giveafike

[giveafike]

hii!! pls write more ben shelton fics im obsessed with ur writingg!❤️❤️

hi anon! hru? don't worry, I've got a couple of posts and updates due for next week, I can't wait to share em! Wait for me :)

[giveafike]

https://www.tumblr.com/giveafike/773197519491563520/seeing-a-massive-surge-of-likes-and-interactions

a sign for you to come back 👀

bahahahaha HEY! I never left, I’m still here (lurking) 🙈 I’ll be writing and posting soon I pinky promiseeee. In the meantime, if you wanna talk/keep up w me, I’m over on Twitter (@azziegivesafike) 🧍‍♀️

[giveafike]

Seeing a massive surge of likes and interactions on my Ben Shelton works…heyyy guys… some of you new here or….🧍‍♀️

[giveafike]

hi azzie :’) any hints for what’s next for the ben stories 🤓

Hii!! So next one will be maybe end of this month/start of Feb? It’ll be a long story and have multiple parts :) mostly SFW and a NSFW part in the second part of the story. Super excited!

Otherwise, some Elliot and dom fike stuff. I was gonna write some Jude Bellingham stuff but after that match..it’s on hold 😭

[giveafike]

Btw I am SO sorry if you got a notif like this I actually audibly gasped, I got set up here really with that LOUD ASS NOTIFICATION. I have my notifs off for basically everything so I didn’t even know tumblr would do me dirty like that.

Anyways enjoy this twt interaction, like I said, I was…stunned.

i haven’t stopped thinking about ben and car sex ever since you mentioned it in the nsfw alphabet….. pleaseee azzie save meee PLEASE🙏🏼

TLDR: well..read the prompt...yeah...HEY. YOU WANTED THIS.

Word count + info: 4.1k + dialogue. sorry if this has typos, i haven't proofread it..oops.

Warnings + Content Ahead: NSFW MINORS DNI! brat reader x slightly aggressive ben, cussing, car s*x, fing3ring, unprotected s*x, hickeys, doin it in public...nasty.

Azzie Notes ✚: THIS IS FREAKY ASF IM SOOOO SORRY. hi anon! save u...?🙂‍↕️well...yes! Thinkin' of "OHMAMI" - Chase Atlantic and "Partition" - Beyonce while writing this one. Posting this for someone's bday...this was acc in the drafts half-finished for a while, I was just greedy...erm.... yeah... enjoy I'm gonna hold off on the Ben Shelton stuff for a bit and post some Jude/Elliot/Dominic stuff in a while :0 sort of in a weird haze...like not burn out but not being able to get my words out..yk what i mean? anyways.

Taglist: thank u for ur support! if u wanna join the taglist, head on over here

🌙 - @le-moon-nade @anneioe @maya1the-bee @miss-d-d @hannahbanannax @mfcvbs @egevtntn @the-aizzlee @hello-missunperfect-things

hit 150. - B.T.S

————————————————————————

You knew you wouldn’t have much more time with Ben before the new season swept him away.

The offseason had slipped through your fingers like sand, and now with winter break over, routine would pull you both in opposite directions. Ben would be in Auckland, on the other side of the world, while your life would resume at its full pace.

But tonight wasn’t about that. Tonight was about one last hurrah.

Ben had gone all out; planned a dinner at one of the best spots downtown, rented a car that looked like it belonged in a spy movie, a slick black Porsche 911 GT3 to be exact, and insisted on dressing sharp for the occasion. He hadn’t seen your dress yet, though, and you knew the moment he did, all his careful planning might just go out the window. You had been teasing him, teetering around and tempting him with slow teasing kisses and risque, lingering touches. He knew what you were doing but paid no heed, instead, he smiled along at your tempting ways.

The copper silk slip dress you had chosen clung to you like a whisper, the high slit teasing glimpses of your thigh as you moved. The rich hue glowed softly in the light of your bedroom as the sun set, highlighting the warmth of your skin. You turned in the mirror, smoothing down the fabric one last time and admiring how it seemed to fall just right, elegant and daring all at once. You took a bit over an hour to get ready, but you knew inside it would only take seconds before you were made into a mess by Ben.

You could almost hear Ben’s reaction in your head, the low whistle, the sharp inhale as he tried to keep his cool. But you weren’t just looking for compliments tonight. You wanted that tension, the kind that simmered all day between you and that would boil over when you least expected it. Just how long would it take though?

A knock on the bedroom door snapped you from your thoughts, followed by his voice, muffled but unmistakably amused. “You planning on taking all night? Or should I just cancel the reservation now?”

You opened the door to find Ben leaning against the frame, his black shirt tight against his sculpted torso, unbuttoned just enough to be maddening, sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms. The sleek material of his pants was tailored perfectly almost to fault in the way they hid nothing, and his usual mischievous grin only widened as his eyes drank you in. For a moment, the air felt electric, charged with an unspoken understanding that neither of you was ready to voice.

“You clean up okay,” you said breezily, keeping collected as you leaned against the doorframe to mirror his stance.

Ben chuckled, shaking his head as he stepped closer, his fingers grazing your arm as he leaned down, his lips brushing your ear. “Just okay? You really gonna do me like that?”

Your breath caught, but you refused to let him win so easily. “Well, someone’s gotta keep you humble.” You straightened, brushing past him and grabbing your clutch. “Ready?”

“Hold up.” His hand caught yours, pulling you back until you were chest to chest. His other hand rested lightly on your hip, his thumb just barely brushing the fabric of your dress. “You wearing this?”

You feigned nonchalance, furrowing your brows. “You don’t like it?”

His eyes narrowed at you with a smile, and he exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. “I didn’t say that. I just…” He shook his head, his fingers tightening slightly on your hip. “You’re trying to kill me before I leave for tour, huh?”

You smiled, brushing a hand over his chest as you stepped out of his hold. “If you can’t handle it, Ben, you could’ve just said so.”

Ben’s laugh followed you down the hall, warm and teasing, but there was an edge to it that made your pulse quicken. By the time you both reached the car, you were already walking a fine line between playful and dangerous.

The Porsche gleamed under the streetlights, its sleek black frame radiating power. Ben opened the door for you with an exaggerated bow. “Whaddya think? Not bad, hey?”

“Mm, not bad at all,” you said with a small nod, sliding into the low seat. The buttery leather felt luxurious beneath you, the cabin intimate and filled with the faint scent of Ben’s cologne. He joined you moments later, the engine roaring to life and sending a shiver down your spine.

As he pulled onto the road, the tension in the car grew palpable. You could feel his eyes dart to you every so often, his knuckles tight on the wheel. You decided to push him, just a little.

“So,” you began, crossing your legs deliberately, the slit of your dress revealing more skin than necessary. “How many hours did it take you to convince someone to let you rent this thing?”

Ben shot you a look, his smirk returning. “Jealous? You’d look damn good in the driver’s seat, though. Maybe next time.”

“Next time, huh? Pretty sure you’ll be halfway around the world by then.”

His grip on the wheel tightened, but he kept his tone light. “Doesn’t mean I won’t be thinkin' 'bout that view.”

“Which view? The car?” You grinned, knowing full well you were testing his patience. “Figures.”

Ben’s laugh was low, almost dangerous. “You’re funny. You know that?”

“Just keeping things interesting,” you replied, resting your hand lightly on his arm. The muscle tensed under your touch, and you couldn’t help but smile. “You seem tense, though. Something on your mind?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice dropping. “The fact that you keep running your mouth like that like you have been all day and expecting me not to react. Especially when you look so damn good."

You let your hand trail down his arm, your fingers grazing his wrist. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just sitting here making conversation.”

The Porsche’s engine purred as it idled at a red light, a low, vibrating hum that seemed to resonate between you. Ben’s arm rested on the gearstick, his fingers lax but purposeful, his other hand draped confidently over the steering wheel. The muted glow of the dashboard lights cast shadows over his profile, accentuating the curve of his jaw and the slight smirk playing at his lips.

You could sense his restraint, the way he was forcing himself to focus on the road ahead, but it wasn’t just the car that was finely tuned tonight, it was him. He radiated energy, a tension that practically begged to be unravelled. And you knew he wouldn't be able to hold back, he just needed some... coaxing.

“You’re awfully quiet,” you mused, your voice carrying an edge of playful curiosity as you traced your nails absentmindedly along the hem of your dress.

Ben glanced at you briefly, his smirk deepening as his gaze flicked to your bare thigh, then quickly returned to the road. “Just keepin' things... under control.”

“Oh?” You leaned slightly toward him, your shoulder brushing his as you pretended to adjust your seatbelt. “Something wrong? Must be a lot to handle, this car, the speed...the curves…” Your words hung in the air, deliberate and provocative, as your fingertips brushed the smooth skin of his exposed forearm, following every rise and fall of the veins on his arm.

