#Azzie’s Advent Calendar

[giveafike]

Sugar, Spice & Everything Nice! -B.T.S

TLDR: making gingerbread cookies w Ben :p. This is part 4/12 of Azzie's Advent Calendar 2024!

Word count + info: 4.6k. including dialogue.

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW! No warnings : )

Azzie Notes ✚: this one’s heavily inspired by my own family tradition - we always bake gingerbread cookies since I was a little girl! The first time I did, it was in primary school when I was maybe 6, 7 years old? And after that, my family took it and made it our own little mess :) v v wholesome making little biscuits, shaping them and waiting for them to cool and then decorating them… it’s such a pure act of patience and love, right? Also, changed the middle pic to the MSG pic, his eyes are twinkling, god I love him bad

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The morning was quiet, the kind of stillness that only came when the house was nearly empty. A faint December golden light filtered through the kitchen windows, warming the wooden table where you sat, flipping through the cookbook you had picked up at the Christmas market. The glossy pages felt smooth under your fingers, each recipe accompanied by photos of perfectly baked treats and artful decorations. It was the sort of book that made everything seem achievable, even for a novice. A steaming mug of coffee sat on the table beside you, the rich aroma mingling with the faint hint of pine from the Christmas tree in the other room. Ben had made the coffee, placing it in front of you with a casual kiss on the top of your head and a small rub on your shoulder before taking his place, sitting across you at the table with his own mug. Underneath the table, Halo was sprawled out comfortably, still softly snoring against the floorboards whenever you shifted your feet.

The house was calm, Lisa and Bryan were out doing some last-minute Christmas shopping, and Emma had spent the night at her friend’s house, leaving her still lounging over there for the day. It was just you and Ben.

He seemed at ease, leaning against the counter in his sweats and a faded T-shirt, sipping his coffee and scrolling on his phone. There was something different about him in his childhood home, a quiet confidence, a comfort that came with years of familiarity but you being with him? He liked the way that felt.

Curiosity got the better of him as he set down his phone and stepped closer. “What’s got you so locked in?” he asked, peering over your shoulder.

You smiled, holding the book up slightly so he could see. “Gingerbread cookies,” you said, pointing to a page with intricately decorated cookies that looked almost too good to eat.

Ben squinted at the lengthy recipe and let out a soft laugh. “That’s... ambitious. Is that what you’re thinking of makin'?”

“Maybe,” you said with a shrug. “I mean, when I was a kid, we made gingerbread cookies once or twice, but it was the easy kind. You know, cutting out shapes from pre-made dough and sticking them on parchment paper. Not exactly homemade.”

He chuckled, leaning against the back of your chair. “So, you skipped all the hard stuff and went straight to the fun part, huh?”

“Exactly,” you said with a grin. “But this... this is the real deal. Making the dough, rolling it out, and baking from scratch. It feels like something I should try at least once, one day...”

Ben’s eyes softened as he watched you, the corners of his lips twitching upward. “Well,” he said, straightening up, “why not today? Let’s do it.”

“Really?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “You sure? This recipe is, like, a full-day commitment. I was just looking for inspiration.”

He nodded, setting his empty mug on the table. “Yeah, I’m sure. Mom’s stocked up on all the baking stuff for the holidays, so we should have everything we need. Besides, you’ve been talkin' about a baking day since we got here. Why not now?”

You hesitated for a moment, scanning his face for any hint of second thoughts, but his broad smile was nothing but genuine, his excitement contagious.

“Alright,” you said, closing the cookbook and standing up. “Let’s do it. But you better be ready to work, I’m not doing this all by myself.”

Ben smirked, crossing his arms. “Don’t worry, I’m a great assistant. I’ll handle the hard labour.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to hide your small smile as you began to call out ingredients while Ben gathered. Ben leaned casually against the counter, watching as you carefully measured out the flour, sugar, and spices, the soft clinking of measuring cups the only sound in the room. There was a quiet concentration in the way you moved, a small crease forming between your brows as you checked the recipe and sifted the flour into a large mixing bowl. Every so often, he caught you muttering numbers under your breath, double-checking your measurements, making him smile in pure smitten adoration.

“You’re taking this seriously, huh?” he teased, arms crossed as he leaned a hip against the counter.

“Of course I am,” you replied, not looking up. “You don’t mess around with dough. One wrong move, and it’s game over.”

Ben chuckled, stepping closer to the cabinets. “Alright, Chef. What’s next? Spices?”

You nodded, dragging your finger across the page of the cookbook to check the measurements. “Yep. Cinnamon, ginger, cloves, and nutmeg. You got it?”

Ben nodded before he pushed himself off, stretching up to the top shelf of the cabinet, his fingers easily reaching the small spice jars that were out of your reach. He handed them to you one by one, lingering close as you measured each spice into a small bowl. The kitchen was soon filled with a warm, heady aroma, the kind that instantly made everything feel more festive.

“Smells like Christmas, for sure. You're doing somethin' right” Ben said, leaning down slightly to take a dramatic sniff.

“Smells like a lot of hard work,” you corrected, smiling as you added the spices to the bowl. “Alright, next is the wet ingredients. Butter and molasses, grab the molasses for me?”

Ben grabbed the jar and slid it across the counter toward you, watching you spoon the thick, dark syrup into the bowl. “That stuff’s like tar,” he remarked, raising an eyebrow.

You laughed. “It’s basically liquid gold for gingerbread, though. Trust the process.”

He nodded, though his expression remained sceptical. “Mhm. If you say so.”

As you cracked eggs into the mixture and began to combine everything, Ben wandered over to your side, resting a hand lightly on your back as he peered into the bowl.

“You’ve got this,” he said playfully. “But if you need some real muscle for the next part, I’m available.”

You glanced up at him, smirking. “Oh, don’t worry, you’re about to get your hands dirty.”

His grin widened. “Man, I’ve been waiting for you to say that!”

Once the dough had started to come together, you handed him the wooden spoon, pointing at the thick mixture.

“Alright, muscle-man. It’s your time to shine. But be careful, don’t overwork it. We need the dough to be soft and pliable, not like a brick.”

"Don’t overwork it," he echoed, his voice deliberately mimicking your tone. He tried to press his lips into a straight line, but his smile betrayed him. With a playful glint in his eye, he took the spoon from your hand. "Got it," he said, his grin slipping through despite his efforts.

You stepped back, crossing your arms as you watched him take over. His biceps flexed slightly as he stirred the dense dough, and you couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly he managed it, effortless and, somehow, ridiculously attractive. He was a mix of charm and frustration rolled into one.

“This isn’t so bad,” he said, glancing at you with a smug grin. “I thought you said this would be hard work.”

You rolled your eyes, sighing as you distracted yourself by taking the dirty utensils and bowls into the sink to stop yourself from drooling. “That’s because you haven’t gotten to the part where your arm feels like it’s going to fall off.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Please. I’m a professional athlete. I think I can handle-”

Mid-sentence, the spoon hit a particularly stubborn clump of dry dough, plastered in flour, and Ben’s smug expression faltered as he struggled to keep a massive part of the unmixed batter from spilling over the edge of the bowl.

“Careful!” you exclaimed, eyes widening as you stepped forward to steady the bowl.

“Alright, alright,” he said, his voice tinged with laughter as he adjusted his grip. “Maybe this is a little more work than I thought.”

You grinned, giving his arm a playful nudge. “Told you. Now, keep going. You’re doing great.”

With a determined look, Ben continued to fold the dough, his movements steady and deliberate under you as you glanced every now and then. You found yourself smiling as you guided him, appreciating how he seemed to take it all in stride, even the mess.

Finally, the dough was smooth and well-mixed, and you placed a hand on his arm to stop him. “Okay, that’s perfect. Any more, and you’ll ruin it.”

Ben set the spoon down with a dramatic sigh, shaking his hand as though he’d just finished a workout. “You weren’t kidding about the arm workout.”

You laughed, reaching for the plastic wrap to cover the dough. “See? Baking isn’t just about precision, it’s about endurance. You’d better hydrate if you want to make it to the next round. Maybe take a seat on the bench.”

Ben chuckled, as he watched you wrap the dough in cling film and set it in the fridge to rest. His gaze soft as he admired the way you moved around the kitchen.

“You’re kinda cute when you get all serious about this,” he said, his voice low and warm.

You shot him a playful glare, your cheeks warming. “Focus, Shelton. We’re only halfway there.”

He held up his hands in surrender, a grin tugging at his lips. “Alright, Chef. What’s next?”

With the dough resting in the fridge, you began tidying up, wiping down the counter and setting out the tools you’d need for shaping the cookies. Ben, however, wasn’t nearly as patient. He leaned against the fridge door, staring at it like he could will the dough to finish resting faster.

“So,” he said, breaking the silence, “do we have to wait for an hour? Can’t we just… you know, start shaping them now? It's not like we're in an exam, no one's gonna know.”

You glanced over your shoulder, catching the almost puppy-like look in his eyes. “Yes, we absolutely have to wait,” you said firmly, though you couldn’t help but smile at his impatience.

Ben groaned dramatically, dragging his hand down his face and through his curls, tussling them softly. “But why? It’s just dough. It’s not like it’s a steak that needs to rest or something.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you reached into a drawer to pull out the cookie cutters. “Because,” you explained, setting the cutters on the counter, “resting the dough lets the gluten relax, which keeps the cookies from spreading too much when they bake. It also gives the spices time to blend together and makes the dough easier to roll out. Trust me, it’s worth it.”

Ben sighed, back again with that sceptical look, before mumbling, “Sounds like a lot of fancy science talk just to make some cookies.”

“Maybe,” you admitted, grinning at him. “But it’s the kind of science that keeps your cookies from turning into sad little blobs.”

He broke into a smile, finally conceding. “Fine, fine. You’re the expert.”

“Thank you,” you said with mock seriousness, giving him a teasing salute before focusing on your setup.

While the dough rested, you busied yourself with preparing the island. You got Ben on an exploration to find a large rolling pin and the cookie cutters, while you dusted the surface and neatly lined up the equipment, spreading them out across the counter as excitement spread through you. There were hearts, stars, gingerbread men and women, Christmas trees, and a few other festive shapes.

Ben watched you work, his hands tucked into the pockets of his sweatpants. “You love preppin', huh?”

“Always,” you replied, tossing him a smile as you laid sheets of parchment paper onto baking trays. “Baking is all about being ready before the chaos starts.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Chaos?”

“You’ll see,” you said ominously, grabbing a canister of flour and sprinkling a thin layer across the island. “Just wait until we’re elbow-deep in icing and sprinkles.”

Ben chuckled, stepping closer as you worked. “Oh, that sounds like my kind of chaos.”

Once everything was set up, you took a step back, admiring your handiwork. The counter was clean, floured, and ready to go, with the trays and cutters neatly arranged. Ben, however, was back to pacing near the fridge, occasionally glancing at the clock.

Once the dough had rested, you pulled it from the fridge and placed it on the floured countertop, its chilled surface smooth and pliable under your hands. Ben leaned in eagerly, eyeing the mound of dough like it was a prize.

"Alright," you said, handing him the rolling pin, "your turn. Just don’t go too wild. Nice and even, okay?”

He raised an eyebrow, gripping the rolling pin with an exaggerated flourish. “Nice and even. Got it. I’m basically a pro already.”

“Uh-huh,” you teased, stepping back to preheat the oven.

Ben pressed the rolling pin to the dough and began rolling, his movements a little uneven at first. He squinted down at the dough, muttering, “This is harder than it looks.”

You glanced over, biting back a laugh. “It’s not a race, Ben. Just take your time and keep it even.”

“Don’t worry, I understand it now” he whispered, almost to himself, as he shot you a grin. “I’ve got it handled. Gimme a second and this dough’ll be flatter than a pancake.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you prepared the cookie cutters, dipping them lightly into flour to keep the shapes clean.

Once the dough was rolled out to the perfect thickness, you stepped in, lining up the cutters.

“Okay, now for the fun part,” you said, handing him a gingerbread man cutter. “Start with this one. We’ll work our way through all the shapes.”

Ben pressed the cutter into the dough, lifting it to reveal a cleanly cut gingerbread man. He held it up like a trophy, beaming. “Look at that! First try. Told you I’m a natural.”

“Alright, natural,” you said, handing him a Christmas tree cutter. “Let’s see how you do with the next one.”

The two of you fell into a steady rhythm, cutting out hearts, stars, and more gingerbread men and women. Ben found himself holding up each shape, constantly amazed and proud before gently setting the cookies down onto the parchment paper.

As he cut out another gingerbread man, he paused, holding up one of each. “Now, hold on. We gotta make sure there’s an equal number of these two.” He gestured between the gingerbread man and woman cutters. “Gotta keep things fair. Equality and all.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “How very noble of you.”

“I’m serious!” he insisted, though the twinkle in his eye betrayed him. “We’re not gonna have more dudes than ladies on the tray. That’d be unbalanced.”

“Okay, okay,” you relented, humouring him. “Equality it is.”

As the shapes piled up, flour seemed to cover everything and everyone. Ben had a streak of it across his cheek, and you could feel it dusting your own hands, arms, and even your clothes. At one point, he reached across to grab another cutter and left a powdery handprint on your sleeve.

“Ben!” you exclaimed, pointing to the mark.

He glanced down at his flour-covered hand, then back at you, his grin widening. “Oops. Too focused on the task at hand.”

You shook your head, fighting back a smile. Despite the mess, you were both surprisingly focused, working in sync as you filled tray after tray with perfectly cut cookies. The shapes were neat and even, and the dough scraps were rolled back together with care to minimise waste.

“You know,” Ben said as he carefully placed a gingerbread woman onto a tray, “I’m impressed. I thought for sure I’d mess this up by now.”

“You’re doing great,” you said, genuinely impressed by his effort. “See? Patience pays off.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he teased, brushing a bit of flour off his hands. “I’m still not sold on this whole ‘waiting for the dough’ thing.”

“You’ll thank me when the cookies turn out perfect,” you shot back, sliding the trays into the preheated oven.

Ben stood back, surveying the trays of cookies with a satisfied look. “Alright,” he said, crossing his arms. “What’s next? More science lessons, or are we finally gonna taste-test these bad boys?”

“Not yet,” you said with a laugh. “We still have decorating to do. And no, you’re not eating them straight out of the oven.”

“Why not?” he drawled, feigning a pout.

“Because,” you said, placing a hand around his waist, “burnt tongues aren’t fun.”

“Patience isn’t my strong suit,” he admitted, as he put his head in his hands, groaning.

“Really? I would've never guessed,” you said dryly, earning a playful nudge from him.

“Alright, what can I do while we wait?” he asked, clearly trying to distract himself.

You handed him a dishcloth and pointed to the floor where flour had inevitably dusted its surface. “You can start by cleaning that up.”

Ben groaned but grabbed the cloth anyway, crouching down to wipe the floor. “Slave labour,” he muttered under his breath, though the smirk on his face gave him away.

“You’re the one who asked for something to do,” you pointed out, crossing your arms as you watched him.

He glanced up at you, his grin widening. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t forget this when I’m a pro-level cookie decorator later.”

“Oh, trust me,” you said with a laugh. “I won’t.”

"You’re on decorating prep duty, babe. No rest for two pros like us.”

“Deal,” you said, as you hauled over the bags of powdered sugar, food colouring, and piping bags from the counters. As Ben wiped down the counter, his movements methodical but still sprinkled with his usual flair, you busied yourself mixing the icing. The clinking of bowls and the soft sound of Ben scrubbing created a cozy rhythm. You glanced over occasionally, catching the sight of him brushing stray flour onto the floor with a sheepish grin.

“Hey,” you called out, pointing a spatula at him. “I saw that.”

He froze mid-swipe, his grin widening. “What? The counter’s clean, isn’t it?”

You shook your head, giggling, and returned to your icing. With a careful hand, you divided the thick, glossy mixture into separate bowls, adding drops of food colouring until you had a rainbow of festive hues: deep red, vibrant green, black, soft white, and even a cheerful yellow.

Ben, having finished the counter, moved onto the floor. “How does flour even get under the table?” he muttered, crouching down to clean up.

“Halo probably helped,” you teased, glancing at the dog, who was padding through the house innocently.

“Traitor.”

As the first batch of cookies began to brown in the oven, the warm scent of spices filled the air. You could feel your shoulders relax as you peeked through the oven door. The cookies were holding their shape perfectly, with no spreading, no cracking.

“Success,” you whispered to yourself, relieved.

Ben stood up, dusting his hands on his sweatpants. “Counter’s spotless. Floor’s… basically there too.” He leaned against the island, watching as you filled the piping bags with icing and lined up the bowls of candy, mini M&Ms, jelly tots, and even icing pearls.

“This is starting to look serious,” he commented.

Ben didn’t wait for an invitation. He reached out, snagging a still-steaming gingerbread man from the tray.

“Ben!” you exclaimed. “It’s hot!”

“Yeah, I noticed,” he said through a wince, pulling the cookie back quickly and blowing on it. He took a cautious bite, only to pause, his face twisting.

“Ow!”

You couldn’t help but sigh at the way he pouted, holding the cookie gingerly in one hand.

“I warned you,” you said, stepping closer.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, his pout deepening.

Still laughing, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, lingering just long enough to distract him from his discomfort. When you pulled back, his expression had shifted from a pout to a sheepish smile.

“Guess it was worth it,” he murmured, his voice warm.

You rolled your eyes playfully, taking the cookie from his hand and setting it back on the rack. “You’ll get your turn when they cool down. Patience, remember?”

“Patience is overrated, babe,” he said, but his grin told you he wasn’t serious.

As the cookies cooled, you finished preparing the decorating station, laying everything out neatly. Ben leaned against the counter, watching you with an easy smile. The kitchen felt brighter, and warmer, with the two of you moving around each other in sync. The air smelled of gingerbread, and the promise of creative chaos hung in the air.

Finally, it was time to start decorating. You handed Ben a piping bag filled with red icing and grabbed a green one for yourself. “Okay, let’s see those artistic skills,” you teased.

“Oh, prepare to be amazed,” he said, squeezing the bag experimentally.

The first few cookies were simple, a heart with white trim, and a star with bright yellow accents, but the moment Ben decided to create a gingerbread woman to resemble you, all bets were off.

“Hold still,” he said, squinting at you with a ridiculous level of concentration.

“Ben, it’s a cookie, not a portrait session.”

“Shh. Art takes focus,” he said, holding up a finger up dramatically.

You watched as he gave the gingerbread woman what was supposed to be your hair but looked more like lopsided spaghetti. The face was slightly off-centre, and the dress he attempted was smudged in one corner. When he finally set the piping bag down, he stepped back with a proud grin.

“Ta-da!” he announced, holding it up for you to see.

You stared at the cookie and burst out laughing. “Is that supposed to be me?”

“It’s abstract,” he defended. “You don’t get it ‘cause it’s, like, high-level creativity.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, wiping tears of laughter from your eyes. “I think I’ll stick to realism.”

You got to work on your gingerbread man, deciding to return the favour as you made a gingerbread version of Ben, giving him signature curly hair, his big grin, and, of course, his ON tennis kit, complete in black with a bright pink line in its detailing.

When you showed him the finished cookie, his eyes widened, clearly taking it sorely. “Okay, I see what you’re doin’. Showin’ me up.”

