#'tis the damn season
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cametotheshowinsd · 2 months ago
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I go back to December all the time
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joshsindigostreak · 1 month ago
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'Tis the Damn Season
“I’m staying at my parent’s house, and the road not taken looks real good now…”
A Holiday One Shot 🎄
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Josh Kiszka x F!Reader
Authors Note: Happy Holidays y’all!! Here’s a cozy Josh piece that is very self indulgent but so sweet!! Happy reading and I can’t wait to hear your thoughts! 🍷🎄
Word Count: 8.5K
Warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, 18+, unprotected sex, oral sex both m/f receiving, swearing, internal angst.
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Despite the ambient noise of the dive bar you were perched in, for the first time in three days you finally felt at peace. You loved your parents, but visiting them these days could be overwhelming, especially with the revolving door of family members showing up unannounced. There was only so much small talk one could take. You had lost count of how many times you described your job, your passion, as an acquisitions editor at a small publishing house, to various family members. Eventually you had to simplify it with a curt, “I get to be the person to say ‘yay,’ or ‘nay’ on their book submissions.” 
You loved your job. As much as it sucked to be the bad guy sometimes, the benefits of being able to work remotely and at your own pace made up for it. Getting paid to read was the best thing to happen to you in your twenties so far, and even though the pay wasn’t spectacular, you wouldn’t trade it for anything. There were times you were worried that making your passion your job would burn you out of reading in your own time, but so far you still found the time to bury your nose in a new tome of choice. 
When you had packed for your trip back home, a small stack of books made it into your luggage, along with your trusty Kindle that was loaded with various quick reads that let you turn your brain off and enjoy the ride. It took everything within you to not check your work emails on your laptop, but you were on the precious few PTO days your employer had allotted everyone in your department, and you were determined to use them properly. 
The bar you had sought refuge in was a local one a few blocks from your house. It was one your dad would always go to hang out with his buddies when you were younger and he was still working that 9-5 throughout the week. 
As you sat on the wobbly bar stool, your ankles crossed and your toes rested on the metal bar attached to the wood paneling of the bar itself. A solitary glass of dark red wine sat on the bar top, inches from the book you were devouring. It wasn’t anything complicated, and many would call it a dime-a-dozen romantic fantasy, filled with magic and tall dark love interests with horrific social skills. But sometimes, the familiar nature of the plot and characters was comforting. The plot might not have been overly unique, but the curiosity of how the author was going to weave together these tropes was half the fun. How was this author going to handle the “oh…” moment between two enemies? What mundane task will trigger the main character into a flashback of a lost love that got away? 
This personal game of yours was a slippery slope, as you had to practically pavlov yourself into not going into work mode while reading, but you kept yourself in check for the most part. At least that's what you would tell yourself. 
You flipped another page in the book, eager to see how the current scene was unfolding. The imagery was building in your mind so well that you hadn’t even noticed a familiar, sweet and dimpled face, had slipped into the bar with a few friends. 
Josh had shed his fluffy, faux fur lined coat, one that was way too ostentatious for the small town atmosphere, but he wrote it off on how practical it was for keeping the cold winter air from chilling his bones. He had decided against the beanie that he typically wore with it, in favor of letting his hair show itself off as it normally did. Tonight was not the night for hat-hair, though the singer was unsure where this conclusion had come from earlier in the evening. The nagging feeling of, you need to look nice, had been lingering in his brain for the past few hours. 
In his typical fashion, he hadn’t shut his mouth the entire time he had been inside the establishment. Rattling off story after story from being on the road with his brothers and their band, cracking up at his own jokes, letting the excitement of being home and seeing the same faces he grew up with. 
The pool table in the far corner had been where his group had settled, drinks settled on the edge with pool sticks in their hands. Josh was bent over the table settling in to make his shot when a figure hunched slightly on a bar stool, turning a page in the book sitting on the bar top.
 Your profile was slightly obscured from where he was an how you were sitting on the stool, and it wasn’t until the bartender came over to refill your wine glass and your name tumbled from their mouth in conversation that it clicked for the rock star who had probably made the worst pool shot in his life at the sound of it. 
You. It was you. 
His cheeks heated in the embarrassment of his shitty shot and the memories that materialized in his mind’s eye. Sitting next to you in algebra, making eye contact and shrugging when neither of you knew whatever the fuck your teacher was talking about. Or walking past you in the hallway as you slammed your locker shut trying to book it to your next class. He’d ignored the sinking feeling he had every time it happened that had him wishing his locker was in the same hall as yours, not annoying around the corner. But other times of bumping elbows with you in the lunch line, sharing grimaces at the dry square pizza in front of you. A few of the dumb sarcastic quips he’d made in class in a hushed whisper  (well, as much of a whisper as Josh Kiszka could produce), just to make you bite your lip and try not to giggle too loud, echoed in his mind. 
He hadn’t seen you since the last week of senior year, specifically at a graduation party one of your mutual friends had thrown together last minute. His final memory of your face was how it crumpled slightly as a very tipsy Morgan Pearson had led him up the stairs. It was an image that had haunted him for a long time, because by the time he had made it back downstairs you had already left the party, and he knew you were off on your summer road trip with your parents in the morning. From there he had observed on Facebook you settling into your freshman dorm in a school that was states away, seemingly doing well. Eventually his own band took over all of his time and his internet scrolling was behind him as he saw the world with his brothers. 
Fuck. 
He needed to talk to you. 
Your eyes flitted over to the next page as you took in the new chapter heading, not wanting to be distracted from the cliffhanger the previous chapter had ended on. 
The heroine had just discovered some deep family secrets that rattled her entire being, changing the entire trajectory of her journey so-
“Whatcha readin’?” 
The fantasy world in your mind dissolved at the sound of that voice. A voice, as the cliche says, you hadn’t heard in years. If it had been anyone else, you would have bitten their head off for rudely interrupting your reading, But slowly your eyes fluttered upwards at the source, using every mitochondria in your body to not visibly react at how…different he looked. Not different in an unrecognizable way, but in a way that showed you that he had grown into his own body. That the boyish awkwardness had evolved into a strong jaw and broad shoulders. He…he had facial hair now, and briefly a memory flashed in your mind of him in junior year lamenting about how patchy his upper lip was no matter what he did. 
The sides of his head were shorn down to the skin, and the dim lighting of the bar had you almost convinced he had a mohawk until you looked closer and saw it was closer to a mullet instead. It was a look you would have never considered for him, but it fit perfectly, and he looked beautiful with it. 
And there it was, the knot that would form in your throat whenever you were in his presence. You hadn’t felt that particular sensation since the night of that god awful graduation party. The very party where you had last seen the man before you. 
Your mouth parted dumbly as he parked himself on the stool next to yours. 
“...Josh?” was all you could say. 
He breathed out your name, in a low tone that made your stomach flip. As he took a sip of whatever mixed drink he had in one hand, his other reached over for your book to get a good look of the cover. Emotional and muscle memory kicked in and you allowed him in your personal space, practically letting him take the book out of your hands. In the past, the two of you were always spatially close. Eating off each other's plates, unconsciously scooting your chairs closer together, or grabbing the same seats on the bus for field trips. You weren’t attached to the hip, but somehow whenever you would be in the same room you’d always end up next to each other. 
Josh mouthed the words of the title silently to himself, eyebrows raising slightly at your book of choice. 
“Must be pretty good, you didn’t even notice me walking over,” he said before taking another sip of his drink. 
A nervous laugh rattled through you, “y-yeah it’s pretty immersive.” 
Your eyes were trained on his face, mapping out all of the same but new features, and you wondered if he was doing the same to you as his warm gaze hadn’t left you. 
Josh was most definitely taking you in, as well. You looked so proper sitting on that stool in an oversized black sweater that fell past your hips and hid most of the skirt you had been wearing under it. He tried his best not to make it obvious he was staring at your legs and the tights that were wrapped around them that led down to your boots. But the singer flicked his eyes back to your face, and noted all the subtle changes since the last time he had seen you. You looked so…grown up now, that he felt like he had missed so much in the last few years. It was a feeling he had whenever he came back home, but with you…with you it bothered him, and that feeling caught him off guard. 
Because he was Josh, and he could never let silence linger too long, “so what made you bring a book to a bar of all places?” 
And in a matter of seconds, you began relaying to him how the trip back home had been the last few days, and how much you needed a break from it all. 
“...you remember that uncle that's technically my dads cousin but I call him uncle cause he’s a lot older than my dad?”
Josh nodded along. 
“He’s so fucking loud, dude. And he never shuts up and because of this my grandmother turns up the TV and no one tells him to quiet down so between the TV blasting and him rambling about the dumbest things…ugh and my mother wouldn’t stop hovering over me! I needed to get out of there.” 
He smiled as you hashed out your family drama, flashing his teeth as he did so. There were follow up questions on his end, asking about your parents and grandparents and how they had been. Josh had been one of your few friends who went out of his way to be charming to your parents. He had earned the, “oh Josh is welcome any time he wants…” invitation by fifth grade alone. 
You took a sip of your wine, “oh my god I’ve been talking so much about me, what about you? How’s the band going?” 
It was his turn to blush slightly as he began telling you about the most recent tour they had been on, and how this was a mini break between tour legs and that at the beginning of the year they were off to a new continent. 
He pointed over his shoulder at his friends who were still milling around the pool table, “...in fact Danny is right over there.” 
You turned and gave the drummer a once-over. The last time you had seen Danny Wagner he was this gangly awkward teenager who nervously laughed at everything. But there he was, in a red sweater with perfect spiral curls spilling over his shoulders. The sweater itself was very form fitting on him and it was easy to see how muscled out his shoulders and arms had become over the years. 
“Holy shit, that’s Danny Wagner?” You gave him a slight wave when he made eye contact with you, and he politely waved back with a shy smile. 
Josh, rather indignantly, noticed the way you were looking at Danny and a sharp stabbing feeling of jealousy shot through him. Heat reached the surface of his cheeks and he momentarily contemplated reaching over to gently turn your chin back to him. 
But before Josh could even shove that thought away, you turned to fully face him, and gave a nod to the bartender to get you another glass of wine. Something deep down felt more settled when your attention was fully back on him.
However, you could feel those big brown eyes staring at you as you glanced at Danny. It was such a fixed stare that you were all too familiar with. In the rare moments that Josh was quiet, he would be staring into space, deep in thought. More often than not you chalked it up to him zoning out, but having those unblinking eyes on you had your heart hammering in your chest. 
It wasn’t the first time he had looked at you like that. There were several small,  fleeting moments throughout your adolescence where you’d catch his eyes on you. On the bus coming home from a field trip, walking towards you at your locker, in US History, and even at various house parties you found yourselves at. Your reaction was always the same: the skin of your neck would heat up and prickle up to your cheeks as they flushed. He never called you on it, and for a long time you had convinced yourself that he just hadn’t noticed. Because he never said anything, the idea of it actually meaning something was too great to get your hopes up for. 