Ben chuckled under his breath, low and warm as if he couldn’t believe you were playing this game. “You’re not gonna make this easy for me at all, hm?” he said, the faintest strain edging his words.

“Me?” You feigned innocence, letting your fingers trace slow, aimless patterns along his arm, up toward the rolled cuff of his shirt and back down to the gearstick. “I’m just enjoying the ride.”

His laugh was sharper this time, a mixture of amusement and disbelief. “Sure you are.”

The Porsche hummed louder as he pressed the accelerator, the engine responding with a growl that sent a thrill through you. The car surged forward, eating up the empty stretch of road as the city lights blurred into streaks of gold and white.

“Ben,” you said, a teasing lilt in your voice as you placed your hand lightly on his thigh. “You’re cuttin' it close to speedin'.”

He didn’t flinch, though you noticed the way his hand flexed tightly against the steering wheel. “And whose fault is that?”

You smiled coyly, letting your fingers dance along the inside of his leg, gently running up and down the smooth pant leg, just enough to draw his attention without breaking his focus. “I don’t know what you mean,” you said, your tone featherlight.

Ben exhaled sharply through his nose, his smirk breaking into a full grin as he shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

“What?” you asked, widening your eyes as if you weren’t entirely aware of the effect you were having on him.

“You,” he said, his voice dripping with mock exasperation. “You’re sitting there, looking like that, saying things like that, and now you’re pretending you don’t know what you’re doing?”

You bit your lip to suppress a laugh, your fingers wandering higher along his thigh, watching a tent hike up through his pants. “Still seems like you’re the one who’s on edge,” you murmured, leaning just close enough for your breath to graze his neck.

Ben’s jaw tightened, but his smirk didn’t falter. “Keep talkin', and we’ll see who’s really in control tonight.”

And there it was. The coaxing he needed to really let loose. And you were the only one to bring it out for him.

After a bit more back and forth, you could tell he was getting weary, tired of holding back as the Porsche slowed abruptly as he veered onto a quiet, tree-lined side street, the faint glow of distant streetlights casting the interior in shadow. He brought the car to a smooth stop, the low rumble of the engine the only sound as he shifted into neutral.

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head at him with mock concern. “Ben, we’re going to miss the reservation,” you said, your voice a careful balance of teasing and exasperation.

His smirk only widened, dark eyes glinting as he leaned back into his seat, one arm draped over the steering wheel. “I don’t care about the reservation,” he said, his tone low, calm, and utterly unbothered.

You blinked, caught off guard by his nonchalance. “You don’t care? You went through all the trouble of planning this, getting the car, dressing up…”

Ben let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you. “I don’t care.” His voice was rough, his eyes locked on yours as he undid his seatbelt with a click, then yours. “You think I can sit through dinner like this? Watching you? Listening to you? Knowin' damn well you’re doing it on purpose?”

You blinked innocently. “Doing what on purpose?” you asked, playing innocent despite the way your heart sped up under his gaze.

He leaned closer, his hand sliding to your thigh, his fingers trailing just under the slit of your dress. “This,” he said, his voice a low growl. “All of this." His eyes trailed over you deliberately, from the loose waves of your hair to the copper silk of your dress and the way it clung to you, draping just enough to make him itch to touch. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and when his gaze met yours again, his smirk had deepened into something more dangerous. “Come here.”

You blinked, surprised at the sudden shift. “Ben-”

“Come here,” he said again, firmer this time, the command in his voice unmistakable. He reached out, his hand curling around your wrist with enough pressure to send a jolt of heat through you.

You hesitated, glancing around the darkened street. “But, what if someone sees?”

He huffed a low laugh, shaking his head as if the idea was absurd. “The windows are tinted enough,” he said, his voice warm but laced with the kind of certainty that made your pulse spike. His thumb brushed over your wrist, slow and deliberate. “And if anyone’s nosy enough to watch... well, that’s on them. You didn’t seem too worried about being seen teasing me this entire time while I was drivin'.”

Your breath hitched, and your hesitation melted under the weight of his gaze. “I wasn’t teasing,” you said, though your voice faltered, the lie obvious.

“Oh, you were teasing,” he countered, his free hand gripping your waist. “And you’ve been doing it all night. But now…” He trailed off, smirking as he guided you toward him, hoisting you effortlessly over the centre console and onto him "It's my turn."

A soft gasp escaped you as you found yourself straddling him, your knees pressing into the plush leather seat on either side of his hips. The shift in position made your dress ride up slightly, sitting tight at your spread position and Ben’s hands settled firmly on your thighs, his touch burning through the fabric.

“Ben,” you murmured, your voice a mixture of protest and anticipation. You didn't mind it, not really.

“Don’t act so surprised,” he said, his voice a rich, teasing murmur as his thumb brushed a slow, maddening circle on your bare skin. “You’ve been driving me crazy all day. Did you think I’d just let you get away with it?”

Your heart raced as you smiled sheepishly while he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “So,” he continued, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “what are you gonna do now, hmm? Keep playing innocent, or admit you’ve been dying for this just as much as I have? I know you. I know this game you play all too well.”

The world outside seemed to vanish entirely, the soft glow of the dashboard lights casting the two of you in shades of gold and shadow. His hands moved slowly, deliberately, travelling up your sides and leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, every word was caught in the heat pooling between you.

“I…” You swallowed hard, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as your lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “Maybe I was teasing. Just a little.”

Ben chuckled, the sound low and deep, as he leaned back slightly to meet your gaze. “Good girl. That's not gonna cut it though."

His hands found their way under your dress, the smooth, soft silk shifting up even more, the slit exposing your thigh without shame or hindrance. He brushed over, up and down casting goosebumps on your skin as you pressed your forehead against his. Your lower back was pushed into the steering wheel, the car feeling small and intimate as Ben massaged your skin, painfully taking his time warming you up. He held your hip with one hand, making it known that you can't get any friction from him, he was in control. It felt like wildfire and yet you needed more, your core desperate for attention.

"Ben...please" you breathed out.

He didn't bother replying, no need to. Just a smirk to tell you that he was going to enjoy this. He brought the dress up to your waist, letting it scrunch and sit there comfortably, before returning back to your thighs, this time moving inwards, slowly inching towards your clothed core, ghosting over it, enough to make you feel the shadow of it, only to pull back and work his way back up. You let out a whimper, knowing if you even tried to take control or end this relentless teasing, Ben would only double down on his punishment for you.

"Beg. Beg for me to touch you."

Your eyes flitted closed as you let out a shaky breath, murmuring whispers of pleads in his ear. He was playing god right now and you were at his mercy completely.

Hearing your hoarse string of pleas was all it took for him, Ben came crashing, pushing his lips to yours, kissing with fervour, power and desperation. His teeth graze your bottom lip, his tongue slipping in while his hands grip your inner thigh roughly, almost enough to bruise.

He pulls you down, giving you some control to grind against him for some relief. He loved seeing you needy for him, desperate for him. As you continued to make out, the windows fogged up and you let out moans of relief as you worked against him, rolling your hips against the bulge you felt underneath you.

Ben pulls away just enough to look at you, his eyes meeting yours before they fall at the sight of your now wet core, leaving a patch against him. "Fuck you're so wet," he lets out a soft groan, clearly enjoying the erotic scene in front of him.

You toss your hair to one side as you leave sloppy, harsh kisses on his skin. If this was one of the last times you saw him before he went on tour, you might as well make it well known that he was yours and yours only. You trailed down, sucking harshly to his exposed collarbone before licking back up his neck, your tongue flat against his skin before you trailed to his face, pecking his lips. Ben's eyes were shut, head thrown back on the headrest as he lets you claim him as yours.

He gently lifts your hips up as he pushes your damp underwear to the side, exposing your lips for a gasp of air, which isn't long-lived before he trails two fingers from your core to your bud. The sensation snaps you out of your own task at hand and makes your head spin, falling woozy onto his shoulder with a whine.

He lets out a cocky chuckle, knowing he had you like putty in his hands. "Such a pretty girl....my pretty girl, all worked up for me, hm?" he taunts as he continues feeling your slickness. He slowly sinks two fingers inside of you, and you bury into him as a much louder moan is tugged out. Your hands fly up to grasp onto his shoulder, and your head tilts and presses into the crook of his neck in pleasure.

"You can be loud here, baby. It's just us here, don't worry.” He coos softly, pressing a kiss to your hair before working back at your dripping cunt.

His fingers thrust into you gently for a few thumps, working to open you up for him and once he feels you relax, his thumb reaches to press at your clit. Moans fill the air as you jolt back, resting against him as you give Ben all the space he needs to stretch you out and work your way up for his length. His fingers start curling as they drag out of you, and you can feel the pads of his fingers rubbing over that sweet spot on the front of your walls. 

