the living room, almost falling over several times.

“What?” Emma shot up from her spot, nearly knocking over the popcorn bowl. “You’re lying!”

“Nah, I’m dead serious! Y’all gotta see this!” Ben called, his voice laced with genuine wonder.

Emma bolted for the front door, you and Alex following close behind, too frantic to even think of how the potential "in-laws" might view you. Pulling the door wide open, you gasped.

There it was, a light layer of snow blanketing the yard, the driveway, and even the street. It wasn’t much, but in Florida, even a thin coating like this was monumental.

“Dad!” Emma spun around, practically vibrating with excitement. “Can we go outside? Please?”

Ben poked his head around the corner from the kitchen, already grinning. “Yeah, c’mon, let us have a little fun! It’s not like this happens every year.”

Bryan looked up from his reclined position, still sat as he arched a brow. He looked at Lisa who stifled a laugh but nodded to the group of you, smiling.

“Y’all act like you’re kids again. But sure, go ahead. Just, wrap up. I don’t want anyone catchin’ a cold or somethin' worse.”

“Yesss!” Ben and Emma cheered simultaneously, already scrambling for jackets and hats, throwing spare ones at you and Ale.

Lisa sighed, though the smile on her face gave her away. “Alright, alright. But bundle up, all of you! Scarves, gloves, the whole thing!”

The house turned into a flurry of motion as everyone raced to grab layers. You hurried to slip on one of Ben's jackets while Ben tugged a knit cap over his curls, half-singing, “We’re goin’ on an adventure!”

Alex grumbled good-naturedly about the chaos but joined in, pulling on mismatched gloves. Emma was the first out the door, her shoes only half on, as she let out a delighted squeal.

The cold air hit your face the moment you stepped outside, but it was worth it. The snow wasn’t deep, just a soft, powdery layer barely clinging to the ground, but it was enough to transform the neighbourhood into a winter wonderland. The Christmas lights strung across the houses glowed even brighter against the dark sky and white snow, while neighbours had begun to step outside, just as awestruck as you were.

“Y’all look at this!” Ben exclaimed, crouching down to scoop up a handful of snow. He grinned, forming a loose snowball. “This is, like, real snow. Not just that slush stuff.”

You barely had time to admire it before Alex sneaked up behind Emma and sent a snowball flying, hitting her square in the back.

“Alex!” Emma spun around, eyes wide with mock outrage. “Oh, you are so dead!” She retaliated with a snowball of her own, smacking him right on the chest.

Ben laughed, clearly loving the commotion, and quickly joined in. His first target? Emma. The snowball hit her shoulder, sending a puff of white into her hair.

“Seriously?” she cried, but she was already giggling as she crouched down to scoop more snow.

“Nothing personal, Em!” Ben called, grinning like a kid. “Been waitin' to do that.”

“Oh, you think this is funny?” Emma lobbed her snowball in his direction, missing him by inches.

Meanwhile, you tried to keep a low profile, standing off to the side, admiring your footprints in the snow, hoping to avoid the crossfire. But Ben wasn’t about to let that slide.

“No hiding!” he declared, turning his playful grin on you. In one smooth motion, he launched a snowball at your leg.

“Ben!” you yelped, laughing as the cold snow splattered against you.

“That’s what you get for standing still!” he teased, already preparing another.

The battle escalated quickly. Alex doubled down on attacking Emma, who alternated between shrieking and laughing as she hurled snowballs back at him. Ben, meanwhile, seemed intent on taking both you and Emma out at the same time, his snowballs flying fast and wildly.

“You’re the worst!” Emma shrieked after a snowball hit her square on the nose, making her freeze. She stood there for a moment, eyes closed, her mouth slightly open in shock as snow dripped down her face.

Ben doubled over laughing. “Oh man, that was perfect!”

“Not funny.” she shot back, though the corners of her mouth twitched.

Before you could react, one of Ben’s snowballs struck you on the cheek, cold and wet as it splattered across your skin.

You stood there for a second, stunned, your hand flying to your face. “Alright, that’s it.”

Emma’s head whipped toward you, her eyes blazing with determination. “You in?”

“Oh, I’m in,” you replied, already scooping up snow.

The two of you turned your full attention on Ben, who immediately held his hands up in mock surrender. “Wait, wait, wait-!”