There it was, Josh thought. 
That flush of color that darkened your skin whenever he looked at you for too long. It had taken him an embarrassing amount of time to figure out that he was the cause of it, but when he did he would sometimes make you blush on purpose. Maybe it was an ego thing, but he also couldn’t believe you reacted that way to him. He hated the term of someone being out of someone’s league; but even after being in the spotlight for his career and knowing what it felt like when a room full of people swooned at him he still didn’t feel he was in the same universe as yours. 
You were always so poised and collected, even during your awkward stage. Whereas he was always pinging off the walls with his endless supply of energy and charm. 
Why would you even consider a little shit like him?  
The blissful silence was interrupted however, when you saw the door to the bar swing open and a new group of people rushed in to escape the cold. Josh’s back was to the door, but he watched your eyes travel to the side to look behind him, and he didn’t hesitate to whip his head around to see who you were looking at. 
Only one of them rang a bell, a dirty blonde in a bright blue winter coat. Was she in his home room? No…but her locker had been on the same hallway as his. 
“Is that…?”
“Miranda Sheridan,” you murmured  a little too quickly as you turned back to your wine and fiddled with the corner of your book. In all honesty, you didn’t have an issue with Miranda. The two of you had gotten along just fine in school. Well enough that you secured invites to her house from time to time. Well, Josh, had secured invites for you. 
“Oh yeah her parents had that huge property!” He excitedly remembered while throwing a gentle wave in her direction.
You hated the way your stomach twisted when she waved back.  
Her parents owned a couple of acres out in the county, which wasn’t very elaborate, but it was perfect for a lot of the parties teenagers would get themselves into. Josh particularly remembered her dad had an old toolshed in the back that their friends tried to hot box more than once. 
Naturally, her place had been the place to host the main graduation party. You tried to think of anything else, but your mind flooded with the memories of walking around her house with a cliched solo cup, trying to find Josh, your anchor in social situations, and coming up empty and settling on the couch. When you finally laid eyes on him, he was being led by the hand towards the stairs by another girl. No it hadn’t been Miranda, but someone else in your grade that had a very obvious crush on Josh and never tried hiding it. 
Josh looked over his shoulder, his tongue between his teeth as he laughed at something someone said as he walked by. His smile faded as soon as he saw you, sitting all by yourself on the couch. His feet were moving for him, but not towards you. He was already ascending the stairs, eyes locked on yours before the girl attached to his arm tugged at his wrist to get his attention and he followed her upstairs and out of sight. 
That had been the last time you had seen Josh before tonight. 
And by emotional muscle memory, your stomach plummeted just as it had years ago. 
Before you could stop it, you bit out, “we went to her graduation party, remember?” 
The singer’s head snapped back to face you.
That party. 
His voice was quiet, “you…you left early, didn’t you?”
“I wasn’t feeling well.” 
He could tell it was a lie. An excuse. 
“I just meant…I tried finding you after-”
“After what?” Once again your mouth betrayed you. 
The trunk of the elephant in the room was practically wrapping around Josh’s neck, and his chest felt tight. 
Even softer, he said “after I came downstairs…”
In response, all you did was hum into your glass as you took another sip, an eyebrow arching like a freshly-awoken cat. 
“I had to get home anyway. I had to be on a plane early the next morning.” 
That, he remembered. Your parents had surprised you with a trip across the country as your graduation present. 
But Josh struggled to find the words of what he wanted to say. He hadn’t even been upstairs for twenty minutes before he finally flew down the stairs to find you, only to see the couch filled with different people and one of your other friends informing him that you had caught a ride back home. 
It hadn’t been a complete cut off, the two of you still texted as normal for a few weeks and liked each other's facebook statuses. But the texts became less frequent, and eventually dwindled down to leaving each other on delivered for days at a time. With the band finally starting to take off, and you drowning in your college classes, communication became near impossible. 
“Right…”
“Plus I didn’t want to interrupt your night. You were having too much fun up there.”
This time it was Josh’s turn to twist the side of his mouth and quirk an eyebrow, “what exactly do you think I did that night?”
You scoffed slightly and tilted your head, “Josh.” 
“No, I want you to say it.” 
You stared at him. It felt dumb to get to this point but you weren’t embarrassed. But the same jealousy and adrenaline from that night flooded your system, and after rolling your lip between your teeth you replied, 
“You and…whats her name…hooked u-”
“We didn’t hook up,” he said firmly, not blinking. 
“Made out-”
“We didn’t make out, either.” 
“Well what were you doing up there?” You huffed. 
“Don’t get me wrong, she clearly wanted to do both of those things. But before she could even try to kiss me she was doubled over puking all over the bathroom sink. I spent the next few minutes holding her hair while she let it all out. Apparently all of the vodka shots caught up with her.” 
You sat there, face unmoving as you took in what he said. For years you had it built up in your head that while you were fleeing that house your best friend was hooking up with someone else. 
Now the embarrassment started to creep in. 
The quiet tone returned, “I didn’t even like her like that anyway.” 
You wanted the ground to open up and swallow you now. 
You had to get out of here. This was too much. 
“I need to get going,” you began as you started to dig through your purse to pay for your drinks.
Josh was quicker than you and he turned to the bartender and slapped his card down on the bar top and asked to pay for his tab and yours. 
“Josh you don’t have to-” 
“But I am,” he said firmly, looking at you out of the corner of his eye as he scribbled on the receipts. 
That tone…that tone was new coming from him. He wasn’t angry, he wasn’t annoyed, but he was being authoritative in a way you hadn’t heard before. 
Your insides were squirming for multiple reasons now. 
After the bills were settled he faced you again. He wasn’t letting you slip away again. He couldn’t.  
“Let me walk you home.”
You slid off the bar stool, “it's only a couple blocks, Josh, you don’t have to.” 
“I want to.” 
There was again, that tone. 
Not wanting to fight anymore, you nodded and the both of you made your way to the exit for your coats. You caught Josh tapping out a quick text to who you assumed was Danny to let him know where he was going. 
Silently the two of you slipped outside and into the winter air. The icy breeze stung your face after being used to the heat of the bar. You shivered slightly, but tried not to show it as you turned toward the direction of your house. 
Josh shoved his hands in his pockets for warmth, noticing the tiny flakes that had begun to fall from the sky. Had it even been forecasted to snow tonight? In any case, he purposely walked a little closer to you, letting your arms brush together. 
“I didn’t know it was supposed to snow tonight?” You wondered out loud. 
“Mother Nature is spiteful, that way, I guess.”
He hated how awkward it felt now. How the familiarity and ease of talking to you had evaporated as soon as Miranda Sheridan had chosen that specific bar to walk into. 
Soon enough, your house was in view, and your steps picked up the pace to get there faster. Josh followed you into the driveway and to the side of the garage where there were stairs that led up to your room above it. You moved into that space your senior year after your dad had renovated it, and he had only been in it a handful of times before graduation. 
Before you could even reach for the rail, Josh’s hand flew out of his pocket and took a hold of yours, gently lacing your fingers with his. 
The sudden contact had your heart in your throat. 
“You really thought I hooked up with her?” He felt your hand stiffen at his words, but he continued, “as soon as I saw you on that couch, I knew I was making a mistake.”
The flakes started coming down harder now, growing in size as they fell. 
“But you still went up there.”
His shoulders sank slightly, “I know…I shouldn’t have though. She wasn’t the girl I liked anyway.”
Denial is a strong thing, and you were letting it win, “she wasn’t?”
“No…I liked someone else but I second guessed myself all the time around her, thinking she’d never be into me anyway.” 
“How could you be sure of that?”
Josh’s fingers squeezed your hand, “I don’t know she just…she could do so much better than me and there were plenty of better options out there. Never thought I stood a chance.”
Your jaw started trembling and you weren’t sure if it was from the cold or from what he was implying.
 
“You really think there are better options than you?” You mirrored his earlier comment back to him. 
His eyes slowly met yours, deliberately giving you the look he knew would darken your cheeks. 
“So much better…”
“I don’t think so…,” your voice was almost as soft as the snow that was accumulating on the ground around you. 
Consequences be damned, you started to lean towards his face. 
His long eyelashes fluttered slightly as he realized what you were doing, and he leaned in and gently brushed his full lips against yours.
At the contact, your heart went from hammering in your chest to exploding. Years of daydreaming of this scenario had finally come to an end, culminating in a kiss that had your knees shaky.
He pulled away slightly to look at you again, only to surge forward and slide his free hand up your jaw to cradle your face. His lips pressed against yours even harder, a sudden wave of emotion taking the wheel in Josh’s mind. 
The both of you had years of pent up feelings and the dams were breaking. 
His other hand reluctantly dropped your hand in favor of wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you closer. 
The move took you by surprise, but you relaxed in his arms and tilted your head slightly and parted your lips. Immediately his tongue ran along your bottom lip before delving into your mouth. A low groan rose from his throat and his fans flexed slightly against your cheek.
A gust of wind whipped around you, causing you to shiver against his lips. 
“N-need to get you inside,” Josh chuckled, leaning his forehead on yours. 
You took a step backwards, resting your foot on the first step. 
“Come up with me?”
He answered with a quick kiss on your lips and mumbled, “lead the way…”
With a grin you turned and hurried up the steps, trying your best not to slip in the slush. Your hands shook as you unlocked your door, nearly stumbling inside to escape the cold. 
As soon as you had shut the door, Josh pushed you against it and started unzipping your coat and planting his lips on your neck. You made quick work of his too and both outer layers were haphazardly thrown onto a chair in the corner. His icy hands started fiddling with the bottom of your sweater, and you both paused at the silent question of going forward. 
He lifted his head out of the crook of your neck to look at you, “we don’t have to if you don’t…I mean we can just hang out if thats all-” 
You shushed him by taking his strong jaw in your hands and gave him a searing kiss. He kissed you back as another wave of emotion washed over him.
 
After letting his lips warm up against yours you pulled back and stared into his eyes, “Josh…this is all I want right now.” 
His eyelashes fluttered again, and this time his cheeks were darkening at the look you were giving him. 
“You sure?” 
“Please…”
Not needing to be told twice, his hands disappeared under your sweater and swept across the skin of your sides. You jolted slightly at how cold they were, but didn’t let it deter you from kissing him again, melting into his touch. His hands slowly rose to cup your breasts through your bra, and the light squeeze had you fighting to keep the low whine in your throat. 
Josh noticed you holding back and leaned in to whisper in your ear, “it’s just me…let me hear you…” 
The low tone of his voice had your body shivering under his hands and when his teeth grazed the skin of your neck you didn’t even try to hold back the breathy whine you made. Impatiently you helped him get your sweater off of your body, flinging it blindly to the side. You stared at the hungry look in his eyes as you reached behind your back to unhook your bra. Wanting to torture him even further, you purposely took your time letting it slide off your arms and onto the floor. His eyes never left your chest as he reached to take one of your breasts into his hand, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers. Before you could fully register the feeling he was bending his head down to replace his fingers with his mouth, moaning into your soft skin. He gave the other side the same attention, before reaching behind you for the zipper to your skirt. 