Ben's eyes were stuck admiring your obscene expression, pumping faster, rougher, feeling even more conceited with every moan and mewl he worked out of you. There was nothing in this world more satisfying than hearing you moan unfathomable praises and whimpers, but once he starts feeling wetness pooling at his fingers and dripping down, and curses out a rough, “fuck, baby, you’re makin' a mess all over me.”

You don't say anything, and rather than feeling embarrassed you feel hot, salacious and pornographic in this state of blind euphoria. You feel your high approaching, and you’re so thankful that the road is desolate because Ben was never the type to make you cum quietly. You can’t think at all, your brain is fogged with arousal, and yet you use all the power you have left to speak. “Ben, I'm so fuckin' close,” you let out.

"Let go for me."

Determined to give you a shattering orgasm, he held you tight with one hand and used the leverage to fuck into you harder. His fingers stayed on your clit, rubbing it until your slick walls squeezed around him.

You werei in bliss, your body convulsing as you fully let go. "Oh my God," was all you could moan out, as he pressed your lips against his to muffle your cries.

As you came down from your high, you gasped, pushing up from the crook of his neck and back against the steering wheel. Ben rose you up to unbuckle his belt and undo his pants, now sopping in your arousal. It unbuckles fairly easily, and you shove it out of the way, to drag down his boxers and pull his cock out. You let out a soft groan, your hand jerking him off as his veins protrude out, his tip leaking pre-cum already.

No matter how many times you fuck, Ben's dick standing erect before you will always make you nervous. It wasn't something you could ever get used to, it still felt large in your hands and even larger when it sat inside you.

You run a hand over your wet core, taking the wetness to his member to slick it as you continue to work away. Ben watched in both adoration and lust, seeing you this way; lipstick smudged, skin slightly damp like dew and so fucking horny for him. He couldn't believe he had gotten so lucky to fuck his dream girl in a dream car. He was snapped out of his daze quickly though as he watched you rise, raising your hips, and guiding him to your entrance, taunting him before slowly sinking down.

Sets of groans fill the air as your heads are thrown back in pleasure as you press down until he's bottomed out. He ensures your underwear is pushed to the side and your dress stays scrunched up at your waist as he watches himself engulfed entirely by your tight cunt. Your knees barely manage to hold you stable with the overwhelming sensation. As you adjust, you find yourself slowly grinding, raising yourself up gently like you're testing the waters in this tight car. And from there, craving takes over.

You're riding Ben just as much as he's fucking into your tight hole, one hand gripping your ass, the other steadily circling your clit. His eyes never leave yours as he coaxes you and praises you, constantly reminding you of how beautiful you are. His words make your ears ring, falling deaf as you continue to feel your white-hot pleasure burning through you.

You are torturously tight around him, and he can only groan at the feeling of you wrapped around him and it isn't long before his steady thrusts end as he fucking up into you rough and quick. A scream and a series of "fuckk, yes"'s roll out from you at the change of speed, but you just take it with no complaints, allowing yourself to go limp against the wheel and giving him full control.

His hand moves from your ass to your hip, gripping you down against him as anchorage with every sporadic and lightning-fast thrust, his finger rolling over your clit even faster. The car shakes with your fervent motions and rings with muffled moans from the two of you that fill the fogged-up car. Your hand presses against the car window, the other on his shoulder as lewd moans and filthy noises spill from you, your wetness soaking his base.

Your legs start quivering, shaking and Ben knows you're closer than he initially thought. Your own orgasm shocks you, and your eyes roll back sensually so, as Ben fucks into you faster and more ruthlessly than he had.

You choke on your scream of, “Ben, fuck!” as your cum encapsulates him, your cunt tightening around him like a vice. He eagerly brushes his hand against your clit, and shortens his strokes to quick little jabs to force more of your juices out, and you can only ride along like a worn ragdoll, a whine leaving you with each thrust. You’re sobbing messily, as he forces more liquid to spill from your cunt while you ride out your high and he moans out his own orgasm, ripped from him in time; he was surprised he held back until now.

You fall forward again, collapsing into the crook of his now slick and sweaty neck, heaving against his own breathless chest. The squelch of your core has him humming and grinding his hips into you, enjoying the feeling and riding out the last lingering sensations as gently as he can. The two of you shake against each other, hearts rabbiting at a fast beat. Ben's hands rise to rub at your back, bringing you down from the aftershocks still trembling over your body, planting kisses and murmuring praises against your hair, and making his way to your forehead. 

"Think we missed that reservation" he murmurs, as he holds you tight against him.

You roll your eyes and lift your head to look at him, "it was never about that restaurant anyways."

[giveafike]

i haven’t stopped thinking about ben and car sex ever since you mentioned it in the nsfw alphabet….. pleaseee azzie save meee PLEASE🙏🏼

TLDR: well..read the prompt...yeah...HEY. YOU WANTED THIS.

Word count + info: 4.1k + dialogue. sorry if this has typos, i haven't proofread it..oops.

Warnings + Content Ahead: NSFW MINORS DNI! brat reader x slightly aggressive ben, cussing, car s*x, fing3ring, unprotected s*x, hickeys, doin it in public...nasty.

Azzie Notes ✚: THIS IS FREAKY ASF IM SOOOO SORRY. hi anon! save u...?🙂‍↕️well...yes! Thinkin' of "OHMAMI" - Chase Atlantic and "Partition" - Beyonce while writing this one. Posting this for someone's bday...this was acc in the drafts half-finished for a while, I was just greedy...erm.... yeah... enjoy I'm gonna hold off on the Ben Shelton stuff for a bit and post some Jude/Elliot/Dominic stuff in a while :0 sort of in a weird haze...like not burn out but not being able to get my words out..yk what i mean? anyways.

Taglist: thank u for ur support! if u wanna join the taglist, head on over here

🌙 - @le-moon-nade @anneioe @maya1the-bee @miss-d-d @hannahbanannax @mfcvbs @egevtntn @the-aizzlee @hello-missunperfect-things

hit 150. - B.T.S

————————————————————————

You knew you wouldn’t have much more time with Ben before the new season swept him away.

The offseason had slipped through your fingers like sand, and now with winter break over, routine would pull you both in opposite directions. Ben would be in Auckland, on the other side of the world, while your life would resume at its full pace.

But tonight wasn’t about that. Tonight was about one last hurrah.

Ben had gone all out; planned a dinner at one of the best spots downtown, rented a car that looked like it belonged in a spy movie, a slick black Porsche 911 GT3 to be exact, and insisted on dressing sharp for the occasion. He hadn’t seen your dress yet, though, and you knew the moment he did, all his careful planning might just go out the window. You had been teasing him, teetering around and tempting him with slow teasing kisses and risque, lingering touches. He knew what you were doing but paid no heed, instead, he smiled along at your tempting ways.

The copper silk slip dress you had chosen clung to you like a whisper, the high slit teasing glimpses of your thigh as you moved. The rich hue glowed softly in the light of your bedroom as the sun set, highlighting the warmth of your skin. You turned in the mirror, smoothing down the fabric one last time and admiring how it seemed to fall just right, elegant and daring all at once. You took a bit over an hour to get ready, but you knew inside it would only take seconds before you were made into a mess by Ben.

You could almost hear Ben’s reaction in your head, the low whistle, the sharp inhale as he tried to keep his cool. But you weren’t just looking for compliments tonight. You wanted that tension, the kind that simmered all day between you and that would boil over when you least expected it. Just how long would it take though?

A knock on the bedroom door snapped you from your thoughts, followed by his voice, muffled but unmistakably amused. “You planning on taking all night? Or should I just cancel the reservation now?”

You opened the door to find Ben leaning against the frame, his black shirt tight against his sculpted torso, unbuttoned just enough to be maddening, sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms. The sleek material of his pants was tailored perfectly almost to fault in the way they hid nothing, and his usual mischievous grin only widened as his eyes drank you in. For a moment, the air felt electric, charged with an unspoken understanding that neither of you was ready to voice.

“You clean up okay,” you said breezily, keeping collected as you leaned against the doorframe to mirror his stance.

Ben chuckled, shaking his head as he stepped closer, his fingers grazing your arm as he leaned down, his lips brushing your ear. “Just okay? You really gonna do me like that?”

Your breath caught, but you refused to let him win so easily. “Well, someone’s gotta keep you humble.” You straightened, brushing past him and grabbing your clutch. “Ready?”

“Hold up.” His hand caught yours, pulling you back until you were chest to chest. His other hand rested lightly on your hip, his thumb just barely brushing the fabric of your dress. “You wearing this?”

You feigned nonchalance, furrowing your brows. “You don’t like it?”

His eyes narrowed at you with a smile, and he exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. “I didn’t say that. I just…” He shook his head, his fingers tightening slightly on your hip. “You’re trying to kill me before I leave for tour, huh?”