“It’s not a competition,” you teased.

“Everything’s a competition,” he said, but the small smile on his face told you he didn’t mind losing this one.

Next, you both decided to make cookies representing the rest of the family. Bryan’s gingerbread man got a blue sweater, Lisa’s had an apron and a pearl necklace, and Emma’s had her glasses and a small, closed-eye smile.

“Think they’ll recognise themselves?” you asked, tilting your head as you studied the lineup of gingerbread people.

“They’d better,” Ben said, carefully adding a final swirl of icing to Lisa’s apron. “I put effort into this.”

By the time you’d decorated the rest of the cookies, trees, stars, hearts, and more, the sun was setting, casting a warm orange glow through the kitchen windows. The oven was off, the counters were cleared, and the air was filled with the lingering smell of gingerbread and icing sugar. Just as you were cleaning up the last bits of mess, the front door opened, and the sound of laughter and familiar voices filled the house.

“Y’all home?” Lisa called out.

“In the kitchen!” Ben answered, rinsing the last mixing bowl in the sink.

Lisa and Bryan walked in first, carrying shopping and takeout bags, with Emma trailing behind. The three of them paused when they saw the island covered with cookies, their eyes immediately landing on the five gingerbread figures standing together at the front of the spread.

“What …on earth...?” Bryan said, leaning in to examine the cookies more closely. His eyes darted from the gingerbread man with a blue sweater to the one wearing an apron, and his face broke into a grin. “Are these supposed to be us?”

Lisa gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth. “Oh my gosh, look at this!” She reached out delicately, picking up the cookie version of herself. “This is adorable, what a sweet surprise! Is that… an apron? You even added pearls!”

“That one’s me!” Emma crowed, pointing to the gingerbread woman with glasses and a massive smile. “I look so happy. Accurate.”

“Yeah, that was intentional,” you said with a smirk, glancing at Ben, who gave you a sly grin in return.

Bryan carefully picked up his cookie, inspecting the details. “Meanwhile all I got was a bald cookie and a sweater. Real funny.”

“You love sweaters, Dad,” Ben teased, drying his hands with a kitchen towel. “Don’t act like it’s not spot-on.”

Lisa placed her cookie back on the tray and turned to you, beaming. “This is so precious. Did you two make all of these today?”

“All day,” you confirmed, leaning against the counter. “We went all out, cutting, baking, decorating. Ben even rolled out the dough.”

“Don’t let her fool ya,” Ben drawled, nudging your shoulder with his. “She was the boss in this operation. I was just the muscle.”

“And the comic relief,” you added.

Emma leaned over the tray, picking up one of the star-shaped cookies. “These look amazing. Did y’all seriously make all these by hand? No, like, premade stuff?”

“Handmade, start to finish,” Ben said, puffing out his chest. “We’re pros now.”

Lisa laughed, shaking her head. “Well, I’d say it was worth it. They’re beautiful. I almost don’t want to eat them.”

“Almost,” Bryan echoed, already reaching for one of the undecorated trees.

Ben darted forward, intercepting him. “Hold up! Food first. Cookies are dessert.”

“Who made you the dessert police?” Bryan asked, but he let the cookie go, chuckling as he set it back down.

Lisa set the takeout bags on the counter, and the family gathered around, plates and utensils being passed out as everyone helped themselves to the food. The conversation flowed easily, filled with laughter and teasing, and the cookies remained at the centre of attention, a charming reminder of the day you and Ben had spent together.

Later, Ben stood with his arms crossed, watching his family laugh and talk as they picked out cookies to eat. When he noticed you looking, he gave you a soft, warm smile, the kind that made your chest feel full as he opened his arm to invite you in for a hug.

You walked over to him, settling into his side. “This turned out pretty great, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice low. He glanced at the tray of cookies again, then back to you. “Today was fun.”

You let your head rest on his shoulder. His arm slipped around your waist, holding you close as the room buzzed with warmth and love.

“Next time,” he murmured, his lips brushing your temple, “we’re makin’ gingerbread tennis rackets. I’ve got ideas to workshop.”

You sighed, feigning exasperation before laughing softly, tilting your head up to look at him. “I can’t wait to see how that turns out.”

“Better start stretchin’ my art portfolio now,” he teased, but the look in his eyes was anything but playful, soft, steady, and full of affection.

And just like that, in the middle of his childhood kitchen, surrounded by his family and the lingering scent of gingerbread, you realised this moment was one you’d hold onto for a long, long time.

[sweetluna20]

MASTERLIST

paige bueckers

love of my life

me and you

advent calendar

caitlin clark

my favorite girl

kate martin

nothing yet 😔

azzi fudd

Mine

(had to make a new one because i lost my old one)

[kaluawoo]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Hataraku Maou-Sama! | The Devil Is a Part-Timer! Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Urushihara Hanzou | Lucifer/Original Character(s), Ashiya Shirou | Alciel/Original Character(s) Characters: Ashiya Shirou | Alciel, Urushihara Hanzou | Lucifer, Maou Sadao | Satan Jacob, Azriel (Original Demon Character), Auriel (Original Angel Character) Additional Tags: Snowball Fight Series: Part 11 of Advent Calendar 2019 Summary:

Three demons and two angels happen upon a well of magic... And proceed to use it for a snowball fight.

-----------

I haven’t written Azzy in too long, I missed her lol.

[giveafike]

Deck the Halls - B.T.S

TLDR: Decorating the house w the Sheltons! This is part 1/12 of Azzie's Advent Calendar 2024!

Word count + info: 4.2k. including dialogue.

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW! No warnings : )

Azzie Notes ✚: I'm so excited to share this with you!! Inspo hit me in the uni library and I immediately got drafting away hehehe. Do we like my new masterlist + homepage? how about the new dark blue and brown? Let me know, I'm still experimenting with the aesthetics here... hmm...Anyways, here's PART 1!

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The airport bustled with holiday travellers, bouncing excitedly as they hauled suitcases and holiday gifts, voices vibrating against the high ceilings. You adjusted your suitcase handle, scanning the crowd with a heart racing in anticipation.

You didn’t have to look for long.

Ben’s was always easy to spot, even in the ocean of people before you. He stood in the arrivals area, leaning casually against a pillar with his broad-shouldered confidence, squinted eyes while chewing his lip. It was some miracle he managed to spot you as quickly as he did. The moment his eyes found you, his face lit up, a grin spreading wide enough to make your chest ache in the best way. God, was he a sight for sore eyes.

Before you could even wave, he was moving, weaving through the crowd with long, purposeful strides, bee-lined and tunnel-visioned to you. When he reached you, he wrapped you in a tight hug that lifted you off your feet along with a few kisses to your temple and head.

“Finally,” he murmured, his voice warm in your ear, the familiar drawl like a balm to your homesick heart. “You don’t know how bad I’ve been waitin’ for this. Missed you so much.”

You laughed, clinging to him as he held you just a second longer than necessary. “Missed you too, Ben but you’re making a scene,” you teased, though your face was buried against his chest.

“Good,” he shot back, setting you down but keeping an arm looped around your waist. “Lemme look at you.”

He pulled back slightly, his eyes trailing over your face like he couldn’t quite believe you were real. “Man, you look good. Like, too good. What are you tryin’ to do to me?”

You rolled your eyes, but the way your cheeks warmed betrayed you. “Ben, I’ve been flying for hours. You’re delusional.”

He smirked, grabbing your suitcase before you could protest. “Delusional or not, I’m serious. And you’re not carrying this, c’mon.”

The walk to the parked car was short, but Ben’s presence beside you made the airport fade into the background while he asked a million questions about your journey. When you stepped outside, there it was, a pristine white G-Wagon parked by the curb, its glossy finish catching the glow of the sun as if it had just rolled off a showroom floor. You let out a low whistle and nodded appreciatively.

"You like? Just got it cleaned up the other day for you"

You tilted your head, raising an eyebrow as you took it in. “Cleaned up? Ben, it looks brand new.”

He groaned dramatically, tossing your suitcase into the trunk like it personally offended him. “Don’t even get me started. 300 bucks an hour to get it detailed. 300! I’m in the wrong profession, I swear to God. Forget tennis, I should just start my own car detailing business. Bet I’d make bank.”

You laughed as you climbed into the passenger seat, settling into the plush leather interior. “Ben, you’re literally a professional athlete. Pretty sure you can afford a couple hundred bucks for detailing. I think you’ll survive.”

Sliding into the driver’s seat, he shot you a quick, incredulous look. “Okay, but it’s the principle. 300 and for what? A wax job and a good vacuum? I’m tellin’ you, they probably spent 10 minutes on this thing and then sat in the back counting their money.”

You gave him a pointed look, smirking. “So you heard the price and still went ahead and got it cleaned?”

His hands froze on the steering wheel, and his face damped into an expression of pure guilt. “…well, yeah, but-”

“Exactly,” you cut him off with a laugh. “Finance major paying without thinking? Interesting. Aren’t you supposed to be good with money?”

“Hey now, don’t go throwin' my degree at me,” he fired back, though the grin tugging at his lips ruined his attempt at indignation.

“Then stop giving me so much material to work with!” you teased, settling back into the seat.

He let out a loud laugh, tapping the steering wheel as he merged onto the highway. “You’re unbelievable, you know that? I’m over here getting robbed-no- fleeced for you, and you’re sitting there making fun of me!”

“For me?” you echoed, feigning disbelief. “Ben, this is your car.”

He waved a hand dismissively. “Minor technicalities. I did it for the aesthetic. So you could ride in style, alright? Don’t ruin the vibe.”

You rolled your eyes, though your smile didn’t falter. “First of all, I never told you to get it detailed. You could’ve rocked up in a dirty beat up Ford Fiesta, and I wouldn’t have batted an eye."

Ben gasped, shooting you a look, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “A Ford Fiesta? Babe, be serious. I hope you’d bat an eye. Your boyfriend would never own a Ford Fiesta. You're getting kidnapped if you even think I'd put you as a passenger in one of those.” He shot you a sidelong glance, his smirk playful. “That’s not who I am. That’s not the brand.”

You burst out laughing. “Oh, the brand. My apologies, Mr. Aesthetic.”

“That’s right,” he said, grinning. “We’re a ‘clean car’ household. Even if it costs me my sanity and half my paycheck.”

“Anddd...you're spiralling,” you sung with a grin.

“Am not,” he retorted, though the corners of his mouth twitched.

“You’re literally ranting about how car detailers are living the dream.”

“Well, they are,” he said, gesturing dramatically. “Do you know how much they probably rake in? I should’ve majored in car detailing instead of finance. I’d be retired by now.”

“Spiraling!” you repeated, unable to stop laughing.

“Okay, now I’m spiralling,” he admitted, chuckling as he reached over to grab your hand. His fingers laced through yours easily, his thumb tracing small, lazy circles against your skin. “But you make it worth it,” he added, his voice softening as he glanced your way, warmth pooling in his gaze, his words wrapping around the words like honey.

Your chest tightened at his sincerity, and you squeezed his hand. “I missed you, Ben.”

His grin widened, warm and bright like the Florida sun. “Missed you more.”

The short drive flew by in a blur of teasing banter and warm laughter. Before long, you were pulling into the driveway of Ben’s home, the house glowing with festive warmth. You barely had time to take in the festive glow spilling from the neighbouring houses before he called out, “We’re home!”

The door swung open, and Emma appeared almost immediately on the doorstep, her face lighting up when she saw you.

“You’re here!” she squealed, racing over to pull you into a hug.

You laughed, hugging her back. “Emma! Missed you!”

Lisa wasn’t far behind, her smile as warm as ever as she kissed your cheek and wrapped you in her arms. “We’re so glad you’re here,” she said softly. “Thank you for spending Christmas with us.”

“Thanks for having me,” you replied earnestly. “And for letting me get involved.”

“Oh, please,” Lisa said, brushing off the gratitude with a wave of her hand. “You’re family now.”

Before you could respond, Bryan emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel and smiling warmly. “There she is!” he said, his voice exuding a coach’s enthusiasm as he pulled you into a firm hug. It was the kind of embrace that immediately made you feel part of the team. “You’re just in time. We’ve got lights to untangle, decorations to hang, and a house to turn into a winter wonderland. Hope you’re ready to roll up your sleeves.”

You grinned, already feeling the infectious energy. “Always ready.”

Ben leaned casually against the doorway, a smug smile on his face.

“Heads up, though. Dad’s been itching to put you to work all day. He treats this like a championship game.”

Bryan clapped a hand on Ben’s shoulder, grinning. “And someone’s gotta make sure it gets done right. Speaking of which, Ben, you’re on outdoor duty with me this year. That’s non-negotiable.”

Ben groaned, dragging a hand down his face theatrically. “Man, you’d think we’d hire someone by now to do all this.”

Lisa’s voice floated down the stairs as she and Emma descended with boxes in hand. “Absolutely not!” she called, her tone playful but firm.

“Where’s the fun in paying someone to do the best part of Christmas? This is family time.”

“Yeah, Ben!” Emma added with a grin, carrying a box that looked almost as big as her. “Stop trying to weasel your way out of it.”

Ben raised his hands in surrender, grumbling as he helped Bryan gather the lights from a big bin. “Fine, fine. Just saying.”

As Lisa directed Emma upstairs to fetch another box, you stepped into the living room, your eyes immediately drawn to the towering pine tree standing proudly in the corner. The scent of fresh pine filled the house, its needles scattered on the floor like tiny green confetti. You paused, taking it in.

“Oh, wow,” you murmured, stepping closer. “It’s beautiful.”

“Mhm,” Ben chimed in, suddenly beside you again, his arm resting lightly around your waist. “Dad always insists on the real deal.”

“It’s tradition,” Bryan added with a smile.

Ben leaned down, his voice low and teasing in your ear. “Told ya my family goes all out.”

You looked up at him, your heart full as the warmth of the house and his family’s welcome surrounded you. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The house soon buzzed with energy as Lisa and Bryan headed to the attic to fetch more decorations, their voices drifting down as they debated which box was which. Emma made trip after trip, grumbling good-naturedly about being the “pack mule.” Before long, you and Ben found yourselves cross-legged on the living room floor, knee-deep in a tangled mess of Christmas lights.

“Okay,” you sighed, holding up a hopeless knot. “This is impossible. Who just shoves them in a box like this?”

Ben grinned as he worked on his own section. “Maybe it’s a test. Builds character or something.”

You shot him a look. “Pretty sure I’m not learning anything except how much I hate whoever did this.”

“Mm, wow, festive...” he shot back sassily, leaning closer as he pretended to focus on his knot.

Ben stood as he untangled the lights, gently pacing around, tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth as he untangled lights. You were zoned in. After a while, you noticed something..odd. Ben seemed to be making slow laps around you while whistling a small song. You could feel something snaking up your leg, growing tighter and more agitating.

“Ben…” you said suspiciously, narrowing your eyes.

“Hmm?” He didn’t look up, a whistle of holiday cheer on his lips, a smile breaking on his lips.

“You’re wrapping me in the lights!”

He stopped, wide-eyed with feigned innocence. “What...? No! Must’ve been an accident.”

“An accident?” you echoed, gesturing at your legs. “They’re literally tied around me!”

Before he could defend himself, Lisa walked in, her hands on her hips.

“Benjamin, what on earth?”

Bryan followed close behind, shaking his head as he took in the scene. “Already causing trouble, huh?”

“C’mon,” Ben tried, his grin sheepish. “It’s not that bad.”

Emma peeked in from the hallway, immediately bursting into laughter. “Ben, really? Can’t even untangle lights without turning it into a whole thing? Her first Christmas here and probably her last.”

Lisa sighed, stepping in to help free you. “You’re on your own with this one, Ben, no one's fending for you, young man.”

Bryan clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Alright, troublemaker, let’s go. Outdoor lights are waiting.”

Ben groaned as he was shepherded outside. “Man, I don’t get paid enough for this.”

“You don’t get paid at all!” Bryan called back, earning a laugh from everyone.

“Exactly,” he muttered under his breath.

With Ben out of the room, Emma plopped down beside you, grinning. “He’s so easy to blame, isn’t he?”

“Way too easy,” you agreed, shaking your head as you picked up the lights again.

Lisa smiled as she handed you another box. “Alright, girls. Let’s get to work. The house won’t decorate itself.”

The living room was quickly becoming a festive workshop with you three girls chirping in conversation. Boxes were opened, and decorations of every shape and size spilt out onto the coffee table and floor in organised piles.

“Let’s start with the lights for the tree,” Lisa said, pulling out yet another tangled mess of twinkling bulbs. She handed one end to you and the other to Emma, gesturing for the two of you to get to work.

“I swear these things tangle themselves on purpose. Ben never packs them away properly,” Emma muttered, kneeling on the floor beside you.

As you began untangling, Ben’s mischief from earlier was still fresh in your mind. You were hyper-aware of every step you took to avoid recreating that particular disaster as you smiled at Emma's words.

Lisa flitted between the hallway and the living room, bringing garlands, baubles, and figurines.

“I’ll organise these while you work on that,” she said, eyeing the progress you and Emma were making with the lights.

It took some time, but eventually, you and Emma held up the neatly untangled string triumphantly. “Got it!”

“Perfect,” Lisa said, motioning for you both to circle the tree. “Now, remember, don’t just wrap them around the outside. Weave them in and out of the branches. Otherwise, it’ll look like a mess.”

Emma groaned. “We know, Mom. You only say this every year.”

“And yet,” Lisa teased, “every year, I have to redo half of it because someone doesn’t listen.”

Laughing, you and Emma began winding the lights around the tree while Lisa hovered nearby, occasionally stopping you to adjust a strand or reposition a bulb. Slowly but surely, the tree began to glow, the warm light casting soft shadows on the walls.

Once the lights were done, Lisa pulled out the garlands. “Alright, now these go next. Green and gold for the tree, red and silver for the mantle.”

The three of you worked together to drape the garlands, the tree taking shape as a stunning centrepiece.

Then came the baubles. Each one had a story, some were pristine and new, purchased earlier this year, while others were handmade or gifted over the years.

Emma held up a misshapen clay ornament, her face a mixture of embarrassment and fondness. “Oh no! My first-grade disaster.”

“Hey! I still think it’s cute,” Lisa said, hanging it front and centre.

“Mom!” Emma whined, though she was laughing.

You picked up a glittery bauble that had clearly seen better days. “What’s the story with this one?”

Lisa smiled. “That’s from Ben’s kindergarten Christmas. He got glitter everywhere making it. Came home with more glitter in his hair, his clothes and arms than the damn bauble, God, it was there for days.”

Emma snickered. “Classic Ben.”

As the stories continued, Lisa pulled out a delicate glass ornament shaped like an angel. Her expression eased. “This one’s from our first Christmas together,” she said quietly. “Back when Bryan and I were first dating.”

You held it carefully, admiring the intricate details. “It’s beautiful.”

Lisa smiled, her eyes warm. “And this one” she reached into the box, pulling out a small, heavy gold-metal ornament, “was from our first Christmas as a married couple.”

The room fell quiet for a moment, the weight of those memories settling warmly over all of you.

When the tree was nearly complete, Lisa climbed the step stool with the star in hand. “This is always my favourite part,” she said, placing it delicately at the top.