“Get him!” Emma yelled, launching a snowball that caught him on the arm.

You followed suit, hitting him square in the chest. Ben tried to dodge, laughing as he scrambled to pack more snowballs.

“No fair!” he called out, ducking behind a tree for cover.

“You started it!” you shouted, hitting the tree trunk just inches from his head.

The battle raged on, snow flying in every direction as you and Emma teamed up against Ben. Alex tried to join forces with him, but Emma caught him with a perfectly aimed throw that made him rethink his allegiance.

Kids from the neighbouring houses stood on their porches, laughing and cheering as the four of you chased each other through the snow. By the time the energy started to wane, your cheeks ached from laughing, your gloves were soaked, and snow clung to your hair and coat.

Panting and grinning, you all collapsed onto the snowy ground, the fight finally giving way to exhaustion. Your breath puffed out in small clouds, and for a moment, all you could hear was the sound of your own laughter mingling with the others.

“Alright, y’all,” Bryan’s voice called from the doorway, carrying that fatherly mix of amusement and authority. “That’s enough before somebody ends up with frostbite or a trip to the ER. And I'm not the one drivin' in this weather.”

None of you made a move to get up. Instead, Emma let out a deep sigh and spread her arms and legs out wide.

“Snow angels it is,” she declared, sweeping them back and forth to carve her shape into the untouched white blanket beneath her.

Ben, not to be outdone, flopped onto his back beside her, his long arms stretching as he exaggerated the motion. “Mine’s gonna look like a Wimbledon champion,” he said with a cocky grin.

“More like a giant goofball,” you teased, lying down on his other side to start your own angel.

Alex joined in without a word, still heaving as his movements were slower but no less deliberate. Soon, the four of you had carved a small lineup of snow angels, their winged silhouettes stretching across the yard.

Emma propped herself up on her elbows, inspecting the work. “We gotta sign ‘em,” she said, using her gloved finger to carve an “E” near the feet of her angel.

“Good idea,” Ben said, carving his “B” with a flourish at the bottom of his. “Now everyone knows who made the best one.”

“Debatable,” you muttered, finishing your own initial with a satisfied nod.

Alex added his “A” silently, glancing up with a small smirk as Emma leaned over to nudge him.

As you all sat up, the sound of laughter caught your attention. The last group of neighbourhood kids was a few yards away, rolling snow into giant mounds to form the base of a snowman while the rest of the street stayed dormant, the night slowly creeping up.

Ben squinted at them, then turned to you, his grin mischievous. “Think we could do better?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you replied, already on your feet.

The four of you got to work, scooping and packing snow as quickly as your soaked, frozen fingers would allow. The snowman started small, a modest figure compared to the heavy one the kids were making. Ben insisted on adding his own flair, giving it a crooked smile made of pine needles and twigs for arms that looked like they were mid-dance.

Emma stepped back to admire the work. “He looks like he’s auditioning for a Christmas musical.”

“Better than a boring ol’ snowman,” Ben said, adding a tiny snowball hat to the top of its head.

You knelt down to smooth out its base, adding a scarf you’d borrowed from Emma’s collection to give it a finishing touch.

The kids nearby noticed your creation and waved, their giggles carrying through the crisp air. One of them called out, “Yours looks funny!”

“You look funny,” Ben shouted back, laughing as he threw his arm over your shoulders.

"No need to be fighting kids, Ben" Emma warned as she stopped herself mid-giggle.

"They started it!" Alex chirped in, whining.

When the snowman was finished, the four of you stood back to admire it, your cheeks rosy from the cold and exertion. The little snowman was lopsided but charming, a perfect reflection of the fun that had gone into making it.

“Alright,” Bryan called again from the porch, shaking his head as he watched you all. “Seriously, now. Get in here before Lisa makes me come out there to drag y’all back myself.”

Ben turned to you with a grin. “Guess we better listen before we end up grounded.”

You laughed, brushing snow off your coat as the group headed back inside. The kids were still laughing, the little snowman standing proudly in the yard as a reminder of your impromptu snow day antics.

You all trudged back into the house, your shoes squeaking against the hardwood floors. Your hair was wet, your noses red from the cold, and your hands wrinkled and stiff. Ben rubbed his hands together, blowing on them dramatically.