You smiled, brushing a hand over his chest as you stepped out of his hold. “If you can’t handle it, Ben, you could’ve just said so.”

Ben’s laugh followed you down the hall, warm and teasing, but there was an edge to it that made your pulse quicken. By the time you both reached the car, you were already walking a fine line between playful and dangerous.

The Porsche gleamed under the streetlights, its sleek black frame radiating power. Ben opened the door for you with an exaggerated bow. “Whaddya think? Not bad, hey?”

“Mm, not bad at all,” you said with a small nod, sliding into the low seat. The buttery leather felt luxurious beneath you, the cabin intimate and filled with the faint scent of Ben’s cologne. He joined you moments later, the engine roaring to life and sending a shiver down your spine.

As he pulled onto the road, the tension in the car grew palpable. You could feel his eyes dart to you every so often, his knuckles tight on the wheel. You decided to push him, just a little.

“So,” you began, crossing your legs deliberately, the slit of your dress revealing more skin than necessary. “How many hours did it take you to convince someone to let you rent this thing?”

Ben shot you a look, his smirk returning. “Jealous? You’d look damn good in the driver’s seat, though. Maybe next time.”

“Next time, huh? Pretty sure you’ll be halfway around the world by then.”

His grip on the wheel tightened, but he kept his tone light. “Doesn’t mean I won’t be thinkin' 'bout that view.”

“Which view? The car?” You grinned, knowing full well you were testing his patience. “Figures.”

Ben’s laugh was low, almost dangerous. “You’re funny. You know that?”

“Just keeping things interesting,” you replied, resting your hand lightly on his arm. The muscle tensed under your touch, and you couldn’t help but smile. “You seem tense, though. Something on your mind?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice dropping. “The fact that you keep running your mouth like that like you have been all day and expecting me not to react. Especially when you look so damn good."

You let your hand trail down his arm, your fingers grazing his wrist. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just sitting here making conversation.”

The Porsche’s engine purred as it idled at a red light, a low, vibrating hum that seemed to resonate between you. Ben’s arm rested on the gearstick, his fingers lax but purposeful, his other hand draped confidently over the steering wheel. The muted glow of the dashboard lights cast shadows over his profile, accentuating the curve of his jaw and the slight smirk playing at his lips.

You could sense his restraint, the way he was forcing himself to focus on the road ahead, but it wasn’t just the car that was finely tuned tonight, it was him. He radiated energy, a tension that practically begged to be unravelled. And you knew he wouldn't be able to hold back, he just needed some... coaxing.

“You’re awfully quiet,” you mused, your voice carrying an edge of playful curiosity as you traced your nails absentmindedly along the hem of your dress.

Ben glanced at you briefly, his smirk deepening as his gaze flicked to your bare thigh, then quickly returned to the road. “Just keepin' things... under control.”

“Oh?” You leaned slightly toward him, your shoulder brushing his as you pretended to adjust your seatbelt. “Something wrong? Must be a lot to handle, this car, the speed...the curves…” Your words hung in the air, deliberate and provocative, as your fingertips brushed the smooth skin of his exposed forearm, following every rise and fall of the veins on his arm.

Ben chuckled under his breath, low and warm as if he couldn’t believe you were playing this game. “You’re not gonna make this easy for me at all, hm?” he said, the faintest strain edging his words.

“Me?” You feigned innocence, letting your fingers trace slow, aimless patterns along his arm, up toward the rolled cuff of his shirt and back down to the gearstick. “I’m just enjoying the ride.”

His laugh was sharper this time, a mixture of amusement and disbelief. “Sure you are.”

The Porsche hummed louder as he pressed the accelerator, the engine responding with a growl that sent a thrill through you. The car surged forward, eating up the empty stretch of road as the city lights blurred into streaks of gold and white.

“Ben,” you said, a teasing lilt in your voice as you placed your hand lightly on his thigh. “You’re cuttin' it close to speedin'.”

He didn’t flinch, though you noticed the way his hand flexed tightly against the steering wheel. “And whose fault is that?”

You smiled coyly, letting your fingers dance along the inside of his leg, gently running up and down the smooth pant leg, just enough to draw his attention without breaking his focus. “I don’t know what you mean,” you said, your tone featherlight.

Ben exhaled sharply through his nose, his smirk breaking into a full grin as he shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

“What?” you asked, widening your eyes as if you weren’t entirely aware of the effect you were having on him.

“You,” he said, his voice dripping with mock exasperation. “You’re sitting there, looking like that, saying things like that, and now you’re pretending you don’t know what you’re doing?”

You bit your lip to suppress a laugh, your fingers wandering higher along his thigh, watching a tent hike up through his pants. “Still seems like you’re the one who’s on edge,” you murmured, leaning just close enough for your breath to graze his neck.

Ben’s jaw tightened, but his smirk didn’t falter. “Keep talkin', and we’ll see who’s really in control tonight.”

And there it was. The coaxing he needed to really let loose. And you were the only one to bring it out for him.

After a bit more back and forth, you could tell he was getting weary, tired of holding back as the Porsche slowed abruptly as he veered onto a quiet, tree-lined side street, the faint glow of distant streetlights casting the interior in shadow. He brought the car to a smooth stop, the low rumble of the engine the only sound as he shifted into neutral.

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head at him with mock concern. “Ben, we’re going to miss the reservation,” you said, your voice a careful balance of teasing and exasperation.

His smirk only widened, dark eyes glinting as he leaned back into his seat, one arm draped over the steering wheel. “I don’t care about the reservation,” he said, his tone low, calm, and utterly unbothered.

You blinked, caught off guard by his nonchalance. “You don’t care? You went through all the trouble of planning this, getting the car, dressing up…”

Ben let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you. “I don’t care.” His voice was rough, his eyes locked on yours as he undid his seatbelt with a click, then yours. “You think I can sit through dinner like this? Watching you? Listening to you? Knowin' damn well you’re doing it on purpose?”

You blinked innocently. “Doing what on purpose?” you asked, playing innocent despite the way your heart sped up under his gaze.

He leaned closer, his hand sliding to your thigh, his fingers trailing just under the slit of your dress. “This,” he said, his voice a low growl. “All of this." His eyes trailed over you deliberately, from the loose waves of your hair to the copper silk of your dress and the way it clung to you, draping just enough to make him itch to touch. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and when his gaze met yours again, his smirk had deepened into something more dangerous. “Come here.”

You blinked, surprised at the sudden shift. “Ben-”

“Come here,” he said again, firmer this time, the command in his voice unmistakable. He reached out, his hand curling around your wrist with enough pressure to send a jolt of heat through you.

You hesitated, glancing around the darkened street. “But, what if someone sees?”

He huffed a low laugh, shaking his head as if the idea was absurd. “The windows are tinted enough,” he said, his voice warm but laced with the kind of certainty that made your pulse spike. His thumb brushed over your wrist, slow and deliberate. “And if anyone’s nosy enough to watch... well, that’s on them. You didn’t seem too worried about being seen teasing me this entire time while I was drivin'.”

Your breath hitched, and your hesitation melted under the weight of his gaze. “I wasn’t teasing,” you said, though your voice faltered, the lie obvious.

“Oh, you were teasing,” he countered, his free hand gripping your waist. “And you’ve been doing it all night. But now…” He trailed off, smirking as he guided you toward him, hoisting you effortlessly over the centre console and onto him "It's my turn."

A soft gasp escaped you as you found yourself straddling him, your knees pressing into the plush leather seat on either side of his hips. The shift in position made your dress ride up slightly, sitting tight at your spread position and Ben’s hands settled firmly on your thighs, his touch burning through the fabric.

“Ben,” you murmured, your voice a mixture of protest and anticipation. You didn't mind it, not really.

“Don’t act so surprised,” he said, his voice a rich, teasing murmur as his thumb brushed a slow, maddening circle on your bare skin. “You’ve been driving me crazy all day. Did you think I’d just let you get away with it?”

Your heart raced as you smiled sheepishly while he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “So,” he continued, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “what are you gonna do now, hmm? Keep playing innocent, or admit you’ve been dying for this just as much as I have? I know you. I know this game you play all too well.”

The world outside seemed to vanish entirely, the soft glow of the dashboard lights casting the two of you in shades of gold and shadow. His hands moved slowly, deliberately, travelling up your sides and leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, every word was caught in the heat pooling between you.

“I…” You swallowed hard, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as your lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “Maybe I was teasing. Just a little.”

Ben chuckled, the sound low and deep, as he leaned back slightly to meet your gaze. “Good girl. That's not gonna cut it though."