As he knelt down to shimmy it down your hips, you practically clawed at his long sleeve shirt off of him. The lighting  in your room was dim, but you were able to see all of the muscles on his body that were definitely not there the last time you saw him. His arms were much more toned than you thought, and his shoulders and chest were defined in a way that had your lip rolling into your mouth between your teeth. 
Josh made quick work in getting your boots off, helping you step out of them and your skirt. His eyes flicked up at you and they were so much darker than before. He rose to his feet quickly and slammed his mouth onto yours, squeezing your hips and the back of your thighs as he directed you to jump and wrap your legs around him. With a level of coordination you didn’t know he had, you were spun around while he walked the both of you to your bed. It was still in the same place it always had been, in the corner by the window. 
He gently sat you on the edge of the bed, kissing down your body until he was once again knelt before you on the floor. The sight of his blown out pupils and swollen lips sent a flash of heat to your core, and you couldn’t even squeeze your thighs together as he was rolling your tights down your legs and swiftly off your feet. 
You never could have anticipated how the night was going to turn out, so your choice in underwear wasn’t the sexiest pair you owned, but that didn’t stop your best friend from planting kisses along the waist band, tentatively dipping his finger tips under the cotton material to start pulling them down. Your breath caught as you raised your hips to help him out, and within seconds your final layer of clothing was added to the pile on the floor. 
Looking down at him, you scooted back towards the headboard with your legs shut, and he crawled up the bed after you. With your head settled on your pillow he hovered above you for a moment, bringing his hand to trace along your jaw and down your neck, looking at you in a way you had only dreamed about thus far. 
You weren’t going to get emotional, but you couldn’t help it. It was just fully hitting you, as you felt the heat radiate off his body, and the weight of him as he settled on top of you. Thankfully your eyes only welled up a tiny bit, but Josh still noticed and his brow furrowed. His eyes softened and he seemed to sense why you were suddenly still and quiet. He could always guess what you were feeling, even when you were kids. 
His thumb brushed your lips so softly you barely felt it, “I know…” 
He kissed the corner of your mouth before leaving a trail of kisses down your throat, chest, and stomach. He brushed his lips across the skin right above your core where your curls started to grow. He was so close to where you needed him. Carefully he planted a few kisses on your thighs before drawing your legs up and bending your knees, taking his time in case you changed your mind at any point. 
Slowly, he spread your legs apart to finally get a proper look at you, and his breath caught in his throat as your gorgeous core laid bare before him. He was glued to his spot on the bed, eyes sweeping your body, having his own moment of realizing that this was real, and you were actually beneath him like this. His eyes traveled back up to yours, unusually silent for someone who always has something to say, no matter the situation. 
Instead, he traveled down the soft flesh of your thigh, leaving searing kisses in his wake. Just when you thought he was going to reach your core, he turned his head to do the same to your other leg. A low whine rumbled in your throat, and you felt his lips spread into a smile against your skin. You felt the faintest huff of breath as he tried to contain a laugh. 
His mouth hovered over your core, just out of reach. He wanted to memorize you, every detail, every feature that was so uniquely you. He used his thumbs to slowly spread your lips apart, dumbfounded at just how wet you were for him and how your arousal was beginning to pool and drip off of you. 
Your hips twitched in his hands, desperate for any contact beyond his feather-light touches. The way he was looking at your body, with blown out pupils and a parted mouth was only driving you crazier. 
At last, he couldn’t hold himself back anymore before dipping his head down to plunge his tongue into your center, moaning as he finally tasted you. A years-long curiosity was answered, and it was better than anything he had tried to imagine. 
The vibrations had you involuntarily arching into his face. He wasted no time to begin lapping at your folds, swirling his tongue wherever he could. But when he finally wrapped his lips around your clit, stars exploded behind your eyelids as you squeezed your eyes shut. 
“Fuck…” was shouted towards the ceiling, and it encouraged him even more as he sucked even harder on your clit as one of his fingers circled your entrance. One of your hands shot down to his hair, tangling your fingers in his curls to hold him in place. His tongue was swirling around your clit now and the finger that had been teasing you slowly entered. Immediately your walls clenched around him, relishing the friction and slight stretch it brought you. 
Josh continued to pump and curl his finger inside you as he spoiled your clit with his tongue. He was so hard that his pants were nearly suffocating him, but he ignored it in favor of giving you all of his attention. A second finger joined the first inside you, and he curled them upwards to hit that spot inside you that had your fingers nearly pulling out his hair and grinding against his face. He could feel the muscles in your thighs tense and strain against his ears. You kept trying to close your legs completely around him, but he used his other hand to anchor you down and keep you spread so he could reach you properly. 
The spring inside you was coiling tighter and tighter, each drag of his fingertips and swipe of his tongue sent you hurtling closer and closer to the edge. 
You were past the point of moaning and could only muster pitiful whines and whimpers. You were so fucking close,  and clinging to his fingers so tightly that he could barely move them. He flattened his tongue against your clit, letting your hips grind and chase your high against him for a few seconds before closing his lips around it once more and sucked on it harshly as you shouted his name. His fingers and mouth worked you through it, letting you ride it out and prolong it as best he could. When your clit became too sensitive he peppered kisses along your thighs again, continuing to pump his fingers slower and slower until he was sure he had felt the last twitch and aftershock of your orgasm. 
He carefully pulled his fingers from you and immediately brought them to his mouth, savoring your taste while cleaning himself off. You used this moment to pull your hand from his hair and down to his cheek, tilting his gaze to you as you propped yourself up on your other elbow. The moonlight caught the shine of your arousal mixed with the matted facial hair. 
Josh quickly sat up on his knees to work at his belt, impatiently sliding off the bed for a moment to fully pull his pants down his legs and off his feet. He was left in his tight boxers, leaving nothing to the imagination as his length pulsed under the fabric. 
Now, it was your turn to crawl over to him, your mouth watering as your eyes traveled down his torso and followed his happy trail to the band of his boxers. You reached up and curled your fingers around the elastic, peeling the final layer of clothing down his thighs and let them pool around his ankles. 
Your eyes were on his cock now, marveling at just how thick it was. Tentatively you reached your hand up to wrap your fingers around it. The feeling of it twitch slightly against your palm sent a shot of arousal through your body. 
He stood stock still at the edge of the bed, his entire body tensing as you touched and felt him. His lower lip was trapped between his teeth and he nearly drew blood when you bent forward and placed a soft kiss on the head. But it was when your lips wrapped around him and your hand slid to the base that his head rolled back on his shoulders and your name escaped his lips. 
A drop of pre-cum landed on your tongue and you wanted nothing more to keep going until he was a whiny mess, shuddering under your touch. 
All too soon his hips backed away from you, pulling his cock from your mouth as you looked up at his almost apologetic eyes. 
“If you keep doing that…”
“But I wanted to keep doing that,” you nearly whined up at him. 
He closed his eyes for a second and breathed through his nose, trying to calm himself down. 
He looked down at you, dark eyes swimming in desire, “but there’s so much more I want to do with you first…” 
He kicked the boxers fully off his feet before kneeling over you on the bed again, flattening you back against your pillows as your legs spread to allow his hips to settle against yours. Briefly his cock was trapped between you, and the feeling of it radiating heat against your skin made you anticipate the next move even more. He captured your lips with his as one of his hands reached down to grip himself, running the head of his cock through your folds and allowing your arousal to coat him before he positioned himself at your entrance. 
You took his bottom lip between your teeth and angled your hips towards him, desperate to finally feel him. 
Slowly he pushed forward, trying to pace himself so this night wouldn’t end embarrassingly fast. 
The way he stretched you as he pushed all the way in had you seeing stars. You felt so full in the best way, like he was made for you. 
“S-so tight…” he hissed as he fully sheathed himself inside you, his pelvic bone resting on your clit. 
Your legs instinctively wrapped around his hips to keep him in place, wanting him as close to you as possible. 
The two of you remained still, getting used to the feeling of one another before Josh’s own needs started to creep up on him. He pulled back out slightly, before pushing back in. He buried his face into the crook of your neck as he began to move, kissing your neck and throat as you mewled at the stretch and drag of his cock. One arm of his framed your head while the other slid underneath you to grip your ass. He tilted your hips this way so that his pelvis was grinding perfectly against your clit as he built up speed. 
Your nails dug until the skin of his shoulder blades as you tried to hold onto him. You were still so sensitive from your previous orgasm that your second one was quickly building up inside you. You locked your ankles at the small of his back while your hands reached for his face to crash your lips against his. 
At this point he was slamming into you, chasing not only his own high but yours. He needed to feel it. The euphoric squeeze around his fingers earlier wasn’t enough. He needed more. He needed to feel your entire body shudder and quake underneath him;  around him. The sound of your bodies colliding with each other was driving him insane. 
The hand that had been gripping your ass slid around your hip and snaked between you and his fingers pinched and rolled your clit expertly, making your second orgasm his only priority. 
Your back arched at the contact the combined friction of his thick cock and his fingers had you flying off the edge, clamping down around him as you shouted his name again into the air. 
“God..fuck…sh-,” expletives tumbled from his mouth as he felt you shake from your orgasm. He tried to hold back but his cock twitched inside you and he bottomed out one last time as his release coated your walls. He tried his best to keep working you through yours, using every synapse in his brain to ignore his own heightened sensitivity. 
Eventually, you both came down from your highs and your bodies relaxed against each other and the bed. Your eyes fluttered open to find him staring at you, his face soft like it had been when he had first looked at your body fully. His lips were parted in awe, and you brushed your thumb across them. 
“That…should’ve happened a long time ago…” he confessed trying to catch his breath. 
“Agreed.”
His mouth formed a smile and his eyes twinkled, “but hey…this time I really did go upstairs with a girl and hooked up with her…”
“Josh!” Your eyes widened and you playfully pushed his shoulder. He laughed into a kiss before turning to look at the door on the far wall of your room. 
“Bathroom, right?”
You nodded with a smile and he slowly pulled out of you, hissing at the sensitivity and the cold air hitting his cock. He beelined for the door and you heard water running briefly before he returned with a thankfully warm washcloth to clean the both of you up. He discarded it into the hamper before crawling back into bed with you, gathering your body in his arms under the covers. 
The way his breath washed over your neck was so comforting and warm that sleep quickly overtook you and you drifted off while you felt his lips brush your skin. 
The next morning, sunlight streamed into your room. Josh was the first to pry his eyes open, and in the silence he took in just how much of a time capsule your room was. The same posters were on your walls, a couple film posters he had given you himself. An obsolete iHome sat on the top of your dresser, surrounded by a collection of jewelry and trinkets that looked familiar to him. 
You stirred in his arms, and he rasped in your ear, “Mmm…morning, lover.” 