The living room sparkled with the glow of the tree, but there was still plenty to do. The three of you moved on to decorating the rest of the house. Garlands were hung on the staircase, stockings were carefully arranged along the mantle, and the nativity set was placed on a small table near the fireplace. In the kitchen, holiday-themed dish towels and centrepieces brought the festive spirit to life, while Emma lined the hallway mirror with a string of twinkling lights.

During all this, the front yard was abuzz as Ben and Bryan worked to untangle the long strings of lights, their voices carrying into the chilly evening air. A ladder leaned against the house, and plastic bins of decorations sat open on the porch. Ben held a tangled bundle of white lights, stretching them out to find the end while Bryan adjusted the ladder’s position along the front porch’s edge.

“You think we’re the only house in Florida still doing this ourselves?” Ben asked, his tone half-joking but with a thread of sincerity. “Bet all these other folks around here got companies for this kinda thing. They’re sittin’ inside toasty while we’re out here workin’ our butts off.”

Bryan snorted, looping a strand of lights over his arm. “You’ve said that about five times already, son. Sounds like you’re angling to hire someone for next year.”

Ben’s grin widened. “I mean, I’m just sayin’. Ain’t it smarter to delegate?”

Bryan paused, looking at Ben from the top of the ladder. “Smarter, maybe. But you can’t put a price on tradition.”

Ben tipped his head back, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Uh, I think you can, Dad. Pretty sure that’s what decorators do. They set the price.”

Bryan shook his head, laughing as he clipped a strand of lights into place. “You’ve been spending too much time crunchin’ numbers. This ain’t a spreadsheet, it’s Christmas, Ben. It’s about makin’ memories, not outsourcing ‘em.”

Ben muttered under his breath, “Still feels like highway robbery not to outsource ladder duty.”

Ben stepped back from the ladder, brushing his hands together as he looked through the living room window. His eyes settled on you, standing between Lisa and Emma, holding up one end of the garland like you three ladies were trying to negotiate a peace treaty. The sound of laughter muffled through the glass as Emma gestured dramatically at her mom, who was clearly in her element directing the two of you. You said something, and whatever it was, had Emma doubled over laughing, leaning against you for support while Lisa shook her head chuckling softly. Ben’s grin softened, his breath escaping in a small cloud in the crisp air.

Bryan caught the look, stepping down from the ladder with a knowing smile. He didn’t say anything at first, just following his son’s gaze. When Lisa threw her hands up, mock-annoyed at Emma, and you quickly stepped in to fix the garland, Bryan finally spoke.

“That’s the good stuff right there,” he said, his voice low but steady. “That’s what it’s all about. Why we do all this crazy stuff.”

Ben nodded slowly, his grip loosening on the string of lights in his hands. “Yeah… I get it.”

Bryan turned to him, his brow lifting. “You do?”

Ben chuckled, shaking his head. “I mean, I didn’t- not like this. But seeing her in there, fitting in with us so easy? Like, she’s been doin’ this forever? That’s... somethin’ else, Dad. Makes me think about stuff different.”

Bryan tilted his head, studying his son. “Stuff like what?”

Ben hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “Like... how lucky I am. She didn’t have to come down here for this. She could’ve stayed up n' been with her family, but instead, she’s here. With us. That says a lot.”

Bryan nodded, a small smile playing on his face. “Says even more about how she feels about you, Ben.”

“Yeah,” Ben said quietly, his voice softer now. He glanced back at the window where you and Lisa were laughing over something. “She’s just... she’s somethin’ else, Dad. I don’t know how I got her to say yes to all this.”

Bryan chuckled, clapping a hand on Ben’s shoulder. “Yeah you chose a good one. But don’t sell yourself short, kid. You’ve got a lot goin’ for you, just don’t forget it’s a two-way street. She’s here ‘cause of you, yeah, but she’s also here for what we are, what this is.”

Ben nodded, his grip tightening around the lights again. “I won’t forget. Ever.”

Bryan’s hand lingered on his shoulder for a moment before he patted him again. “Good. Now, before this turns into a Hallmark movie, how ‘bout we get back to work before your mama starts thinkin’ we’re slackin’ off?”

Ben laughed, some of the weight lifting from his expression. “Fair enough. Don’t want to end up on her bad side. You know how she gets about the lights.”

“Oh, I know,” Bryan said with a grin. “But that’s tradition too, son. And you know what I always say-”

“You can’t put a price on tradition,” Ben cut in, smirking.

Bryan shot him a pointed look. “Exactly. Now grab the ladder.”

Ben moved to grab the ladder, but not before sneaking one last glance through the window. The sound of your laughter carried faintly through the cold breeze, and he smiled to himself as he got back to work.

The sun had long set by the time Ben and Bryan finished stringing the last set of lights along the edges of the house. The chill of the evening bit through their jackets, and their breaths puffed visibly in the air as they stepped back to admire their work. The house was wrapped in glowing strands of warm white light, flickering icicles hanging from the gutters, and a glowing wreath positioned perfectly over the front door.

“You ready to see if we got it right?” Bryan asked, flipping through his phone to find the timer settings for the lights.

Ben shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, his teeth chattering slightly as he grinned. “Let’s do it. If it doesn’t light up, though, I’m blaming you.”

Bryan shot him a look. “You’re the one who tangled half the cords.”

He clicked a button, and with a soft whirr, the entire house came alive. The lights blazed warmly against the dark backdrop, illuminating the yard and casting a soft glow on the driveway.

Ben whistled low, the corners of his lips turning up. “Alright, fine, I’ll admit it. Looks kinda amazing.”

Bryan grinned, clapping Ben on the shoulder. “Good work, son. Now let’s get inside before we freeze out here.”

The two of them headed for the door, their boots crunching over the slightly frosted ground. Inside, the warmth of the house greeted them immediately, along with the smell of chocolate, cinnamon and marshmallows. Emma was in the hallway, packing up the last of the decoration boxes. Halo padded around her feet, wagging his tail and sniffing curiously at the leftover garlands.

“Don’t eat the tinsel, Halo,” Emma muttered as she scratched behind his ears. She glanced up, spotting Ben and Bryan shaking off the cold. “Took y’all long enough. You better be done, I am not bringing those bins back up tonight.”

“We’re done, don’t worry,” Bryan assured her, stomping the snow off his boots. “And it looks pretty good out there if I do say so myself.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I’ll take your word for it.”

In the kitchen, you and Lisa were finishing up the cocoa. The mugs were steaming, each topped with a swirl of whipped cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, and the warmth spread through the room like a cozy blanket.

Ben barely made it through the living room doorway before you were there, a fluffy blanket in your arms. His cheeks were slightly red from the cold winds outside, and his nose looked frosty.

“Here,” you murmured, wrapping the blanket snugly around him. He let out a soft sigh of relief as the warmth surrounded him, leaning into your touch as you pressed a soft kiss to his chilled cheek. “You’re freezing.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” he said, his voice still tinged with a shiver. “But it was worth it. House looks good.”

You smiled, handing him a mug of cocoa from the coffee table. “It better, after all that work.”

Ben grinned, his fingers wrapping around the mug as he took a long sip. “Okay, this makes it all worth it.”

Lisa ushered Bryan to the sofa in the living room opposite the fire, where she handed him his own mug and fussed over him briefly, adjusting his blanket and settling beside him.

“You two did a good job out there,” she said, her eyes flickering to the fireplace decorations you’d all worked on earlier. “It really feels like Christmas now.”

Bryan took a sip of cocoa, nodding in agreement. “You ladies did a fine job in here too. This place looks great. The fireplace? Perfect.”

Emma finished packing up the last box, then plopped down on the floor beside Halo, who promptly curled up beside her. “Can we officially call it done now?” she asked, looking up at Lisa.

Lisa smiled, glancing around the room. “I think so.”

Ben stepped closer to you, his mug in one hand while his other arm draped around your shoulders, the blanket draped over his back. The firelight cast a golden glow on his face, and for a moment, he just looked at you, his expression soft.

“You fit in here so well,” he said quietly, his voice warm and sincere. “It’s like you’ve always been a part of this.”

You leaned into him, your voice just as soft. “It feels like home. Like I’ve always been meant to be here.”

Ben’s arm tightened around you, his cheek brushing against your temple as he whispered, “This is gonna be a special Christmas, I can feel it.”

You smiled, resting your head against his chest as the warmth of the fire and the quiet hum of laughter and conversation filled the room. It was more than a feeling, it was a certainty.

[giveafike]

Starlit Season - B.T.S

TLDR: Christmas Market time! This is part 3/12 of Azzie's Advent Calendar 2024!

Word count + info: 4.7k. including dialogue.

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW! No warnings : )

Azzie Notes ✚: Day 3/12! Can you believe we're already 25% through it? Don't worry though, we still have the other 75% to get through ;) Lmk how you feel about the series so far after you're done reading!

This comes out the day after the Garden Cup so I'll add my thoughts here ab it: HE PLAYED SO GOOD WTF? Exho's always bring out the best in him smh. He looked so happy so I'm happy. ALSO...i said "last night was a movie" in a twt...why was that his caption im kinda freaking out.

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As the sun descended early in the lazy winter sky, you, Ben and Emma found yourselves getting ready for a quick drive to Gainesville's Winter Wonderland Christmas Market. The drive to the Christmas market had all the easy comfort of time spent with people you loved; the faint hum of the car’s heater mingled with a soft holiday playlist Ben had set before they pulled out of the driveway, a mix of classics and pop covers. Emma was sprawled across the backseat, her legs tucked up as she lazily scrolled through her phone, chiming in now and then with observations about the playlist or comments on the sights outside. Ben’s hand rested casually on the wheel, the other draped over your thigh, mindlessly tracing shapes against your jeans. His fingers occasionally drummed to the beat of the music as you conversed.

Emma leaned forward in her seat, resting her chin on the headrest between you and Ben. “So,” she started, stretching her words out with a smile, “what’re you gettin’ Benny for Christmas? Any genius ideas yet?”

You groaned, letting your head fall back against the seat. “Em, I’m completely out of ideas. It’s bad. Like, I’m about to panic-buy socks bad.”

Ben chuckled, softly, shooting you a sweet side glance. “Socks are underrated, babe. Functional. Timeless. I’m into it!”

Emma rolled her eyes, swatting his shoulder. “Yeah, no, you’re too high maintenance for that. Remember when Mom tried to buy those cheap crayons for school, and you threw a hissy fit ‘cause the colours weren’t bright enough?”

Ben huffed, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. “That’s called having standards, Emma. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Right,” Emma drawled, clearly unimpressed. Then, her attention swung back to you. “Didn’t y’all write Santa letters the other day? Mom mentioned she caught you at the table, covered in glitter and actin’ like five-year-olds. That’s gotta have some ideas in it, no?”

“Oh, don’t,” Ben groaned, already sensing where this was headed.

“What?” Emma teased, her grin wicked. “Benny pours his little heart and soul out in a letter to Santa, and you’re tellin’ me there’s nothin’ in there gift-worthy?”

Your voice softens as you decide to playfully tease Ben and pull out your phone, giggling. “It’s actually pretty sweet. Here, hold on.”

You scrolled through your photos until you found the picture you’d snapped of Ben’s messy, glitter-covered letter. “Knock yourself out.” You handed it over your shoulder.

Emma snatched the phone eagerly, her grin widening as she took in the chaotic page. Her eyes skimmed over the letter, and her smirk softened. “You really wrote all this? No help this time?” she asked, glancing at Ben.

He shrugged, ears turning a little pink. “What about it?”

Emma grinned, shaking her head. “Gotta admit, it’s sweet.”

She mimicked a dramatic sniffle, mocking her little brother but pressed her hand to her chest as she jutted out her bottom lip, smiling a bit. “ ‘A hug for my family’? ‘More chances to make people smile’? Oh, Ben... you’re gonna make Santa cry!”

Ben groaned again, but this time he was smiling, his hand giving your thigh a playful squeeze. “Emma, if you don’t stop, I swear you’ll be walkin’ to the market.”

Emma cackled, tossing your phone back to you. “Relax, man I’m not hatin’. It’s sweet, really. You’re just lucky Mom didn’t frame this and hang it on the fridge.”

You smiled gently, brushing your fingers lightly over Ben’s hand. “I thought it was perfect.”

Ben muttered something under his breath about it being private, but his smile lingered, soft and sheepish. Emma, of course, leaned back with a triumphant look.

“Y’all are disgustingly cute, by the way,” she added. “Now, can we please get to this market before I die of secondhand sap?”

As if on cue, the glowing palm trees of the Christmas market came into view, their lights twinkling against the dark sky. Ben adjusted the radio, and 'Feliz Navidad' played softly as he turned into the lot, grinning ear to ear like a kid himself.

“You ready for some holiday magic?” he asked, taking your hand in his, and squeezing it softly.

“I think I already got it,” you smiled back.

The Christmas market unfolded before you, a sprawling patchwork of lights, music, and festivity. The breeze carried the faint scent of pine and cinnamon, mingling with the sound of carolers harmonising near the entrance. Palm trees were strung with twinkling lights, their fronds swaying slightly, a reminder that even in Florida, Christmas had its own brand of magic.

Ben parked the car, and Emma was out almost instantly, her phone buzzing. “Alex’s here,” she said, pulling her bag over her shoulder. “I’ll catch up with y’all later.”

“You ditchin' us already?” Ben teased as he climbed out of the car, grabbing your hand as you stepped down.

“Not ditchin’, just… prioritisin’!” Emma shot back, beaming. “Y’all don’t need me third-wheeling all night.”

“You mean to say your boyfriend doesn’t wanna hang with his future brother-in-law?” Ben quipped, earning a laugh from Emma as she waved him off and disappeared into the crowd.

With Emma gone, it was just the two of you, your hands laced together as you stepped into the bustling market. “Well,” Ben said, his voice tinged with a playful challenge, “where to first, Captain?”

You tilted your head, scanning the stalls. “Somewhere with food,” you decided. “I’m starving.”

“Food it is,” he agreed, tugging you toward a row of food vendors. Each stall seemed to offer something better than the last, hot cocoa piled high with whipped cream and homemade marshmallows, candied goods glistening in the light, and the unmistakable sizzle of fresh churros frying.

Ben nudged you toward a cart with a small crowd gathered around it. “What about this?” he asked, pointing to a sign boasting fresh kettle corn.

The vendor handed over a bag the size of your torso, and Ben immediately snagged a handful, tossing a piece into his mouth. “Oh, yeah,” he said, nodding in approval. “This is the good stuff.”

“Let me try, I'll be a harsher judge” as you stole a handful from the bag. The sweet and salty crunch of the popcorn melted on your tongue, and you sighed. “Okay, fine, you're right.”

Ben looked down at you, gummy smile in full force. “You’re gettin’ better at admitting that.”

Rolling your eyes, you tugged him along, weaving through rows of stalls. The sound of music and conversations filled the area as vendors called out, offering samples and showing off their wares, handmade candles, intricate wooden ornaments, and shelves of baked goods that left you tempted at every turn.

At one stall, you paused to admire a display of tiny, hand-painted nutcrackers. “Look at these,” you said, picking up one with a red and gold uniform.

“Cute,” Ben said, though his attention was clearly on the stall selling mini doughnuts just a few feet away.

“Yeah, aren't they- Oh. You’re impossible,” you gushed before you followed his gaze, setting the nutcracker down and letting him lead you toward his next snack.

The two of you found a small bench under a string of lights and shared the warm, sugary treats, laughing as Ben somehow managed to get powdered sugar on his nose. “You’re a mess,” you said, wiping it away with your thumb.

“Comes with the territory,” he replied with a wink, leaning in to steal a quick kiss before pulling you back to your feet. “C’mon, there’s still so much to see.”

The market stretched endlessly, alive with light and movement. Every turn revealed another burst of colour or warmth, strands of golden fairy lights zigzagged overhead, framing the bustling rows of stalls. Palm trees wrapped in garlands stood proudly alongside traditional evergreens, their sparkling lights blinking cheerfully against the clear, starry sky.

Ben’s hand was warm and steady as it laced with yours, grounding you in the sea of activity. A couple walked past with steaming cups of cider, the spicy scent drifting your way, and you made a mental note to find some before the night ended. Ben seemed relaxed, his free hand swinging the bag of kettle corn he insisted on buying first thing.

“You know,” he began, his tone softer now, “I used to come here every year with my family. Me, Emma, Mom, Dad… sometimes a few friends would tag along. It was always this big thing.”

You glanced up at him, catching the faint nostalgia in his smile. “Bet you were the kid trying to climb the Santa statue or grab way too many samples.”

“Oh, absolutely,” he admitted, grinning now. “Emma and I had a contest one year to see who could make a better snow angel, on the fake snow, of course. I won, but she still claims the judges were biased.”

“Who were the judges?” you asked, laughing.

“Mom and Dad.”

You snorted. “Oh yeah, definitely biased.”

His smile softened, and he squeezed your hand. “It’s nice, though… coming back. And with you this time.” His voice dropped, quieter now, almost drowned out by the noise around you. “Makes it even better.”

A flutter of warmth rose in your chest. “You’re getting sappy, Shelton.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” he teased, but his hand slipped from yours only to wind around your waist, pulling you closer. The gentle kiss he pressed to your temple sent a wave of calm through you, even in the lively chaos of the market.

“C’mon,” you said, nudging him. “Let’s see if there's anything exciting.”

The next stall you stopped at displayed rows of hand-poured candles in every scent imaginable. A cheerful woman greeted you, gesturing toward her neatly labelled jars.

“Christmas tree,” you mumbled as you read off one, uncapping it to take a sniff. The sharp, woodsy aroma filled your nose, instantly conjuring images of decorated evergreens.

“Good, huh?” Ben asked, leaning over your shoulder to smell it too. His arms stayed snug around your torso as he did, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Too much pine,” you decided, setting it down and picking up another.

“Ooh, peppermint hot chocolate. That’s festive.”

“Smells like dessert,” Ben said, then leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear. “Maybe I’ll get it so you think about me every time you light it.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a grin. “Smooth.”

“That’s me,” he winked, clearly pleased with himself as he added the candle to your growing collection of finds.

The two of you wandered further, pausing at a table of hand-crafted perfumes. Glass bottles in soft, pastel hues lined the display, each promising something unique.

“Pick one,” Ben said, nudging you toward the table.

“For me?” you asked.

“Well sorta, but more for me,” he corrected, a mischievous glint in his eye. “So every time you wear it, I remember this night.”

You reached for a bottle labelled “Winter Bloom,” its description promising hints of jasmine and frosted cedar. The soft, delicate scent won you over immediately, and you handed it to Ben, who promptly handed over cash to the vendor in a heartbeat without even sniffing it or giving you time to protest.

“You’re impossible,” you said, shaking your head.

“And yet you’re still here,” he shot back, pulling you into another kiss, this one deeper and lingering.

The warmth of the moment carried you to the next row of stalls, where a small crowd gathered around an artisan baking display. Cookbooks with ornate covers were stacked neatly beside racks of cookie cutters and colourful frosting tubes.

“Hey, look at this one,” you said, picking up a book titled Holiday Baking Delights. Its whimsical illustrations of gingerbread houses and festive cakes made it impossible to resist. “We should have a baking day.”

Ben quirked a brow. “You’re planning a whole day just to bake?”

“Absolutely. Cakes, gingerbread men...maybe even a pie if we’re ambitious!”