His hands found their way under your dress, the smooth, soft silk shifting up even more, the slit exposing your thigh without shame or hindrance. He brushed over, up and down casting goosebumps on your skin as you pressed your forehead against his. Your lower back was pushed into the steering wheel, the car feeling small and intimate as Ben massaged your skin, painfully taking his time warming you up. He held your hip with one hand, making it known that you can't get any friction from him, he was in control. It felt like wildfire and yet you needed more, your core desperate for attention.

"Ben...please" you breathed out.

He didn't bother replying, no need to. Just a smirk to tell you that he was going to enjoy this. He brought the dress up to your waist, letting it scrunch and sit there comfortably, before returning back to your thighs, this time moving inwards, slowly inching towards your clothed core, ghosting over it, enough to make you feel the shadow of it, only to pull back and work his way back up. You let out a whimper, knowing if you even tried to take control or end this relentless teasing, Ben would only double down on his punishment for you.

"Beg. Beg for me to touch you."

Your eyes flitted closed as you let out a shaky breath, murmuring whispers of pleads in his ear. He was playing god right now and you were at his mercy completely.

Hearing your hoarse string of pleas was all it took for him, Ben came crashing, pushing his lips to yours, kissing with fervour, power and desperation. His teeth graze your bottom lip, his tongue slipping in while his hands grip your inner thigh roughly, almost enough to bruise.

He pulls you down, giving you some control to grind against him for some relief. He loved seeing you needy for him, desperate for him. As you continued to make out, the windows fogged up and you let out moans of relief as you worked against him, rolling your hips against the bulge you felt underneath you.

Ben pulls away just enough to look at you, his eyes meeting yours before they fall at the sight of your now wet core, leaving a patch against him. "Fuck you're so wet," he lets out a soft groan, clearly enjoying the erotic scene in front of him.

You toss your hair to one side as you leave sloppy, harsh kisses on his skin. If this was one of the last times you saw him before he went on tour, you might as well make it well known that he was yours and yours only. You trailed down, sucking harshly to his exposed collarbone before licking back up his neck, your tongue flat against his skin before you trailed to his face, pecking his lips. Ben's eyes were shut, head thrown back on the headrest as he lets you claim him as yours.

He gently lifts your hips up as he pushes your damp underwear to the side, exposing your lips for a gasp of air, which isn't long-lived before he trails two fingers from your core to your bud. The sensation snaps you out of your own task at hand and makes your head spin, falling woozy onto his shoulder with a whine.

He lets out a cocky chuckle, knowing he had you like putty in his hands. "Such a pretty girl....my pretty girl, all worked up for me, hm?" he taunts as he continues feeling your slickness. He slowly sinks two fingers inside of you, and you bury into him as a much louder moan is tugged out. Your hands fly up to grasp onto his shoulder, and your head tilts and presses into the crook of his neck in pleasure.

"You can be loud here, baby. It's just us here, don't worry.” He coos softly, pressing a kiss to your hair before working back at your dripping cunt.

His fingers thrust into you gently for a few thumps, working to open you up for him and once he feels you relax, his thumb reaches to press at your clit. Moans fill the air as you jolt back, resting against him as you give Ben all the space he needs to stretch you out and work your way up for his length. His fingers start curling as they drag out of you, and you can feel the pads of his fingers rubbing over that sweet spot on the front of your walls. 

Ben's eyes were stuck admiring your obscene expression, pumping faster, rougher, feeling even more conceited with every moan and mewl he worked out of you. There was nothing in this world more satisfying than hearing you moan unfathomable praises and whimpers, but once he starts feeling wetness pooling at his fingers and dripping down, and curses out a rough, “fuck, baby, you’re makin' a mess all over me.”

You don't say anything, and rather than feeling embarrassed you feel hot, salacious and pornographic in this state of blind euphoria. You feel your high approaching, and you’re so thankful that the road is desolate because Ben was never the type to make you cum quietly. You can’t think at all, your brain is fogged with arousal, and yet you use all the power you have left to speak. “Ben, I'm so fuckin' close,” you let out.

"Let go for me."

Determined to give you a shattering orgasm, he held you tight with one hand and used the leverage to fuck into you harder. His fingers stayed on your clit, rubbing it until your slick walls squeezed around him.

You werei in bliss, your body convulsing as you fully let go. "Oh my God," was all you could moan out, as he pressed your lips against his to muffle your cries.

As you came down from your high, you gasped, pushing up from the crook of his neck and back against the steering wheel. Ben rose you up to unbuckle his belt and undo his pants, now sopping in your arousal. It unbuckles fairly easily, and you shove it out of the way, to drag down his boxers and pull his cock out. You let out a soft groan, your hand jerking him off as his veins protrude out, his tip leaking pre-cum already.

No matter how many times you fuck, Ben's dick standing erect before you will always make you nervous. It wasn't something you could ever get used to, it still felt large in your hands and even larger when it sat inside you.

You run a hand over your wet core, taking the wetness to his member to slick it as you continue to work away. Ben watched in both adoration and lust, seeing you this way; lipstick smudged, skin slightly damp like dew and so fucking horny for him. He couldn't believe he had gotten so lucky to fuck his dream girl in a dream car. He was snapped out of his daze quickly though as he watched you rise, raising your hips, and guiding him to your entrance, taunting him before slowly sinking down.

Sets of groans fill the air as your heads are thrown back in pleasure as you press down until he's bottomed out. He ensures your underwear is pushed to the side and your dress stays scrunched up at your waist as he watches himself engulfed entirely by your tight cunt. Your knees barely manage to hold you stable with the overwhelming sensation. As you adjust, you find yourself slowly grinding, raising yourself up gently like you're testing the waters in this tight car. And from there, craving takes over.

You're riding Ben just as much as he's fucking into your tight hole, one hand gripping your ass, the other steadily circling your clit. His eyes never leave yours as he coaxes you and praises you, constantly reminding you of how beautiful you are. His words make your ears ring, falling deaf as you continue to feel your white-hot pleasure burning through you.

You are torturously tight around him, and he can only groan at the feeling of you wrapped around him and it isn't long before his steady thrusts end as he fucking up into you rough and quick. A scream and a series of "fuckk, yes"'s roll out from you at the change of speed, but you just take it with no complaints, allowing yourself to go limp against the wheel and giving him full control.

His hand moves from your ass to your hip, gripping you down against him as anchorage with every sporadic and lightning-fast thrust, his finger rolling over your clit even faster. The car shakes with your fervent motions and rings with muffled moans from the two of you that fill the fogged-up car. Your hand presses against the car window, the other on his shoulder as lewd moans and filthy noises spill from you, your wetness soaking his base.

Your legs start quivering, shaking and Ben knows you're closer than he initially thought. Your own orgasm shocks you, and your eyes roll back sensually so, as Ben fucks into you faster and more ruthlessly than he had.

You choke on your scream of, “Ben, fuck!” as your cum encapsulates him, your cunt tightening around him like a vice. He eagerly brushes his hand against your clit, and shortens his strokes to quick little jabs to force more of your juices out, and you can only ride along like a worn ragdoll, a whine leaving you with each thrust. You’re sobbing messily, as he forces more liquid to spill from your cunt while you ride out your high and he moans out his own orgasm, ripped from him in time; he was surprised he held back until now.

You fall forward again, collapsing into the crook of his now slick and sweaty neck, heaving against his own breathless chest. The squelch of your core has him humming and grinding his hips into you, enjoying the feeling and riding out the last lingering sensations as gently as he can. The two of you shake against each other, hearts rabbiting at a fast beat. Ben's hands rise to rub at your back, bringing you down from the aftershocks still trembling over your body, planting kisses and murmuring praises against your hair, and making his way to your forehead. 

"Think we missed that reservation" he murmurs, as he holds you tight against him.

You roll your eyes and lift your head to look at him, "it was never about that restaurant anyways."

[giveafike]

Hello, you :)

Before we wrap this year up, I wanted to take a moment to talk with you if you have the time. Just us, if you don’t mind, come and sit with me for a bit while I share some thoughts and reflections on this year and what’s been on my heart.

Let’s start with this blog. I began this little corner of mine on July 27th. At first, I didn’t write much...I mostly lurked (classic Tumblr behavior, right?)

Writing has always been a part of me. When I was a kid, I used to compete in storywriting competitions and later as a teenager, it was my outlet, my safe space, my escape from a lot of pain and hurt. I wrote so, so much, things about 1D, 5SOS, Divergent, Hunger Games, Maze Runner - anything I could. In it's own way it kept me occupied and away from things that hurt or harmed me, if that makes sense. There's something so magical about creating your own universe to run away into! But somewhere along the way, life happened: reality, expectations, and the noise of the world pulled me away from it all.

Coming back to writing has felt like rediscovering and reawakening a piece of myself I thought I’d lost a long time ago like my old teenage ways. It’s like breathing fresh air after holding it in for too long. And knowing that my work resonates with you? That you come here, read, and support what I create? It’s overwhelming in the best way. I'm once again finding myself, like I'm learning to walk again and having you with me, encouraging me makes me want to run!

