Josh-Hutcherson-fanfiction

Professor Hutcherson (NC-17)

“Miss Monroe, you have some explaining to do.”


I furrowed my eyebrows. “What do you mean?”


Professor Hutcherson adjusted his tie and replied, “You haven’t turned in your 9 page essay. I even gave you an extension until midnight to get it emailed, and so far, you’ve came up short handed.”

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Under the Tree - A Joshifer One shot

As the television screen mounted across from me begins to roll the credits of The Big Lebowski, I grip the blanket wrapped around my waist and pull it up tightly under my chin. Even with my legs curled up beneath me and a blanket covering ninety percent of my body I still feel cold. The glow from the laptop beside me illuminates the small spot on the couch I have claimed for the better part of the day. Josh is sitting beside me, mac book propped up on his lap as his legs and feet extend to the coffee table where they rest, crossed and relaxed. I lean to the side and nuzzle my head under his elbow until he finally relents and lifts his arm, allowing me to nestle into his side. His hand falls around my shoulder and comes to a rest, his fingers just underneath the blankets edge.

“Will you go with me?” I whine into the soft cotton of his t-shirt.

He chuckles softly as he adjusts to using his left hand only to click through the website he’s on, “To New York? Don’t you think Nick would be a little pissed off? Besides, aren’t your parents going with you?”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to go period. I just want to stay here. We finally get to hang out again and I’m off doing press or you’re off doing Claudia.” I try and hide the way my voice drops off at the end, but he catches me, like he always does.

I try not to let his relationship with Claudia bother me, but I can’t help the faint hurt that resonates in my heart when I think about it. I know we both decided that whatever we had brewing earlier this year was amazing, but we were both afraid to ruin it. Too much time away from each other, being separated by continents, it’s what ruined Nick and I last year. Josh and I didn’t want to see us get to that point. Neither of us foresaw what was coming.

Claudia really took a liking to Josh. I can’t blame her; there isn’t anyone I’ve ever met who doesn’t love him within five minutes of meeting him. According to Josh, it started out innocent enough. She was playful, almost like a school girl. And he was really relying on her as a guide and language expert, but soon she was his friend. She was someone who would spend dinners talking his ear off, or breaks in between shoots teaching him something new. Things I used to do. It progressed slowly and finally in June he called me to tell me that they were dating. I was happy for him. As much as I missed him, I knew that he was having a rough time in Panama and he told me Claudia was making the difference. That was enough for me. If she made him happy, I was happy for them.

While Josh was busy falling for Claudia, Nick and I were rekindling our friendship. I was happy to have him around again. We both heavily debated whether we should give our relationship another try. The biggest issue we had between us was that neither one of us really had been devoting enough time to the other. We both took stock of our schedules and decided that if he was ready to try, I was too. It’s a comfortable familiarity with Nick. I love him. I know this. I always will honestly. He was the first man I considered a future with. But if I’m being honest with myself, he’s not the only man I’ve seen a future with. When before all I was daydreaming about were blue eyed children running around a quint countryside home on the outskirts of London, now sometimes I find myself picturing hazel eyed children chasing after their dad as they bounce up and down on matching four wheelers in rural Kentucky.

During the latest press tour for Catching Fire, I was reminded of just how deeply Josh is attached to me. I missed him like crazy before, but now, even with a day or two in between our schedules I feel like I’m missing a limb. It’s put me in a rather precarious position. Nick and I are doing well, Josh and Claudia are doing well, but I am yearning to dive head first into a conversation of ‘what-if’s’ with Josh. See how he’s feeling about us. About what we had, about where we could go. Does he even think of me like that anymore?

Until I muster the courage needed to engage in such a talk, I’ll just keep him planted as near to me as possible. We basically spend every waking moment we can with each other. If I can’t have him as more, I’ll be damned if he doesn’t remain my best friend.

“…scheduled for tomorrow.”

I look up at his illuminated features and realize he’s been talking and I have completely zoned out.

He turns his focus from the screen and looks down at me with a coy smile, “You didn’t hear a thing I just said did you?”

I let out a breathy laugh and lay my head against his chest as his hand begins to caress my shoulder, “Sorry.”

He kisses the crown of my head, “You’ll be fine. You’ll see Brad and David and everyone else. You’ll have a blast. I know you will. Then you can go shopping with your mom. Go see the tree in Rockefeller. New York during the holidays is so much fun.”

“See, you should come with me! That way we can go have fun! And when I bust my ass ice skating you’ll be there to laugh at me.”

I feel his chest vibrate with his laugh and it brings a smile to my face. As a quiet moment falls over us, I allow my eyes to roam the living and dining room of my rental house here in Atlanta. It’s a nice place, but lacking in holiday spirit. It’s kind of depressing actually. “It doesn’t even feel like Christmas.”

“What do you mean?” he muses as he continues clicking through the vintage stocks on a clothing site.

“I mean, there’s no decoration, no snow. It just feels blah. Mom and Dad’s house it decked out to the nines right now.”

“Last year we were in Hawaii and you didn’t complain.”

“Hey, they at least put stockings in our trailer. We got noth’n this year.”

He pokes my side with his elbow, “Hey now, don’t go crying. You’ll make the face.”

“I’m not crying.” I state stubbornly, “And what face? I make a face?”

He laughs gleefully, “You know! The platypus face! The one you make when you’re fake crying or full on crying. You know, it makes deciphering when to laugh very difficult.”

I punch him playfully in the chest, “Nu-uh!”

“Come on Jen, do it!”

“No!”

“Please? For me? Pretty please?”

I look up and see his eyes shining as he smiles at me. Finally I concede, “Ok. But this is your Christmas present.” I scrunch my face and then puff my lower lip out.

He laughs and kisses my cheek, “Best Christmas present ever. Thank you.”

I bury my head in the crook of his neck, “Asshole” I mumble.

“You love me” he breathes out.

I don’t say anything back, fearful that I’ll betray myself in the moment, so I elect to stay quiet. The air between us settles and silence takes over before I sigh with longing.

Josh leans forward a bit and closes the laptop before sliding it onto the table, “What can I do to make you happy?” He’s not being snarky, he’s not being facetious, his tone is genuine and it nearly causes a flood of confessions regarding my feelings to come pouring out of my mouth.

With another heavy sigh I reply, “Nothing. I’m just being whiney.”

“Here,” he says while reaching for his laptop again and opening it, “Maybe this’ll help just a little.” He types in some phrases and soon the bright luminescence is replaced by a screensaver with a crackling fire, a twinkling Christmas tree, and snow falling silently out the small window in the scene. He reaches forward, pulling me with him, and sets it back atop the table to play before us. Then he pulls his cell phone from his pocket and launches his Pandora app. The sounds of Josh Groban’s “Believe” fill the air and he drops the phone beside the laptop. We fall back against the plush couch and he pulls me tighter to him. He finds the remote and turns the television off.