“Y’all are somethin’ else,” she said, though her smile betrayed her amusement.

“My fingers are gonna fall off,” Emma complained.

Lisa and Bryan were quick to hand out towels, ushering everyone toward the warmth of the fireplace. Lisa had already turned up the heat, and the fire crackled invitingly as you all crowded around it, towels draped over your shoulders.

“Alright,” Lisa announced, hands on her hips. “Y’all had your fun. Now warm up and get yourselves to bed. It’s late.”

Ben leaned down, brushing a quick kiss against your snow-damp, tinted cheek.

“You fight dirty,” he murmured, the warmth of his voice contrasting with the lingering chill of the snow.

You smirked, nudging him lightly. “Learned it from the best.”

You exchanged a glance with Ben, the two of you grinning despite your exhaustion. It had been a fleeting moment of winter wonder, but it was one you’d never forget. As you curled up in bed later, trying to warm up, you were still laughing about your lopsided snowman, you couldn’t help but think that even the smallest miracles could bring the greatest joy. This was the kind of moment that made the holidays magic not just the cookies or the lights, but the love threaded through it all.

[giveafike]

Sugar, Spice & Everything Nice! -B.T.S

TLDR: making gingerbread cookies w Ben :p. This is part 4/12 of Azzie's Advent Calendar 2024!

Word count + info: 4.6k. including dialogue.

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW! No warnings : )

Azzie Notes ✚: this one’s heavily inspired by my own family tradition - we always bake gingerbread cookies since I was a little girl! The first time I did, it was in primary school when I was maybe 6, 7 years old? And after that, my family took it and made it our own little mess :) v v wholesome making little biscuits, shaping them and waiting for them to cool and then decorating them… it’s such a pure act of patience and love, right? Also, changed the middle pic to the MSG pic, his eyes are twinkling, god I love him bad

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The morning was quiet, the kind of stillness that only came when the house was nearly empty. A faint December golden light filtered through the kitchen windows, warming the wooden table where you sat, flipping through the cookbook you had picked up at the Christmas market. The glossy pages felt smooth under your fingers, each recipe accompanied by photos of perfectly baked treats and artful decorations. It was the sort of book that made everything seem achievable, even for a novice. A steaming mug of coffee sat on the table beside you, the rich aroma mingling with the faint hint of pine from the Christmas tree in the other room. Ben had made the coffee, placing it in front of you with a casual kiss on the top of your head and a small rub on your shoulder before taking his place, sitting across you at the table with his own mug. Underneath the table, Halo was sprawled out comfortably, still softly snoring against the floorboards whenever you shifted your feet.

The house was calm, Lisa and Bryan were out doing some last-minute Christmas shopping, and Emma had spent the night at her friend’s house, leaving her still lounging over there for the day. It was just you and Ben.

He seemed at ease, leaning against the counter in his sweats and a faded T-shirt, sipping his coffee and scrolling on his phone. There was something different about him in his childhood home, a quiet confidence, a comfort that came with years of familiarity but you being with him? He liked the way that felt.

Curiosity got the better of him as he set down his phone and stepped closer. “What’s got you so locked in?” he asked, peering over your shoulder.

You smiled, holding the book up slightly so he could see. “Gingerbread cookies,” you said, pointing to a page with intricately decorated cookies that looked almost too good to eat.

Ben squinted at the lengthy recipe and let out a soft laugh. “That’s... ambitious. Is that what you’re thinking of makin'?”

“Maybe,” you said with a shrug. “I mean, when I was a kid, we made gingerbread cookies once or twice, but it was the easy kind. You know, cutting out shapes from pre-made dough and sticking them on parchment paper. Not exactly homemade.”

He chuckled, leaning against the back of your chair. “So, you skipped all the hard stuff and went straight to the fun part, huh?”

“Exactly,” you said with a grin. “But this... this is the real deal. Making the dough, rolling it out, and baking from scratch. It feels like something I should try at least once, one day...”

Ben’s eyes softened as he watched you, the corners of his lips twitching upward. “Well,” he said, straightening up, “why not today? Let’s do it.”

“Really?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “You sure? This recipe is, like, a full-day commitment. I was just looking for inspiration.”