He smirked, pulling you closer by the waist. “You mean you're baking while I supervise.”

“I’m an excellent baker. You can do the dishes too if you'd like” you shot back.

“Hm, I think I'll assign myself as a taste tester and entertainment,” he countered, nuzzling into your hair. “Can’t wait. Just promise not to kick me out of the kitchen when I eat all the cookie dough.”

“Only if you leave enough for the actual cookies,” you said, laughing as you handed the book to the vendor.

Ben shook his head, his grin softening as he looked at you. “You know you’re cute when you get all excited like this, planning days ahead together.”

You looked into his eyes and leaned into him, letting his warmth anchor you as the two of you moved along.

You stopped at a display of delicate glass ornaments shaped like snowflakes and reindeer, their edges catching the light in a way that made them seem almost magical. Ben held up a particularly goofy one shaped like a Christmas pickle, declaring it “too iconic to pass up.”

“Ben,” you groaned through a laugh, nudging his side. “That's so ugly.”

“Come on,” he argued, holding it up to the light dramatically. “This little guy has character. Look deeper.”

You shook your head, moving down the display while Ben trailed after you. Among the whimsical designs, your eyes landed on an angel ornament. It was breathtaking; soft glass handmade and shaped into an angel soaring upward, offering a dove in its hands. Gold and silver flecks were delicately mixed into its flowing form, catching the glow of nearby lights. Its weight felt solid, important, as you picked it up carefully.

Ben leaned over your shoulder, his hand cupping yours as he reached to steady the ornament.

“Wow,” he murmured. “This one’s something else.”

“It’s so beautiful,” you gasped, turning it slightly to admire the details.

“It’s more than beautiful,” Ben replied, his voice quieter now. “Feels special, huh?”

He reached into his pocket for his wallet without hesitation. “We’re getting it.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, though you couldn’t bring yourself to put it back, your eyes stuck onto the delicate figure.

“Of course,” he said, his eyes lingering on the angel. “It deserves to be on the tree.”

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, holding the ornament between you. Your brain slowly processed Ben's words; deserves to be on the tree. Your mind wandered to Lisa’s earlier comments about the ornament she and Bryan had from their first Christmas together. Somehow, this angel felt like a continuation of that story, a chapter for you and Ben, one that hadn't even been set yet by you intentionally. It was almost as though it were God or fate itself and whatever it was, it seemed to fall into place for Ben too as his hand shifted, his thumb brushing lightly against yours as he looked from the ornament to you.

“When we’re married,” he began softly, almost as if the words escaped him without thought, “we’ll buy another ornament like this… for our first Christmas together.”

Your heart caught in your chest at the quiet sincerity in his tone, his words hitting the reality you had barely processed internally. It wasn’t a grand declaration, just a gentle truth spoken as if he was seeing it unfold in his mind.

You turned your head to meet him, your eyes searching his face. He wasn’t grinning like he usually would after a smooth line or quick remark. Instead, he was looking at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

“Ben…” you started, but the words trailed off, your emotions tangling in your throat.

He blinked, and a faint blush rose on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose as if he just realised he’d spoken out loud. “Uh...unless you hate the idea,” he added quickly, scratching the back of his neck. “In which case, forget I said anything. I didn't! Total brain slip.”

You shook your head, a soft laugh breaking through your lips. “I don’t hate the idea, silly,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

His shoulders relaxed, and he let out a sigh and a chuckle, leaning forward to press a lingering kiss to your temple. “Good. Because I really meant it.”

The moment felt suspended, glowing like the lights around you. Finally, he handed the ornament to the vendor, carefully ensuring it was wrapped and protected before tucking it safely into the bag with the other small market finds. The angel seemed to hold more than just glass and flecks of gold and silver, it held a promise. One you were both content to wait for but knew in your hearts was already as real as the warmth of his hand in yours.

The moment settled as you continued your exploration, soon followed by more jokes and terribly smooth lines. By the time you reached the cider stand, your hands were full of bags, and your cheeks ached from smiling so much. Sipping on the warm, spiced drink, you leaned into Ben, who wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

“This might be one of my favourite Christmas traditions now,” you admitted.

He glanced down at you, his expression unreadable for a moment before he leaned in, his lips brushing yours softly. “Mine too,” he said, his voice just above a whisper. Then, with a grin, he added, “Even if I’m carrying all these tiny paper bags.”

You laughed, letting the sound blend with the cheerful buzz of the market, knowing this was a moment you’d carry with you long after the lights were packed away for the season.

As you sat and talked, debriefing the stalls and resting up, the crowd shifted, and Ben was suddenly hailed by a familiar voice from behind.

“Shelton! No way, man!”

Ben turned, a grin breaking across his face as a group of guys his age closed in. Dressed casually but with a distinctly college sports vibe, they greeted him with a mix of backslaps and playful shoves, the kind of camaraderie that spoke of long hours spent on courts and fields.

“Look who it is,” one of them teased, crossing his arms with mock indignation. “Thought you were too busy being famous to hang out in Gainesville anymore.”

Ben laughed, throwing his hands up. “What can I say? I heard you guys were still here and couldn’t resist.”

“Oh yeah? We figured you forgot all about us. Moved on to bigger fish.”

“Nah, same ol’ me,” Ben replied, his grin widening. “What’s new with you guys? Still running the intramural circuit, or have you retired?”

“Please, we could still crush you,” another chimed in, jabbing a finger at Ben’s chest. “You might have the serve, but we’ve got stamina.”

Ben raised his eyebrows, leaning casually against you as he broke into that gummy smile and loud, boisterous voice. “The kind of stamina that left you gasping during our last match? I think we're rememberin' it differently, man.”

The group roared with laughter, clapping Ben on the shoulder as they bantered back and forth.

As the guys exchanged rapid-fire jokes, Ben slipped his arm more securely around your waist, drawing you slightly forward. “Guys, this is my girl,” he said, his voice warm and proud. “She’s just been introduced to the chaos that is the Sheltons' Christmas.”

“Ah, so you’re the one putting up with him now,” one of them said with a grin, extending a hand to dap up yours. “Condolences.”

Ben rolled his eyes but tightened his arm around you. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. She’s got better taste than all of you combined.”

You chuckled, dapping a few hands as introductions and jokes circled loosely, and before long, they were back to ribbing Ben about everything from his college game to his inability to blend into a crowd anymore.

“Seriously, though,” one of them said, crossing his arms with a mock-serious expression. “How does it feel to be the golden child of Gainesville? We're gettin' griefed over your whole legacy.”

Ben shook his head, his laughter easy and genuine. “Man, I’m just here for the fried Oreos. Gator pride doesn’t stand a chance against those.”

The group dissolved into more laughter, the energy infectious. For a while, you stood beside Ben, enjoying the warmth of the moment. He was clearly in his element, his laughter brighter and his jokes sharper as he fell back into the rhythm of old friendships.

But as their conversation turned to recounting games and road trips that you weren’t a part of, your attention started to drift. That’s when your eyes landed on a quieter corner of the market, where a small, unassuming booth caught your attention. The sign above it read Silver & Steel, and something about its simplicity called to you.

Leaning into Ben, you tugged his sleeve lightly, quiet not to interrupt the current conversation. “I’m going to wander for a bit, okay?”

Ben’s laughter softened as he looked down at you, his expression shifting to something more tender as he cupped your face softly, tucking hair behind your ear. “You sure? I can come with you in a second.”

You shook your head, smiling. “No, no. Stay and catch up. I’ll be right back.”

His eyes lingered on you, warm and steady. “Don’t get lost,” he teased, pecking your cheek before letting you go. “I’ll come find you if you do.”

You laughed softly, slipping through the crowd toward the silver stall, while behind you, Ben’s laughter picked up again, blending seamlessly with the lively hum of the market.

The silver stall was tucked away from the main thoroughfare, its quiet contrast drawing you in. The old man running it looked up from polishing a bracelet as you approached, his weathered face breaking into a kind smile.

“Evening, miss,” he greeted, his voice gravelly but warm. “Looking for something special tonight?”

You glanced over the display, captivated by the understated elegance of the pieces. Rings, bracelets, cufflinks, and keychains, each item was crafted with a simplicity that was masculine and timeless. The soft glow of the polished silver under the warm lights was mesmerising.

“These are amazing! All made locally?” you said, running a finger lightly over a sleek keychain engraved with Roman numerals.

“Mhm, yep thank you,” the man replied, setting down his polishing cloth. “Been doing this for over forty years. Every piece’s got a story waiting to be written.”

You smiled at the sentiment and glanced over your shoulder. Ben was still deep in conversation with his friends, his head tipped back in laughter. He looked so at ease, his hands gesturing animatedly as he spoke. A pang of warmth spread through you, and you turned back to the display with a clearer purpose.

“I think I’d like to write one of those stories,” you said softly, your eyes settling on a ring, a simple band, smooth with some ridges and unadorned except for the possibility of engraving. “Could you engrave initials on this?”

The old man nodded. “Absolutely. What initials are we putting on it?”

“B and-” You paused, your cheeks heating as you whispered the rest of your initials to him.

He chuckled knowingly as he shot up a glance over to where you were just looking. “Young love. Nothing quite like it.”

You giggled shyly, glancing again at the stall’s offerings. Another item caught your eye: a small, rectangular keychain plate, its surface just wide enough for something simple. The thought of engraving your anniversary in Roman numerals struck you, an intimate, subtle way for Ben to carry a piece of you wherever he went.

“And this,” you added, picking it up. “Can we do Roman numerals? For a date.”

“Of course,” he said. “Got the date in mind?”

You told him your anniversary date, watching as he carefully jotted it down. He took both items and began his work with a diode laser cutter, his movements deliberate and practised.

As he engraved, you struck up a quiet conversation. He shared stories about how he’d started the shop back in the seventies, and how Gainesville’s Christmas market had always been his favorite event of the year. You told him a little about yourself too, skimming the surface but enough to let him know why these pieces were so important. When he finished, he held them out to you with a smile. The ring gleamed under the lights in its soft blue velvet box, your initials etched delicately on the inside of the band. The keychain plate, meanwhile, sat in a red velvet box, slightly larger as it bore the Roman numerals of your anniversary, its clean lines perfect and understated.

“These turned out beautifully,” you said, your voice filled with quiet awe.

“They’re for someone special,” the man said simply, packing them carefully into a small velvet pouch. “That kind of love deserves something lasting.”

You paid and thanked him, clutching the small bag in your hand and hiding it in your jacket pocket as you turned to head back toward Ben. He was still with his friends, but his eyes caught yours immediately as you approached, lighting up in that way that always made your heart skip.

“Everything good?” he asked, breaking from his conversation to reach for you instinctively, his hand settling at your waist.

“Perfect,” you said, slipping the pouch discreetly into your pocket. His hand tightened slightly on your hip, his lips brushing your temple as if he couldn’t help himself.

Ben turned back to his friends with a content smile, but you couldn’t stop glancing at the pouch in your pocket, already imagining the look on his face when he saw what you’d chosen.

The evening wound down with the two of you making your way back to the car. Emma had waved goodbye at the market entrance, letting you both know she was staying a bit longer as she rejoined her friends. Now it was just you and Ben under the soft glow of string lights, the buzz of the market fading behind you.

Once inside the car, Ben started the engine, the faint hum filling the space. His hand found its way to your thigh again, a familiar gesture that made you smile.

“So you went explorin' without me?” he teased, his thumb drawing lazy circles through the fabric. “You didn’t get lost, did you?”

“Not at all,” you said with a smirk, leaning back in your seat. “But if I had, I’m sure my knight in shining tennis gear would’ve come to rescue me.”

“Damn right I would’ve,” he replied, shooting you a grin, his confidence tinged with playfulness. "If you hadn’t come back when you did, I was this close to pulling a market-wide search party. ‘Has anyone seen my girlfriend? She’s the cute one, probably holding something sparkly.’”

You laughed, nudging his shoulder. “You’re silly.”

“Yeah, but you love me for it,” he shot back, his grin widening.

“Mm, debatable,” you teased, biting back a grin of your own.

As the streets of Gainesville stretched out before you, dotted with houses wrapped in holiday lights, Ben glanced over. “Thanks for coming tonight. I know it wasn’t exactly Wimbledon-level excitement, but…”

“Ben,” you interrupted softly, looking at him with a smile that you knew reached your eyes. “It was perfect. I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice dipping into something quieter, more sincere.

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “Besides, I got to watch you charm half the market and run into old friends. Pretty much a hometown hero, aren’t you?”

“Oh, totally,” he said, the playful edge returning to his tone. “They’re probably erecting a statue of me as we speak.’”

You shook your head, laughing again.

When you finally pulled into the driveway, the house glowed warmly, the Christmas tree twinkling in the window like it had been waiting just for you. Ben killed the engine but didn’t move to get out right away. Instead, he turned toward you, his gaze soft in the dim light.

“Tonight was really good,” he said quietly, his hand brushing against yours. “Thanks for making it better.”

“You’re welcome,” you replied, leaning toward him. “But I’m pretty sure you’re the one who made it better.”

His lips found yours in a kiss that was slow and deliberate as if he wanted to savour every moment. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his grin lazy and content.

“Let’s get inside,” he murmured. “I’ve got a date with those goodies we bought. I also bought some candied pecans!”

Laughing, you grabbed your bag of goodies and followed him up the steps. The scent of pine and freshly baked sugar cookies greeted you, promising warmth, laughter, and more unforgettable holiday memories.

[giveafike]

Snow Much Fun! -B.T.S

TLDR: snow... in ... Florida...! This is part 5/12 of Azzie's Advent Calendar 2024!

Word count + info: 4k. ON THE DOT! im so proud + including dialogue.

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW! No warnings : )

Azzie Notes ✚: listen... before you correct me and get all factual w me...be open minded... I KNOW IT DOESN'T SNOW IN FLORIDA...but it has before, so who says it can't happen in your imagination? THIS IS AN AU. LET ME DREAM, BELIEVE IN CHRISTMAS MAGIC. God forbid a girl likes to imagine and have fun. do u hate fun? whimsy? And if you can't get behind this teensy bit of snow then I fear for the next part.... erm anyways enjoy...

————————————————————————

The days blended together in that warm, comforting way only the holidays could bring. You and Ben found yourselves curled up on the couch with his family, the quiet hum of togetherness filling the living room. The TV flickered with a lighthearted comedy, paused mid-opening scene as everyone got settled. The selection wasn’t a Christmas movie, though Lisa had made her thoughts on that very clear earlier.

“Y’all know it’s December, right?” she teased as she settled into her favourite armchair, her hands curled around a mug of something steaming and fragrant. “We’ve got, what, two weeks left to make the most of Christmas movies? And this is what we’re watchin’?”

Bryan chuckled, patting her knee affectionately. “Let ‘em enjoy themselves, Lis. They’ll get to the holiday classics soon enough.”

Lisa let out a mock huff, shifting in her chair to settle in more comfortably. “If I don’t see at least one Santa before the weekend, I’m gonna start taking hostages,” she muttered, though the smile tugging at her lips softened the threat.

Ben chuckled before he nudged you gently before standing. “Hang tight. Gonna grab somethin’, ” he said, pressing a quick kiss to your temple as he walked out of the room.

“Where’s he off to?” Emma asked as she petted Halo while Alex lifted his head up from the phone in his hand, arching a brow as his eyes fell on the paused TV screen.

“Kitchen, I bet,” Bryan said, settling further into his seat. “He’s like a kid. Can’t sit through a movie without snacks.”

Moments later, Ben reappeared in the doorway, a triumphant grin tugging at his lips, and a gingerbread cookie sticking out from between them like a makeshift cigar. His hands were full, one balancing a plate piled high with the rest of the leftover cookies and the other holding a heavy metal water bottle.

“Look what I got,” he mumbled around the cookie, his words muffled but still carrying that signature playful tone as he nodded toward the plate.

Bryan folded his arms, shaking his head with a smile. “You couldn’t wait two seconds to eat one?”

Ben shrugged dramatically, biting the cookie to free his hands before setting the plate down on the coffee table. “Couldn’t let the guy go to waste,” he said, flashing the half-eaten now decapitated gingerbread man with a lopsided smile.

Lisa rolled her eyes, but there was a fondness in her expression. “At least share before you eat them all yourself.”

“They’re for everyone!” Ben promised in a whine, nudging the plate a little closer to the middle of the table. “But y’all gotta admit, they’re best when I bring ‘em.”

“Sure, Ben,” Emma mumbled sarcastically as she pressed play on the movie from the other end of the couch.

Ignoring her, Ben turned to you with a flourish, pulling a throw blanket from the back of the couch. He gave it a playful snap before draping it over both of you, his movements exaggerated for effect.

“There,” he declared, tucking the edges around your legs. “Cozy enough for ya?”

“Very,” you replied, laughing softly as he flopped down beside you, his arm immediately finding its place around your shoulders.

He leaned into your face, close enough that you could smell the faint scent of ginger and sugar on his breath. With a quiet smile, he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, holding the two of you there for a few seconds, just enough to make your chest tighten pleasantly before pulling back.

“That’s for makin’ these with me,” he murmured, the words low and warm.

Your cheeks heated as you pressed beside him, letting his solid warmth settle against your side. The movie continued on as you all watched, Lisa's earlier mock protests forgotten, but your attention stayed fixed on Ben for a few moments longer. He rested his head in the crook of your neck, his curls tickling your jawline. Without thinking, your fingers slipped into his hair, toying with the soft strands and scratching gently at his scalp, your attention never leaving the screen. The soft, brown spirals swirled around your fingers looping and intertwining, almost as though they were holding onto your fingers each time you went in to massage them. The quiet hum he let out made your stomach flip, his whole body relaxing even more against yours.

“Keep that up and I’m gonna fall asleep,” he murmured, his words barely audible over the dialogue on the screen.

“That a bad thing?” you teased, continuing the slow, soothing motion.

He didn’t reply just hummed again, his breathing slowing as he melted further into your touch. The warmth of the blanket, the faint scent of gingerbread, and the flickering glow of the Christmas tree lights made everything feel impossibly soft and still.

After a while, Ben stirred, sitting up slightly. You thought he might reach for another cookie, but instead, he turned to you. His gaze was gentle as he leaned down, pressing a string of soft kisses to your hairline, trailing down to your temple and cheek.

“Love you,” he murmured, featherlight against your skin.

You turned to meet his eyes, your voice just as soft. “Love you too, Benny.”

His smile was slow and easy as he settled back into the couch, pulling you even closer beneath the blanket. The movie continued, laughter bubbling up occasionally from his family, but the way you held each other made the rest of the world blur into the background. Across from you, Emma was sprawled out with Alex, both of them clearly more interested in whispering to each other than paying attention to the screen.

The living room was warm, lit softly by the glow of the Christmas tree. The angel ornament you and Ben had picked out at the market was hung proudly near the centre, its golden and silver flecks catching the light. It cast delicate patterns on the walls and floor, moving gently as the branches swayed ever so slightly.

Lisa noticed it too, her eyes lingering on the ornament. “That angel looks just beautiful up there,” she said softly, nudging Bryan. “Did you notice it earlier?”

He nodded, smiling. “I did. Real nice pick, y’all.”

“It’s from the market,” Ben said, his voice low and lazy. He didn’t bother lifting his head from where it rested against yours, but there was a quiet pride in his tone. “We thought it fit.”