I pull the corner of the blanket from behind me and wrap it around his broad shoulders and drape the excess over his legs until we’re both covered. The warmth that radiates from his body seeps into my own like a sweet poison, coaxing me into a lulled state of relaxation. I watch the small screen in silence for a few minutes, taking in just what a beautiful gesture this was. I allow myself a moment of bravery and I let my hand crawl across his solid torso and grip his side, holding him to me.

“Thank you Josh,” I whisper into the quiet room, “for everything.”

“Anything to make you happy Jen.”

“You…” I pause to release a new found yawn and then continue, “…make me happy.”

I close my eyes as his lips find my forehead and allow the soft sounds of Christmas as well as the gentle breathing beside me take me under into a dreamless sleep.

+ + + +

I’ve been in New York six hours already, done fourteen press junkets, and have yet to eat lunch. I am not a happy girl. I get that some people want to live off water, but I am not one of those people. And if I have another person offer me protein shake, I’m gonna scream. Mom and Dad have been with me since the airport and I’m grateful they are. Mom has managed to sneak me a donut or two from the press room. Bless that woman. Dad can see me beginning to break; he’s pulled me aside and given me about three pep talks today. It’s not that I don’t want to promote the film, or that I’m not glad to see everyone, I’m just exhausted. I feel like all I’ve done is promote films. Even with a ten day break, I still feel like I’ve done nothing but go, go, go.

My mood wasn’t enhanced this morning when I woke up alone. Apparently, at some point in the night Josh carried me to bed. I woke up wrapped in the blanket we were cuddled in and his scent lingering on the material. I crept out of my room, bringing the blanket with me, wound tightly around my frame, hoping that I would catch a glimpse of him sleeping on my couch. But he was gone, and all the warm feelings he gave me last night along with him. The house was cold and empty.

Not the best way to start a press day.

I did have a bright spot in my day however. I was able to sit down with my other Josh, or that’s what I call him anyway. When I saw the schedule bore the name Josh Horowitz, I released a sigh so loud it caught the attention of nearly everyone in my suite. He was next to last on the list. My bright spot in the day. The interview was fun, as it always is. It did make me miss my Josh though. We’re nearly always together when Horowitz is interviewing. And it didn’t help when Horowitz threw in a “This or That” question between Josh and Bradley. Of course I didn’t make my choice known, I love both those guys dearly, but my love for Josh is much deeper and on a different level completely.

So now, at one o’clock in the afternoon I am sitting in my suite combing the room service menu and contemplating how much of everything I can shove into my mouth before the premier tonight. I hear the door open and I lower the menu to peek at my newest time requirement. Liz walks furiously toward my mom and dad with a look of confusion on her face. I just pull the menu back up and pretend not to care too much. I’m sure it’s nothing.

“Jennifer.”

My publicists strained voice catches my attention, “Yeah?”

Liz steps before me and sits down on the table where my legging covered feet are resting, “We have a problem.” She sighs heavily and stares me down.

“Liz, you’re making me nervous here. Spill it…” I wait.

“Okay, here’s the deal. There is a snow storm coming down out of the north and it’s going to delay all flights out of LaGuardia after tonight.”

“Oooookay….” I pause to see if she’ll go further.

“Basically it means that if we stay for the premier, and through tomorrow like you planned, you’ll be here three to four days instead of just two.”

I sit up and lean forward, dropping my feet from the table and rub my temples, “But I’m scheduled back on set Monday morning. I was planning on being back in Atlanta tomorrow night.”

“Right” Liz says as she pulls her phone out and scrolls through the planner, “If we stay for the premier tonight, you push your filming schedule back a little. But if we book a flight now back to Atlanta, you’ll miss the premier but production will stay on schedule and you’ll avoid the storm.”

I can’t help but feel the small seed of excitement growing exponentially within me at the notion of being back in Atlanta tonight, more so hanging with Josh again. But I know that if I don’t show at the premier, there will surely be backlash. I don’t want to be the one to make this decision. I know it’s selfish of me, but I just don’t want this stress.

“So, what do you suggest?”

“Well, I talked to your mom and dad and we all agree that it’ll probably be best for you to just call it a day and head back to Atlanta. Are you okay with that?”

It takes everything in me to not hop out of my seat and hug the life out of Liz. Of course I’m alright with that! I’m more than alright, I’m fucking ecstatic! “Yeah, sure. That sounds good” I say calmly.

“Alright, I’ll start booking the flight and calling the agencies to notify them that you won’t be attending tonight due to scheduling conflicts. Do you need to pack?”

I snort, “I never got a chance to unpack.”

“Okay, well just be ready to go in the next hour or so.” She gets up and begins dialing numbers.

“I’m eating first. K?” I shout after her and she just nods as she begins speaking to the booking agent.

My will power fades somewhat when I catch my feet doing a somewhat “happy” dance as they bob back and forth on the table to imaginary music.

As I wait for my food to come, I pull out my cell phone.

Jen: Hey you! Guess who’s coming home tonight?!?!

Josh: What????? I thought you were there through tomorrow night??? Why are you headed back?

Jen: Gotta hot date or something? Geez, it seems like you don’t want to see me :(

Josh: Of course I want to see you, just didn’t think you’d be home till tomorrow is all.

Jen: Do you have plans?

Josh: No

Jen: Okay…

Josh: I gotta go, but let me know when you get home and I’ll drop by later.

Jen: Alright. I’ll see you later then I guess.

Josh: See you soon!

The rest of the afternoon is spent with me feeling odd about the text conversation I had with Josh. He seemed, off. I don’t know. Normally our conversations, even text’s aren’t as quipped. I’m sure I’m just tired and reading way too much into this, but I can’t help that it bugs me so much.

We landed in Kentucky and I said goodbye to my Mom and Dad. I had asked them to come back to Atlanta for a few days, but they said that the weather in Kentucky was supposed to get bad as well and they wanted to be home in case anything happened.

Another hour and a half and we were landing in Atlanta. Three flights, fourteen interviews and a confused mind make a very explosive combination in the area of mood. The entire car ride home I can feel myself on the verge of tears. I’m so tired. I can’t seem to process much without crying lately. I hold it in until I’m alone, and then I can’t seem to stop it. I keep telling myself to hang on, I’ll be home soon, and then I can let it all out. I’ll fall into bed and forget today all together, disappearing back into the events of last night.

When the car pulls up to the house I see no lights are on at all, I huff as I scold myself under my breath for not at least leaving a porch light on. The driver helps me to the door and then he bids me good night. I adjust my overnight bag on my shoulder and as the door opens, I push through into the warm air. I stuff my keys in my jeans pocket and re-alarm the house using the lighted keys to guide my fingers. I drop the bag on the arm chair beside the entry way and its then that I see a soft glow coming from the living room, just past the kitchen. “What the hell?” I wouldn’t have left the TV on. As I walk through the dining room I begin to feel a rise of panic. What if someone broke in? “The alarm company would have called” I whisper to myself as I try and work this out.