He nodded, setting his empty mug on the table. “Yeah, I’m sure. Mom’s stocked up on all the baking stuff for the holidays, so we should have everything we need. Besides, you’ve been talkin' about a baking day since we got here. Why not now?”

You hesitated for a moment, scanning his face for any hint of second thoughts, but his broad smile was nothing but genuine, his excitement contagious.

“Alright,” you said, closing the cookbook and standing up. “Let’s do it. But you better be ready to work, I’m not doing this all by myself.”

Ben smirked, crossing his arms. “Don’t worry, I’m a great assistant. I’ll handle the hard labour.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to hide your small smile as you began to call out ingredients while Ben gathered. Ben leaned casually against the counter, watching as you carefully measured out the flour, sugar, and spices, the soft clinking of measuring cups the only sound in the room. There was a quiet concentration in the way you moved, a small crease forming between your brows as you checked the recipe and sifted the flour into a large mixing bowl. Every so often, he caught you muttering numbers under your breath, double-checking your measurements, making him smile in pure smitten adoration.

“You’re taking this seriously, huh?” he teased, arms crossed as he leaned a hip against the counter.

“Of course I am,” you replied, not looking up. “You don’t mess around with dough. One wrong move, and it’s game over.”

Ben chuckled, stepping closer to the cabinets. “Alright, Chef. What’s next? Spices?”

You nodded, dragging your finger across the page of the cookbook to check the measurements. “Yep. Cinnamon, ginger, cloves, and nutmeg. You got it?”

Ben nodded before he pushed himself off, stretching up to the top shelf of the cabinet, his fingers easily reaching the small spice jars that were out of your reach. He handed them to you one by one, lingering close as you measured each spice into a small bowl. The kitchen was soon filled with a warm, heady aroma, the kind that instantly made everything feel more festive.

“Smells like Christmas, for sure. You're doing somethin' right” Ben said, leaning down slightly to take a dramatic sniff.

“Smells like a lot of hard work,” you corrected, smiling as you added the spices to the bowl. “Alright, next is the wet ingredients. Butter and molasses, grab the molasses for me?”

Ben grabbed the jar and slid it across the counter toward you, watching you spoon the thick, dark syrup into the bowl. “That stuff’s like tar,” he remarked, raising an eyebrow.

You laughed. “It’s basically liquid gold for gingerbread, though. Trust the process.”

He nodded, though his expression remained sceptical. “Mhm. If you say so.”

As you cracked eggs into the mixture and began to combine everything, Ben wandered over to your side, resting a hand lightly on your back as he peered into the bowl.

“You’ve got this,” he said playfully. “But if you need some real muscle for the next part, I’m available.”

You glanced up at him, smirking. “Oh, don’t worry, you’re about to get your hands dirty.”

His grin widened. “Man, I’ve been waiting for you to say that!”

Once the dough had started to come together, you handed him the wooden spoon, pointing at the thick mixture.

“Alright, muscle-man. It’s your time to shine. But be careful, don’t overwork it. We need the dough to be soft and pliable, not like a brick.”

"Don’t overwork it," he echoed, his voice deliberately mimicking your tone. He tried to press his lips into a straight line, but his smile betrayed him. With a playful glint in his eye, he took the spoon from your hand. "Got it," he said, his grin slipping through despite his efforts.

You stepped back, crossing your arms as you watched him take over. His biceps flexed slightly as he stirred the dense dough, and you couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly he managed it, effortless and, somehow, ridiculously attractive. He was a mix of charm and frustration rolled into one.

“This isn’t so bad,” he said, glancing at you with a smug grin. “I thought you said this would be hard work.”

You rolled your eyes, sighing as you distracted yourself by taking the dirty utensils and bowls into the sink to stop yourself from drooling. “That’s because you haven’t gotten to the part where your arm feels like it’s going to fall off.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Please. I’m a professional athlete. I think I can handle-”

Mid-sentence, the spoon hit a particularly stubborn clump of dry dough, plastered in flour, and Ben’s smug expression faltered as he struggled to keep a massive part of the unmixed batter from spilling over the edge of the bowl.

“Careful!” you exclaimed, eyes widening as you stepped forward to steady the bowl.

“Alright, alright,” he said, his voice tinged with laughter as he adjusted his grip. “Maybe this is a little more work than I thought.”

