#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)

[miss-d-d]

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

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

@giveafike

[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.

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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]

The Best Christmas Yet - B.T.S

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

Word count + info: 5k + dialogue.

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

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

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

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

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

————————————————————————

“Hey, get up.”

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

“Baby, c’mon, I need you up!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s when you see it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Merry Christmas, Ben.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[giveafike]

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]

Twinkling Tales - B.T.S

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

Word count + info: 5k + dialogue.

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW! No warnings : )

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

————————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ben smirked. “Well, he’s not wrong.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you actually wear them?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She sounds resourceful,” you said, amused.

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

“And again, you won, didn’t you?”

“Naturally,” he said again, feigning arrogance.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tonight was perfect,” you said softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[giveafike]

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.

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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]

Silent Night, No More - B.T.S

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

Word count + info: 5k + dialogue.

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW! No warnings : )

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ben!” the little one squealed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

[giveafike]

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]

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

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

Word count + info: 3.7k + dialogue.

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW! No warnings : )

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

————————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[giveafike]

The Stories We Keep - B.T.S

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

Word count + info: 1.8k + dialogue.

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW! No warnings : )

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

————————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because it was hilarious,” Bryan replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Too late.”

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

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

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

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

[giveafike]

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

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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]

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.