When I step into the room my mind simply goes blank and tears begin streaming freely from my eyes.

Tucked in the far corner of the room is what has to be a 9 foot, Noble Fir Christmas tree. It’s laced with lights varying in color; some blink rapidly, then slow. Others fade from light to dark and the rest burn solid, buried deep within the tree, giving off a prismatic glow. There are boxes settled beneath the branches at the base of the tree. All wrapped in various papers, adorned with ribbons of corresponding colors. Blown glass globes drape the solid limbs of the tree, shimmering in the dark against the pulsing lights. There is a silver star resting atop the tree, its glitter-covered surface gleams. Silver and pearl tinsel hangs loosely off the evergreen needles.

I notice an ornament that doesn’t match the rest of the globes and I step closer to the tree, my hand resting over my mouth as I still process the shock I am currently reeling in. When I reach the tree my free hand reaches out timidly, as if what I am seeing is a phantom. The ornament is a bright yellow star and has “You’re my star” written across its surface. I choke back a sob mixed with laughter. My fingertips finally come in contact with the cool, smooth surface of the star as I rub it gently between my fingertips. I catch a glint of silver and look up to find another ornament, this one is a movie camera with a strip of film coming down. I release another breathy laugh. I step back and as I do, more unique ornaments come into view. One is painted blue and in the shape of Kentucky. Another is a figurine of “The Dude” from The Big Lebowski. When I push the button on its base it says, “Whatever man.” Others are scattered around the tree, all small, but each with a meaning. I find one that is a snow globe, tucked inside is a photograph of Josh and me last year in Hawaii.

We had just wrapped the palm trees outside of his rented bungalow in Christmas lights and Woody snapped the picture. The sun had just gone down and the lights were glowing along with the twilight. I was mounted on Josh’s back as he held my legs. He was wearing a Santa hat and no shirt and board shorts while I was wearing an elf hat and a tank top with shorts. I was kissing his cheek and he had the biggest smile on his face that I had ever seen. It’s one of my favorite photos of us together. I wipe away the tears that have not stopped since I entered the room and sniffle.

I pull back from the tree and glance around the rest of the room. There are two stockings tacked to the wall beside the television. Both adorned with a monogrammed “J”. There is a wreath mounted to the wall on the other side of the TV as well as lush green garland wrapping the entire room. On the coffee table sits an arrangement of poinsettias with three pillar candles that flicker with faux flames. On the couch are three of the tackiest Christmas throw pillows I have ever seen. They scream Josh and me. Each contains an embroidered scene of two reindeer playing: one with a snowball fight, another with them making faces at the other, and the last with them being scolded by Santa Clause. The room smells of pine and cinnamon. I realize I haven’t stopped smiling since I walked in this room. This house is anything but empty and cold.

The clicking of the television turning on startles me and I jump, turning to see the screen as it lights up. It quickly fills with a roaring fire and the sounds of crackling wood and the music of Manheim Steamroller playing in conjunction.

I look around feverishly, “Josh?” I wait and nothing. “Josh? Where are you? I know you’re here…” I begin walking down the hallway, looking in every door, every closet, calling his name. When I walk back into the living room I am stumped. If he’s not here, how in the hell did the TV turn on? He has to be here.

“Josh, come on! I give up! Get your ass out here!” Still there is no sound in the house other than the television. I pull my phone out of my pocket and begin to type a text to him when I hear a knock on the front door. I break into a full on sprint as I hastily wipe the tears from my face, laughing excitedly.

I whip the door open and my smile drops immediately.

“Uh, Hi. I’ve got your pizza here; one pepperoni and sausage, one meat lovers. Oh, and order of cinnamon sticks.”

I stumble on my words, “I – Uh, I didn’t order anything.”

The delivery guy pulls out a receipt -as he does I glance around him, craning to see if Josh is out there-, “Order for Jennifer Schrader? Is that you?”

I meet his stare again, “Uh yeah, but I didn’t…”

He chimes in, “Order placed online. Email, kentuckyballer at mail dot com?”

I release a laugh when I hear the email, “That’s not my email, but I know whose it is. Okay. Hand ‘em over.”

He finally loses the confused look and smiles back at me as he fishes the boxes out of their case, “Here ya go.”

“Hang on, I have to go get you a tip.” I say as I take the boxes from his hands.

“Oh, no need. Whoever your Kentucky Baller is left a generous tip on the bill. But thanks! Have a great night ma’am!”

“Thank you!” I say as I kick the door closed. I walk back into the living room, a little saddened that it wasn’t Josh at the door, but I gather from the pizza he’ll be over soon. Just as I set the pizzas down I hear another knock at the door. I jog back, trying not to get overly excited again.

When I pull the door open, the same delivery guy stands there, “ Hey, sorry. I forgot these.” He hands the cinnamon sticks over and nods before retreating back to his car.

“Thanks again” I shout to him.

I shut the door and turn just as another knock at the door has me rolling my eyes. I sigh and drop the box on the chair containing my bag from earlier, “Yes…” I say exasperated, pulling the door open once more.

This time my breath hitches and I gasp.

Josh is standing just before me, bundled in his jacket, a scarf, and a gray beanie. He’s smiling brightly as he pulls a medium size box from behind his back.

“Okay, so you weren’t supposed to be home until tomorrow. And tomorrow, believe it or not, it’s supposed to snow all day. But here you are, and I cannot control the weather. So I had to figure something else out.” He then reaches in the box and quickly throws his hand in the air above him. A shower of white begins to fall all around him; another handful, another shower. He reaches out and grabs my wrist; his hand is ice cold. He pulls me out the door and down the steps to the grass where he leaves me. I watch him as he walks back up onto the porch and positions himself against the railing parallel to me. I’m still so dumb struck by what’s happening that I can’t mutter a word, I just watch him, tears pricking my eyes with my mouth hanging open.

His hand digs back in the box and he begins to throw the powder high in the air above my head. As it begins to rain down on me I realize, it’s snow! How Josh got snow in a box I don’t know, but he did it. He continues to sling it into the night air as I reach out and begin catching it in my hands, watching it melt when it connects with my warm skin. I can feel the flakes as they hit my eyelashes, my cheeks. I close my eyes and it’s as if I am five again and dancing in the snow. I even allow my tongue to jut out of my mouth in an attempt to catch a few flakes there.

My eyes open again when I hear his hand scraping the bottom of the box. He then lifts the box up and flings it as the remaining bit falls down around me. He drops the box and he wears a smile so big that I can’t imagine his cheeks not hurting him. I know because I mirror him.

“Josh” I breathe out, my breath ghosting in the cold air in a transparent cloud.

“Welcome home!” he chimes. “Come on… I don’t want you to get sick. Again.”

I laugh and walk back up the steps to meet him on the porch. He simply walks past me and enters the house, holding the door for me. I follow closely, my eyes never leaving him. He closes the door and begins taking his jacket and scarf off, draping them over the back of the chair.