The endearment sent a jolt of adrenaline through you and your eyes shot open. It was real. He was really in your bed, his strong arms holding you as those beautiful eyes looked at you in reverence. Your heart was stuttering in your chest. 
“Morning…” you replied, forefinger and thumb capturing his chin and pulling him down for a slow kiss. 
For a while the two of you just cuddled in silence, before a buzz from Josh’s pants pocket on the floor alerted him to a text. Reluctantly, he reached down towards the floor to fish his phone out of the pocket. His notifications were a bunch of texts from his brothers asking for his whereabouts and when he was going to grace them with his presence again. Quickly he typed out a few responses, not fully giving away how his night ended up but letting them know he wasn’t lying in a ditch somewhere. 
He sighed as he placed his phone on your nightstand. 
“I’m being summoned…”
You felt a pang in your heart, the other reality of him eventually leaving hitting you. 
He felt you tense in his arms and his brows furrowed, “what’s wrong?” 
You turned to face him fully, not wanting to sound needy or clingy, but not knowing how else to put it, “I just…I don’t want you to go…” 
“You can come with me if you want! I’m sure my mom would love to see you and Jake-”
You cut him off, “right but…what happens after that?” 
He looked confused, “what do you mean?” 
You wanted the earth to open up and swallow you at this point, but you needed to know, “what does this mean…?” 
Realization formed on his face as he connected the dots, then shyness crept over his features, “what do you want it to mean?”
“We can’t just go back to being friends now…I can’t pretend that this never happened and-.” your chin wobbled a little as you tried to explain yourself, trying to keep your emotions at bay, but remembering how he had literally just called you lover made it impossible. 
“I don’t think we can go back to being just friends either…” he started. You started to panic  before he continued, “and I don’t have it in me to even try to pretend this never happened. I can’t go back to being a stranger, or just some guy you went to school with.”
“You were never just some guy, Josh…”
He rolled over you, hovering his face above yours, “then maybe…we can see how this goes…?”
You bit your lip, “yeah?” 
He smiled, “yeah,” before slotting his lips over yours and giving you the most tender kiss so far. He relaxed on top of you, allowing himself to be wrapped up in your arms as you lazily made out together as the sun slipped behind some clouds and it began snowing again. 
Eventually you made it out of bed to shower and get dressed. As Josh donned his outfit from the night before, he couldn’t help but be a little smug at how it would be a dead giveaway to what he had been up to the previous night. But then he remembered who his brothers were. 
He looked up hastily as he tied his shoes, “I do have to warn you that my brothers are going to be really annoying about this, but just ignore it.” 
You placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “it’ll be fine, Josh.” 
He smiled and rose to his feet, kissing you again. 
Soon you were carefully making it down the snowy steps, trying to get to your car when Josh froze on the bottom step. You nearly collided with his back when you looked in the direction he was looking at and made direct eye contact with…your father. Your dad was standing on the covered porch, drinking a coffee. 
Well fuck. 
Josh and your dad seemed to be in a weird staring contest, silently communicating with each other. 
You stepped around Josh, hitting your key fob to unlock your car. 
“Not exactly what I had in mind when I told you you were always welcome at my house, Josh…” 
Your face flushed with embarrassment, “oh my god, Dad…” 
Quickly you and Josh bolted to your car, but not before Josh gave a toothy grin and wave at your dad, exclaiming, “nice to see you!” before shutting his door. 
You gave him a look as you clicked your seatbelt and started the car. 
He threw his hands up. grinning, “what? It could’ve been worse.” 
But as you pulled out of your driveway, and pulled up to the first stop sign on the street, Josh reached over the console and took your hand, bringing your fingers to his lips and giving them a soft kiss. The embarrassment from earlier melted away as he gave you that look again.
Your cheeks betrayed you and splotched with red. Inwardly you figured you’d always do that when he looked at you like that, and the thought warmed you instead of bothering you this time. 
It wasn’t long before you pulled into Josh’s family driveway. The drive over had been pure muscle memory and comfortable silence between the two of you. 
But as you got out of your car, you were met with the all too familiar voice of his youngest brother, Sam. 
“Oh my fucking god, I knew it!” He yelled from the top of the driveway. 
“Shut up, Sam,” Josh warned as he rounded the car to you and took your hand.
“Shut up, Sam,” the younger brother mocked right back at him, laughing his signature laugh. 
But for once, the holidays didn’t seem as daunting now that you had your best friend, Josh, back at your side. 
Fin
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Tag List:  @dannyandthekiszkas , @readyforthegarden , @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine , @wideminded-dreamer , @runwayblues , @wildbluesorbit , @llightmyllovee , @rhythm-of-space , @sacredthefran , @writingcold , @alwaysonthemend , @wetkleenex-gvf , @josh-iamyour-mama , @lightsofthe-living-gvf , @gvfcinema, @sacredthethreadgvf , @losfacedevil , @jakekiszkasbuttsweat , @shutupdevvie , @hearts-hunger , @gretavanfleetposts , @ascendingtostardust , @mackalah , @andromeda-raine-gvf , @jake-kiszkas-smirk , @gracev0609 , @sacredjake , @earthlysorrows , @gvfpal , @myownparadise96 , @itsafullmoon , @gvfmelbourne, @twistedmelodies , @that-witchy-pan , @gold-mines-melting , @texas-bbq-pringles , @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface , @childinthegardenn , @char289 , @stardustvanfleet , @sunfl0wer-power , @holdingup-fallingsky , @bladenotblaze , @gretavanlace , @lipstickitty , @jjwasneverhere , @josiee-gvf , @peaceloveunitygvf , @musicislove3389 , @gretavanhockey , @gretavanazula
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hlficlibrary · 2 months ago
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HL Fic of the Month
* D e c e m b e r *
'tis the damn season
by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf
Harry returns to her small hometown over the holiday season and starts to think about the road not taken.
girl direction | explicit | 17k
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swiftieinbrazil · 1 year ago
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Even though I'm leavin' And I'll be yours for the weekend 'Tis the damn season
Taylor Swift performing 'tis the damn season at The Eras Tour in USA in 2023 - (x)
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katyswrites · 2 years ago
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i think about summer, all the beautiful times
a ‘tis the damn season story
SERIES
Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader
Warnings: Fluff (like, tooth-rotting fluff), Smut (18+), smoking, alcohol use, no use of y/n, just two crazy kids in love
Wordcount: 2k
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Author's note: So... I felt like writing a blurb. And, that blurb ended up being in the 'tis the damn season universe. I was inspired by summer and the 4th of July, so here you go! Please note that this takes place between the "now" (Winter 1988) and "later" (New Year's 1989) in the original fic. It's just a little glimpse into Steve and the reader's lives a bit into their real relationship, so enjoy, and happy 4th of July to my fellow Americans :)
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LATER, Summer 1989
The day is hot. It was the kind of heat that you can’t escape from, no matter how hard you try. The humidity is brutal, settling around you like a thick, wet blanket you can’t pull off of you. It feels like it seeps into your very bones. The only option is to be in the shade, or the pool. Which is where you find yourself now, blissfully submersed in the water. Music plays through the radio, right behind where Steve’s dad is flipping burgers. Steve’s mother sits with the other moms, including your own, sipping sangria and gossiping as they look on at the scene before them.
The Harringtons are hosting their annual 4th of July barbecue, much to your delight. Not that you are particularly fond of Steve’s parents - but, you couldn’t say no to the enticing idea of the pool. Besides, it was tradition. As kids, you and Steve would play Marco Polo, or see who could make the biggest cannonball with the other neighborhood kids. You would play for hours, until your fingers were pruny and your nearly boundless energy completely spent. Now, of course, things are different. 
“For the lady,” his voice says behind you. You turn, squinting up at the boy through the sun. Steve has a beer bottle in his extended hand, which you accept with a grin.
“Poolside service? Lucky me!” you joke, turning fully to face where he stands on the patio. He sits, letting his legs hang over the edge and submerge in the water. Without hesitation, you rest your head on his knee.
He gazes down at you, eyes soft with a big smile on his face.
“What is it?” you ask.
“Nothing,” he says. “You just look really pretty right now.”
“Ugh,” a voice says not-so-subtly behind you. You whip around to see Dustin mimicking a gagging motion, with Max rolling her eyes behind him.
“Can you guys, like, not do that here?” Max asks, crossing her arms under the water. 
“Says you,” Will chips in from where he sits on the opposite edge of the pool. “The other night you and Lucas were -”
Before he can finish, he’s met with a facefull of water as Max splashes him.
“Hey!” he yells, reaching down to splash her back. She disappears under the water before he can get payback.
You giggle, turning back to Steve.
“Remember when they were actual kids?”
“Yeah, well, they’re heading off to college soon enough.”
You groan, taking a sip of your beer.
“Thanks for reminding me,” you grumble. “We’re old.”
“So old,” he agrees.
You lift your head from his lap, placing the bottle on the edge and swimming backwards, staring up at him mischievously.
“You coming in, Harrington?” you ask sweetly. “I’m all by myself in here, you know.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s up, pulling his t-shirt over his head and quickly discarding it. You laugh as he backs up, shielding yourself as he runs to jump in. It’s no use - you’re covered in water, shrieking as Steve re-emerges a few feet away. 
“STEVE!” you cry, wiping some of the water off of your face.
“What?” he asks innocently, swimming over to you. His normally voluminous hair is slicked back now, his toned arms cutting through the water until he reaches you.
“You know what -”
He doesn’t let you finish, pulling you by the waist and into him, kissing you gently.
Your bare skin brushes against his, you bathing suit-clad bodies leaving little between you two. Your fingers find their way into his wet locks, earning a sigh from him against your lips.
Steve just is summer, you’ve realized. Yes, there’s always a part of you that will be fond of him in his winter coat, rosy-cheeked with snowflakes in his hair as he holds his scarf in your hand, at a loss for words illuminated in your front porch light. But really, he’s sunshine and chlorine, late-night dew and sunscreen, his skin tanned and hair lightened. He tastes a bit like beer as you kiss him, his sun-soaked body warm against yours.
“Gross,” another voice calls - Robin. You pull away from Steve, rolling your eyes at your friend where she stands on the pool’s edge. You stare at her over his shoulder, your hands draping around the back of his neck.
“Piss off, Robin,” you say playfully. 
Sometimes, Robin jokes that she liked it better when you and Steve weren’t speaking - usually after a get a room comment. You know that even she doesn’t believe she means that, though.
“Look out!” she cries. Before you can stop her, she’s jumping in, showering you and Steve in her wake. It soon devolves into a fit of giggles, the three of you soon joined by the younger gaggle of teens in a war of splashes. 
*****
There was one problem with days like these. As the afternoon wore on, you started becoming more impatient. Because, all through the hazy afternoon, no amount of jumping in the pool or eating Mr. Harrington’s soon-to-be famous hamburgers could stop you from wanting to touch Steve. Seeing his broad back, tanned under the sun, droplets of water running down his chest… it was driving you mad. Other than a stolen kiss here and there, the pair of you were on relatively good behavior - how could you not be? Under the watchful eye of your parents, neighbors, friends who had known you since you were children, you had almost no other choice.
