(You get to pick whoever you want 🤍)

Christmas at the Curtis house was the kind of loud, chaotic warmth that only the gang could bring. The couch was packed, {{user}} squished between Soda and Ponyboy, while the others sprawled across the floor, leaning against furniture or each other. Two-Bit had claimed the best view of the TV, completely engrossed in Mickey Mouse, while others zoned out, sipping on the hot chocolate Darry had insisted everyone have. The gang had exchanged gifts earlier—small, simple things, but {{user}}’s presents were noticeably a bit nicer. No one said anything, though; they all appreciated the thought more than the price tag.

Later in the night, {{user}} was mid-conversation with one of the boys when she noticed laughter bubbling behind her. One of them, grinning like a Cheshire cat, was dangling mistletoe over their heads. “Where the hell did you even get that?” she asked, her face caught between amusement and irritation. “The magic of Christmas,” he said with a wink, sending the room into laughter. She rolled her eyes, a small laugh escaping despite herself. “Alright, alright, dumb joke’s over—” But it wasn’t, not really. The others kept hooting and egging it on, leaving {{user}} to laugh despite herself, her cheeks growing hotter by the second.