“It’s perfect,” Lisa agreed, her gaze warm as it swept between you and Ben.

You smiled at her, then tilted your head back to look up at Ben. “Guess we’ve officially contributed to the family tree.”

Ben smirked, his eyes half-lidded with that relaxed ease he only seemed to show when he was home. “Next time, we’ll bring somethin’ even better. Like a big ol' handpainted bauble. That counts, right?”

“Sure,” you replied with a soft laugh, earning a grin from him.

From the other end of the couch, Emma let out a dramatic sigh. “Okay, but why are y’all so cute? It’s nauseating.”

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Em,” Ben shot back, earning a pillow being thrown at Ben by his sister.

“Watch it,” she warned, though her tone was playful.

“Alright, enough,” Bryan interrupted, his voice holding the kind of fond exasperation only a father could pull off. “Y’all are worse than the kids in this movie.”

Emma rolled her eyes but leaned into Alex, clearly content.

For a moment, the room was quiet again, the hum of the movie filling the space. Bryan and Lisa exchanged a look, one of those quiet, knowing glances that seemed to say look at this, this is what we built. You caught it out of the corner of your eye and couldn’t help but smile, feeling a little grateful and honoured to be part of this small, happy scene.

Ben must’ve noticed too, because he gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You good?” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the TV.

“Perfect,” you whispered back, snuggling into him a little more.

And there you stayed, wrapped in warmth and familiarity, the angel casting its soft glow over the room. The movie might not have been a Christmas classic, but the moment was simple, cozy, and filled with quiet love. It felt more festive than anything scripted.

Midway through the movie, Bryan leaned forward in his seat, his brow furrowing as he squinted toward the window. The movement drew everyone’s attention, and Lisa raised an eyebrow.

“Bryan, what’s the matter?” she asked, her voice soft but curious.

“Is it snowin’ outside?” Bryan asked, squinting as if he could see through the blinds.

Emma snorted, her disbelief immediate. “Dad, c’mon. No way. It’s Florida. Snow?”

Alex chimed in, shaking his head. “Yeah, no shot. You’d sooner see gators tugging Santa's sleigh along the street than snow falling here.”

But Ben, with that trademark half-smirk, leaned forward slightly, his arm still slung lazily around you. “It might be,” he drawled, his Gainesville accent thick with teasing scepticism. “Y’know, hasn’t snowed here in years, but it’s cold enough tonight. Could be somethin’ out there.”

His words sparked a ripple of curiosity. Emma groaned dramatically but leaned forward on the couch anyway, craning her neck to peer toward the window. “There better not be snow,” she grumbled, “I’m not built for that.”

You couldn’t help but bite your lip in excitement, feeling that childhood giddiness bubble up inside of you. You try to hide it but glance over too, the soft glow of the tree lights spilling across your face as you shift. From where you sat, you caught the faintest movement outside. A soft, almost magical swirl danced in the light of the streetlamps, the flakes subtle but unmistakable.

“Oh my gosh,” you whispered, your eyes widening. “It really is snowing.”

Emma gasped beside you, her earlier scepticism melting into childlike awe as she broke into a smile. “Wait, what? No way.”

The two of you scrambled to the window, pulling the curtain fully aside to get a better look. Outside, the streetlights illuminated a delicate flurry of snowflakes drifting down onto the quiet street. Across the way, the Christmas lights strung on the neighbouring houses seemed to sparkle even brighter, their colours reflecting off the thin layer of frost dusting the lawns and rooftops.

“Wow, would you look at that,” Lisa murmured, her voice filled with wonder as she stood up and joined you.

“It’s not a blizzard or anything,” Bryan remarked, standing now, hands on his hips. “But I’ll be darned, it’s snow all right.”

Ben chuckled behind you, staying where he was on the couch but watching you from his perch. “Told y’all it might be somethin’. Y’all never listen to me.”

You turned to him, your cheeks still flushed with the excitement of the unexpected sight. “When do we ever listen to you?” you teased, making him laugh.

“Fair point,” he admitted, patting the spot beside him. “But it’s too cold to stand there by the window gawkin’. Get back over here.”

With one last glance outside, you and Emma let the curtain fall back into place and returned to the couch, settling easily against Ben’s side. His arm found its familiar spot around your shoulders, pulling you close as you curled into his warmth as his strong hand rubbed your arm up and down.

“Snow in Florida,” you murmured, more to yourself than anyone. “It feels… kind of magical, right?”

Ben looked down at you, his smirk softening into something sweeter. “Maybe it’s a sign. Christmas miracles and all that,” he said with a wink.

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway, pressing your cheek against his chest and letting the steady thrum of his heartbeat lull you back into the comfort of the evening. Outside, the snow continued to fall, a rare and fleeting wonder that made the cozy warmth of the house feel all the more special.

The movie carried on, but the mood had shifted just slightly. Lisa leaned closer to Bryan, who had draped an arm around her shoulder. Emma and Alex sat side by side, whispering and laughing, their earlier disbelief gone as they marvelled at the snowfall. For you and Ben, the magic wasn’t just outside in the snow or inside the house. It was in the quiet, unspoken connection between you, a warmth that had nothing to do with the blankets or the tree lights. And for now, that was enough.

As the movie carried on to the last scenes, Ben got up to grab a drink from the kitchen. You were mid-sentence, pointing out a plot hole, when his voice rang out, loud and filled with shock.

“Goddamn, the snow stuck!” he exclaimed, his voice high-pitched and bursting with excitement as he came running back to the living room, almost falling over several times.

“What?” Emma shot up from her spot, nearly knocking over the popcorn bowl. “You’re lying!”

“Nah, I’m dead serious! Y’all gotta see this!” Ben called, his voice laced with genuine wonder.

Emma bolted for the front door, you and Alex following close behind, too frantic to even think of how the potential "in-laws" might view you. Pulling the door wide open, you gasped.

There it was, a light layer of snow blanketing the yard, the driveway, and even the street. It wasn’t much, but in Florida, even a thin coating like this was monumental.

“Dad!” Emma spun around, practically vibrating with excitement. “Can we go outside? Please?”

Ben poked his head around the corner from the kitchen, already grinning. “Yeah, c’mon, let us have a little fun! It’s not like this happens every year.”

Bryan looked up from his reclined position, still sat as he arched a brow. He looked at Lisa who stifled a laugh but nodded to the group of you, smiling.

“Y’all act like you’re kids again. But sure, go ahead. Just, wrap up. I don’t want anyone catchin’ a cold or somethin' worse.”

“Yesss!” Ben and Emma cheered simultaneously, already scrambling for jackets and hats, throwing spare ones at you and Ale.

Lisa sighed, though the smile on her face gave her away. “Alright, alright. But bundle up, all of you! Scarves, gloves, the whole thing!”

The house turned into a flurry of motion as everyone raced to grab layers. You hurried to slip on one of Ben's jackets while Ben tugged a knit cap over his curls, half-singing, “We’re goin’ on an adventure!”

Alex grumbled good-naturedly about the chaos but joined in, pulling on mismatched gloves. Emma was the first out the door, her shoes only half on, as she let out a delighted squeal.

The cold air hit your face the moment you stepped outside, but it was worth it. The snow wasn’t deep, just a soft, powdery layer barely clinging to the ground, but it was enough to transform the neighbourhood into a winter wonderland. The Christmas lights strung across the houses glowed even brighter against the dark sky and white snow, while neighbours had begun to step outside, just as awestruck as you were.

“Y’all look at this!” Ben exclaimed, crouching down to scoop up a handful of snow. He grinned, forming a loose snowball. “This is, like, real snow. Not just that slush stuff.”

You barely had time to admire it before Alex sneaked up behind Emma and sent a snowball flying, hitting her square in the back.

“Alex!” Emma spun around, eyes wide with mock outrage. “Oh, you are so dead!” She retaliated with a snowball of her own, smacking him right on the chest.

Ben laughed, clearly loving the commotion, and quickly joined in. His first target? Emma. The snowball hit her shoulder, sending a puff of white into her hair.

“Seriously?” she cried, but she was already giggling as she crouched down to scoop more snow.

“Nothing personal, Em!” Ben called, grinning like a kid. “Been waitin' to do that.”

“Oh, you think this is funny?” Emma lobbed her snowball in his direction, missing him by inches.

Meanwhile, you tried to keep a low profile, standing off to the side, admiring your footprints in the snow, hoping to avoid the crossfire. But Ben wasn’t about to let that slide.

“No hiding!” he declared, turning his playful grin on you. In one smooth motion, he launched a snowball at your leg.

“Ben!” you yelped, laughing as the cold snow splattered against you.

“That’s what you get for standing still!” he teased, already preparing another.

The battle escalated quickly. Alex doubled down on attacking Emma, who alternated between shrieking and laughing as she hurled snowballs back at him. Ben, meanwhile, seemed intent on taking both you and Emma out at the same time, his snowballs flying fast and wildly.

“You’re the worst!” Emma shrieked after a snowball hit her square on the nose, making her freeze. She stood there for a moment, eyes closed, her mouth slightly open in shock as snow dripped down her face.

Ben doubled over laughing. “Oh man, that was perfect!”

“Not funny.” she shot back, though the corners of her mouth twitched.

Before you could react, one of Ben’s snowballs struck you on the cheek, cold and wet as it splattered across your skin.

You stood there for a second, stunned, your hand flying to your face. “Alright, that’s it.”

Emma’s head whipped toward you, her eyes blazing with determination. “You in?”

“Oh, I’m in,” you replied, already scooping up snow.

The two of you turned your full attention on Ben, who immediately held his hands up in mock surrender. “Wait, wait, wait-!”

“Get him!” Emma yelled, launching a snowball that caught him on the arm.

You followed suit, hitting him square in the chest. Ben tried to dodge, laughing as he scrambled to pack more snowballs.

“No fair!” he called out, ducking behind a tree for cover.

“You started it!” you shouted, hitting the tree trunk just inches from his head.

The battle raged on, snow flying in every direction as you and Emma teamed up against Ben. Alex tried to join forces with him, but Emma caught him with a perfectly aimed throw that made him rethink his allegiance.

Kids from the neighbouring houses stood on their porches, laughing and cheering as the four of you chased each other through the snow. By the time the energy started to wane, your cheeks ached from laughing, your gloves were soaked, and snow clung to your hair and coat.

Panting and grinning, you all collapsed onto the snowy ground, the fight finally giving way to exhaustion. Your breath puffed out in small clouds, and for a moment, all you could hear was the sound of your own laughter mingling with the others.

“Alright, y’all,” Bryan’s voice called from the doorway, carrying that fatherly mix of amusement and authority. “That’s enough before somebody ends up with frostbite or a trip to the ER. And I'm not the one drivin' in this weather.”

None of you made a move to get up. Instead, Emma let out a deep sigh and spread her arms and legs out wide.

“Snow angels it is,” she declared, sweeping them back and forth to carve her shape into the untouched white blanket beneath her.

Ben, not to be outdone, flopped onto his back beside her, his long arms stretching as he exaggerated the motion. “Mine’s gonna look like a Wimbledon champion,” he said with a cocky grin.

“More like a giant goofball,” you teased, lying down on his other side to start your own angel.

Alex joined in without a word, still heaving as his movements were slower but no less deliberate. Soon, the four of you had carved a small lineup of snow angels, their winged silhouettes stretching across the yard.

Emma propped herself up on her elbows, inspecting the work. “We gotta sign ‘em,” she said, using her gloved finger to carve an “E” near the feet of her angel.

“Good idea,” Ben said, carving his “B” with a flourish at the bottom of his. “Now everyone knows who made the best one.”

“Debatable,” you muttered, finishing your own initial with a satisfied nod.

Alex added his “A” silently, glancing up with a small smirk as Emma leaned over to nudge him.

As you all sat up, the sound of laughter caught your attention. The last group of neighbourhood kids was a few yards away, rolling snow into giant mounds to form the base of a snowman while the rest of the street stayed dormant, the night slowly creeping up.

Ben squinted at them, then turned to you, his grin mischievous. “Think we could do better?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you replied, already on your feet.

The four of you got to work, scooping and packing snow as quickly as your soaked, frozen fingers would allow. The snowman started small, a modest figure compared to the heavy one the kids were making. Ben insisted on adding his own flair, giving it a crooked smile made of pine needles and twigs for arms that looked like they were mid-dance.

Emma stepped back to admire the work. “He looks like he’s auditioning for a Christmas musical.”

“Better than a boring ol’ snowman,” Ben said, adding a tiny snowball hat to the top of its head.

You knelt down to smooth out its base, adding a scarf you’d borrowed from Emma’s collection to give it a finishing touch.

The kids nearby noticed your creation and waved, their giggles carrying through the crisp air. One of them called out, “Yours looks funny!”

“You look funny,” Ben shouted back, laughing as he threw his arm over your shoulders.

"No need to be fighting kids, Ben" Emma warned as she stopped herself mid-giggle.

"They started it!" Alex chirped in, whining.

When the snowman was finished, the four of you stood back to admire it, your cheeks rosy from the cold and exertion. The little snowman was lopsided but charming, a perfect reflection of the fun that had gone into making it.

“Alright,” Bryan called again from the porch, shaking his head as he watched you all. “Seriously, now. Get in here before Lisa makes me come out there to drag y’all back myself.”

Ben turned to you with a grin. “Guess we better listen before we end up grounded.”

You laughed, brushing snow off your coat as the group headed back inside. The kids were still laughing, the little snowman standing proudly in the yard as a reminder of your impromptu snow day antics.

You all trudged back into the house, your shoes squeaking against the hardwood floors. Your hair was wet, your noses red from the cold, and your hands wrinkled and stiff. Ben rubbed his hands together, blowing on them dramatically.

“Y’all are somethin’ else,” she said, though her smile betrayed her amusement.

“My fingers are gonna fall off,” Emma complained.

Lisa and Bryan were quick to hand out towels, ushering everyone toward the warmth of the fireplace. Lisa had already turned up the heat, and the fire crackled invitingly as you all crowded around it, towels draped over your shoulders.

“Alright,” Lisa announced, hands on her hips. “Y’all had your fun. Now warm up and get yourselves to bed. It’s late.”

Ben leaned down, brushing a quick kiss against your snow-damp, tinted cheek.

“You fight dirty,” he murmured, the warmth of his voice contrasting with the lingering chill of the snow.

You smirked, nudging him lightly. “Learned it from the best.”

You exchanged a glance with Ben, the two of you grinning despite your exhaustion. It had been a fleeting moment of winter wonder, but it was one you’d never forget. As you curled up in bed later, trying to warm up, you were still laughing about your lopsided snowman, you couldn’t help but think that even the smallest miracles could bring the greatest joy. This was the kind of moment that made the holidays magic not just the cookies or the lights, but the love threaded through it all.

[giveafike]

Santa, baby - B.T.S

TLDR: Writing a letter to Santa! This is part 2/12 of Azzie's Advent Calendar 2024!

Word count + info: 3.4k. including dialogue.

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW! No warnings : )

Azzie Notes ✚: Day 2/12! Hope you enjoy part 2 ;)

————————————————————————

The twinkling Christmas tree cast a kaleidoscope of colours across the dimly lit room, its reflection dancing faintly on the windows; a cozy reminder of the chaotic decorating session just a couple of days ago. The air carried a faint hint of pine and cinnamon from a candle lit earlier. You were stretched out on the couch, your head on Ben’s lap, while your legs hung lazily over the side. His hand moved absently through your hair, the other holding the remote, cycling through the same few channels without settling on any. Outside, the Florida evening was calm as the sun began to set, the December air brushing against the windows. Ben’s leg bounced restlessly, and his off-key rendition of “Jingle Bell Rock” filled the otherwise quiet room.

“Do you ever stop moving?” you teased, your voice laced with affectionate exasperation as you nudged him in the ribs. The vibration of his laughter reverberated through your cheek, resting against his chest.

He grinned, eyes still fixed on the screen. “What do you mean? I’m perfectly still right now, doll.”

“You’re fidgeting,” you countered.

“Am not.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Your leg’s bouncing, you’re humming, and you’ve been flicking through the same channels for 10 minutes. That’s textbook fidgeting. It’s like being trapped on a merry-go-round with a very hyper elf.”

Ben tilted his head down to look at you, mock offence plastered across his face. “I’m an athlete, babe. Being in motion is my baseline, my natural state. Sitting still is unnatural for me.”

“Good thing tennis isn’t played sitting down, huh?” you shot back.

He laughed, setting the remote aside. “You’re lucky you’re cute, or I’d be deeply offended by that comment.”

“Oh, you love it,” you teased, nudging him with a grin.

He stretched his arms behind his head, smirking. “Alright, Miss Observant, what’s your excuse for being so still? You’ve barely moved all day.”

“I’m conserving energy.”

“For what? A marathon?”

“No, for dealing with you,” you quipped, making him laugh so hard his body shook beneath you.

Ben slid a hand to your waist, giving it a playful squeeze. “You’re on fire tonight. Got any more zingers, or is that it?”

“Plenty,” you teased, but the banter softened as your eyes drifted to the Christmas tree. You sighed, your voice more thoughtful now. “But seriously, I needed a lazy day. All that decorating wiped me out. My arms still ache from all that.”

“Wiped you out? I was the one dangling off ladders, risking my life for the good of the house.”

“Bryan was the one on the ladder. You just held it and moped,” you pointed out, holding back a laugh.

“Whatever,” Ben muttered, waving it off.

For a moment, the room fell into a comfortable silence, the faint crackle of the fireplace the only sound. You traced absent circles on his knee, your thoughts wandering. For a moment, you let yourself get lost in the simplicity of it all.

“What’s on your mind?” Ben's voice was quieter now, dipping into that softer register he reserved just for you.

“Christmas,” you admitted, leaning back against the couch, your gaze drifting toward the Christmas tree. “And how I have no idea what to get you.”

He blinked, surprised. “You’re stressin' over gettin' me a gift?”

“Of course I am! You’re impossible to shop for. You already have everything.”

He laughed, his amusement genuine. “That’s not true.”

“Name one thing you don’t have that you want,” you challenged, crossing your arms.

Ben opened his mouth but stopped short, thinking. “Okay, you’ve got a point.”

You groaned, flopping back dramatically. “This is a disaster.”

“Relax,” he said, rubbing you soothingly. “It’s not about the gifts anyway. Just being here together is enough.”

You rolled your eyes, but his sincerity made your heart squeeze. “That’s sweet and all, but it doesn’t solve my problem. You’re not the one shopping for a millionaire.”

Ben smirked. “Well, I'm already sorted, you’re not exactly hard to shop for, you know. You’ve got, like, three weaknesses: coffee, books, and anything fuzzy. Oh, or candles! You're more like an old lady.”

You laughed despite yourself. “Okay, Mr. Know-It-All. What’s your weakness?”

He paused, a teasing smile creeping onto his face. “You.”

You rolled your eyes, groaning. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious!” he said, leaning closer. “That’s why I don’t need anything else. I’ve already got the best gift.”

You buried your face in your hands. “Stop. You’re being so corny right now.”

Ben laughed, prying your hands away gently. “Alright, alright. If it helps, I have an idea.”

You raised an eyebrow warily. “This better be good.”