I stand still, against the cool door watching him. He finally turns to me, “How was New York?”

Is he insane? Does he really think after what I’ve just experienced-the tree, the decorations, the snow- that I want to chit chat about New York? I don’t know if he’s keeping things platonic or if he’s playing a game. But at this point, I don’t give a damn.

I cross the foyer with purpose, making sure to hold his gaze. I watch at his hazel eyes follow my blue ones until I am standing before him. I stop, only for a brief moment to gather my strength, before I cup his jaw in my hands and crash my lips to his. I pray that he doesn’t pull away, disgusted or mad. When his lips mold to mine and begin a dance we are all too familiar with, I know that my prayers were answered. His tongue sweeps my bottom lip and I grant him the entrance he requests. My tongue dives into his mouth, exploring the contours I have missed so much. We battle each other, fighting for higher ground. His hands dive into the short hairs at the base of my head and he tilts me, allowing him better access. My arms lock around his shoulders, my fingers play at the nape of his neck. One of his hands drops and winds around my back, resting in the dip at the bottom of my spine. He pulls me closer until I am flush against his solid form. I sigh, contented, into the kiss and I try to quell my desperation. Our kiss slows and instead of the fevered fight, our tongues partner and begin a slow and sensual dance that only serves to ignite my need for him further.

After another minute or so, I finally, albeit reluctantly break the kiss, in need of air.

“You brought me Christmas” I whisper against his lips.

He smiles, placing a chaste kiss on the tip of my nose, “I just wanted to see you smile. It’s been missing lately.”

I bite my lip as my eyes trace over the contours of his chiseled face. I swallow hard before lifting my eyes to his, “We’ve been missing lately.”

His forehead rests against mine as he nods, “I know.”

“Josh,” I pause, taking in a breath, “I don’t want to miss us anymore.”

He squares his shoulders and pulls away from my face, determination etched in his eyes, “Jennifer.” I nod, “What do you want for Christmas?”

I can hear the challenge in his question. I know if I answer one way, it’ll mean that I give up my current way of life. If I answer another, it means that I accept my loss and move on. I see the glow from the living room behind him, I feel the cool touch his hands, and I know. I know what my choice is. It’s not even a question anymore.

“I want you.”

His smile returns and he leans, speaking as his lips brush my own, “I want that too. More than you know. I want to give you Christmas ever year. I want to make you smile every day. I want to love you, to kiss you whenever and wherever I want. I want…”

I kiss him to silence him and then I pull back, “You got me. I’m done missing you.”

He leans in for another kiss; a kiss so full of promise that it makes me lose breath, so full of love that my heart beats furiously beneath my chest.

I pull away, “You know what else I want?”

He licks his lips, warming me in ways that leave me blushing, “What?”

“You… under the tree…” I link my arms around his neck and lull my head back, “Aaaaand… Pizza.”

He laughs jovially as his lips find the bend of my neck and he beings placing feather caresses there, “In that particular order?”

“Mmmmm…” his lips feel so good, “I’m pretty hungry. And it would be fuel, so…”

He lift his head and smiles, “Pizza it is. It’ll give me time to move the presents.” He takes my hand and starts pulling me with him to the living room. “You have no idea how long it took me to wrap all those. I mean, who the hell knew it took so much work!” I laugh softly, reveling in the feel of his hand firmly within mine.

Later that night, as he breathes softly beside me with pine needles and presents scattered all around us on the floor, I lift my hand and trace his lips, nose, and brows. We’re wrapped together in a blanket, naked, beneath our Christmas tree. The music is gone, the television off, and all we are left with is the twinkling glow of the tree and the arrangement on the table. The lights dance off his face and give him almost a childish appearance. He’s beautiful to look at; so handsome, yet so innocent. Every once in a while his lips tug upward. I can only imagine what dreams he’s walking through. His hand is draped across my hip and his fingers dance softly across the bare round of my backside as he sleeps.

I know that tomorrow I will make a call to London and I am ready to face the aftermath. Just as I know Josh is ready to call Spain. We will be there for each other, as we always are.

This night has become something that I will remember forever.

He gave me Christmas… is there really anything that can top that? Well, perhaps his heart, but after tonight I know that now rests squarely in my hands and I never plan on letting go.

The End

Miss Lawrence's Correctional Training for Wayward Boys - a Joshifer One-Shot for Christmastime - NC17

A/N: This has been a long time coming, and I want to thank everyone for their patience, support, and encouragement in writing this. Consider this my gift to all of you, for being so wonderful, kind, caring and supportive–throughout the good times and the bad. I’m wishing you all a very happy holiday–whatever it may be that you celebrate.

This story was inspired by the following gif, I hope you all enjoy it.

HE’S AWAKE AT 8AM.

Which is unusual, because he prides himself on being able to out-sleep her.

And–for the record–that isn’t easy. 

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See You Again -A Joshifer one shot-

-Josh-

When I get the call for the callback, I’m in my truck with my daughter, Cali, sleeping in the back, driving with the windows down. Her head is tipped towards the door and we’re driving through an alley of pine trees, and the cool summer air is coming in and caressing her hair back from her eyes. I keep a loving eye on her as I answer the phone, making sure to keep my voice down so she’ll stay asleep. It’s not easy to put her back down once she wakes up. “Hello?”

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The Oscars: The Dress - Joshifer One Shot

The Dress

Jennifer tossed her phone to her assistant, “Can you take a picture of this dress?” she asked turning to the side so the sheer strip down the side of the dress and the sheer back were visible in the photo.

“Are you trying to kill him?”

“Just an incentive to keep him up until I get home,” Jennifer winked, while her fingers flew over the phone, shooting off the picture in a text as she walked into the Vanity Fair party.  A smirk crossed her face when she felt a buzzing coming from her clutch just a few minutes later.  Quickly she opened up her bag and excused herself from the conversation and meandered into the corner of the darkened ballroom, looking down to see his picture flashing across the screen.  “Hey there stranger,” she flirted.

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Don't Worry Baby - Joshifer One Shot

“So now, on the eve of what everyone expects to be your 6th Oscar nomination and possibly your 4th win, what’s running through your head, Jennifer?” Asks the inquisitive Diane Sawyer for the annual award season kick off spotlight interview.

The blonde bashfully looks around and nervously taps her fingers on her thigh, “Honestly?  All I can think of right now is that I’m hungry and that I really hope my husband isn’t in there burning dinner.  I smell things, my sense of smell is incredibly strong,” she replies hoping for a break soon after the previous hour and a half of questioning.

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“Hustle” A Joshifer One-shot based on the illustration by mrpink627​

Alright anon, I reached out to Clayton and talked it over with him. He’s greenlighted the drabble, so here ya go.

For the full, untagged version, click here

“Hustle”

A Joshifer One-shot based on the illustration by mrpink627

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“Jennifer!”