No even in the dark of night, when a game of Flip Cup started with the older teens on the lawn did you dare try anything. For one, you were competitive. Across the makeshift folding table, sticky with spilled beer, you stared at Steve with determination as you matched up cups.
“I’m gonna kick your ass, babe,” he said playfully.
“I’d like to see you try, Harrington.”
You ended up beating Steve three times in a row, outdrinking him and earning whoops and cheers from your team, Robin throwing her arms around you and shouting suck it, Harrington!
But, you just found yourself staring at Steve, whose eyes were locked on you. He was smirking, as if to promise payback later.
The rest of the evening is everything that comes with the 4th of July - s’mores, hot and saccharine as they stuck to your fingers, Steve wiping errant marshmallow off of the corner of your mouth; fireworks, visible in the distance over the hill, illuminating the sky with dazzling bursts of color; and, a late night bonfire. You had thrown on one of Steve’s sweatshirts over your now-dry swimsuit, your hand entwined in his as you sit side-by-side in lawn chairs.
The party is winding down, with most of the stragglers being on the younger side. Robin sits across the fire, chatting with Max as Lucas is engrossed in a conversation about Dungeons & Dragons with Eddie Munson. Eventually, though, they leave too, thanking Steve for having them and something along the lines of see you soon.
The night is cooler now, but the blanket of humidity still cloaks the air. The heat of the fire is almost too intense, but a welcome warmth. You already know that Steve’s sweatshirt is going to smell like campfire smoke tomorrow, which makes you only want to hang onto it for a little longer.
You’re starting to get a bit sleepy, satiated and exhausted from the heat, barbecue, and booze-filled day. Steve’s thumb is circling your knuckles.
“You okay?” he asks you softly.
“Mm hm,” you respond noncommittally, the fire lulling you to sleep.
“Good,” he whispers, the sound of his voice much closer now. You feel the warmth of his lips press against your temple, and you sigh contentedly.
“You know - we’re really good at holidays,” you comment.
“Mm - the best. I think we should just celebrate a holiday every day.”
“Agreed.”
He chuckles softly, kissing the crown of your head before leaning back in his chair. Some comfortable silence falls, the space filled with the crackling of fire, cicadas, and the distant boom of fireworks - summer.
Soon, though, there’s a different kind of sound - a distant rumble. You blink your eyes open blearily, groaning.
“Please tell me those are more fireworks,” you say, squinting over the treeline. Then, a flash in the sky, and a crack.
“Shit, a storm,” Steve says, jumping up out of his seat. “We should get inside before -”
Another boom. And, in cruel irony, the skies open up. The thick heat of the day finally breaks, rain suddenly pelting down on you in heavy drops. 
“Oh shit -”
“C’mon!” you cry, taking his hand and booking it to the back door, running through the downpour until you’re in the house. The cool air conditioning hits your now-wet body, and both of you are practically giggling like children. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re both still slightly drunk, or that you’re tired and starting to get loopy, but it soon devolves into the two of you falling into a fit of giggles in Steve’s kitchen.
“Shhhhhh!” you whisper, betraying yourself with another fit of laughter. You lean on Steve for support, laughing into his shoulder.
“You shhh,” he counters, wrapping his arms around you and squeezing you tightly.
He holds you like that for a moment, the two of you rocking and swaying in the empty kitchen. The storm rages on outside, rain pattering against the roof accompanied by the occasional rumble of thunder.
“Steve?” you mumble into his shoulder.
“Mm?”
“I love you,” you murmur.
A pause, and you can swear you feel him physically relax beneath you.
“Love you more,” he replies, soft and sincere.
“Not possible.”
He chuckles quietly. Then, he stops and pulls back, staring into your eyes like you’re made of stars.
“What?”
Instead of answering, he tilts your chin with his fingers, and begins kissing you softly. You sigh into the kiss, pulling him closer. Soon enough though, what had started as sweet becomes heated, Steve groaning as your tongue finds its way into his mouth. It’s becoming just a bit sloppy, Steve’s fingers gripping your shoulders so hard you’re afraid they’ll bruise.
“Steve -” you breathe into his mouth.
“Mm - yeah - baby -”
“Can we take this upstairs?” you ask, voice heated.
“Yeah, but my parents are asleep… we need to be quiet -”
“With you, Harrington? Not a chance.”
Before he can respond, you’re turning to the stairs and running up them two at a time. You don’t even need to look back to know that he’s following you every step of the way, just as he always does in everything.
And that night, as Steve touches you and makes you see stars, it dawns on you for not the first time in your life just how lucky you are. Now, Steve is a part of you, half of a whole. He always has been, in a way, for as long as you can remember. As you make love, you remember all of those summer and winter nights spent in his room doing exactly this, discreetly and “as friends.” How gentle he was your first time, taking care of you like you were the most important thing in the world. You remember how you broke his heart, how you told him you loved him for the first time, and everything in between. As he’s kissing your skin, and whispering sweet nothings and praises down your body, you realize that you can’t be without this boy.
It’s afterwards that you finally ask the question, hands intertwined in the dark under twisted bedsheets.
“Come to New York with me,” you whisper through the darkness. A leap of faith.
He pauses, and for a moment, you’re terrified that you’ve said the wrong thing. That is, until he pulls you into a fierce kiss.
“Okay,” he breathes. “You and me, babe. Always.”
Author's note: I know it's short and sweet, but I hope y'all liked it. Let me know your thoughts in the tags, replies, reblogs, etc. Happy 4th of July to all who celebrate!
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'Tis The Damn Season
Javy 'Coyote' Machado x Reader
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Description: You've made your closest friends over the past decade as a Naval Aviator. That close friend group only expanded when your best friend fell in love when you were in flight school. Nat and Jake are cute together, you can't deny that. It helps that you get along well with Jake. Sadly, where Jake Seresin goes, so does Javy Machado. You can fly with the man, be the perfect wingman, but when both your feet are on the ground, you can't stand him. You're so sure the feeling is mutual. 48 hours in a car with him teaches you differently. Javy Machado is sweet and funny and you might just be falling in love with him. Or have you been in love with him all along?
Themes: Stuck in the snow, showers, shower-thoughts, hate-to-love, stranded in the snow,
Warnings: Female!Reader This fic is for adults age 18 and older, only! There are some fairly spicy thoughts in this part and 100% spicy happenings in the next part! Please do not read if sexual intimacy is disturbing to you!
Word Count: 3938
Author Note: This is part one of two of Gypsy and Javy's story and was written for @bellaireland1981's Winter RomCom Writing Challenge! I had an absolute blast writing this fic for Trope #17, Stuck Together/Snowed in/Stranded. I hope you all love reading this fic as much as I loved writing it! All my thanks go to @desert-fern who was instrumental as I bounced ideas back and forth for this fic, as well as for beta-reading it for me!
Cross Posted on AO3 Here!
My Masterlist
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It was supposed to be the start of a fabulous holiday - supposed to be, being the key words. It’s rare, honestly nigh on impossible for you to end up having vacation leave lined up at the same time as your friends. You’re in the Navy, you’re a pilot; it kind of comes with the territory. But what is the likelihood you’d find yourself stuck in a car in the middle of a Colorado snowstorm with none other than Javy Machado? You’re unsure who you should blame because the universe clearly has it out for you.
Well, it's either the universe or Natasha Fucking Trace. Honestly, between mystic powers controlling everything that has been or will be and Nat, you’d pick her any day. A part of you has some sympathy for her. It can’t be easy dating a guy and knowing your best friend and his can’t stand each other. It’s the truth, too. You can’t remember why or when you started to get angry at the sight of his smiling face. Still, it was probably sometime between when he asked you if you needed a booster seat to see out of the cockpit and when he blitzed you on the first of the many flights you’ve taken with him. 
Why the fuck isn’t he going home to Louisiana? That’s what he usually does. God, if there’s anyone who’d know, it would be you. After all, you’ve been flying with Coyote Machado for the better part of the past decade. Every year, he’d cash in all his leave and fly home. Like clockwork, he’d return after the new year more infuriating than ever. But your knowledge of his behavior doesn’t explain why he’s in Colorado. You were both on an aircraft carrier in the Philippines, for fuck’s sake. There had to have been a transport to Louisiana via the East Coast. But against all odds, the two of you had been on the same transport and flight, hell, even the same bus to the terminal once you landed in Denver.
Now he’s staring at the same board you are, with flickering red signs as flight after flight gets marked as canceled. Including the one you were supposed to be on. It’s just your luck that Tash and Jake are reporting to Norfolk Naval Base right now. It’s just your luck that the only transport you’d been able to get on had landed in San Diego. And it’s just your luck that the cheapest flight you could get had been via Denver in the midst of what has to be the worst snowstorm the region has ever seen. Reception is spotty, but you huddle in a corner, praying to all the gods you don’t believe in that your call connects.
“Tash?” Her voice is grainy and barely audible, but god, if it doesn’t make you want to cry. “I’m in Denver, yeah. There’s a colossal snowstorm blowing in. My flight’s been canceled.”
“I don’t think I’m going to make it in time.”
“I know.”
“I know. I’ve missed you so much. But I don’t see a way for me to get out of here and get there in time?” 
“Yeah, Javy’s here.” You can’t control your eye roll as you say his name. “Yeah, I’ll give him the phone.”
“Yo, Machado. Tash wants to talk to you.” He takes the phone from you like he doesn’t want to touch you, which shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.
It’s loud and crowded at the airport, so you can’t hear a word of what he says to Nat. There’s nothing else to do but stand at the window and watch the snow fall and fall and fall. There’s already close to a foot accumulated on the ground, and while you’d been wishing for the snow in the heat and humidity of the ship, you hate it now.
“Here, Gypsy.” You accept the device with a half-smile. “Tash had a pretty good idea, y’know?”
You can’t help raising your eyebrow. Javy swallows, more than a little discomfited at your gimlet gaze. “She suggested we rent a car and drive out to Norfolk together.”
Eighteen hundred miles, and he wants to spend all of that time and distance stuck in a car with you? You scoff, “You couldn’t pay me to do that, Machado.”
“Yeah, I know.” There’s something sad and haunted in his eyes. “I know. Believe me, I do. But this isn’t about you and me. This is about Jake and Nat. They want us there, celebrating Christmas with them. So don’t think about doing this with me. Think about how you’re doing this for them.”
Damn him. Damn him for being right. “How are we going to get a car in this?” People are yelling at the poor airline staff behind the counter, kids are screaming, and Christmas Carols are pouring out of the speakers. It’s chaos - loud, unmitigated chaos.