I know I say it a lot on here and on twt, but I’ll never stop because I’ll never fully express how much you mean to me. Every sweet message, every reblog or comment, every little bit of love you send my way - it gets me through my own shit. It sounds silly since all I write are these imaginary little scenarios with people who I will never know or who will never know me, but it's beyond that - it's the fact that I can entertain and create a space for us, one where you visualise yourself and can get lost in, where you can feel, where you can laugh or cry, and live in for a bit, at least until you finish reading. I’ve cried more than once reading your kind words (happy tears, I promise!). My heart swells with love for u all.

And to think, I now have over 150 followers here and over 60 on Twitter. My own little family! Over 500 notes that represent people connecting with my writing in ways I never dreamed possible. It’s incredible. It’s humbling too. And it fills my heart to the brim with gratitude. Thank you for making my days and nights just a bit brighter and for your kindness and love and for your time; for spending your time with me :,)

Now about reality. This year has been a journey, one of breaking and rebuilding, laughter and tears, highs and lows. Maybe it’s been the same for you? Life is like that, isn’t it? Messy and chaotic, yet full of moments to hold onto, giving us small things to get excited for. The bathroom-floor cries, the belly laughs, the stress, the triumphs, the quiet blessings hiding in the chaos, they all weave together to create something beautiful. I don't know what exactly, but I like to believe it'll all make sense one day. It took my time to realise the privilege I have to be able to cry in my own room and be able to feel my sadness uninterrupted, or to be able to laugh so hard I can't walk because I'm bent over laughing or to be able to zone out and be in my own world. When you see life like that, you realise how much we take our time and our small spaces for granted. So many don't have that, so many long to have their own moments, we're so lucky in that way, right?

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that even in the hardest moments, growth is happening. The brightest, most beautiful flowers bloom after the rain and harshest weather. And if you ever feel like you’re in the storm alone, please remember that you’re not. I mean this with all my heart: reach out. To me, to someone you trust, to an old friend. Life can be tough and awkward and heavy and weird and messy, but you don’t have to carry it alone. And if it's any consolation, I’ll always be here, ready to listen, or write - whichever is easier for you.

Thank you for being here, once again. Thank you for your kindness, patience, and love. For sharing your time and energy with me. I hope I can continue to be a little corner of comfort and joy for you in 2025, just as you are mine. Like I said, I don't want to take up too much of your time, especially if you're celebrating, thanks for sitting with me for a bit :)

Wherever you’re celebrating the New Year, I’m sending you so much love. Be safe, too, good things are coming. Here’s to another year of connection, creativity, and care.

Happy New Year :)

So so sooo many kisses and hugs, lots and lots and lots of love infinite and outpouring, -Azzie

[giveafike]

fully appreciate you’ll be stacked so can ignore it leave until you have a bit of space, but your recent post made me think about the idea of you parking near bens car at a house party or something accidentally scratching it or something so you’re going around trying to find out who’s car it is and he’ll all pissed about it until he realises it’s you and idk i think you could make it really funny 😂

is it new years yet? - B.T.S

TLDR: New year's kicks off with a bang...literally. You damaged the G-Wag. U idiot.

Word count + info: 4k + dialogue.

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW! Cussing, w33d and alcohol mentioned. Sorry if this has typos, just did it in a hour or two, crunched it out real quick!!

Azzie Notes ✚: hi anon! I saw this request and immediately got brainstorming and then I was thinkin, how about a New Year’s celebration post! One last blurb before 2025 🤭 yk I can’t resist! I also have a little letter to you coming out before midnight GMT, just me talking sentiments as per usual. Be safe this New Years! See u next yr ;)

Taglist: thank u for ur support! if u wanna join the taglist, head on over here

🌕 - @starlitf0x 🌙 - @le-moon-nade @anneioe @maya1the-bee @miss-d-d @hannahbanannax @mfcvbs @egevtntn @the-aizzlee @hello-missunperfect-things

————————————————————————

"Can you just leave my damn phone in the holder?!"

"Uh… yeah, totally...just one sec, lemme queue oneee more song."

"You missed your turn, by the way."

"Oh, for fuck sake-" You groaned, whipping the wheel around to make yet another U-turn.

It was 9 p.m., and here you were playing chauffeur to your slightly tipsy friend group, all for a Floridian New Year’s Eve party. It's not just any party; it's a UF party. The kind of party where chaos and questionable life decisions were practically expected.

You had moved far away for college, opting for something quieter and decidedly less “rah-rah go sports,” while most of your friends had snagged sports scholarships at the University of Florida. They fell in love with the heat, both literal and competitive, and the giant college town energy.

You? You appreciated sports from the safety of your couch or during practice sessions to unwind, thank you very much. And yet, despite all the reasons to avoid this madness, here you were, in your little golden two-piece, makeup beat, crammed with all your friends into your beat-up Ford Focus that had somehow survived the journey.

The music thumped through the car’s worn speakers, a cacophony of rowdy, out-of-sync rapping to whatever Gunna track was blasting. You grabbed your phone from the passenger seat’s designated DJ, clicking it into the holder with a huff.

“Lower the volume,” you muttered, winding down your ancient crank window. Yes, crank. Your car was basically a relic at this point.

As you turned onto the next street, you spotted it: the all-American frat house, pulsing with music and lit up like a beacon for bad decisions. The lawn was a minefield of discarded cups, stumbling bodies, and a stray folding chair tipped over in the bushes. The street? Packed with cars, bumper to bumper.

"Y’know what?" you said, gritting your teeth as your patience hit rock bottom. "Hop out. I’ll park and catch up."

"Are you sure? It’s gonna be packed inside, and we don’t wanna lose you-"

"Yep! Hop. Out. Please," you chirped, teetering dangerously close to losing your last nerve.

The backseat emptied out immediately, but not the passenger seat.

“Let me stay,” your friend offered, unbuckling but refusing to leave. “Two pairs of eyes are better than one. Teamwork, right?”

You sighed, conceding. The truth? You could use the help.

After what felt like an eternity of circling the block, you spotted a slim opening between a Tesla and a white G-Wagon. Fantastic. Just the kind of luxury vehicles you wanted to park near in your rolling jalopy.

“Hit both of ’em,” your passenger joked. “Two douchebags, no doubt.”

You snorted but started manoeuvring. Sliding closer to the curb, you didn’t even realize how much you were backing into the Tesla until-

“Hey, hey-HEY! The Tesla!”

You jerked forward, slamming into the G-Wagon instead.

It wasn’t catastrophic, more of a love tap. A very expensive love tap.

“Oh my God,” your friend breathed, staring at you wide-eyed.

You sat there, foot frozen on the brake, blinking in stunned silence.

“....y'know...I was joking about hittin' the cars...you should've braked before going forward-”

"Out."

"We need to find the owner. That’s gonna be soooo expensive-"

"OUT."

You sat alone in the driver’s seat, hands gripping the wheel as you caught your breath before finally stepping out to assess the damage. You would celebrate, but you turned to face the other car. Your Ford? Scratched and barely dented but still standing strong.

The G-Wagon? Not so much.

A deep dent marred its pristine rear boot, and you were amazed its alarm hadn’t gone off. You snapped a quick photo of the damage and plate, biting your lip.

Why did it have to be a G-Wagon? Who even drives one of these monsters to a college party? Was the owner compensating for something? Some egotistical loser, no doubt. Why was it just your luck to be stuck between a rock and a hard place, or rather, a prick and a douche?

Sighing with little to no hints (other than this is clearly a man's car, not even a car freshener was hanging, no accessories, nothing) you walked down, straightening your skirt and adjusted your slipping mini-handbag. You’d have to find the owner, it's the responsible thing to do. Of course, that meant heading into the madness.

Walking toward the house, you passed a guy hunched over puking in the bushes, a group of girls vaping on the curb, and a general haze of chaos. The lawn was littered with all the usual suspects: red Solo cups, beer cans, and the occasional joint being passed around. You braced yourself as you reached the door, dreading what, or who, you might find inside.

As you stepped in, music vibrated through the floor and as expected, none of your friends were in plain sight. It felt as though everyone knew everyone, and it only added to the feeling of sticking out as a sore thumb. You beelined to the kitchen, hoping to get a cup of water, not any alcohol, the last thing you needed tonight was a DUI.

As you settle for a Coke can, your brain’s already racing with worst-case scenarios: the guy’s dad’s a lawyer, and he’s going to sue you for emotional distress because his perfect car has been sullied by your ancient Ford.

The smell of cheap beer, sweat, and someone's questionable cologne hits you like a freight train. People are pressed together at the doorframe of the kitchen in the kind of proximity that makes you wonder if they’re trying to merge into one being.