“What?!”

“Get your ass out here; it’s almost your category!”

I sit back against the headboard and tear off another bite of the pizza we ordered a little over and hour ago. I still find it amazing that between the two of us, we can polish off and extra-large pie. The television opposite the bed blankets the bedroom of my rental apartment in a soft light while the bedside lamp illuminates from the end table. The blinds have been drawn all day long; the curtains pulled tight. We’ve managed to barricade ourselves in this room, leaving only to grab beer or in my case to answer the door for the delivery. We divide our time between reading, ─Jennifer the Mockingjay book, me the script─ watching Netflix, sleeping, and twice today we have determined that my mattress moves off the box spring way too easily. We survived our shut-in by snacking on cheese and crackers from a ‘Congratulations-on-your-nomination’ gift basket Jen brought with her from the set. And wine, lots of wine.

Francis had told Jen and me last night that he was giving the small crew that remained in Atlanta through the snow storm the rest of the weekend off. Trust me, there were no complaints. Instead of Jennifer planting herself on the couch in front of the television in her rental home, she decided to follow me back to my apartment with nothing but the clothes on her back. Said she didn’t want our first weekend together in months to be spent apart. Personally, I would have rather gone to her place on the account of Andre being here. But I’d be lying to myself if I said Andre had never overheard me and Jennifer on countless occasions before.  He’s usually a good sport about it, but he does like to give me shit for about a week afterward.

So here we are, holed up in my bedroom, half naked, eating pizza and drinking beer while watching the BAFTA’s on BBC America.

“Jennifer!” I shout a second time, crumbs flying from my mouth, “Are you taking a shit? Jeez! Come on!”

I laugh when I hear her exasperated groan from within the bathroom. I brush crumbs off my chest as she emerges, “Uh-uh,” I scold before looking up, “you didn’t wash your hands. Take your nast-”

When I look up at her I see her hair pinned back all over her head, and her face covered in, an almost lime green, gunk. “What a… what’s all that?” I say, using my finger to circle my face while chuckling. “I know whatever it is wasn’t growing in my bathroom before.”

“It’s a face mask asshole. I brought it with me. If I don’t use it, the studio make-up makes me break out. And I did too wash my hands” she says with a huff, “Thank you.”

As she tromps over to my side of the bed, I can’t help but take in her adorable state. She’s wearing my old Deth Killers tee, a small gray pair of panties with a tiny pink bow on the waist and a pair of my socks she fished out of a drawer that are nearly three sizes too big for her petite feet. They scrunch around her ankles and she looks absolutely perfect, face mask and all. This is my girl.

She hikes her leg and steps up onto the bed, walking across me and the several discard pizza crusts we were too lazy to even throw on the floor. I’m actually kind of afraid to really look around the bed for fear of just how much food we managed to scatter around us.

She drops down unceremoniously beside me, causing the force to jump me out of my spot slightly and reaches across me, grabbing a new slice of pizza from the box on my nightstand.

“So,” she says as she bites into the pizza, “What’d I miss?”

“You lost.” I shrug my shoulder and raise my brows, “Ya win some, ya lose some.”

“No skin off my back” she mumbles, biting into the slice again, “Did Lupita win at least?” she says through a full mouth.

I turn to her just as Leo DiCaprio is announced to take the stage, “Babe, I’m kidding.”

“Huh?” she remarks puzzled.

“I’m kidding, supporting actress is up next” I nod to the television and we both turn our attention to the screen.

“You’re a dick Josh” she laughs beside me.

I nudge her shoulder with mine and take a bite off of my own slice.

As Leo speaks, I can’t help but feel her tense beside me. I know she is honored, but could really care less if she wins. But deep down, we all want to have that sign of respect, that moment of acceptance. Ya know. It’s that ‘good-job pat on the back’ feeling. If she wins, she’ll be shocked. If she loses, she won’t care. But to act as if the few seconds of anticipation don’t affect us as actors, as people, it’d be total bullshit.

“A hundred bucks” I smirk.

“A hundred bucks on what?” she replies.

“A hundred bucks says she trips like she did at the Oscars” I laugh.

When she realizes my joke, she throws her head to the side, “Ah man…” then she rears back and slaps my shoulder, “Fuck you Josh!”

All I can do is laugh as she continues to shove me away from her playfully. Her laugher marries mine and just as I begin to close the distance between her lips and my own, the words, “…Jennifer Lawrence!” and a roar of applause and music stops us both.

“Did he just say…” she questions skeptically.

“Congratulations” I say quietly, yet with so much pride I feel like I may burst.

She’s done it. She is now the recipient of a BAFTA. It rounds out her collection at home nicely.

I watch as the smile grows across her lime green face and a giggle escapes from her throat. She turns back to the screen and watches as her Director accepts the award on her behalf. But I can’t bring myself to watch anything but the woman beside me. She’s glowing. Her eyes are alight and her smile is infectious. The amount of vivacious life that flows through her leaves me in awe every day. I have seen her at her best and I have held her at her worst, yet that smile, that glow never fade from her. She has refused to let this industry destroy her.

The music begins to play again and I finally turn my attention to the screen, “Speech!” I shout into the room.

She waves her hand dismissively at me and bites into her pizza.

“Speech” I yell again.

She chews quickly and swallows hard, “No speech. David did a good job.”

“I didn’t hear a fucking thing that man said. I want to hear from you!”

She smirks over at me and rolls her eyes before tenting her knees to stand, “Okay, just for you…”

As she scoots forward, preparing to lift, her cell phone, charging on the table beside the bed begins to chime. We both just kind of stare at the phone as if it were some alien contraption. We share a glance, and on the fifth ring, it silences. I watch her shoulders slump with a released breath, and she pushes up once more. When she gets to her knees, the phone begins to ring again. Only this time, it doesn’t stop. For every missed call, there is a voicemail. For every voicemail, there are ten text messages.

She sighs heavily and drops back against the headboard, “Well that took the fun out of that moment” she grumbles.

“Hey,” I reach up and take her chin in my pinched fingers, “It’s alright. You knew this was coming. They all want to know how you feel.”

“I know Josh, but I don’t want to talk to them right now.” The glow and light has dimmed on her. It tightens my chest to see her fall so fast.

I lean in and lightly caress her lips, careful not to get the face mask all over me, “It’s just me. How about we call Liz, you give her the speech and she’ll get it out to everyone.”

Her eyes dance between mine, contemplating what her next move should be concerning the circus residing in the dial tone of her phone.

“What do you say? Just say what you would say to me. I’ll sit here, and you talk to me, while Liz is on the phone. Huh? Wanna give a speech?” I’m trying to word it in an encouraging way; I know she needs to get some sort of press release out. I pout my lips and make the most exaggerated beg face I can think of. “Please?”

I watch a smile crest her lips and the pull of her cheeks has the dried parts of the mask cracking against her skin, “No” she says plainly, “But…” there is a hint of mischief in her voice, “I will accept an award.”