You grinned, giving his arm a playful nudge. “Told you. Now, keep going. You’re doing great.”

With a determined look, Ben continued to fold the dough, his movements steady and deliberate under you as you glanced every now and then. You found yourself smiling as you guided him, appreciating how he seemed to take it all in stride, even the mess.

Finally, the dough was smooth and well-mixed, and you placed a hand on his arm to stop him. “Okay, that’s perfect. Any more, and you’ll ruin it.”

Ben set the spoon down with a dramatic sigh, shaking his hand as though he’d just finished a workout. “You weren’t kidding about the arm workout.”

You laughed, reaching for the plastic wrap to cover the dough. “See? Baking isn’t just about precision, it’s about endurance. You’d better hydrate if you want to make it to the next round. Maybe take a seat on the bench.”

Ben chuckled, as he watched you wrap the dough in cling film and set it in the fridge to rest. His gaze soft as he admired the way you moved around the kitchen.

“You’re kinda cute when you get all serious about this,” he said, his voice low and warm.

You shot him a playful glare, your cheeks warming. “Focus, Shelton. We’re only halfway there.”

He held up his hands in surrender, a grin tugging at his lips. “Alright, Chef. What’s next?”

With the dough resting in the fridge, you began tidying up, wiping down the counter and setting out the tools you’d need for shaping the cookies. Ben, however, wasn’t nearly as patient. He leaned against the fridge door, staring at it like he could will the dough to finish resting faster.

“So,” he said, breaking the silence, “do we have to wait for an hour? Can’t we just… you know, start shaping them now? It's not like we're in an exam, no one's gonna know.”

You glanced over your shoulder, catching the almost puppy-like look in his eyes. “Yes, we absolutely have to wait,” you said firmly, though you couldn’t help but smile at his impatience.

Ben groaned dramatically, dragging his hand down his face and through his curls, tussling them softly. “But why? It’s just dough. It’s not like it’s a steak that needs to rest or something.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you reached into a drawer to pull out the cookie cutters. “Because,” you explained, setting the cutters on the counter, “resting the dough lets the gluten relax, which keeps the cookies from spreading too much when they bake. It also gives the spices time to blend together and makes the dough easier to roll out. Trust me, it’s worth it.”

Ben sighed, back again with that sceptical look, before mumbling, “Sounds like a lot of fancy science talk just to make some cookies.”

“Maybe,” you admitted, grinning at him. “But it’s the kind of science that keeps your cookies from turning into sad little blobs.”

He broke into a smile, finally conceding. “Fine, fine. You’re the expert.”

“Thank you,” you said with mock seriousness, giving him a teasing salute before focusing on your setup.

While the dough rested, you busied yourself with preparing the island. You got Ben on an exploration to find a large rolling pin and the cookie cutters, while you dusted the surface and neatly lined up the equipment, spreading them out across the counter as excitement spread through you. There were hearts, stars, gingerbread men and women, Christmas trees, and a few other festive shapes.

Ben watched you work, his hands tucked into the pockets of his sweatpants. “You love preppin', huh?”

“Always,” you replied, tossing him a smile as you laid sheets of parchment paper onto baking trays. “Baking is all about being ready before the chaos starts.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Chaos?”

“You’ll see,” you said ominously, grabbing a canister of flour and sprinkling a thin layer across the island. “Just wait until we’re elbow-deep in icing and sprinkles.”

Ben chuckled, stepping closer as you worked. “Oh, that sounds like my kind of chaos.”

Once everything was set up, you took a step back, admiring your handiwork. The counter was clean, floured, and ready to go, with the trays and cutters neatly arranged. Ben, however, was back to pacing near the fridge, occasionally glancing at the clock.

Once the dough had rested, you pulled it from the fridge and placed it on the floured countertop, its chilled surface smooth and pliable under your hands. Ben leaned in eagerly, eyeing the mound of dough like it was a prize.

"Alright," you said, handing him the rolling pin, "your turn. Just don’t go too wild. Nice and even, okay?”

He raised an eyebrow, gripping the rolling pin with an exaggerated flourish. “Nice and even. Got it. I’m basically a pro already.”

“Uh-huh,” you teased, stepping back to preheat the oven.