“Excuse me, sorry, do you know who owns a white G-Wagon?” you ask the nearest person floating near the massive group, a girl precariously balancing a couple of solo cups and phones. She shakes her head without even looking at you, too busy yelling over the music about how the DJ "hasn't even played any Nicki yet."

You decide it's better to fix this now rather than pine over this feeling and stall for longer. You press on, trying to weave through the crowd, passing the hallway and making your way to the living room. You stop a guy in a backwards cap who’s clearly already three sheets to the wind. “Hey, do you know who owns-”

“BABE, IS THIS A PICKUP LINE? BECAUSE YOU DON’T NEED ONE,” he shouts, leaning in way too close, the smell of Tito's hitting you sharp.

You shove past him, suppressing a frustrated scream.

Finally, you make it to a spare room, where a group of guys is playing some elaborate drinking game involving pong balls and, inexplicably, an orange traffic cone. Some interesting interpretation of beer pong, you thought to yourself.

“Hey, do any of you-”

“EVERYONE SHUT UP!” one of them yells. “BEN! YOUR CAR’S BLOCKING ME IN AGAIN!”

You freeze. Car? Ben?

From the corner of the low-lit room, someone looks up from a heated debate over which "flavour of Gatorade reigns supreme".

He’s tall, like insanely tall, and built, wearing a backwards Florida cap, messy curls spilling out from under and a tank t-shirt and some jeans. His arms are defined and strong, his face strong and sculpted, eyes twinkling in the dim light. His voice is loud, almost grating if he wasn't so very handsome. You don't even realise you're still standing in the entryway, holding your stupid can and spot the Gatorade in his. You almost couldn't believe he was right there.

Ben Shelton.

You'd heard about him before, of course. It was impossible not to if you had friends at UF. The name got tossed around like some kind of golden ticket. "Ben Shelton this, Ben Shelton that", star athlete, humble and from the swamp, talk of the town and a hometown hero, etcetera, etcetera. And now, here he was, sitting in front of you, mid-laugh and looking every bit the larger-than-life legend.

"Yo, I’ll move it later!" Ben called back to his friend, raising his Gatorade bottle in dismissal before turning back to the group he was with. He didn’t even glance your way.

Perfect. Just perfect. All of a sudden your "worst-case scenarios" seemed way better than your current reality. You hit a millionaire's car and he's gonna sue you for all your worth. You might as well call your parents to remortgage the house and take out more student loans before you even dream about paying Ben in full. You were praying that this was just some cruel coincidence and that was someone else's G-Wag that you hit.

You took a deep breath and stepped forward, the sticky floor beneath your heels threatening to betray your confidence. "Uh, excuse me. Ben?"

The room quieted a fraction, everyone now noticing the slightly overdressed stranger standing awkwardly in the doorway clutching a Coke can like a lifeline.

Ben looked up at you then, his eyes flickering with curiosity before recognition hit. “Yeah? Y'alright?”

"Uh..." You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his gaze as a few heads turned to look at you. "Your car… it’s the white G-Wagon, right? Uh, this one?"

You swiped past the car dent photo, zooming in on the other photo of the car plate to downplay the damage.

His brow furrowed slightly, but there was a trace of amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah. Why?"

You hesitated, glancing at the room full of strangers who were all very much paying attention. "Could we… talk? Like, outside?"

A murmur of interest rippled through the crowd as Ben stood, towering even more than you’d imagined. It felt like an anvil was looming over your head and you were just waiting for it to hit. You muttered every prayer you could, making every kind of promise to whoever was out there. I'll never cuss, never complain, never take anything for granted, never drink or smoke. You didn't even realise you were murmuring to yourself as he cocked his head slightly, studying you like he was trying to figure out if this was some kind of prank.

"Sure," he said eventually, setting his Gatorade down and following you out of the room.

The backyard was quieter, but the bass from the speakers still thrummed faintly through the walls. You turned to face him, suddenly hyper-aware of how close he was standing, his broad frame making the narrow space feel even smaller.

"So," he began, folding his arms across his chest. His tone was light, teasing. "Y'gonna tell me why you dragged me out here, or…?"

You cringed internally but forced yourself to meet his gaze. "Okay, so, um… I accidentally hit your car."

His expression didn’t change at first. "You what?"

"It wasn’t, like, a real hit! It was more of a nudge. Like a love tap. Fist bump? Barely noticeable," you rushed out, gesturing vaguely with your hands. "But, uh… there is a dent."

He stared at you for a long moment, his lips twitching like he was trying to suppress a laugh. "A love tap?"

"Yeah," you said firmly, though the heat creeping up your neck betrayed your confidence. "I already took a picture of the damage. And your plate. And my car's plate, too. I just… thought I should find you instead of running off. Because that would’ve been, y'know, a dick move."

To your surprise, Ben didn’t look angry. He looked amused. Like this whole thing was somehow funny to him.

"Okay..." he said finally, leaning casually against the wall. "Let’s see it."

You blinked. "See what?"

"Uh, the damage?" he clarified, straightening up again. "Show me."

"Oh. Right. Yeah." You dug your phone out of your bag and opened the photo gallery, scrolling past far too many selfies and stupid videos with your girls, who now are nowhere to be found, before finding the picture of his car. You held it out to him, biting your lip nervously as he leaned in to look.

"Your phone just turned off."

"What-" You fumbled your phone in your hands trying to get the photo back up.

And just like that, dead. In your hands. In front of the Ben Shelton.

As in pro-athlete, Gainesville's champion, Florida's beloved hero, Ben Shelton. Whose car you just hit by the way. You fumbled your phone in your hands trying to get the photo up. And just like that, died. In your hands.

Ben tilted his head, his lips pulling into a wide grin as he crossed his arms again, looking far too entertained by your rapidly unravelling evening.

“Dead? That’s one helluva sign, you’re really not meant to show me this ‘love tap,’ huh?”

You groaned, hiding your face in your hands for a moment before letting out an exasperated laugh. “This is the worst night of my life.”

“Nah,” he said, still grinning as he nudged your arm. “C’mon, let’s check it out in person. The damage can’t be that bad if you’re still breathing.”

You didn’t have the energy to quip back as you led him toward the street, nerves bubbling in your chest. You could hear the faint crunch of gravel underfoot and feel the cool Floridian night breeze brushing your skin, but all you were hyperfocused on was the weight of his presence beside you.

“So,” Ben began after a beat of silence, shoving his hands into his jean pockets as he glanced sideways at you. “You go to UF, or you just visiting for the party?”

You shrugged, still keeping your eyes ahead. “I’m just visiting. Most of my friends go here, but I’m far out from here. Not too into the whole massive sports culture thing.”

Ben gave a low chuckle. “Yeah? Seems like you’re surviving it okay for tonight. What’s your major?”

You sighed, falling naturally into the small talk. “You?”

“Business, online learning,” he said with a small grin. “But, y’know, the sports thing kinda eats up most of my time.” he rubbed the back of his neck shyly.

“Oh, really?” you teased sarcastically, glancing over at him. “Couldn’t tell.”

He smirked, and for a moment, it was almost easy to forget that the entire reason for this walk was the glaring dent you’d left on his luxury car. Key word on almost.

When you reached the street, Ben stopped beside you, surveying the scene. His gaze fell on the pristine white G-Wagon parked near your weathered Ford Focus. The dent was definitely noticeable, but he didn’t react right away. Instead, he just let out a low whistle.

“Well..you weren’t lying. That’s, uh… that’s a pretty solid dent,” he said, crouching slightly to inspect the damage. He ran his hand over the metal, nodding to himself. “Boot’s dinged in, but it’s still drivable, no biggie. Fixable too. Probably cost somewhere around two, three hundred? Maybe five at the high end.”

You blinked at him, momentarily thrown off by how nonchalant he seemed. “That’s… not as bad as I thought.” You weren’t talking about the damage, more-so commenting on his reaction and response as your heartbeat began to steady.

“Yeah, it’s nothing crazy,” he said, straightening up and turning toward you. His gaze shifted past you to your car. “But what IS wild is this bad boy's still running.”

You followed his line of sight to your car and immediately flushed. “Hey, it’s a Ford Focus. She’s reliable!”

Ben raised an eyebrow, a teasing grin spreading across his face, shoving his hands in his pockets as he nudged the tyre with his foot. “Reliable, huh? Didn’t know they still made those things.”

“They don’t,” you muttered defensively, crossing your arms. “But she’s gotten me through a lot, okay?”

“Clearly,” Ben said, walking over to your car and tapping the hood lightly. “This thing’s a trooper. Barely a scratch after going up against a G-Wagon. I’m impressed.”

You huffed, unsure whether to laugh or argue with him. “Thanks… I think.”

Ben leaned back against the driver’s side of your car, folding his arms. “So, you’re the designated driver tonight too, huh?”