I toss the piece of pizza I’m holding onto the floor and bring my hand up to curl around her neck, “Hmmmm…” I hum, “What did you have in mind Yoda?”

She laughs against my lips and smiles. Her voice becomes low and almost froggy, “Sex, I do.” She replies in her best Yoda impersonation, “Use the force you must.”

I lean in and capture her lips though my laughter. She tastes like pizza and beer. She smells like a bouquet of flowers and hand soap, and the texture of that damn mask against the tip of my nose is rough. But all I can think about is how much I love this woman.

“I’ve got a lightsaber that’s gonna make you wanna join the dark side” I add before gripping her waist and pulling her down against the mattress. She squeals as I climb over her, reclaiming her lips.

I become lost in her giggles and moans until the rest of the night becomes a blur of bad star wars jokes, finding crumbs in places they shouldn’t be, and mind blowing sex with my best friend; who, just so happens to be the love of my life.

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A huge thank you goes out to Clayton for allowing me to put some words to the amazing art you created today! 

Thank you to the anon who requested this, I hope you find it enjoyable!

Dream On, Joshy–a Joshifer drabble

A/N: Welp–here’s my take on hysterical-for-joshifer’s request. I did not intend for this to turn angsty, but it did. Consider yourself warned. Probably inspired by some recent discussions on my blog re: Josh. Many thanks to Sheryl for her lightning fast editing prowess. Hope you like! 

He sees the photo over the shoulder of a man seated at the bar, waving his phone screen around and whistling.

Josh scoots his chair forward and leans into the table, squinting his eyes. Yes, that’s indeed Jennifer–yes, she’s nude, and yes,there’s a rather large boa constrictor wrapped around her frame.

He pulls up Google, while Claudia prattles on with her friends, oblivious to the salacious search string Josh keys in.

“JENNIFER LAWRENCE naked with snake” returns a plethora of results, and the first hit leads him straight to an article showcasing the pic.

Fora moment, he’s annoyed–annoyed at her because she should have warned him that they’d be publishing something like this, and he should have been made aware. Aware that his jeans might get a little tighter and his palms a little sweaty, that is, so he wouldn’t be caught so off guard.  

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Hold Me - Joshifer One Shot

So this idea has been in my head for quite some time and I really hope you like what I did with Josh and Jen. If you do, let me know and don’t be shy to leave me some feedback, I always love to get some! 

Josh’s pov

“You are cordially invited to attend the Wedding of Liam Hemsworth and Julie Sanster. 25th of July.”

Before I even have the chance to process what I have just read, my phone rings insistently and without even bothering to check the caller ID I pick up, still staring at picture at the front. “Hello?”

“Can you believe it? That he is getting married without even bothering to warn us about it? I never expected him to get married before either of us!” She lets out a frustrated huff.

I’m actually shocked to hear her voice, it’s the first time she has made any effort to contact me since one year. But still, I can’t stop the smile creeping on my face. “Hello to you too, Jennifer. And I have to admit I’m pretty surprised too but I guess she’s quite the catch. Nice eyes and hair.” I can’t stop a chuckle escaping me.

“Of couse that’s the first thing you notice. Jesus! What about me? I’m already 28, still unmarried and the last serious relationship I have had was three years ago when Nick and I broke up! Why don’t you care about that?”

I get that she’s only half serious, but I still can’t help wondering what she would do if I would tell her that I am still more than glad to change her relationship status. But on the other hand I’m still painfully aware that that ship sailed one year ago when I couldn’t help but fucking everything up between us.

“I don’t know about you, but in the first place I’m happy that he found someone worth spending the rest of his life with. And secondly, it’s no one’s fault but yours that your standards are so high, honey.” I know how much she hates it when someone calls her that and I can nearly see her rolling her eyes at me.

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The Cannes Masquerade (Joshifer One-Shot)

mas·quer·ade - a false show or pretense.

Her eyes met his across the room where he was schmoozing with some studio suit who looked more like he belonged at one of Brian Singer’s man-boy soirées rather than bathed in the pink light of the Mockingjay party.  She shot him a knowing wink and he casually shrugged as he continued to exchange pleasantries with the man who was trying way too hard to be “French Riviera” and came off more like Venetian gondolier right down to the red and white striped shirt and neck scarf.  He took a sip from the wine glass he was holding between two of his deft fingers and held her gaze.  She crooked her index finger towards him, beckoning him to join her in the corner of the VIP area.

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Christmas Chaos (Joshifer One-Shot)

A Joshifer Holiday one-shot from the universe of You Can Always Come Home. I hope you all enjoy!

Christmas Chaos

The cool feel of the marble under my hand grounds me for a moment and with my eyes screwed shut, I draw in a deep and calming breath.

I can hear the parents shouting at each other about where to sit or stand. I can hear all the guys complaining about having to put on dress shirts versus their Cheeto stained jerseys. My sister-in-laws are much more equipped to put up with my brothers complaining than I am. I can hear all the kids as they join together in the loudest cacophony of screaming and laughter I’ve ever heard. The photographer is setting up his equipment and sighing so loudly at the kids running around that I almost want to pull him in the small guest bathroom with me just so we can both breathe. I let out a long and dramatic breath and glance at myself in the mirror. I spent an hour on my hair and make-up as soon as I got to the house but I still look exhausted.

I wrapped my production meetings in LA around ten this morning and hopped the first flight into Louisville. I’ve been in LA for five days and I’ve never been more ready to come home as I was today. I’ve missed my boys. The last time I left Landon with Josh was only for three days. By the time I got back, Landon had somehow managed to go through his entire wardrobe and had no clean clothes. Never found out the full story on how a 7 month old with a closet full of clothes suddenly didn’t have a single clean shirt. When I got back that day both he and his father were passed out on the couch with matching milk mustaches and Catdog playing on the TV. So to say I was a bit apprehensive as to what I would find after five days of father and son bonding would be a tad understated.

Josh had called me two days ago to let me know that both our families arrived at the house safely and he was relinquishing his role in “Landon Duty” to our mothers. He sounded tired when we spoke and it made my heart ache a little. We’ve both been so busy with work and our personal lives. I just wanted to melt into the phone and come out the other end in his arms. I’m not going to lie; there has been some tension between us in these last two months. I just started back to work and he’s been so encouraging and supportive. But the time apart has really begun to take its toll. Normally I take Landon with me if I go on a trip, leaving Josh to go where he needs or do what he needs to do. His production company has really taken off this year. After the Oscar buzz started earlier this year at the festivals, things really have changed for him. I guess when I was doing press tours for Silver Linings Playbook, I was at a point in my life where, if I did win, it wouldn’t affect too much of me. But Josh has been flooded with offers and scripts and business ventures. I’m so proud of him. But he feels this need to satisfy as many of these requests as he can.