“When Emma and I were kids, my parents made us write letters to Santa every year,” he began, his grin turning playful. “It was Mom’s way of making sure we got what we wanted without spoiling the surprise. They’d pretend to send them to Santa, but really, they’d just use the lists to figure out what to buy us.”

“That’s sneaky!” you laughed.

“Right?” Ben leaned forward, conspiratorially. “And get this, by the time we were in high school, they stopped hiding it. Mom would literally say, ‘Write your letter, or you’re getting socks and a gift card.’” He shook his head, amused. “So, every year, Emma and I would sit at this exact table, armed with glitter pens and too much sugar, writing our letters.”

“Let me guess,” you sighed before continuing, “You want us to write Santa letters?”

“Exactly!” Ben said, his eyes lighting up. “We write our letters, swap them, and boom, your problem is solved, Santa's got it all under control then! This is basically charity work on my end.”

“You do realise Santa isn’t real, right?”

He gasped, looking down at you with a frown, jutting out his bottom lip a bit. “Take it back.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Fine. But I’m holding you to this.”

“Deal!” Ben shot up from the couch, returning moments later, arms overflowing with an assortment of supplies: colourful markers, pens, paper, glue sticks, and glitter pots that sparkled like tiny treasure chests.

“You had this ready to go?” you asked, amused.

“Nope,” he said, plopping everything onto the coffee table. “But if we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.”

At first, you felt out of place. Ben dived in enthusiastically, sketching haphazard snowflakes and slapping on Santa stickers without a second thought. Meanwhile, you stared at your blank sheet of paper, the sheer amount of options making you hesitate.

“You overthinkin' already?” he teased, glancing at you with a smirk.

“No,” you lied, picking up a red marker and drawing a tentative candy cane border.

“Babe, it’s not an exam. Just have fun with it. No rules, no judgment. Just channel your inner kid and tell Santa what you want.”

His carefree attitude was contagious, and soon, you found yourself leaning into the chaos. The table transformed into a colourful mess of spilt glitter and scattered craft supplies, the two of you laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. Now and then you'd look up to see how he's coming along, only to find his head down, tongue poking out while holding an arsenal of different things in his hands. Ben was uncapping a red marker and beginning to scrawl his name across the top of his page in giant block letters one minute and then drawing messy swirls with glitter pens the next. Slowly but surely, you found yourself getting into it. The glitter, the colours, the silly doodles, it all felt so carefree like you were a kid again.

You couldn’t help but smile, picturing a younger Ben and Emma hunched over the same table, bickering about markers or laughing over lopsided drawings. There was a warmth in his voice as he spoke about it earlier, a nostalgia that wrapped around you like the soft glow of the Christmas lights.

“I think I just glued my sleeve to the table,” you mumbled, holding up your arm to reveal a rogue patch of glitter glue.

Ben burst out laughing. “That’s commitment. Santa’s gonna be impressed.”

As you settled into the groove, the sound of footsteps approached, and Ben’s mom appeared in the doorway.

“Well, what’s all this?” Lisa asked, her tone warm and amused.

“Mom!” Ben said, his face lighting up. “We’re writing letters to Santa.”

“Looks like you two are making a mess,” she teased, stepping closer.

“A festive mess,” Ben corrected, grinning.

Lisa shook her head fondly, holding up a tray. “I was going to wait until after dinner, but I thought you might like to try my test batch of sugar cookies now.” She placed the plate in the centre of the table, the smell of vanilla and butter filling the air.

“Cookies!” Ben reached for one, but Lisa smacked his hand lightly.

“After you finish your letters,” she scolded gently.

She lingered, peeking over your shoulder. “That’s beautiful,” she said softly, admiring your delicate handwriting and neatly drawn candy canes and soft glitter snowflakes.

“Thank you,” you said, blushing slightly under her praise.

Then her eyes shifted to Ben’s card, and her eyebrows shot up. His paper was a riot of colours, glitter, and stickers layered on top of each other, with a barely legible scrawl in the middle.

“Maximalist, are we?” she teased, suppressing a laugh.

“Uh, Santa likes effort,” Ben sassed, unbothered.

Lisa placed a hand over her chest, her voice softening. “This reminds me of when you and Emma were kids. Seeing this…” She trailed off, her eyes glistening. “It’s just nice to see you both so happy.”

“Mom,” Ben said, his teasing tone gentling.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Lisa said quickly, brushing her eyes before stepping out of the room, not before taking another small look again.

You glanced at Ben, who gave you a sheepish smile. “She gets emotional during the holidays.”

“Can you blame her?” you said softly. “Seeing you like this must be a Christmas miracle.”

Ben rolled his eyes, though his grin gave him away. “Oh, come on. I’m not that bad.”

You tilted your head, pretending to think it over. “Hmm, well, maybe she’s just proud of how creative you are,” you teased, gesturing toward the chaotic swirl of colours and glitter on his letter.

“Or she’s worried I’ll turn the table into a giant art project,” he quipped, nudging his letter to the side. Then his gaze shifted, curious but soft. “What about you? What’d you make?”

You hesitated for a moment, the neat edges of your letter feeling impossibly small under his curious stare. “It’s... nothing too special,” you murmured, pushing the letter toward him. “Here. You first.”

Ben set down his chaotic masterpiece and took your letter carefully, as if it might disintegrate in his hands. He studied the neat candy cane and holly border framing the card, his fingers running over the soft dusting of glitter.

“Wow,” he said, letting out a low whistle as he opened it. “This is… insanely good. Like, you actually have artistic talent. Are you sure you haven’t been secretly working on this for years?”

You laughed, brushing a stray curl behind his ear. “Promise. This is a one-night debut.”

Ben’s eyes scanned the page, his lips curling up as he read.

Dear Santa, I hope this letter finds you well and not too stressed with all the preparations. It’s been a long time since I’ve written to you, but this year feels like a good one to start again. You have Ben to thank for inspiring me. Here’s my wish list, if you have room on the sleigh: • A new bottle of my favourite perfume, it’s been my go-to for years, but it’s running low. • A seat close to the court for Ben’s matches, no matter where they take us. • Wins for Ben, but only if they make him as happy as he makes everyone else. His joy's important! • To spend Christmas every year with the people who mean the most to me. • And maybe, just maybe, some snow… even if it’s just for a day. I hope that isn't too demanding of me to ask. This whole year has been like a present in itself so thank you for this gift, Santa. I promise to leave you extra cookies and milk this year. Oh, and a carrot for the reindeer too. Have a Merry Christmas!

When he finished, he folded the letter carefully, placing it back on the table like it was fragile. His smile softened, full of warmth. “Short, sweet, and not demanding. Very you.”

“Not everyone needs glitter explosions and twenty stickers on one page,” you teased, gesturing at his card.

“Hey,” he protested, a grin breaking through. “My card has personality.”

“It has something, alright,” you said, laughing.

Ben reached over and kissed your temple, lingering for a moment. “Seriously, though. This is perfect. Especially the part about being in the stands. That… that means a lot to me.”

“Of course,” you said, your voice dropping as you nudged his shoulder. “I’ll always be there for you, Ben.”

Ben softened for a moment before he looked down at his card. “Good. Now it’s your turn.” He slid his card across the table with a flourish. “Prepare to be dazzled.”

You picked up the card, struggling to keep your laughter in. The front was pure Ben: layers of stickers, tennis balls, Santa hats, random stars, glitter glue that hadn’t dried evenly, and doodles that vaguely resembled a reindeer.

“Wow,” you said, biting back a grin. “This is… a lot.”

“Flip it over!” he encouraged, his eyes sparkling.

You turned it over, and while the inside was just as chaotic visually, the words stopped you in your tracks. Ben’s letter wasn’t just a list, it was a peek into his heart. The colourful chaos on the page mirrored his playful spirit, but it was the words that tugged at you. His handwriting was large and uneven, the kind you knew he didn’t try to perfect because he didn’t need to impress anyone. In the corner, a sketch of a wobbly reindeer pranced next to a crooked sleigh. Glitter was scattered across the page, probably unintentionally, because there were smudges where his hand must have dragged through wet glue.

Still, there was something so endearing about the effort he’d put into it, and you couldn’t help but smile as you read:

Dear Santa, Hey, it’s Ben. How's the year been? Hope things are good up at the North Pole, though I imagine it’s pretty busy. Don’t worry, I’ll keep it quick since my list has grown a bit since last year. • A solid serve under pressure. Dad’s always saying I need to keep my calm when the moment gets big. Maybe sprinkle some magic dust on my game? Nothing crazy, I like earning it but just imagine it: an extra inch or two at 140 miles an hour, and Dad finally stops giving me grief about it. That’d be a Christmas miracle. • Speaking of Dad, can we get him a steady heart? He puts so much into us, Santa. It’d be great if he could stress a little less, even when he’s watching me blow a tiebreak. • More chances to make people smile. I’ve realised it’s one of the best parts of what I do. Winning feels great, sure, but seeing someone’s day light up? That’s better. • A little extra time. Life moves fast, Santa. Maybe slow it down just enough to enjoy the small things like the quiet moments that matter the most. • A hug for my family. Even when I’m not home, I hope they know they’re the real MVPs holding the fort down here. • Sunshine. Not for me, we’ve got plenty here but for when I’m on tour, so I can carry it with me wherever I go. • That one racket. You know the one. I saw it last week and didn’t want to splurge because technically I don’t need it, but man, it’d be fun to use. (Do elves do sporting goods? Asking for a friend.) • Happiness for her. You know who I mean. She’s the best thing that’s happened to me, and if you could help me make this Christmas together extra special, I’d owe you big time. Just a little more of this, hanging out, laughing, making her smile. That’s all I need, really. • More evenings like tonight. The simple ones, where everything feels right and nothing else matters. That’s all I’ve got! No pressure, whatever you can manage is fine by me. I’ll leave the cookies to Mom, though. She always makes extras if you swing by. The sugar cookies seem pretty good this year, if you ask me. Merry Christmas to you, Mrs. Claus, and the reindeer. Don’t work too hard! - Ben. P.S. If you’ve got any extra luck lying around, maybe sprinkle some on my forehand. Just saying.

You finished reading, your hands trembling slightly, heart fuller than you’d expected from such a chaotic-looking letter. When you looked up, Ben was watching you, his expression soft and unguarded.

“Ben…” you started, your voice catching. “This is so-”

“Too much?” he interrupted quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know it’s kind of a mess, but-”

“It’s perfect,” you cut him off, shaking your head. “It’s so you. Honest, sweet, and kind of all over the place, but that’s what makes it perfect.”

Relief flickered in his eyes, and his lips quirked into a crooked smile. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

“No,” you said, folding the letter carefully and placing it back on the table. “I mean it. Especially the part about making my Christmas extra special. You’re already doing that, you know.”

His grin softened into something more tender, and he leaned over to brush a kiss against your cheek. “You’re my favourite part of the holidays, you know. Don’t tell Santa.”

You giggled, the warm flush of affection spreading through you. “I think he already knows.”

Ben chuckled, leaning back slightly, his hand casually resting on the curve of your knee. The room fell quiet for a moment as the festive glow of the lights filled the space, but then you sighed, breaking the silence as you scanned over his letter again.

“Ben, this is beautiful and everything, but…” You gestured at his letter, exasperated. “It’s also completely unhelpful. I’m still totally lost on what to get you!”

His grin widened into that mischievous smirk you knew too well. “I already told you. You don’t need to get me anything!”

“Well, don’t be sad if I’m stood under the Christmas tree in nothing but a bow,” you teased, scoffing.

Ben’s eyes lit up as he laughed, leaning in closer. “Sad? I’d call that the best Christmas gift ever! If you’re offering, I wouldn’t mind-”

“Benjamin Shelton!” you gasped, smacking his arm before he could finish whatever undoubtedly dirty thought was forming.

He burst out laughing, holding up his hands in surrender. “Alright! I’ll behave… sort of.”

“Good,” you huffed with a playful smile tugging at your lips.

Ben shook his head, still grinning, and slid an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “I’m serious, though, don’t stress about it. You know me better than anyone. Whatever you pick, I’ll love it, because it’s from you. That’s all that matters to me.”

You sighed, resting your head against his chest, letting his heartbeat and the soft glow of the Christmas lights settle your nerves. “You make everything sound so simple.”

“That's because it is simple,” he said, pressing a kiss to your hair. “You being here is the best part of Christmas. The rest? It’s just other little things. Maybe I already have everything I need,” he added softly, his voice suddenly more sincere.

You froze for a moment, your heart catching at the honesty in his tone. “Ben…”

“Don’t make that face,” he said quickly, pulling back with a sheepish smile. “I’m just saying, you bein' here for Christmas? That’s already enough for me.”

You stared at him, unsure whether to laugh or cry. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And yet, you still love me,” he teased, nudging you with his shoulder.

“Debatable,” you shot back, though your smile betrayed you.

Your eyes drifted back to his letter, your gaze lingering on the line: "More evenings like tonight." It wasn’t flashy or materialistic, and that’s what made it hit even harder. For all his teasing and jokes, Ben wasn’t asking for anything extravagant, just more moments like this, where everything felt simple and good.

And for the first time tonight, you started to believe he might be right.

[giveafike]

Twinkling Tales - B.T.S

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

Word count + info: 5k + dialogue.

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW! No warnings : )

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ben smirked. “Well, he’s not wrong.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you actually wear them?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She sounds resourceful,” you said, amused.

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

“And again, you won, didn’t you?”

“Naturally,” he said again, feigning arrogance.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tonight was perfect,” you said softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[giveafike]

The Winter Whiteout -B.T.S

TLDR: snowed in...sort of. This is part 6/12 of Azzie's Advent Calendar 2024!

Word count + info: 4.8k + including a LOT dialogue. this is acc mainly dialogue.

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW! No warnings : )

Azzie Notes ✚: can u believe we're halfway through the calendar? what'll I do when this is all over?? D: - all the inboxed requests, that's what haha, don't worry I'll still be here. Since I'm writing all these in advance, I wonder if you all have caught onto the little connections throughout...like the ornament on the tree yday, or the snow being on your wishlist... so exciting im giggling. ANYWHO, let's move on.

P.S.Azzie from present: special thank u + shoutout to the Bennies twt gc, what a bunch of funny and silly cuties! (even tho I've been falsely accused and threatened multiple times.) Highly, highly recc u guys to join the twt community it's so fun over there, it's like a little family! Also, if you followed me on there and I haven't followed back, just dm me! I want to be moots w all my fave ppl hehehehehehe

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The soft grey light of dawn seeped through the blinds, gently pulling at the edges of your dreams as you slept beside Ben's warm body. You stirred, the cozy cocoon of the blankets hugging you tightly against the slight chill in the room. As you burrowed further into the warmth, you felt a nudge at your shoulder, soft, almost hesitant, but insistent and annoying enough to pull you closer to waking.

“Babe...babeee...,” Ben’s voice whispered, hushed but tinged with urgency. A second nudge followed, this one paired with the light pressure of his hand against your arm, gently shaking you. “Hey, babe. You gotta wake up.”

You groaned, rolling onto your side, eyes barely cracking open. “Mmh...hm? What’s wrong?” Your voice was thick with sleep, and you buried your face into the pillow, trying to keep your eyes sheltered from the light filtering through.

Ben crouched by the bed, his curls a messy halo around his head, his expression caught somewhere between panic and awe. “...we’re snowed in,” he announced in a whisper-shout, his brown eyes wide as if he were delivering life-altering news.

Your brow furrowed. What? The snow had begun to melt by the time you had come in last night, and now it rebuilt? In Florida of all places? As you attempted to capture Ben's words, you stirred a bit more.

“Snowed in?” you mumbled, voice muffled by the pillow. The words sounded foreign, nonsensical even, especially in your still-sleepy haze. “What’re you talking about?”

“Come look!” he urged, rising to his feet and gesturing dramatically toward the window. The mattress dipped slightly as he stood, and you shivered as the absence of his warmth let the cool air creep in.

With a reluctant sigh, you lifted your heavy head up and swung your legs over the side of the bed, the chill of the floorboards making you wince and pull your feet back for a second. Finally, you pushed up, the sleep-heavy blanket slipping from your shoulders as your eyes blinked away any chances of going back to rest. The sudden loss of warmth made you groan softly, but Ben was already pacing near the window, his hand chewing at the edge of his nail.

“C’mon, babe, you gotta see this,” he pressed, his other arm wrapping tightly around his torso like he was physically holding himself together. His tone was so frantic, that you half-expected to find a blizzard raging outside.

You shuffled to the window, your body still waking up with every step. Pulling the curtain fully back, you squinted against the soft brightness of the snowy morning. The scene outside unfolded like something out of a dream, a thin but pristine blanket of white covered the lawn, cars, and the tops of the palm trees. The road glistened faintly, a mix of ice and slush, while the grass had completely disappeared beneath the powdery covering.

There was snow, for sure. But “snowed in”? That was a stretch. Half an inch, maybe. At best. You blinked, your groggy brain taking a moment to process the panic Ben woke you up in versus the reality that met you outside, the fact you were standing by the window looking at a dusting of snow and ice, bound to melt by afternoon, the fact the cold wooden floor was taunting you for getting up your golden retriever boyfriend without even second guessing.  

You turned around only to find Ben staring at you with wide, anxious eyes. His hand hovered near his mouth as he gnawed at the skin, and he was bouncing faintly on the balls of his feet like he didn’t know what to do with himself. His navy cotton tee hung slightly askew, and his curls still miraculously standing in all directions and faces. The whole picture, his anxiety, his dishevelled state was so endearing that you couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips as your exhaustion melted away.

“Oh, Benny,” you murmured, soft laughter bubbling up in your chest. “Sweetheart, it’s not that bad.”

His face crumpled into a mix of indignation and disbelief. “What?!? Not that bad?” He gestured toward the window as if the sight spoke for itself, his eyes widening while his hands were extended. “This isn't normal! The roads are iced over, the grass is gone, this is serious! What if we can’t get groceries? Oh my God, and if the pipes freeze? What if-”

“Ben,” you interrupted, crossing the room to him. He stopped mid-rant as you reached up, cupping his face in your hands. “You poor Florida baby,” you cooed, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose.

His brows knitted further, the beginnings of a pout forming on his lips. “You’re making fun of me,” he accused, though his hands instinctively settled at your waist.

“Only a little,” you admitted, laughing softly as you peppered kisses across his face, his cheeks, his jawline, the furrow between his brows. “You’re too cute, getting all worked up over this.”

“I’m not cute,” he grumbled, but his voice lacked bite. His hands tightened slightly at your waist, drawing you closer. “And this isn’t funny! What if the power goes out?”

You kissed him again, this time lingering for a second longer. “We’ll survive,” you murmured against his cheek, your hands sliding down to rest on his chest. Beneath the soft cotton of his shirt, you could feel the faint thrum of his heartbeat, faster than usual. “I promise.”

He sighed, his posture softening just a bit. “You’re not taking this seriously.”

You giggled, standing on tiptoe to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Oh, I’m taking it very seriously,” you teased, your tone light. “I’m seriously finding this adorable.”

He groaned, dropping his head against your shoulder in mock defeat, planting a small kiss on it. “You’re impossible,” he mumbled, though the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him.

You laughed, brushing your fingers through his curls before stepping back. “Let me get dressed and wash my face, okay? Then we’ll figure it out, this whole snow emergency of yours.”