Ben pressed the rolling pin to the dough and began rolling, his movements a little uneven at first. He squinted down at the dough, muttering, “This is harder than it looks.”

You glanced over, biting back a laugh. “It’s not a race, Ben. Just take your time and keep it even.”

“Don’t worry, I understand it now” he whispered, almost to himself, as he shot you a grin. “I’ve got it handled. Gimme a second and this dough’ll be flatter than a pancake.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you prepared the cookie cutters, dipping them lightly into flour to keep the shapes clean.

Once the dough was rolled out to the perfect thickness, you stepped in, lining up the cutters.

“Okay, now for the fun part,” you said, handing him a gingerbread man cutter. “Start with this one. We’ll work our way through all the shapes.”

Ben pressed the cutter into the dough, lifting it to reveal a cleanly cut gingerbread man. He held it up like a trophy, beaming. “Look at that! First try. Told you I’m a natural.”

“Alright, natural,” you said, handing him a Christmas tree cutter. “Let’s see how you do with the next one.”

The two of you fell into a steady rhythm, cutting out hearts, stars, and more gingerbread men and women. Ben found himself holding up each shape, constantly amazed and proud before gently setting the cookies down onto the parchment paper.

As he cut out another gingerbread man, he paused, holding up one of each. “Now, hold on. We gotta make sure there’s an equal number of these two.” He gestured between the gingerbread man and woman cutters. “Gotta keep things fair. Equality and all.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “How very noble of you.”

“I’m serious!” he insisted, though the twinkle in his eye betrayed him. “We’re not gonna have more dudes than ladies on the tray. That’d be unbalanced.”

“Okay, okay,” you relented, humouring him. “Equality it is.”

As the shapes piled up, flour seemed to cover everything and everyone. Ben had a streak of it across his cheek, and you could feel it dusting your own hands, arms, and even your clothes. At one point, he reached across to grab another cutter and left a powdery handprint on your sleeve.

“Ben!” you exclaimed, pointing to the mark.

He glanced down at his flour-covered hand, then back at you, his grin widening. “Oops. Too focused on the task at hand.”

You shook your head, fighting back a smile. Despite the mess, you were both surprisingly focused, working in sync as you filled tray after tray with perfectly cut cookies. The shapes were neat and even, and the dough scraps were rolled back together with care to minimise waste.

“You know,” Ben said as he carefully placed a gingerbread woman onto a tray, “I’m impressed. I thought for sure I’d mess this up by now.”

“You’re doing great,” you said, genuinely impressed by his effort. “See? Patience pays off.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he teased, brushing a bit of flour off his hands. “I’m still not sold on this whole ‘waiting for the dough’ thing.”

“You’ll thank me when the cookies turn out perfect,” you shot back, sliding the trays into the preheated oven.

Ben stood back, surveying the trays of cookies with a satisfied look. “Alright,” he said, crossing his arms. “What’s next? More science lessons, or are we finally gonna taste-test these bad boys?”

“Not yet,” you said with a laugh. “We still have decorating to do. And no, you’re not eating them straight out of the oven.”

“Why not?” he drawled, feigning a pout.

“Because,” you said, placing a hand around his waist, “burnt tongues aren’t fun.”

“Patience isn’t my strong suit,” he admitted, as he put his head in his hands, groaning.

“Really? I would've never guessed,” you said dryly, earning a playful nudge from him.

“Alright, what can I do while we wait?” he asked, clearly trying to distract himself.

You handed him a dishcloth and pointed to the floor where flour had inevitably dusted its surface. “You can start by cleaning that up.”

Ben groaned but grabbed the cloth anyway, crouching down to wipe the floor. “Slave labour,” he muttered under his breath, though the smirk on his face gave him away.

“You’re the one who asked for something to do,” you pointed out, crossing your arms as you watched him.

He glanced up at you, his grin widening. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t forget this when I’m a pro-level cookie decorator later.”

“Oh, trust me,” you said with a laugh. “I won’t.”

"You’re on decorating prep duty, babe. No rest for two pros like us.”

“Deal,” you said, as you hauled over the bags of powdered sugar, food colouring, and piping bags from the counters. As Ben wiped down the counter, his movements methodical but still sprinkled with his usual flair, you busied yourself mixing the icing. The clinking of bowls and the soft sound of Ben scrubbing created a cozy rhythm. You glanced over occasionally, catching the sight of him brushing stray flour onto the floor with a sheepish grin.