One night about a month ago he came home from a meeting down in Atlanta and within five minutes of him crawling into our bed we were both stripped of all clothing and in the throes of rough, but amazing sex. I mean, he didn’t even say hello! I knew he had had a rough day, so after I asked him what was going on. The short of it was that he feels as if he has to earn his right to be taken seriously by the Academy. Like if he doesn’t meet all the demand, he’s somehow undeserving of the attention he and his film are getting. That afternoon he had met with a studio executive who had made an off-handed comment about his possible nomination and how it’s something you have to earn. I told Josh that guy was an asshole. Needless to say his studio will not be featured in the production partner list.

Even with my support and willingness to do anything my husband needed, he seemed to distance himself a bit. We haven’t made love since that night. For he and I, that may as well be an eternity. When I got the call to come to LA this week I promised Josh that as soon as the meetings were over, I’d take a hiatus through February to support him through Award season. We’re going to fix this. Josh and I have been through much worse, we can fix this. And honestly, I don’t want to spend Landon’s first Christmas at odds with his father.

Christmas is still three weeks out but we are having a small “early” Christmas with the families at our house because Josh’s mom and her new fiancé are taking a cruise the week of Christmas. We’ll have our normal Christmas at my parents’ house later this month. We agreed to this so that Michelle could spend Landon’s first Christmas with him. We also agreed to this before I was called into production meetings. The thought of having a house with sixteen people running around slightly horrifies me. On top of the families, we are also taking our family Christmas pictures. It’s turning into an all-day event. Each individual family unit is taking pics as well as all of us as a whole.

Come to think of it, I feel really bad for Jeremy, he’s our photographer.

I hear a thud from above me and I know that Josh is currently chasing Landon around the nursery. I stare myself down in the mirror. I’ve been home three hours. Three hours. I’ve spoken maybe ten words to my Husband. Spent maybe thirty minutes with my son. Another twenty with Jeremy talking about the madness to come. An hour in the bathroom getting ready. Then ushered our families around until my head began to spin and now here I am locked in the downstairs bathroom trying to piece my sanity back together before I have to put on my million dollar smile. Ha. Who am I kidding? One last deep breath; I reach up to make sure my hair is laying just right, and turn to exit the quiet sanctuary I’ve been hiding in for the last ten minutes.

Just as I turn the corner to climb the stairs I see Josh coming down with Landon hanging off his hip. Josh smiles at me as he descends but his smile dies when he sees the expression I’m wearing. I’m sure my face is curled in a very irritated manner.

“What?” he asks innocently as he takes the last step into the open kitchen.

“Josh. What are you wearing?” I can hear the snap in my tone, but I can’t seem to lower my temper. I shake my head at his choice of outfit and pinch the bridge of my nose as I try and relieve the building tension behind my eyes.

“You said to match the outfit you got Landon. So I did.” He defends with a half laugh, still unsure if I’m playing around or not.

Before I left this week I bought Landon a red, plaid suit with a matching hat. It was adorable! Black pants, a plaid vest over a white long sleeved shirt with a matching tie. As soon as I saw it, I knew I had to get it. I had told Josh to match it. Apparently his version of matching our son’s suit is to wear a t-shirt and a red flannel with jeans. Everyone else in the house is in a suit, but no, not my husband.

I huff in frustration and reach to take Landon from his arms, “Josh I meant a tie or something along those lines, not what you wear every day. Can’t you do anything I ask?” As soon as the words fly from my lips I immediately regret them. That’s not what I meant to say but that’s what came out.

His face hardens and he glances down at my outfit, “What about you? Black and white, yeah, real festive Jen.”

I turn on my heels before answering and set Landon in his hi-chair with some scattered cheerios. Once I’ve buckled him in, I turn back to Josh and square my shoulders in defiance, “Really Josh? Who promised me this morning that they’d pick up my dry cleaning? You know, the dry cleaning I reminded you about every day this week. The dry cleaning that had the dress I was going to wear for the pictures?”

He shoves his hands in his pockets, frustrated and yells back, “I’m sorry! Today’s been kind of crazy if you haven’t noticed.” He gestures wildly to the commotion in the main living room.

“You think my day hasn’t been crazy?” I’m nearly screeching at this point. All the pent up frustrations are spilling into this argument. “You think it’s easy getting up at five, driving LA traffic to the studio. Having a bunch of tight asses tell you how to do your job…”

“Jenni-” he cuts me off as he steps closer.

I place my hand on his chest and push him back gently as a tear escapes my painted eye, “No! Let me finish. Then I hop on a plane, try and eat what they call food and drink shitty coffee as I convince myself that it’ll all be worth it as soon as I come home to my boys; the whole time wondering what kind of husband I’ll come home to. Because frankly Josh, you’ve been a different person almost every week for a month and half now. I don’t know how to keep up anymore. I’m trying my best. I doing everything I can to make this work.” I stop to take a breath and collect myself. I wipe frantically at the tears falling from my eyes. And turn back to Landon. I feel like shit for having yelled in front of him. Although he seems oblivious to anything wrong until he sees my tears.

“Sad?” he asks while shoving a slobber covered fist full of cheerios into his mouth.

I reach for a paper towel off the spool on the counter and dab my eyes, “No buddy. Mommy’s just tired and happy to be home with you.” I dab my face once more, carefully wiping my eyes not to mess the up the eyeliner, “See, no more tears. Mommy is happy.” I lean down and kiss his button nose before he shares his slobbery snack by placing a soggy piece of cereal in my mouth. While still bent over I note that Landon is only wearing a tie, his vest, a diaper and his hat. I take a deep breath and speak to Josh in a low tone while taking a seat still watching my son, “Where are the rest of his clothes?”

Josh clears his throat, “I didn’t think you wanted a Christmas picture with poop on his pants and white shirt. He, uh… he kinda got away from me up there. That’s why I’m not in a suit. It’s uh… yeah. It’s going to need more than a dry clean.”

I know exactly what Josh is doing by the tone of his voice, he’s standing behind me, rubbing the back of his neck nervously and shuffling his feet against the tile while looking anywhere but at me. I can’t help the small smile that breaks my lips as I poke Landon in the stomach, “Did you poop on Daddy?” Landon just giggles and drops his head to the side, pointing towards Josh with his glistening hand, “Dada!”

I feel all my anger disappear in this moment. I’m ashamed for jumping onto Josh like I did. This whole day has been a combination of things that left me primed and ready to go off. He didn’t deserve that. I turn in my chair to look at him and apologize, but just as I’m about to call him to me Jeremy walks in.

“Hey guys, you’re up.”

“Thanks, we’re coming.” Josh pats Jeremy on the back and looks back to me and Landon, “We’re up. Better get out there before Bear climbs the Christmas tree or ends up in the chimney.”

He laughs lightly and I can’t help but want to grab him and tell him how sorry I am, “Josh…”

He stops me with a small wave of his hand, “It’s ok. We’ll talk about it later.” And then he turns to head out of the room.