He lifted his head, his eyes still clouded with worry but softening slightly as he nodded and exhaled a deep breath. “Okay,” he said, though his tone carried a lingering trace of doubt.

You kissed his cheek one more time before heading to the bathroom, his voice following you as you went. “Don’t forget! If we’re trapped here, we’re gonna need a plan!”

“Got it, babe,” you replied through your laughter as you closed the door behind you, shaking your head. Trapped. Sure. Only Ben could make a snow flurry in Florida feel like the start of a survival movie.

By the time you got dressed and ready for the day, the smell of comfort wafted its way up from downstairs. The rich smell of coffee mingled with the sizzle of bacon and the soft clatter of plates as you stepped into the kitchen, ridding any fatigue from your body. Ben was hunched over the coffee machine, his shoulders tense with concentration like he was performing surgery.

“Morning, soldier. See you've been put to work,” you mumbled, your voice still thick with sleep.

Ben spun around, holding up a mug like it was a trophy. “Morning! Coffee’s almost done. Got my priorities straight today.”

You smiled, leaning against the counter next to him. “How thoughtful of you. For us or for yourself?”

He gave you an innocent look. “For everyone, thank you very much.” Then, lowering his voice, he added with a smirk, “But mostly me.”

Across the room, Emma and Alex were bickering good-naturedly as they set the table.

“Forks go on the left, Alex,” Emma said, swatting his hand.

“No, that’s knives, Em,” Alex replied, holding up the utensils like he was solving a riddle.

“You’re thinking of fancy tables, and this ain’t fancy!”

Lisa chuckled from the stove, flipping a pancake. “As long as there’s food on the table, I don’t think anyone’s gonna care, y’all.” She turned to you, her smile warm. “Can you help me with the syrup and butter? And maybe make a small fruit salad too please?”

“On it, I can take over pancake duty, if you're getting tired on there, Lisa,” you said, moving to gather the items.

Bryan wandered in, pausing in the doorway with his hands on his hips. “Smells like a diner in here,” he said, his voice laced with approval. “That’s how you know it’s gonna be a good morning.”

Emma plopped down the last of the silverware, shooting a look at Alex. “There. Done. And you didn’t even help.”

“I did help,” Alex protested, gesturing to the crooked line of plates he’d set out.

“Barely,” Emma shot back, grinning as she nudged him.

Lisa glanced over her shoulder. “Y’all done bickering yet? Food’s almost ready.”

“Almost,” Emma replied before turning to Alex with a teasing smile. “We’re heading to Alex's place later, by the way.”

Bryan’s head snapped up. “What? Absolutely not, Emma.”

Emma groaned. “Dad, come on. It’s not even far!”

“It doesn’t matter,” Bryan said firmly. “You’ve got no experience driving in snow, and if the roads get icy, you’ll be stuck there.”

Emma sighed, muttering. “Yeah, that’s kind of the point, Dad...”

Alex, trying to defuse the situation, leaned in, clear that panic was etched on his face. “Your dad’s right, though. Imagine if the power went out. We’d be stuck, freezing, with nothing but...” He trailed off dramatically. “...each other.”

Emma, predictably, melted at that. “Ugh, fine,” she muttered, her resolve crumbling as she stared at him.

Bryan threw his hands up in mock exasperation. “Of course. Listen to your boyfriend over your dad. That’s fine. Totally fine.”

Lisa shook her head as she began plating the pancakes. “Bryan, stop being dramatic and sit down. You know you weren't any different either at their age. Breakfast’s ready.”

Everyone settled around the table, the warm smell of coffee and syrup wrapping around you like a veil. Ben handed you a steaming mug, his fingers lingering on yours for a moment before he sat beside you.

As the meal got underway, Ben leaned back in his chair, cradling his coffee like it was a lifeline.

“So... what’s the plan for today? Are we just staying in?”

Lisa looked over her mug, smiling indulgently. “Ben, it’s just a little snow. We’re not actually snowed in.”

Bryan nodded. “Exactly. But I’d rather everyone stay put for a few hours. No sense in slipping on an icy road when it’s gonna melt by noon.”

Ben perked up, his eyes lighting with mischief. “So... we’re basically treating this like a snowed-in day?”

Lisa groaned, shaking her head. “If that’s what you want to call it, fine.”

Ben smiled with that playful grin. “Snowed-in day! Let’s make it fun. Blanket forts, hot cocoa, maybe we bring back the snowball fight, whaddya say Alex? Round Two-”

Before anyone could humour him, Bryan raised a hand, cutting him off. “Ah, ah, ah. You just had a snowball fight last night. If you really wanna get out in the snow today, you’re gonna be helping me clear the driveway. I got de-icing rock salt, too, don’t want none of that slush or black ice out there.”

Ben groaned dramatically, slumping back into his chair. “What? No- Dad!”

“Oh, and you’re helping me clear the neighbourhood roads, too,” Bryan added, pointing a finger. “You and Alex.”

Alex, caught mid-bite, looked up, wide-eyed. “What? But I--wait, that was all Ben!! I mean...” He caught Bryan’s look and sighed heavily. “Yes, Mr. Shelton. Of course.”

Lisa, who had been scrolling through her phone, barely looked up as she mumbled, “We still haven’t done the Secret Santa name distribution this year. When on earth are we meeting with everyone for that?”

You brightened, looking up. “Oh, we could do it online, if that's handy for you. I can send the link and set it up.”

Emma perked up at the idea. “Yeah, that’s smart, that's what me and the girls did in college. Easy, no hassle. We don’t all have to meet in person just for names.”

Lisa shot you a grateful smile. “Oh wow...perfect. Thanks, hon I wanna see how to do that. That’ll save us a whole ordeal.”

The conversation wound down as everyone finished their plates. You helped Lisa clear the table, stacking dishes into the sink while Ben dragged himself upstairs to get dressed for the cold. Alex had already shuffled off to the garage with Bryan, muttering something about Floridians and their snow aversion.

When Ben returned, bundled up in layers with a slightly too-big jacket zipped to his chin, he stopped in the kitchen doorway. His expression was mournful, exaggerated with puppy-dog eyes and a deep sigh.

“Babe,” he said dramatically, placing his hands on your shoulders. “I’m heading into action. My fingers are gonna be numb. My clothes? Soaked. Frozen. My body? Part of what it once was.” He let out a long, suffering sigh. “And worst of all? I’m gonna miss you, and warmth, and coffee, and--”

“Ben,” you interrupted, biting back laughter as you cradled his face in your hands. “You’re clearing the driveway, not trekking across the Arctic.”

“Same thing,” he replied solemnly, his breath puffing slightly as he gazed at you.

You stood on your toes, peppering his face with light kisses: one on his nose, another on his cheek, and finally, a soft one on his lips. “You’ll be fine, my brave soldier. Godspeed, Ben. And remember, when it’s all over, you’ll come to me.”

Bryan’s voice bellowed from the garage. “Ben! Quit stalling and get your ass in here!”

Ben sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Duty calls.”

You patted his chest with a teasing smile. “You’ll survive.”

As he shuffled out the door, Lisa chuckled, shaking her head. “He’s always been a bit dramatic, hasn’t he?”

You laughed, returning to the sink to load the last of the plates into the dishwasher. “It’s part of the charm.”

Emma, perched at the table with Halo in her lap, smirked. “Charm, huh? Sure that’s the word you’re looking for?”

Lisa joined you at the counter, rinsing out a pan. “She’s got it bad,” she teased softly, smiling as she glanced at you.

You smiled back, glancing toward the garage door. “Yeah,” you admitted. “I do.”

Emma grinned, reaching for Halo’s food. “Better you than me.”

After his dramatic departure and a chuckle from Lisa, you found yourself curled up in the living room with her and Emma. The soft hum of the heater filled the space, the occasional clink of mugs against the coffee table accompanying the warm, easy atmosphere. You opened your laptop, connected it to the TV, and set up the Secret Santa website as Lisa leaned forward, watching with interest.

“Alright, let’s get this started,” you said, typing in the link. “You just call out the names, and I’ll add them in.”

Lisa tilted her head, fascinated. “Wait, so all this...online? We don’t even need to draw names out of a hat any more?”

“Nope.” You smiled as Emma scooted closer, leaning over the arm of the couch to watch. “See? Everyone gets an email with their draw. And... check this out you can even add wish lists or send anonymous messages to your Secret Santa. It’s really easy.”

“Wish lists?” Emma perked up, her eyes lighting with excitement. “Wait, hold on, show me how that works, I never done that before!”

You clicked through a couple of tabs, pulling up the gift wish feature.

“Right here. You can add whatever you want so your Secret Santa knows what to get you. No awkward surprises.”

“Genius,” Emma muttered, nudging Lisa. “This is way better than what the family used to do. No offense, Mom.”

Lisa laughed, shaking her head in amazement. “I can’t believe this is a thing. Y'all making us look like amateurs.”

You smiled at the compliment, quickly typing in the last name Lisa called out. “And done. I’ll email the link to you so you can send it to everyone.”

Lisa paused, a thoughtful look crossing her face. “Hold on a second, hon.”

She pulled her phone from the side table, fingers moving quickly over the screen. “I’ll just add you to the family group chat. Make it easier.”

The words hit you like a gentle wave, warm and unexpected. Your heart stuttered for a moment as you processed what she’d said. “Oh-! Lisa, you don’t have to do that,” you murmured, caught somewhere between surprise and gratitude.

“Oh please, nonsense, sweetheart.” Lisa glanced up with a knowing smile, her tone light but full of meaning. “You’re family now. No need to overthink it.”

Your throat tightened at the sincerity in her voice, but before you could reply, your phone buzzed. A notification popped up: Shelton Family Group Chat. You swallowed the lump in your throat, blinking against the sudden sting of emotion as you opened the chat and sent the Secret Santa link in.

Emma clapped her hands together, grinning. “Alright, let’s see who we got!”

You clicked the link on your phone, holding your breath as the page loaded. When your draw appeared, your heart gave a little leap: Emma.

It took everything in you not to give yourself away. Your gaze flickered toward her as she was already scrolling through the wish list feature, completely oblivious. Ideas started swirling in your mind immediately, and you had to fight to keep the excitement from showing on your face.

Lisa glanced at you, sipping her coffee. “Good draw?”

You managed to nod, a tight-lipped smile forming. “Yeah. Great draw.”

Emma raised a brow at you, suspicious. “You’re being weird. Who’d you get?”

“Can’t say!” You threw your hands up defensively, shaking your head. “That’s the whole point of it being secret.”

She squinted at you, mock accusing. “If you got me, you better not get me something lame.”

You laughed, trying to keep your tone casual. “You’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?”

Lisa chuckled, leaning back in her chair. “This is already more fun than the usual way. Good call, hon.”

You smiled warmly, the little flutter in your chest from pride and the lingering feelings from her earlier words: Family. You glanced at your phone again, the screen still glowing with Emma’s name as you drew. Yeah, you thought. You had some good ideas.

After some time chatting together, Lisa busied herself away to get started on lunch, an assortment of dishes and sides she had planned to keep everyone full and warm for the rest of the afternoon. You and Emma found yourselves curled up together on the couch with Below Deck, gossiping about all sorts and debriefing episodes after each one.

The door slammed open with a burst of icy air, Bryan leading the way with Alex and Ben trailing behind. The commotion immediately drew your and Emma's attention, both of your heads turning towards the door as you pressed pause on the TV. Lisa glanced up from the kitchen, where she was stirring something on the stove, and offered a welcoming smile to the trio. The contrast between the “three wise men” was impossible not to laugh at.

Bryan entered looking fresh and composed, his jacket dry, his skin just faintly pink and glowing from the chill. “Nothing better than some good ol' boy time together, huh, guys?!?” he beamed, slapping Alex on the back and clapping Ben’s shoulder.

Alex, in stark contrast, had clear signs of his snowy excursion. Damp patches dotted his jacket, and his cheeks and nose were ruddy. Still, he looked far from bothered, rather energised, a light smirk tugging at his lips as he shook off his gloves. His Canadian side clearly served him well. “It wasn’t too bad,” he said, though his gaze flicked to Ben with a hint of amusement.

And then, there was Ben.

He was the picture of misery. He shuffled in like a shell of himself. His curls were frozen stiff in awkward clumps, bits of snow clinging stubbornly to his sleeves and pants, all over him. His shoulders were hunched and his teeth chattered audibly as he tried to stave off the cold. He paused just inside the doorway, his wide, glassy eyes staring ahead with what could only be described as a thousand-yard stare. His face was pale, his lips slightly blue, and he looked downright traumatised.

You sat up, stifling a laugh at the sight of him. “Ben, are you--?”

He didn’t let you finish. Raising a trembling hand, he cut you off with a weak, “hot shower,” his voice soft and almost childlike, before he shuffled off toward the stairs like a man on a mission.

That did it. As soon as he disappeared, you and Emma turned to each other and burst out laughing. Emma leaned into the couch arm, clutching her side as tears of mirth threatened to spill. Bryan shook his head while Alex turned away to hide his laughter.

“Alright, spill,” Emma said to Alex, who was still shaking his head in amusement while hanging his coat. “What on earth happened out there?”

Alex plopped down into the armchair with a groan of effort, unzipping his thermal halfway. “Man, Ben just had the worst time out there. You should've seen it. First, Bryan’s like, ‘I’ll show you how to shovel,’ and instead of aiming for the sides, he accidentally launches the snow right onto Ben who's on the ground trying to tie his shoes with them big gloves.”

Bryan, who had made his way toward the kitchen, turned back to add, “Wasn’t on purpose. Builds character, though.” He gave Alex a knowing nod before joining Lisa.

“It gets better, though.” Alex continued. “Ben was like maybe, 3 shovels in? He somehow gets his foot stuck under the shovel. When he tries to yank it free and ends up using the shovel like a vaulting pole and almost catapults himself over it and into the snowbank. It was gold. He made the weirdest scream too, it was so tragic.”

You clapped a hand over your mouth to muffle your laugh, and Emma was practically wheezing now.

“But that’s not even the worst part,” Alex said, leaning forward conspiratorially.

“Bryan didn’t really do much out there, just stood supervising us while we salted the driveway and iced down the street a bit. But Ben… oh man.” He shook his head, grinning. “The guy slipped on the ice at least five times. By the third, he just kinda laid there like he was questioning life choices.”

“Oh no, my poor baby,” you said, your voice catching as you tried to breathe through the laughter, heart softening at your own Bambi on ice.

“And then,” Alex said, his grin widening, “you remember that kid Ben called ‘funny-looking’ last night during the snowball fight? Yeah, that kid showed up with his friends and destroyed Ben. Full ambush. It was like watching a crime scene. They made a bad situation worse, man.”

Emma was crying with laughter, doubling over so far she almost fell off the couch. “I can’t believe I missed this.”

Lisa’s voice floated in from the kitchen. “Alex, honey! Go warm up before lunch is ready.”

“Yeah, I’m going Mrs Shelton!” Alex said, standing with an exaggerated groan. He looked back at you and Emma, smirking. “Bryan might’ve been dry as a bone, but between Ben’s luck and that shovel? Today was hilarious.”

You and Emma shared another laugh as Alex disappeared down the hall to clean up. Emma wiped her eyes, shaking her head as she said, “He’s never gonna live this down.”

“Not a chance,” you agreed, still giggling.

The faint sound of water running upstairs confirmed Ben was probably still thawing out. You leaned back on the couch, pressing play on Below Deck as you and Emma tried to recover from the sheer comedy of it all.

Just as you reached for the remote to unpause Below Deck, Bryan’s voice carried through the house.

“Emma! I need help figuring out this Secret Santa thing. It’s not working.”

Emma let out a loud sigh, standing up. “Of course. Can’t let me sit down for five minutes. I'll be back.”

You waved her off with a grin. “Go save him. I’ll wait.”

As Emma disappeared toward the kitchen, you leaned back against the couch, stretching your legs out. A few moments later, you heard heavy, slow footsteps descending the stairs. Ben shuffled into view, looking like he’d barely survived a natural disaster. His curls were damp, clinging to his forehead, with a towel draped over his shoulders. He wore soft sweatpants and a sweatshirt, his hands stuffed into the pocket as if he was still fighting off the chill.

He made his way to the couch and flopped down beside you, immediately dropping his head into your lap.

“Ben,” you scolded gently, looking at the damp mess of his hair. “Your hair’s wet! You’re going to ruin the couch or my leggings!”

He tilted his head just enough to look up at you with a faint, weak smile. “I’ve been through enough. You can’t possibly be mad at me right now.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling as you ran your fingers through his curls, untangling the damp strands and twisting them around your fingers to reshape them. “I can’t believe you got wrecked that hard by a little snow.”

Ben groaned, burying his face into your lap. “Don’t even. It’s not my fault the Sunshine State doesn’t prepare you for… this.”

“Oh, I know,” you teased, scratching gently at his scalp. “You’re a delicate Florida flower who got bested by a shovel, a patch of ice, and a group of angry children.”

“They had backups, man” Ben muttered into your thigh, his voice muffled. “I didn’t stand a chance.”

You giggled, raking your nails lightly through his hair. “And yet, Bryan came in dry and happy like he was just there to supervise.”

Ben let out a long sigh, finally lifting his head to squint up at you. “I don’t need this slander from my own girlfriend.”

“It’s not slander if it’s true,” you said with a grin, leaning down to press a quick kiss to his temple.

Ben shifted slightly in your lap, reaching over to grab the letters tucked under the coffee table. His freshly showered scent hit you, clean, warm, with a hint of his citrusy shampoo, and you couldn’t help but inhale subtly as he moved. His curls, soft and conditioned, brushed against your fingers as you played with them absentmindedly.

“What are you doing now?” you teased, watching as he scanned the pages with a mix of curiosity and focus.

“Looking for evidence,” Ben murmured, flipping through the letters.

“Evidence of what?”

He didn’t answer, his brow furrowing slightly until he found what he was looking for.

“‘And maybe, just maybe, some snow… even if it’s just for a day,’” he read aloud, in a teasing girly voice, clearly trying to imitate you with the faintest grin tugging at his lips.

Your cheeks warmed, and you gave a sheepish laugh. “What, are you going to make fun of me for that too?”

But Ben didn’t tease. Instead, he sat up, turning to face you fully now, his knee tucked against yours. His grin softened into something more thoughtful as he held up his own letter.

“‘If you could help me make this Christmas together extra special, I’d owe you big time,’” he recited, then glanced at the snow falling gently outside the window. He looked at you, eyes wide with a mixture of awe and warmth. “Santa’s legit. He’s already pulling through for us.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Ben, you’re ridiculous. I can’t believe you even remembered I wrote that.”

Ben set the papers down and met your gaze, his voice lowering, softening to match the tender tone in yours. “Of course I did. You’re my girl. How could I forget something that mattered to you?”

Your heart swelled, a mix of amusement and deep affection making your throat tighten. Before you could respond, Ben leaned in, pressing a kiss to your lips. His hands cupped your face gently, his fingers brushing into your hair as if he were binding himself to you. You melted into him, your lips moving in sync, slow and warm, until you finally pulled back.

Your foreheads rested together, and you smiled, voice barely above a whisper. “Well, maybe snow’s not so bad after all.”