“You leave that to me. You have your bags?” Before you can think or even respond, he’s cutting a swathe through the crowd, and you’re left standing near two Navy standard-issue duffel bags and your one small rolling suitcase. It takes half an hour before he comes back. In that half an hour, you find you’re glad you’d opted for carry-on bags because the mob at the counter waiting to collect check-in bags descends into an outright fistfight.
Javy’s rumpled, his sweater mussed when he lopes back to you, thankfully with car keys in hand. “I got ’em. We have to head down to the main concourse.”
“Anything to get out of this shitshow.” He chuckles and grabs your bags and his own despite your protests.
The car is old but functioning. It’s tiny, though. It's so small that you’re not sure he’ll fit behind the wheel. It can’t be comfortable when he does end up in the car. It looks like his knees are pressed against his chest, even with the seat pushed back as far as it can go. You’re in the passenger seat because he refused to let you drive, and as expected, you’re surrounded by snow the minute the car leaves the parking garage. Visibility is shit, and it feels like the car is moving at a glacial pace. You’re surprised the roads are open at all, and to add insult to injury, you’re sitting in silence. The radio isn’t working, there is more snow - this time of the feedback variety, ironically - and the car is old, so there is no auxiliary cable or USB cable to connect your phone to. And, well, you’re not a fan of the man you’re stuck in the car with for the next 24 to 36 hours, so the less conversation you have, the better. It’s not even like you can read. You’ve only been on the road for an hour at most when the sun sets. But the roads are still open, and traffic is still moving.
As the minutes turn into an hour on the dark, snow-covered roads, you feel your exhaustion setting in. You’ve never slept well on planes - go figure that ninety percent of the time you’re in a cockpit, you’re flying - but flying commercial somehow makes it work. Strap yourself into a jump seat on a cargo plane, and you’re out like a light. Sleeping on a carrier with planes taking off round the clock and midshipmen screaming outside the door, you’re snoring like a baby. But flying economy? Forget about it. So, besides the few hours of fitful sleep you’d gotten on the cargo plane - because you can’t sleep where Javy Machado can make fun of you - you’ve been awake for nearly 48 hours. Your eyes feel itchy and hot, each blink torturous as you fight exhaustion. The car is so warm, and Javy's silent. Even he can't object if you rest your eyes a little, right?
You wake up to a roar of the word, ‘SHIT’, echoing through the car. You startle, and if you were a cat, you’d be stuck to the upper upholstery, fur ruffled and back arched. A coat covers your lap, the soft, rich wool imbued with spicy cologne. It has to be Javy's coat. When did that get there? The visibility out of the windshield is even worse, if possible, and Coyote’s arms are corded as they clutch the wheel in an iron grip.
“Hey, how long was I out?” He doesn’t even look at you when usually he’d be more than ready to tease you on how you probably have drool on your face.
“Coyote? ‘Yote? Hey?!”
“Javy? What’s going on?” You place your hand on his arm, pretending not to notice how firm and warm it is under the bunched-up sleeves of the soft sweater he’s wearing. “Javy, you’re scaring me. C’mon. Tell me what’s happening. What’s a wingwoman for if she can’t help?”
“We’re somewhere in Kansas, and the snow makes this really hard.” There’s something unreadable in the expression on his face as he snarls at the other, far slower drivers on the road in front of you.
“We should stop for the night then.” 
“No.” He snarls the words at you, and that’s when you know something is wrong. “No, I can keep going.”
“Javy, maybe you can, but I can’t. I need to take a break, hit the head, and stretch my legs.” 
He doesn’t respond, content to make you worry the longer the silence spirals between you like an oppressive living thing. He pulls off the highway when the next exit presents itself. The motel he pulls up to on the side of the road is rough-looking. It’s small and old, but at least it smells clean, or well, at least clean-ish. As luck would have it - because your luck couldn't be any shittier - there’s only one room left for the night. You slap your credit card down on the counter before he can object. He’s Javy Machado. You know what he’s like better than almost anyone else. You may not like him very much, but you can read all of the signs. He’s not the type to let a woman pay for anything, not when he can pay for her. He can take it up with you when he’s not acting weird.
You push him into the shower once you’re in the room, content to just sprawl out on the bed until he’s done. Really, all you're hoping is that the hot water is enough to snap him out of this eerily quiet, angry mood and back to the pain in your ass you're used to. When he steps out, it’s wrapped in one of the motel’s paper-thin towels, and you have to avert your eyes. There’s just a shadow of a smirk on his face as you pass under his arm with all of your clothes bundled up against your chest, trying and failing to avoid making eye contact with all of his wet, glistening muscles. It takes you far too long for your brain to reboot after that sight, and mortification and anger are your companions as you hurriedly strip off your snow-laden clothes.
You’re grumbling the entire time it takes the shower to heat up because it is not fair that Javy Machado looks like that under his uniform. No wonder every girl within a ten-mile radius of base wants to get into his pants. You step into the shower nearly too early, stifling squeals as the too-cold water splatters across your skin. After a few minutes of determined shivering, you finally step under the warming water, coming out in a steady, roaring stream. At least it’s getting hot now, though it’s not as hot as you’d like. You let the spray beat your muscles into submission, relishing the first moment you’ve had by yourself since you left the carrier fleet hours ago. But you’re left in peace only for a few moments. Unbidden, your one-track mind finds its thoughts consumed by Javy Machado again. It starts off with an innocuous thought, “How did a man that large fit into this tiny shower? He could probably see over the curtain rod!” Then you’re wondering if he’s alright. But as your soapy hands trace over your skin, you start to imagine other things. 
You start to imagine water droplets sliding over the ridges of his muscles, skating over defined abs, and collecting in the dip of his collar bones. His hands are big and calloused as they lather soap across his skin and then over yours. Shit! When did you start dreaming of yourself in the shower with Javy Machado? There’s an ache in your pelvis as you clench your thighs together as you dream of how those calloused fingers feel on your skin. You get yanked violently out of the vision when the water goes cold on you. It feels like you’ve been immersed in one of the snowbanks outside. You almost fall as you step out of the shower, but it’s silent. Your face is flushed in the fogged-up mirror, your eyes fever bright as your blood pulses in your veins in the same rhythm as your aching cunt. You inhale and exhale raggedly, trying to get your libido under control. Please let there be a bar near Nat and Jake’s place - please - you need to get fucked so bad that you’re fantasizing about your wingman, of all people, now. 
It’s getting cold in the bathroom as the steam dissipates when you finally pull yourself together and get dressed fast in a bid to escape the cold. But it is still silent outside the bathroom - almost too silent. You expect laughter at the very least when you open the door because your warmest pajamas are covered in dancing penguins. Instead, Javy’s sitting on the bed, staring out the open window at the milling snow, looking for all the world like he’s lost something he’s just found.
It’s cold in the room, the motel’s shitty heating is barely able to combat the frigid snow outside, and he’s not wearing a shirt. But he doesn’t even notice the gooseflesh on the smooth, broad expanse of his back and chest. The cold blue light reflecting off of the snow piling up outside makes the room even colder, casting deep purplish shadows over his face and making the room eerie. You check that the door is latched and bolted before walking back towards Javy. He doesn’t move a muscle when you take his hands in your own. They’re like ice. He doesn’t even seem to care when you put the pillows down and fish one of your warm fleece blankets out of your bag. Bless Nat and Jake for not having a fully set up guest room yet because there’s no way you’re sleeping in this bed using sheets you’re not sure are clean. The blankets you brought are going to be perfect for the night. He doesn’t move or do anything until you intertwine your fingers with his own and tug on his arm's broad, burly expanse. He lists to the side without protest, and now you know something is wrong. Javy's not the type to do anything quietly. He's the type to shit-talk all the way while flirting endlessly. He turns towards you as you tuck the blanket around his big form, and when you move to pull another blanket out, his hand tugs you in until you’re in his arms.
The pinched furrow creasing his brow finally dissipates slightly. Something’s wrong, and you’re not sure what it is. If this helps, you’ll stay where you are. After all, you’ve slept in far more uncomfortable beds with much worse companions. Javy smells incredible, like soap, cologne, and something you can't place. You curl in closer despite yourself, letting him drag the blanket even further up around your shoulders. Everything is muffled around you. All you can hear is your breath and the soothing thud of his heart. It would be easy to curl in and fall asleep, but you can’t until you know your wingman is alright. But he seems content to lie there, brown eyes glittering with emotions you couldn’t read even if you tried. There’s barely any space between the two of you. Every breath you take has your chest brushing against his.
With the howling wind and the tink of snow against the window, you feel like you’re in a dream. Finally, Javy’s eyes close, even if he is still indescribably tense. You can feel it in the arms wrapped around you and in the muscles jumping in his jaw. His eyes fly open when your fingers trace the stressed tendons lightly.
“What’re you doing, Gypsy?” You’re unsure how to respond; instead, you trace your fingers over the furrow in his brow. Maybe your touch will wipe the stress frown away from his usually jovial face?
“You’re being awfully sweet, Gyppie.” You snort at the diminutive form of your already short callsign. “And here, I thought you hated me.”
Your gasp is barely audible, but you’re sure he can hear it anyway. “You never let it affect things between us when we fly, but I know you can’t stand me.”
“I’ve spent over a decade wondering why.” His next exhale is a harsh whoosh of breath. “But you’ve never told me, and right now, I think I know exactly why. It’s just me, isn’t it, Gyp? Just me and everything that I am.”
Your voice feels stuck. Trapped, lost, chained up behind a decade of hatred, hatred which wavers like it’s standing on a stool that may just have had all of its legs cut out from under it. You curl into Javy’s embrace, wrapping your arms around his waist like it’ll show him you feel differently. Because you do. At first, you had hated Javy Machado. You hated his effortless grace, charm, and ability to pick up concepts you’d had to work to understand yourself. But then he’d been persistent, and you’d been thrust into his company by the presence of Nat and Jake. 
That’s when you’d been able to see past the bravado, the mask he put on every day. That’s when you’d fallen headlong into a more profound and long-lasting crush than any relationship you’d found yourself in. But by the time you realized your feelings, he’d picked up on your stand-offish behavior and realized he couldn’t befriend you. Your crush never faded, but it’s evident that Javy had noticed your initial feelings and acted accordingly. But why would he blame everything that happened on himself?
“I know you’re probably wondering why I’m not home for the holidays right now.” What does that have to do with what he was just talking about? “Just chalk it up to another textbook case of me being myself.”
“I can't say I didn't wonder. But it's not my place to poke and pry. Why you're not heading home to Mama Machado is your business.”
“But you can't deny that you're curious, can you?” You shrug as much as you can with your arms wrapped around him.
“Of course you're curious. But how could I have gone home, Gyppie? How?” There's so much pain in his voice as he growls the words out.
He goes silent then, a frown creasing his face as his jaw moves under your fingertips. Your gentle touch doesn’t seem to bother him, just like the prickle of his stubble doesn’t bother you. In another world, in another life, could you have been sleeping every night in his arms like this? You’re not sure you deserve it. Javy was right earlier. You’ve been rude ever since the day you met him. Would anything have changed if you’d acted differently? If you’d been shy and withdrawn instead of angry and argumentative? That water’s long since flowed under the bridge. Too much time, too much history, too much animosity. All you can hope to do is listen. For your wingman, that’s the least you can do.