“Hey,” you called out, pointing a spatula at him. “I saw that.”

He froze mid-swipe, his grin widening. “What? The counter’s clean, isn’t it?”

You shook your head, giggling, and returned to your icing. With a careful hand, you divided the thick, glossy mixture into separate bowls, adding drops of food colouring until you had a rainbow of festive hues: deep red, vibrant green, black, soft white, and even a cheerful yellow.

Ben, having finished the counter, moved onto the floor. “How does flour even get under the table?” he muttered, crouching down to clean up.

“Halo probably helped,” you teased, glancing at the dog, who was padding through the house innocently.

“Traitor.”

As the first batch of cookies began to brown in the oven, the warm scent of spices filled the air. You could feel your shoulders relax as you peeked through the oven door. The cookies were holding their shape perfectly, with no spreading, no cracking.

“Success,” you whispered to yourself, relieved.

Ben stood up, dusting his hands on his sweatpants. “Counter’s spotless. Floor’s… basically there too.” He leaned against the island, watching as you filled the piping bags with icing and lined up the bowls of candy, mini M&Ms, jelly tots, and even icing pearls.

“This is starting to look serious,” he commented.

Ben didn’t wait for an invitation. He reached out, snagging a still-steaming gingerbread man from the tray.

“Ben!” you exclaimed. “It’s hot!”

“Yeah, I noticed,” he said through a wince, pulling the cookie back quickly and blowing on it. He took a cautious bite, only to pause, his face twisting.

“Ow!”

You couldn’t help but sigh at the way he pouted, holding the cookie gingerly in one hand.

“I warned you,” you said, stepping closer.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, his pout deepening.

Still laughing, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, lingering just long enough to distract him from his discomfort. When you pulled back, his expression had shifted from a pout to a sheepish smile.

“Guess it was worth it,” he murmured, his voice warm.

You rolled your eyes playfully, taking the cookie from his hand and setting it back on the rack. “You’ll get your turn when they cool down. Patience, remember?”

“Patience is overrated, babe,” he said, but his grin told you he wasn’t serious.

As the cookies cooled, you finished preparing the decorating station, laying everything out neatly. Ben leaned against the counter, watching you with an easy smile. The kitchen felt brighter, and warmer, with the two of you moving around each other in sync. The air smelled of gingerbread, and the promise of creative chaos hung in the air.

Finally, it was time to start decorating. You handed Ben a piping bag filled with red icing and grabbed a green one for yourself. “Okay, let’s see those artistic skills,” you teased.

“Oh, prepare to be amazed,” he said, squeezing the bag experimentally.

The first few cookies were simple, a heart with white trim, and a star with bright yellow accents, but the moment Ben decided to create a gingerbread woman to resemble you, all bets were off.

“Hold still,” he said, squinting at you with a ridiculous level of concentration.

“Ben, it’s a cookie, not a portrait session.”

“Shh. Art takes focus,” he said, holding up a finger up dramatically.

You watched as he gave the gingerbread woman what was supposed to be your hair but looked more like lopsided spaghetti. The face was slightly off-centre, and the dress he attempted was smudged in one corner. When he finally set the piping bag down, he stepped back with a proud grin.

“Ta-da!” he announced, holding it up for you to see.

You stared at the cookie and burst out laughing. “Is that supposed to be me?”

“It’s abstract,” he defended. “You don’t get it ‘cause it’s, like, high-level creativity.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, wiping tears of laughter from your eyes. “I think I’ll stick to realism.”

You got to work on your gingerbread man, deciding to return the favour as you made a gingerbread version of Ben, giving him signature curly hair, his big grin, and, of course, his ON tennis kit, complete in black with a bright pink line in its detailing.

When you showed him the finished cookie, his eyes widened, clearly taking it sorely. “Okay, I see what you’re doin’. Showin’ me up.”

“It’s not a competition,” you teased.

“Everything’s a competition,” he said, but the small smile on his face told you he didn’t mind losing this one.