Ben smiled too, his voice soft but laced with that playful edge you adored. “Don’t get used to it. I’m still a Florida boy at heart.”

You giggled, brushing his curls off his forehead. “You handled the ice just fine.”

“Barely,” he muttered, but his grin widened as he leaned in for one more kiss.

For the first time all day, the snow didn’t seem so bad to him. Not when he had you to come back to.

[giveafike]

Picture Perfect Moments - B.T.S

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

Word count + info: 2.4k + dialogue.

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW! No warnings : )

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

————————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A little more here?” she asked.

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

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

“Not too much, Emma!” Lisa warned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You turned to her, tilting your head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do we have to?” Ben groaned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[giveafike]

Frosting Foundations -B.T.S

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

Word count + info: 3k + dialogue.

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW! No warnings : )

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

————————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Emma glanced at the kitchen table, then narrowed her eyes at Bryan. “What now-?”

The table was a kaleidoscope of chaos: jars of dried fruit gleamed under the overhead lights, a bottle of brandy took centre stage like a guest of honour, and baking ingredients were scattered with a sort of deliberate disarray. Sitting at the heart of it all was a mixing bowl so enormous it could probably double as a birdbath.

Bryan grinned wide, gesturing like a magician unveiling his greatest trick. “Listen, I know we've had our fair share of 'sweet treats' but it seems like it's the only thing that piques interest in this family... so...we’re making Christmas cakes!”

Ben blinked. “Why?”

“Because it’s Christmas! It's...eh...tradition! Except normally it's just me and your mother making it,” Bryan replied with the enthusiasm of a game show host announcing the jackpot.

Lisa crossed her arms. “This isn’t going to turn into one of your team-building fiascos, is it?”

Bryan placed a hand over his heart in mock offence. “Fiasco? This is family bonding, Lisa. Pure and simple. And just for that, teams are going to be shaken up.”

Lisa muttered something under her breath about “pure chaos,” but Bryan was already in full coach-mode.

“Alright, here’s the play-by-play. Ben, Alex, you’re on fruit duty. Soak it in brandy. Be generous but not reckless.”

Alex’s face lit up with mischievous glee as he grabbed the bottle. “Generous is my middle name.” He waggled his eyebrows, unscrewing the cap.

Lisa pointed a stern finger at him. “For the fruit, Alex. Only the fruit.”

“Sure, sure,” Alex said innocently, already pouring a hearty glug over the pile of raisins and currants.

Bryan moved on, unfazed. “You two,” he pointed at you and Emma, “batter up! Eggs, butter, sugar, and so on. Lisa will quarterback your efforts.”

Emma leaned against the counter, her brow raised. “And what exactly are you doing, Dad?”

Bryan puffed out his chest and held up the oversized mixing spoon like a sceptre. “I’m quality control. Someone’s gotta oversee the masterpiece.”

“Control or chaos?” you murmured, earning a snicker from Emma.

Meanwhile, Ben and Alex were at the far counter, fruit and brandy flowing freely. Ben poked at the mountain of dried fruit with a wooden spoon. “Are we supposed to measure this or just... wing it?”

Alex waved him off. “Who measures fruit? That’s not in the Christmas spirit.” He grabbed another handful and tossed it into the bowl with gusto before tipping the brandy bottle dramatically.

Ben side-eyed him. “You’re not even trying to measure, are you?”

Alex grinned, then took a quick sip of the brandy. “It’s called quality assurance. You should know this from your business degree, c'mon man!”

Ben sighed, though there was no real conviction in it. He caught your eye as if to say, "God, help me" before Alex nudged him, prompting the bottle into his hands. He shook his head but took a deep sip and giggled with Alex as they passed it back and forth.

At the other end of the kitchen, you and Emma worked under Lisa’s steady gaze. You cracked eggs into a bowl while Emma measured out vanilla extract with laser focus.

“How many eggs does the recipe say?” you asked, holding up a shell-speckled hand.

“Three,” Lisa said confidently, flipping through the recipe book to double-check.

Emma tilted her head. “Three? Not four? This is a Shelton-sized cake we’re making.”

Lisa shot her a look. “Three. Trust me. I’ve been baking longer than you’ve been alive.”

Emma smirked. “Doesn’t mean you’re always right.”

You bit back a laugh, stepping in before a friendly kitchen brawl could erupt. “I think we’re good with three. Besides, there’s no way Ben and Alex are sticking to the recipe anyway. Something needs to be the control here.”

Emma glanced over and snorted. “Looks like they’re making a fruit-and-brandy punch instead of cake filling.”

Bryan called for attention, clapping his hands. “Alright, team! Let’s see what we’ve got.”

Alex held up the bowl proudly while Ben bit back a hiccup. “Our fruit is thoroughly... infused.”

Lisa wrinkled her nose. “It smells like a distillery over there.”

“Festive right!” Alex shot back, unrepentant.

Bryan took the wet and dry ingredients, stirring and folding them together with the enthusiasm of a man on a mission. He muttered something about “perfect consistency” and “the Shelton legacy,” and before long, the kitchen filled with the rich, spicy aroma of cinnamon, nutmeg, and brandy-soaked fruit.

Finally, Bryan divided the batter into three cake tins, smoothing the tops with exaggerated care. “Into the oven they go!” he declared, sliding the trays in with a flourish.

Ben leaned toward you, whispering, “Why does he look so proud of himself?”

“Because he is,” you replied, stifling a laugh.

As the cakes baked, Bryan rubbed his hands together. “Now, the real fun begins: competition. Each team gets a cake. You’ve got one hour to come up with a masterpiece. The winner gets bragging rights and a prime spot on the Christmas table.”

Ben grinned at you, slightly tipsy and flushed as his hand made its way to your waist, squeezing softly. “Ready to crush the competition?”

Bryan's hand went up. "Not so fast, you're sticking with the teams I assigned. You're not getting a free win while your girlfriend carries you."

“Dad, what! That's not fair! I'm stuck with him!" Ben whined as he pointed at Alex who was still lightly sipping the brandy bottle with a look of love written all over his face.

Emma laughed, throwing an arm over your shoulder protectively. "She's mine, Benny. Go work away, let us get to work."

He grumbled something along the lines of 'this is bullying' and 'I don't wanna work with drunk Alex' before turning to his partner for the night, sighing with pleading eyes as he looked over to you, eyes big and puppylike.

The kitchen buzzed with anticipation as everyone took their corners to create their cake plans. Bryan, naturally, started pacing like he was coaching a championship game as he distributed markers and paper.

“Alright, teams! No peeking, no copying. Keep it clean and creative. You’ve got until the cakes are cooled to lock in your designs.”

You and Emma huddled close to your side of the counter, a pen and paper between you. Emma tapped the table rhythmically, her mind clearly racing.

“Alright,” she began, “let’s not overthink it. A skating rink with fondant. Simple but charming.”

You nodded, sketching a rough oval in the centre of the cake outline. “Right. Blue fondant for the rink. Maybe some piped snowbanks around it?”

“Yeah, and little gumdrop skaters! Little people with scarves and hats,” Emma added, her enthusiasm growing.

You smiled, adding details to the sketch. “We could scatter some powdered sugar snow around the edges. Clean, cohesive, but still cute.”

Emma nodded decisively. “Done. We’re keeping it classic but fun. No gimmicks.”

On the other side of the room, things were far less... cohesive.

Ben and Alex sat side by side, the brandy bottle planted firmly between them. Alex had already taken a swig and was doodling lazily on their design paper. Ben leaned over, chin in his palm, bored as he was watching as Alex drew what looked like a lopsided triangle with a jagged mouth.

“Is that supposed to be...?” Ben trailed off, squinting.

Alex grinned, handing him the pen. “A gator. Duh.”

Ben heaved but couldn’t help grinning. “That looks like it’s been hit by a car.”

“Okay, Picasso, you try,” Alex shot back, passing him the paper.

Ben grabbed the pen, drawing a more refined shape, a wide, toothy snout with sharp eyes. Then, with a flourish, he added a Santa hat on top.

Alex leaned in, impressed.

“Now we’re talking. Big green Gator, bright red hat. We can use white frosting for the trim. This thing’s gonna look sick.”

"Yeah, I know a thing or two about my Gators" Ben folded his arms across his chest, smiling proudly.

“Mhm...I'm sure. And for the teeth, we could break up a candy cane and use the shards. Sharp, candy cane-striped,” Alex replied, side-eyeing Ben as he taking another swig of brandy. “And crushed cookies around the edges for dirt. You know, like a swamp.”

Ben nodded, grabbing the bottle and taking his own sip. “But snowy. A Christmas swamp.”

Alex snapped his fingers. “Exactly. Florida meets the North Pole.”

They sat back, admiring their chaotic, messy sketch, every few moments adding more colour, more noise, more mess to the page. Ben grinned, nudging Alex. “This is either genius or an absolute disaster.”

Alex grinned back, holding up the brandy bottle like a toast. “Here’s to finding out.”

Across the room, Bryan and Lisa were working in near silence. Bryan carefully outlined their traditional wreath design, piping perfect swirls on the paper to demonstrate his vision.

Lisa crossed her arms, unimpressed. “That’s it? A wreath?”

Bryan huffed. “Not just a wreath, a perfect wreath. Clean lines, festive colors, edible bow on top. It’s classic.”

Lisa smirked, leaning back. “You mean boring? We've done that every year, we have two guests stayin' with us and you're showing off with that?”

“Classic,” Bryan corrected firmly, pointing his pen at her. “And unbeatable.”

By the time the cakes were cooled and ready for decorating, the energy in the room was electric. Bryan clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention.

“Alright, let’s do this. No whining, no shortcuts, and remember: winning is about teamwork.”

Emma glanced at you, smirking. “We’ve got this.”

Ben and Alex shared a sly grin, the brandy bottle clinking as Alex set it down. “Prepare to be amazed,” Alex called out.

Bryan, ever confident, grabbed the piping bag. “Let’s see what you’ve got, rookies.”

And with that, the decorating showdown began.

Ben and Alex had finished the bottle in the midst of decorating, the two of them loud and rambunctious as they fumbled with fondant and stabbed their own fingers with the candy cane shards. Every now and then, you and Emma would glance over, almost icked by the lack of composure the boys demonstrated in front of you. Your cake was definitely more uniform by miles but still looked...homemade and interesting for sure.

Lisa and Bryan worked in tandem like a true power couple. They took turns like it was second nature, cleaning up as they went along, making a wreath and small red berries and leaves, detailing it with perfection.

The timer dinged, signalling the end of the decorating round, and Bryan immediately clapped his hands, his coach voice kicking in. “Alright, kids! Step away from your cakes. Let’s see what we’re working with!”

You and Emma exchanged a glance, a mix of pride and slight embarrassment flickering between you. “Okay, ours isn’t terrible,” Emma whispered, nudging you.

“I think it’s cute,” you said with a smile, stepping back to survey your creation.

Your ice rink cake wasn’t professional by any means, but it had charm. The rink itself was outlined in white icing, its slightly wobbly oval shape giving it a whimsical, handmade look. Tiny gumdrop skaters stood, or rather, leaned precariously, on the fondant ice, their colourful bodies wrapped in frosting scarves. The edges of the cake were dusted with powdered sugar snow, and you’d added little piped trees at one corner, though they leaned at odd angles as though they had grown in windy conditions.

“It’s... endearing,” Emma said, crossing her arms with a satisfied nod. “Like a snow globe someone dropped once.”

Bryan and Lisa’s cake stood in stark contrast, pristine and traditional. The piped green wreath encircled the cake with mathematical precision, each leaf identical, each golden and red sugar berry perfectly placed. A red fondant bow sat squarely on top, glossy and flawless. It looked like something out of a catalogue, which, of course, was exactly how they intended it.

Bryan stood beside it with his arms crossed, a smug grin on his face. “A thing of beauty,” he declared, looking around as if daring anyone to challenge him.

Lisa, holding a piping bag with an air of professional disinterest, shrugged. “We’ve done better.”

But all eyes were quickly drawn to the disaster that was Ben and Alex’s cake.

The green fondant gator head sprawled across the top like it had barely survived a hurricane. Its “Santa hat” was unmistakably more of a baseball cap, red fondant lopsidedly draped with blobs of white frosting for trim. Two mismatched candies made up its eyes, one staring off to the left, the other slightly sunken into the fondant, pointing downwards. Around the edges, jagged shards of candy cane jutted out of its mouth and around the cake like some sort of festive swamp disaster.

“Is that…?” Lisa began, squinting.

“Go gators!” Ben giggled proudly, throwing an arm around Alex, who was still holding the now empty brandy bottle. “In a Santa hat. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Alex echoed, grinning like a kid who just finger-painted on the walls.

Bryan stared at it, blinking in stunned silence. “That is... not a Santa hat.”

“No, it’s conceptual,” Alex countered, waving the bottle for emphasis.

“And it’s wearing a baseball cap,” Emma pointed out, biting back laughter.

“Gator went to UF,” Ben said with a straight face, as if that explained everything. “Die-hard fan.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “It looks like it went through a blender.”

“It’s festive,” Alex argued, pointing to the crushed cookie crumbs and powdered sugar sprinkled haphazardly around the edges. “Swamp meets snow globe. Florida Christmas.”

Lisa sighed, covering her face with her hand. “It’s a hazard, that’s what it is.”

Bryan, trying his best to keep a straight face, leaned over the table and surveyed all three cakes. “Alright, let’s judge this properly. First, execution.”

“Wreath’s perfect,” Lisa said immediately.

“Obviously,” Bryan added.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Ours is adorable. Look at the gumdrop skaters! They have hats.”

Bryan tilted his head. “One of them is missing an arm.”

“It’s cold on the ice, injuries happen,” you quipped, earning a snort from Emma.

“And then there’s…” Bryan hesitated, looking at Ben and Alex’s monstrosity.

“Art,” Alex supplied, completely unbothered.

“Nightmare,” Emma muttered under her breath.

“Alright, let’s move on to creativity,” Bryan said, valiantly trying to keep the process professional.

Ben straightened up, placing a hand on his chest. “Ours wins. Hands down. Y’all made cliché, typical, run-of-the-mill cakes. We made one in a million. Nobody else thought of a gator in a Santa hat.”

“Because nobody else should,” Lisa shot back, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Bryan clapped his hands again. “Fine. Let’s call it a tie between execution and creativity. The real winner? Christmas spirit!”

Emma groaned, throwing her head back. “Cop-out! Dad, you just had this competition to show off your cake!”

But you couldn’t help but laugh as Ben and Alex raised the brandy bottle in mock triumph and saluting. “To the gator,” Alex said solemnly.

“To the gator,” Ben echoed, grinning wide.

And despite the chaos, the mismatched cakes, and the questionable choices, the kitchen felt warm and alive, filled with the laughter of a family who clearly knew how to embrace the imperfect joy of the season. You smiled back at the cakes, looking at the silliness of it all, but this is what family is, isn’t it?

[giveafike]

Azzie's Advent Calendar - 12 Days of Christmas!

🔴 IMPORTANT: All the blurbs are SFW. These 12 posts will form a domino effect story. They'll range from 1k word count and up, and are hopefully enjoyable. Think of it as spending the holidays with Ben!

Deck the Halls!

Santa, Baby.

Starlit Season.

Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice!

Snow Much Fun!

The Winter Whiteout.

Frosting Foundation.

Twinkling Tales.

Picture Perfect Moments.

The Stories We Keep. - 19/12

A Merry Menu in the Making. - 21/12

Silent Night, No More! - Christmas Eve Special 🎄- 24/12

??? ???? ????????? ??? - ?/12

[giveafike]

Happy Holidays, folks! 🎁

I come bearing good tidings and a little gift for you all...

✨ Azzie's Advent Calendar - 12 Days of Xmas! ✨

"tf is that?" you ask? Glad you did! It means 1 post every 2 days leading up to Christmas! This year, the spotlight is on none other than our beloved Benjamin Todd Shelton.

"What about Thanksgiving?" Idk what’s going on with that. Smth ab colonisers? I’ll stick with what I know: Christmas chaos.

As much as I’d love to write for other people too (like Jude Bellingham or Dominic Fike), I simply don’t have the time, creativity, or brain cells this year. Maybe next time! Thankfully, I’ve been drafting these Ben blurbs in advance, so I won’t be stressed out which means I’ll try to sprinkle in a few seasonal blurbs/fulfill inbox requests when I can, but bear with me, I’m juggling a lot this festive szn! Christmas + work + assignments + my own family and friends wanting me for the holidays - my plate is FULL rn.

🔴 IMPORTANT: All the blurbs are SFW. These 12 posts will form a domino effect story. They'll range from 1k word count and up, and are hopefully enjoyable. Think of it as spending the holidays with Ben!

Here’s a sneak peek of the titled stories for what’s to come:

Deck the Halls!

Santa, Baby.

Starlit Season.

Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice!

Snow Much Fun!

The Winter Whiteout.

Frosting Foundation.

Twinkling Tales.

Picture Perfect Moments.

The Stories We Keep.

A Merry Menu in the Making.

Silent Night, No More! - Christmas Eve Special 🎄

Massive thank you once again for all the support, love and patience I've recieved here and on Twitter these past couple of months, it's been so sweet. Truthfully, it gets me through my rough, long days and there's been a lot of those as of late :,) Whether you're a frequent commenter/someone I interact with a lot or a silent liker/reader, it really does make such an impact knowing that you enjoy the stuff that I enjoy giving you.

Anywho, catch me on X/Twitter for sneak peeks/teasers or for chat and silly interactions - feel free to DM me too, I'm always down for yapping! Happy Holidays, folks, see you tomorrow for day 1 ! Love u stay safe and stay healthy!

- Azzie ;)

[giveafike]

Ben Shelton

FAQs + Request Guidelines || Home

Key: ✯ : smut || ❣ : fluff || ❁ : angst

Organised from newest at the top to oldest per each category :)

Blurbs ⇒ short-ish oneshots, once-off prompts and drabbles. ~1-7k word count.

❣❁ Shattered (10k) ⇒ tennisplayer!ReaderxBen break up due to distance until... ❣ Yours (5.1k) ⇒ Girlfriend!ReaderxBen are confident until... ❣ Your Corner (1.8k) ⇒ Plus-SizedTennisplayer!ReaderxBen thrive as a couple until... ✯ High Stakes (3.3k) ⇒ Girlfriend!ReaderxBen can't shake off a bad match until... ✯ Come Here (2.1k) ⇒ Girlfriend!ReaderxBen can’t help but miss him terribly while he's at training, until...

Stories ⇒ several parts, continued plot, AU, MC inspo etc. 5-10k+ word count. Stories continue their plot so long as you request how to take the next part!

Game, Set, Match (suggestive themes - proceed w caution, SFW) ⇒ tennisplayer!ReaderxBen flirting back and forth until... pt 1 || pt 2 || pt 3 || STATUS: Closed Beyond the Baseline (SFW, no warnings) - tennisplayer!ReaderxBen are close friends until... ⇒ pt 1 || STATUS: Open (based on requests.)

Specials ⇒ alphabets, headcanons, seasonal specials and more!

❣ Azzie's Advent Calendar - Holidays special! 🎄(series) ❣ Halloween'ing (4.8k) - Halloween special! 🎃 ❣ SFW Alphabet ✯ Shanghai (3.5k) - birthday special! ✯ NSFW Alphabet