But your little nap in the car hadn’t been of much use. The longer you spend pressed against the human equivalent of a space heater, the sleepier you feel. You have to stay awake. This could be your one chance to go from rivals or enemies or colleagues to friends. Maybe you could even casually ask Javy to grab a beer after the holidays? But the first step to all of that is to stay awake.
His hands slide up until they're cradling the back of your head, pulling your face level to his own.
“You're not falling asleep on me, are you, Gyppie?” You shake your head wordlessly, captivated by how you can feel his breath against your lips, practically taste the mint from his toothpaste, and how you could kiss him if you leaned in just a bit further.
“It's okay if you do. You barely slept on the plane. My problems don't mean a thing in the face of your exhaustion.” Once again, you're speechless. How is he so selfless? How did you not notice before this very moment?
“I'm okay, Javy. Tell me one thing that's bothering you, the most important thing.” Your voice is the barest whisper, a sigh as he maneuvers you closer and traps your feet between his calves.
“Well, your feet are like itty-bitty ice cubes, Gyppie. The fuck did you do? Stick ‘em in a snowbank before you get into bed?” You gasp and growl playfully at him, pushing at his chest until he pulls you in even closer.
“But in all seriousness, you've been wondering why I didn't go home.” His words are expelled on exhales of breath, just as quiet as yours were earlier, spilling out in stops and starts. “I can't go home, Gyppie. My brother's wedding is on Christmas Day. But it's not that I'm against my brother's marriage. It's more like his fiancée is against having me there.”
You can’t believe anyone would go so far as to ban Javy from his brother's wedding just because she didn't want him there. You cup his jaw gently, letting your hand curl around to cradle the back of his in a position mirroring how he's still holding you.
“You want to know the kicker, Gyppie? She was my fiancée first. She dumped me because she couldn't stand the deployments and fell into bed with my brother days after.” 
“What a stupid thing to do.” You're no longer looking into his eyes, focused on his collarbones. “That was a dumb move, and you know it, Machado. She just alienated herself from most of your family. Your Mama first and foremost.”
His laughter has you giggling, too. When your laughter and his finally taper off, you're left to marvel at how much things have changed.
“You want to know the best part?” You hum in response. “The reason why we broke up was because I was already in love with someone else.”
He doesn’t wait for you to ask or even allow you a chance to get past your shock. His hands tip your head up again until you're face to face, and he kisses you, slow and sweet. Your moan takes you by surprise as you try to pull him even closer, letting him imprison you in his embrace.
“Fuck, this Christmas would've been so different if I'd just told you how much I loved you before we left flight school, Gyppie.” 
This time, you tug him in, kissing him slow and sweet until there's molten lava in your veins and there's snow in your mind. It's beginning to feel like a holly jolly Christmas indeed.
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I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR ON TUMBLR BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR TUMBLR, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.
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Taglist:
@chaoticassidy @kmc1989 @shanimallina87 @desert-fern @horseshoegirl @dakotakazansky @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun @footprintsinthesxnd @roosterforme @beyondthesefourwalls @mak-32 @thedroneranger @cherrycola27
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chicgeekgirl89 · 5 months ago
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Inspiration Saturday
Thanks to @strandnreyes for the tags!
I am VERY excited about what this fic could be. I've had my eye on this song for awhile and I think I can finally do something with it!
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Tagging @lemonlyman-dotcom, @ladytessa74, @bonheur-cafe, @liminalmemories21,
@carlos-in-glasses, @heartstringsduet, @nisbanisba, @ironheartwriter, and anyone else who would like to share!
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swiftpolls · 1 month ago
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luvfy0dor · 1 year ago
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Evermore best Taylor Swift album (through tears)
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cametotheshowinsd · 2 years ago
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Can I ask you a question...?
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taylorswifttournament · 9 months ago
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Lyrics under the cut
‘tis the damn season    
Sleep in half the day just for old times' sake I won't ask you to wait if you don't ask me to stay So I'll go back to LA and the so-called friends Who'll write books about me if I ever make it And wonder about the only soul Who can tell which smiles I'm fakin' And the heart I know I'm breakin' is my own To leave the warmest bed I've ever known We could call it even Even though I'm leaving And I'll be yours for the weekend ​'Tis the damn season
august   
Back when we were still changin' for the better Wanting was enough For me, it was enough To live for the hope of it all Cancel plans just in case you'd call And say, "Meet me behind the mall" So much for summer love and saying "us" 'Cause you weren't mine to lose You weren't mine to lose, no
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reescrever-as-estrelas · 25 days ago
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🏠 Hometown (fanfic) by @writingwife-83
🎶 Fanfic inspired by Taylor Swift songs:
- Chapter 1: "'tis the damn season"
- Chapter 2: "Dorothea"
- Chapters 3 and 4: "Labyrinth"
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lastchristmas · 1 month ago
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fave evermore lyrics so far for it's birthday?
HAPPY BDAY EVERMORE!!
currently: there's an ache in you put there by the ache in me, but if it's all the same to you, it's the same to me
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hope-ur-ok · 2 years ago
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Hi! Thank you so so much for making and posting the surprise songs and more! I was wondering if you had done tis the damn season or could if you haven’t already?
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A Hazy Shade of Winter
Javy 'Coyote' Machado x Reader
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Description: It feels like something has inexplicably changed between you and Javy Machado during your two day drive across the country. He's different with you, kinder, sweeter, and softer. It's a side of him you could easily fall in love with. But before you drum up the courage to broach the topic with him, the two of you are in Jake and Nat's cute little house in Virginia and it feels like the moment is gone. One soak in a hot tub affirms your feelings and Javy's. The hours following are more fulfilling than you ever would have expected. All you can thank are Jake and Nat's hot tub.
Themes: Hot tubs, hot tub sex, shower-sex, falling in love, winter
Warnings: Female!Reader This fic is for adults age 18 and older, only! There are spicy happenings in this part! Please do not read if sexual intimacy is disturbing to you!
Word Count:
Author Note: This is part two of Gypsy and Javy's story and was written for @bellaireland1981's Winter RomCom Writing Challenge! I had an absolute blast writing this fic for Trope #17, Stuck Together/Snowed in/Stranded. I hope you all love reading this fic as much as I loved writing it! All my thanks go to @desert-fern who was instrumental as I bounced ideas back and forth for this fic, as well as for beta-reading it for me!
Read 'Tis the Damn Season here!
Cross Posted on AO3 Here!
My Masterlist
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Something has unraveled between you and Javy Machado since that night. There are tiny gossamer ribbons of emotion, of trust stretching out from your ribcage to his, anchored within the beat of your heart and his. You've been talking as the hours turn into days with nobody else for companionship. You've talked about anything and everything, from your childhood to his, to childhood rituals and challenging duty stations. But you’ve never once addressed the kiss - kisses, really. It feels like electricity is zipping through your veins with each stolen glance, each languid glimpse you steal of his physique from the corner of your eyes.
Just as you ask him why he kissed you, if he meant what he said about being in love with you, the car jolts to a halt. It’s early, bright, and bitterly cold, a fact Tash does not appear to notice with how she’s waving excitedly from the front porch. You feel for Jake in that moment. Unlike her boyfriend, who is bundled up in a thick coat, boots, and jeans, Tash is just wearing leggings and a baggy bright orange Longhorns Jersey. You can see she’s wearing flip-flops on her feet, and you pray you’re headed back inside soon before she gets sick.
“You made it!” She’s practically dancing when you make your way onto the porch laden with your bags and a not considerable amount of snow. “I had my doubts, you know? I wasn’t sure you could make it with Javy halfway across the country without murdering him.”
 “It was a near thing, Tash.” You shrug as Jake opens the door for you, shivering at the blast of heat washing over you as you set your bags in a pile in the foyer.
“Hey, Jake.” Unencumbered, you hug your friends, giggling as Jake hoists you up and spins you around in a circle. Then you get wrapped up in a warm hug from Tash and dragged through the house. You can vaguely hear Jake and Javy following behind the two of you as you walk through the house, laughing and catching up. The culmination of the tour is a bedroom.
“So, Gypsy, this is the guest bedroom.” The bedroom is beautiful, painted soft cream with white wood furniture. It feels like summer in a room. But when you mention as much, you’re surprised to see Tasha’s mouth fall open in surprise.
“What?” You need coffee for this, please. Jake and Tasha just share a look with each other. The room feels stifling as you look between your friends, and surprisingly, it’s Javy who puts you out of your mystery.
“Gyppie, I think Tash means that this is the only guest bedroom.” You turn then, taking in the queen bed at the center of the room. 
“Oh.” You turn back to Javy and smile just a little. “I’ll take the window side of the bed, then.”
“That works for me.” He hands you your bags with a grin of his own. “You forgot these downstairs.”
“Thanks, Javy.” 
“Gypsy?” You turn to look at your best friend, unsure of what her tone means, though you can see a shocked expression on her face. “Come on down to the kitchen with me. I have coffee down there. I think we need to talk.”
You follow your best friend easily, smiling as Javy squeezes your hand in his as you pass. It’s an action that both Jake and Tash see, and as you follow Tash down the stairs, you can see the questions floating around her head.
“Do you still take your coffee with an obscene amount of cream and a spoonful of sugar?” You nod and accept the hot mug, letting Tash drag you to sit at the kitchen table. 
“What the hell was that?” She’s adopted her gossiping position, one leg curled under her butt as she leans forward. The big jersey’s sleeves cover her hands as they clutch her mug. Unconsciously, you end up mirroring her position, sipping on your coffee and letting the caffeine hit your stomach as you think of what to say. 
“What was what, Tash?”
“You didn’t fight about sharing a bed with Javier Machado! That’s what.” You shrug. 
“Things have changed, Tash.” At her snort, you find yourself spilling the beans. The night in the motel room, miles away, feels like a dream. Her squeal when you get to the kiss nearly deafens you.
“He kissed you!” She sounds practically giddy with glee, her eyes bright as she looks at you across the warm wood table. “And you kissed him back!”
“So, what now? Does this mean you’re in a relationship with him now?” 
“I wish I knew, Tash. We haven’t talked about it.” Her mouth parts in dismay.
“Is that why you haven’t objected to sharing a bedroom with him?” You nod sheepishly. “Is there anything Jake or I can do to help?”
“Not really, Tash. We just have to communicate. Communicate like we’ve never been able to before this. It's just…” You sigh softly. “It feels right, spending time with him. It feels right in a way nothing else ever has. I have butterflies, literal, actual butterflies in my stomach when I talk to him. I used to think that feeling was hatred. But the past few days have taught me differently.”