Next, you both decided to make cookies representing the rest of the family. Bryan’s gingerbread man got a blue sweater, Lisa’s had an apron and a pearl necklace, and Emma’s had her glasses and a small, closed-eye smile.

“Think they’ll recognise themselves?” you asked, tilting your head as you studied the lineup of gingerbread people.

“They’d better,” Ben said, carefully adding a final swirl of icing to Lisa’s apron. “I put effort into this.”

By the time you’d decorated the rest of the cookies, trees, stars, hearts, and more, the sun was setting, casting a warm orange glow through the kitchen windows. The oven was off, the counters were cleared, and the air was filled with the lingering smell of gingerbread and icing sugar. Just as you were cleaning up the last bits of mess, the front door opened, and the sound of laughter and familiar voices filled the house.

“Y’all home?” Lisa called out.

“In the kitchen!” Ben answered, rinsing the last mixing bowl in the sink.

Lisa and Bryan walked in first, carrying shopping and takeout bags, with Emma trailing behind. The three of them paused when they saw the island covered with cookies, their eyes immediately landing on the five gingerbread figures standing together at the front of the spread.

“What …on earth...?” Bryan said, leaning in to examine the cookies more closely. His eyes darted from the gingerbread man with a blue sweater to the one wearing an apron, and his face broke into a grin. “Are these supposed to be us?”

Lisa gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth. “Oh my gosh, look at this!” She reached out delicately, picking up the cookie version of herself. “This is adorable, what a sweet surprise! Is that… an apron? You even added pearls!”

“That one’s me!” Emma crowed, pointing to the gingerbread woman with glasses and a massive smile. “I look so happy. Accurate.”

“Yeah, that was intentional,” you said with a smirk, glancing at Ben, who gave you a sly grin in return.

Bryan carefully picked up his cookie, inspecting the details. “Meanwhile all I got was a bald cookie and a sweater. Real funny.”

“You love sweaters, Dad,” Ben teased, drying his hands with a kitchen towel. “Don’t act like it’s not spot-on.”

Lisa placed her cookie back on the tray and turned to you, beaming. “This is so precious. Did you two make all of these today?”

“All day,” you confirmed, leaning against the counter. “We went all out, cutting, baking, decorating. Ben even rolled out the dough.”

“Don’t let her fool ya,” Ben drawled, nudging your shoulder with his. “She was the boss in this operation. I was just the muscle.”

“And the comic relief,” you added.

Emma leaned over the tray, picking up one of the star-shaped cookies. “These look amazing. Did y’all seriously make all these by hand? No, like, premade stuff?”

“Handmade, start to finish,” Ben said, puffing out his chest. “We’re pros now.”

Lisa laughed, shaking her head. “Well, I’d say it was worth it. They’re beautiful. I almost don’t want to eat them.”

“Almost,” Bryan echoed, already reaching for one of the undecorated trees.

Ben darted forward, intercepting him. “Hold up! Food first. Cookies are dessert.”

“Who made you the dessert police?” Bryan asked, but he let the cookie go, chuckling as he set it back down.

Lisa set the takeout bags on the counter, and the family gathered around, plates and utensils being passed out as everyone helped themselves to the food. The conversation flowed easily, filled with laughter and teasing, and the cookies remained at the centre of attention, a charming reminder of the day you and Ben had spent together.

Later, Ben stood with his arms crossed, watching his family laugh and talk as they picked out cookies to eat. When he noticed you looking, he gave you a soft, warm smile, the kind that made your chest feel full as he opened his arm to invite you in for a hug.

You walked over to him, settling into his side. “This turned out pretty great, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice low. He glanced at the tray of cookies again, then back to you. “Today was fun.”

You let your head rest on his shoulder. His arm slipped around your waist, holding you close as the room buzzed with warmth and love.

“Next time,” he murmured, his lips brushing your temple, “we’re makin’ gingerbread tennis rackets. I’ve got ideas to workshop.”

You sighed, feigning exasperation before laughing softly, tilting your head up to look at him. “I can’t wait to see how that turns out.”

“Better start stretchin’ my art portfolio now,” he teased, but the look in his eyes was anything but playful, soft, steady, and full of affection.

And just like that, in the middle of his childhood kitchen, surrounded by his family and the lingering scent of gingerbread, you realised this moment was one you’d hold onto for a long, long time.