“Yeah,” you said, still feeling the heat of embarrassment. “Guess that makes two of us.”

"Relax," he said, grinning at you. "Take a breath. It’s fine."

You blinked. "Fine? Really?"

"Yeah. It’s just a car."

Your jaw dropped slightly. "A G-Wagon is just a car?"

He shrugged. "Don’t get me wrong, it’s a nice car. But it’s not worth ruining someone’s night over. Way I see it, no one got hurt, right? That's all that matters. And you came and found me too."

For the first time since this whole disaster started, you felt yourself relax. “So… what happens now? Do I, like, owe you or something? Pay for the repairs?”

Ben shook his head, smirking. "Tell you what. I’ll call it even if you hang out for a bit, pay me in passing time. My friends are lame with that 'beer pong ultimate' game they made, and you seem more fun."

You raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by the sudden shift. "You serious?"

"As a G-Wagon dent," he said with a wink.

You hesitated, trying to gauge if he was being serious or just messing with you. His grin didn’t falter, though, and it was annoyingly charming.

“Alright,” you said slowly, crossing your arms. “What’s the catch? Don't go crazy though, please.”

Ben chuckled, his shoulders shaking slightly as he pushed off your car. “Crazy? Nah. But you do owe me, so whatever I say goes. No complaints.”

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously. “Define ‘whatever.’”

He leaned down a little, bringing his face closer to yours, his gummy smile widening as if he was enjoying how flustered you looked. “Whatever I say,” he repeated, his voice teasing. “Relax. I’m not gonna make you rob a bank or anything. I just think it’d be fun to have you around for a bit, sit ‘n talk, just for tonight and then some.”

You took a glance at Ben, taking in his easy demeanour. He had the smile, the kind of grin that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, getting conned into hanging out with him wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, that he was worth trusting.

Before you could respond, he straightened up and nodded toward the house. “C’mon, let’s go back in. I’ll introduce you to my friends.”

You stared at him, your feet rooted to the pavement. “Wait, you’re not serious. I don’t know anyone here.”

He paused, glancing over his shoulder at you. “Well, you know me now. Kinda.”

“That doesn’t count,” you mumbled, but he was already walking away.

With an exasperated sigh, you followed him back toward the house, half convinced you were about to regret this.

The moment you stepped back inside, the chaos hit you all over again. The music was somehow louder, the air stickier and humid, and the crowd even more animated. Ben navigated through the crowd effortlessly, glancing back every few steps to make sure you were still behind him.

When you reached the spare room, he stopped in front of the group he’d been with earlier. They all turned to look at him, and by extension, you. A mix of curiosity and amusement flickered across their faces.

“Guys, this is…” Ben trailed off, looking at you expectantly.

You blinked, realising that was your cue. “Oh. Uh, I’m-”

“She’s my new friend,” Ben interrupted, throwing an arm around your shoulders casually. “Be nice.”

One of the guys, a lanky dude with a buzz cut, raised an eyebrow. “You pick up strays now, Shelton?”

“Chill, man,” Ben said, grinning. “She’s cool. And she owes me big time.”

The guy smirked, his gaze flicking to you. “Owes you? What’d she do, ding your pride, Shelton?”

Ben smirked back, squeezing your shoulder lightly before letting his arm fall away. “Something like that.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms defensively. “I hit his car. Accidentally.”

The group collectively groaned as if you’d just confessed to a cardinal sin. One guy dramatically clutched his chest. “The G-Wagon? Oh no, you’ve ruined him forever.”

“Man, it’s a car,” Ben said, waving them off. “Y’all act like I can’t afford to fix it.”

“Hero of the year,” another guy chimed in, raising his red Solo cup in salute. “Taking the high road. What a champ.”

You gave Ben a side-eye. “Do they always narrate your life like this?”

“Only when I do something ‘heroic,’” Ben said, his grin widening. “You know, like forgiving people who commit vehicular manslaughter on my property.”

“Vehicular-” you started but stopped yourself with a deep breath. “Okay. What the hell, sure.”

Ben chuckled, clearly enjoying your exasperation. “C’mon, let’s grab some air.”

The room erupted into playful hoots and whistles as Ben steered you back toward the backyard.

You glared at him. “This ‘owing you’ thing better not turn into a life-long debt.”

“Relax,” he said, holding the door open for you. “I’m not that bad.”

The backyard was quieter, and the cool air was a welcome relief. You found yourself sitting next to Ben near a small fire pit someone had tried, and failed, to light earlier. You and Ben ended up losing yourself in conversation, catching up on small talk and introductions, Ben answering your many, many, inquisitive questions about the life of a pro-athlete.

The fireworks started minutes later, painting the sky with bursts of colour and light. It was almost easy to forget the chaos you’d just escaped as you both stood there in comfortable silence, watching the display.

“Not a bad way to ring in the New Year,” Ben said, his voice softer now.

You glanced at him, surprised by the shift in tone. “Yeah. Could’ve been worse.”

“Could’ve been better, too,” he teased, nudging your shoulder. “But I think this works.”

Some minutes passed like this, just standing there, watching the fireworks, and occasionally trading banter. It was... nice. Surprisingly so.

And then, inevitably, your drunk friends stumbled into the backyard like a dishevelled tornado.

“THERE YOU ARE!” one of them yelled, almost toppling into a bush. “We thought you got kidnapped!”

"We heard about, oh my God, I'm going to throw up again, about the, uh, car...crash?"

Another spotted Ben and immediately pointed. “HOLY SHIT. BEN SHELTON. You’re like, like a god to us, we go to UF, bro! Go Gators!”

Ben laughed, holding up his hands. “Nah, just a dude. With a dented G-Wagon.”

“Wait, you hit his car?!” one of your friends gasped, wide-eyed. “Damn, girl, you out here making headlines.”

You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “Can we go now?”

Ben leaned in slightly, his voice low so only you could hear. “Not so fast. You still owe me, remember?”

You gave him a side-eye. “I thought I paid it off in Community Service, sitting here with you. What's the rest of the payment?”

He pulled out his phone, handing it to you. “Your number.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Seriously?”

He grinned. “Mm, gotta make sure you don’t skip town without doin' the rest of your hours. You'll be sick of me before you leave."

Rolling your eyes, you punched your number in and handed the phone back, biting back a smile. “There. Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” he said, pocketing the phone. “Text you soon.”

As your friends herded you toward the car, you glanced back to the house to see Ben watching with a small smile. It wasn’t until you were pulling out of the chaotic street, thankfully without hitting anything else, that the reality of the night hit you.

You’d crashed into a G-Wagon, met Ben Shelton, and somehow ended up giving him your number.

This was going to be a very interesting year.

————————————————————————

next post will be next yr...see u in 2025 folks! <3

[giveafike]

😭🤍

guys I honestly don’t know how long I will be able to contain myself waiting for Azzie’s finale advent calendar. I’m so sad to see it go but Queen has been carrying the Ben fan fix world on her back so bravo girl 👏🏾

My fav so far is her most recent and the one about when they go to that market and reader buys Ben’s presents. Hbu xx

@giveafike

[giveafike]

Merry Christmas, Azzie 🎄! From the bottom of my heart THANK YOU for your loving labor during this month! You’ve singlehandedly resparked my imagination and reminded me of the importance of ff in so many ways. I’ve laughed, cried, giggled, with these characters, and you’ve kept me company each time I cooked lunch haha. It’s also the first love story I’ve consumed after my recent heartbreak, and hence helped me to heal and look toward the future, regardless of everything 💫. Having something that so many accs from Shelton nation were expecting day by day also made me feel cozy in our lil community. My mind wandered as I watched the story unfold and it made me reflect about the festivities from another perspective… while putting Ben’s face to it all lmao chef’s kiss 🤍! It’s been so exciting to rekindle with reading this way, and I already miss your notifs and crashing out each time I lived tweeted! Wish you a wholesome 2025, and in the creative arena I wish you keep enjoying it and being proud of your work cause it fills people’s hearts in ways you deserve to be applauded for 🙂‍↕️. Never doubt Benny is also lucky to count you as his biggest fan! 💯

hiii!!! Merry Christmas Nu <333 i miss u so very much on my TL too :( wishing u the bestest 2025 ever, may it be filled with lots of love, light, joy and peace! Heartbreak is rough but there’ll always be people who fix and mend you in the most unexpected ways, trust and look out for those moments! It’ll happen before you even realise.

I hope to still be around writing to this cozy community here and hopefully still be around to give you all some laughs and moments of serenity away from the busyness of life. I hope to continue to be a safe place, a place of comfort and a retreat whenever u need to get away for a while <3 love you and do reach out whenever any of you wish, even just to chat. I’ll always be here 🙂‍↕️🤍

[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

————————————————————————

“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 :)

————————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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!

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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.