“I’ll see what I can do to make sure you have some time together, Gyp. I’ll make sure Jake knows, too.” You smile softly and change the subject. You’re not sure you could face either of the men overhearing this particular conversation.
“So what’s it been like - having your own house and living with Jake?” It was the right question to ask. Her face lights up as she discusses buying furniture and decorating the house. You haven’t seen her this happy in a very long time. You get absorbed in the conversation and manage to forget the question of what Javy and you are for half an hour more. 
You get yanked out of your cozy conversation when Jake clatters into the kitchen. Javy follows at his heels, the scent of his cologne preceding him. 
“The shower’s all yours, Gyppie.” You hand Jake your empty mug and move to leave the kitchen.
“Wait a sec, Gyp.” You turn to look at Jake. “I’m making brunch now, and we didn’t have anything planned for today. If either of you feels like taking a dip in the hot tub out back, you’re welcome to.”
You wave your goodbyes and head up to take a hot shower. The bathroom is still neat, with only a little bit of steam in the air. It feels amazing to wash off the dirt of traveling cross country in a car. By the time you leave your room, the house smells deliciously of coffee and breakfast. Your stomach rumbles as you accept your laden plate and settle in next to Javy at the table to eat your meal. The atmosphere is light as you talk and laugh, catching up. Javy’s hand finds its way to your thigh under the table, and that one point of contact makes heat slide through your system.
In the mid-afternoon, after Jake drags Tasha into their bedroom for a nap, which you’re almost 90% sure isn’t a nap at all, you walk up into your room to change into your bikini for a soak in the hot tub. Javy has obviously had the same idea because he’s standing in the room in a pair of yellow swim trunks with red lines going down them. The sight makes you drool a little bit because the shorts are just a bit too short, revealing the mouth-watering expanse of his tanned, strong thighs and his truly enviable six-pack abs. You grab your bikini and excuse yourself to the bathroom, uncomfortably aware of the flush in your cheeks and the dazed look in your eyes as you change into the simple black fabric.
You pull on a pair of sweats and exit to an empty bedroom. You can faintly hear a moan from behind the closed door of the master bedroom, and you make your escape. Tash might be your best friend, but you don’t need to know what she sounds like in bed. You let yourself out via the kitchen door and toddle carefully out to the hot tub. The ground is covered in a layer of frost, and you’re underdressed for this weather. Thankfully, you’re not going far. The hot tub is at the bottom of the backyard in a little shed. The gate’s open when you step through, the cover off and the water steaming in the cold air. Javy’s already in the tub, languid in the bubbling water. His clothes are on a bench in the back, and you set your towel next to his. Your skin prickles with goosebumps as you drag your sweats off, shuddering as you fold the garments up and set them near your towel.
“Come on in, the water’s perfect.” Javy’s eyes are dark as they drag over your form. Your nipples pucker into hard peaks at the sight before you. It takes you several moments to screw up all of your courage and step in. The water feels nearly too hot on your chilled skin, but once you’re in the tub up to your collarbones, you feel a little bit less exposed.
“That bikini looks amazing, Gyppie.” If you were flushed earlier, you’re even more so now.
“It’s just a plain black bikini.” You deflect, “It’s nothing special.”
“I’d argue that it is.” You jump when his hand wraps around your ankle. “It’s borderline indecent how two small triangles of fabric make your tits look mouthwatering. I haven’t seen your ass, but I’m sure it looks fabulous too.”
You chuckle awkwardly because you don’t know how to respond. You’re not sure why Javy’s being so profuse with compliments. He was the person who seemed so content with not addressing the kisses from the motel. Now he’s got his hands on your skin and complimenting your body?
“At least come here, sweetheart.” There’s a soft smile on his face, his strong fingers rubbing circles against your ankle. “I can’t see you through all the steam.”
It feels like you’re in a trance as you take his hand and let yourself be pulled into his lap. This close, you can feel the muscles of his thighs flex under your thighs. 
“Much better, sweetheart.” His hands are on your waist, thumbs resting just against the underside of your breasts.
“What’s going on? What happened to my bold, pretty Gypsy who kissed me like that in that motel room?” You freeze from where you’d been slowly acclimatizing yourself to sitting in his lap. “I can’t believe this shy little thing is her.”
“I…” To your embarrassment, you stutter a little at his earnest question, and you can’t meet his eyes. “I’m not usually like this.”
“Is this just another thing that’s a reaction to me, then?” His hands slide up, hot and wet, to draw your face up until your eyes are level with his own.
“Why are you doing this, Javy?” Of all the questions you were expecting to fly out of your mouth, this wasn’t one.
“I thought I told you why in that motel room.” You gasp. “I’m in love with you, Gypsy. I always have been.” It’s when he repeats the words with your name that you start to believe him.
This time, you initiate the kiss, smiling when you feel his grin against your mouth. He takes control soon afterward, licking into your mouth in languid strokes that have heat spiraling through your veins. Your chest heaves when he pulls away. Despite the hot water lapping over your chest, you have goosebumps across your arms, and your nipples are hard. You feel special in his gaze.
“What’re you thinking about, hmm, Gyppie?” His hands haven’t strayed from their place on your ribcage, no matter how much you’d like them to.
“I’m thinking about how stupid I’ve been by denying how electric I feel in your presence.” 
His laugh takes your breath away. “Those are awfully big words for somebody wriggling on my lap like this.”
When you move to stop, he tugs you in closer. “I didn’t say, stop, baby. I think I might die if you do.”
Javy kisses down the side of your throat, the wet slide and suction robbing any sense you have. You’re powerless to do anything but moan as those big hands undo the tie of your bikini and as his mouth dips lower and lower. The heat languishing in your belly burns in a sharp, stinging ache as his parted mouth meets the peak of your breast. You shudder and curl a hand in his hair. That vicious ache between your thighs pulses in beat with your rushing blood. You whimper, honest-to-god whimper, when he pulls away.
“C’mon, baby.” You let Javy pick you up and carry you out of the tub. “I’m not going to fuck you in here. Let’s get back into the house, okay?” 
You nod dumbly, not sure where to look or how to act when there is so much arousal in your veins. He dries you off carefully, kissing the swell of your breasts before tugging your sweatshirt back over your head and your pants up your legs. You observe as he turns off the tub and the lights and let him lead you back into the house. Your bikini is trapped in your hands, and your lips feel swollen with the force of his kisses. Thankfully, the house is still silent, barring the occasional gasp from the master bedroom, as you close the door to the guest room and lock it.
This leaves you looking right at Javy, seeing the heat in his gaze.
“I'm going to take a shower.” You murmur, turning your back to him as you tug the damp clothing off in his view. There's a foreign confidence in your veins as you untie the bikini bottoms and let them smack, water-laden as they are, on the tile floor. When you step under the hot stream, you're praying that Javy understands what you want. You're not sure you can take the mortification of being wrong when you have to share a bed with him.
You're more than pleased to find you're not wrong when arms wrap around your bare form minutes later. He's hard against your butt, and his hands are very busy mapping your skin.
“Been dreaming about this, baby.” His voice is a guttural moan, which has you melting in his big, calloused hands. “Gonna make you feel so good.” 
You whimper when his hands leave your skin. You can't believe your eyes when you turn around because he's kneeling on the tile as the water rains onto his upturned face.
“Can I eat you out, baby?” You nod and let him manhandle you with your leg over his shoulder. The first swipe of his tongue through your folds has you seeing stars. His big hands hold your thighs open as they shake under the onslaught, soothingly massaging the muscles as they tense and your toes curl in pleasure. You twist your nipples, tugging on the hard peaks in a near rhythm to his tongue as your body crashes towards your first orgasm in months. Everything feels sensitive as the band in your belly tightens, the pressure making your thighs quake as you bite your lips.
When his lips wrap around your swollen clit, he sucks gently as you cum with a garbled screech of his name. Your hips buck wildly as your back arches. When Javy slides his way back up to standing in front of you, he has to tease your lips out from between your teeth.
“Aww, baby, look at you. My beautiful Gypsy-girl.” There's naked affection in his gaze as he kisses you. Your eyes flutter slowly closed as he kisses you.
“Javy?” He hums in response, hands busy squashing your ass. “What about you?”
“Aren't you still, you know, hard?” Your voice is a whisper barely audible over the drumming water.
“How could I be when I have a beautiful thing falling apart on my tongue?” You're giggling into the kisses he lays across your mouth.
Your daydream in the motel shower was right. Javy Machado's hands are the perfect fit for your curves, the rough pads of his fingers so gentle as they massage soap across your skin. You hope that your hands feel just as perfect on his skin as you return the favor.
“You're mine, now, Gypsy.” Javy keeps murmuring the words possessively into your ears. It sounds almost like he's reassuring himself that you're truly here, in his arms, despite your murmurs back in the affirmative.
His gaze is unbelieving when you push him onto the bed, still damp, and crawl over him. His body responds to your touch as you pepper kisses down his chest, pressing one featherlight kiss against his cock. You can already taste the salty-sweet tang of his precum as you slide back up and capture his mouth into another kiss. This kiss is punctuated by his moans as you work over his length, using your own arousal to ease the way.
His gasp is in perfect harmony with your own as you ease yourself onto his length. He's big, and he feels even better than he looks as you sink inch by excruciating inch down his length.
“God, baby.” You preen in your position atop him, soaking in the pure love in his voice. “You feel so good, baby. Make me cum, baby doll. Go on.”
The order, coupled with your arousal, has you lifting yourself up and settling back down, over and over. You're chasing the high of your last orgasm once again, everything fever-hot as you take your pleasure. When your steady rhythm falters as your thighs burn, Javy flips you onto your back. His muscular body heaves over you, his eyes dragging torturously over your spit-slicked, parted lips, your erect nipples, and your puffy cunt.
“Gypsy, you look so perfect.” His words are worshiping, his cock sliding over your wet heat as he kisses your neck. The sharp sting of his teeth against your pulse, coupled with the blunt press of his cock has your back arching and a moan tumbling out of your mouth. Now, the pace is brutal. His lips are bared in a growl as his muscles glisten with sweat. The bedroom is filled with the smack of skin against skin, and unbidden, you can feel another orgasm coming over you.
Javy doesn't help that, not when he kisses you filthily and growls, “Feel so good, baby. My pretty Gypsy girl feels like she's gonna cum, huh? Her little pussy fluttering around me?”
You can’t respond in anything other than gasps or moans. All your thoughts are driven out by the press of his skin against your own. The two of you cum together, muffling your pleasure against each other's skin. You find yourself in the shower again once you can feel your feet, this time sharing lazy kisses as you melt into his arms.
When Tash and Jake walk down the stairs an hour later, your hair is a damp mess around your face. There's pasta sauce bubbling on the stove and garlic bread in the oven. A bottle of wine is breathing on the dining table, but neither you nor Javy care. Not when he's got you caged up against the counter, kissing you as you try to sing along to the music playing softly from the speakers. There's snow falling to the ground outside, but in the house, everything feels warm and bright.
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