I lift Landon from his seat and take him over to the sink to rinse him off. As his hands play in the running faucet, I kiss the crown of his head, “I love you baby boy. And I love your daddy very much. Think he’ll forgive me?”

Landon looks up at me from his secure place against my chest and his blue eyes sparkle as they watch me, “Dada. Mama.” He nuzzles his head against my shirt and begins to chant the words over and over as I reach forward and dry his flailing hands.

We make our way into the formal living room and the chaos I’ve been avoiding envelopes me. My nephew David, or as we call him, Bear, is jumping on the couch singing Jingle Bells at the top of his lungs while his baby sister screams at the top of her lungs because she’s not big enough to get on the couch. Ben and Meredith are standing in the corner of the room having a small argument about how Meredith asked him to shave before the picture but how he didn’t want to have to hear about his ‘tan line’. My mother is sitting in a side chair, holding Blaine’s newest daughter and cooing at the baby. Blaine and his wife are half asleep on the couch. I remember what having a newborn was like, I can’t really blame them. Dad is in the small hallway chatting with Josh’s moms’ fiancé about the Wildcats season this year. Michelle is standing by the main staircase with Connor and his girlfriend. The poor girl looks terrified at the scene before her, I am too.

“Jennifer, over here love.”

My attention finally turns to Jeremy and he’s motioning to a stool over by the fire place. I adjust Landon in my arms and sit as Jeremy reaches for my son. “Here, you sit there and cross your legs.” As I do so, I hear Jeremy ask, “Umm, Jennifer, honey. Do you know why your little boy looks like a baby Chippendale dancer?”

I can’t help the barking laughter that erupts from me as I try not to fall off the stool at his comment, “He really does, doesn’t he!” I reach out and Landon flies back into my arms, “My little heart breaker.” I glance back at Jeremy, “He sent his Daddy a very clear message that he just wasn’t feeling the whole ‘pants & shirt’ gig.”

We both laugh as Josh walks over, shoving his cell phone in his pocket, “Sent Daddy what?”

Jeremy reaches out and touches Josh’s collar, “Apparently Daddy felt the same way about a suit.”

I watch Josh swallow hard and avoid my gaze. I reach out to him as much as I can while on the stool and with a baby on my lap. I trap the bottom hem of his shirt with the tips of my fingers and yank him towards us, “He looks better in this.” I wait for his eyes to meet mine and then I continue, “Besides, look how handsome my boys are, matching and all.” A small smile finally stretches across Josh’s lips and I know that I’ve managed to make a little headway in the right direction for once today.

“Yes, they are very handsome. I might have to steal your husband.” Jeremy winks and then reaches for Josh, positioning him beside me, “Okay handsome, you here. Just a little behind her shoulder. Should we have your hand go here… uh, nah. Just…” Jeremy pushes Josh just a little behind me and I feel his solid chest connect with my shoulder and back, “There. Right there. Alright, don’t move.”

He scurries back to his camera and starts to count down, “Alright you handsome family you, smile in 3, 2, 1…” The camera starts to snap in quick succession and the three of us become lost in the flash.

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

After the photo shoot, Ben and Blaine kidnapped Josh and Connor before I could pull Josh aside. Said they were going to a bar or something. I didn’t really hear where they were going over Bear’s screaming. Yeah, he busted his ass just after Jeremy packed up his equipment. The guys just waved and snuck out as all the insanity ensued. We finally managed to get all four kids down for a nap, enjoyed some lunch, and then we spent the rest of the evening baking cookies and singing Christmas songs with the kids.

It’s a little past nine and now all us adults and Bear are on the back porch with baby monitors and glasses of wine, sitting cozy around the blazing fire pit. Bear is curled up against Meredith watching cartoons on her iPad while the rest of us are just talking about how we were ditched today and when the guys would be home.

I bring my sweatpants covered legs up and curl further into the cushioned seat. I have Landon’s baby monitor sitting on the back of my chair so close to my head that I can hear his soft breathing through the static. I watch as my families chat amongst themselves and take a sip of my wine. I slowly drown out the sounds of the various conversations and get lost in the slow rhythm of my sons breath. In this moment of calm and quiet that I’ve retreated into, I glance around and smile. I love my family. I love the chaos they bring. It can be so stressful I want to pull my hair out sometimes, but trading them would never be an option. Their insanity is what keeps me grounded.

A small giggle comes over the static and I know Landon has woken up. I wait for a few seconds to see if he’ll simply go back to sleep but he seems very much awake. I drop my legs and set my glass down in the table in front of me, “Landon’s up. I’ll be back as soon as he’s down.” As I pick up the monitor to carry in with me, I hear another voice come through the speaker, “Hey Buddy. You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

I stop and contemplate leaving them be, since Josh is home now, he’ll put him back down. But every fiber of my existence wants to steal these few quiet moments with my son and my husband. I switch the monitor off as I enter the back door into the dining area and discard it on the counter in the kitchen. I silently make my way up the stairs and down the hallway. I can see that none of his lights are on but I can see the glow coming from the Christmas lights outside around his window. Normally we have the curtain drawn when he’s sleeping. I stop and peek around the door frame and I’m left in a state of marvel.

Josh is standing by the window with the curtain pulled back and Landon is in his arms, his head resting softly against his father’s chest as if he were still two months old. They are bathed in the soft glow of the lights outside; their silhouettes sway within the beams. Josh is dancing slowly in a semi-circle. His large hand covers our son’s small back and he sings softly. He’s singing silent night. It’s one of my favorite songs and I can only hope that this moment, somehow becomes attached in Landon’s mind for forever. I know it will be in mine. I hear Landon breathing, I hear Josh singing, and I swear I can hear myself falling in love with my husband all over again.

I don’t dare move from my spot. This is the best seat in the house to the most magical moment I’ve had in a long time. Josh continues to sway as he sings our son to sleep in his arms. I watch as the reds, greens, blues and the yellows dance across their figures and paint the floor like a blank canvas. I can tell Landon is slipping back into sleep as his fits, balled against his father’s shirt fall softly at his sides. Josh clutches him closer to support his lax state and kisses the soft chestnut air atop his tiny head. Josh turns in his dance and spots me, never stopping his melodic pace.

“Hey” he whispers.

I simply lift my hand and wave at him before walking into the silent room. I walk up to them and place my hand over his protective one resting against Landon. My other hand finds his jaw and cups his cheek, “I love you so much it hurts sometimes.”

He leans in and kisses the inside of my palm, “I know. I love you too.”

I look down at our sleeping son and back up into the hazel eyes of my husband, “I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.” I hold his eyes with my own, hoping he knows how terribly sorry I truly am and how much I want things to be right with us again.

“I know I haven’t been here here lately. And I’m sorry for that. You deserve to know who you’re coming home to everyday. I don’t like not being the man you know me to be. No more Jen. I’m gonna be that man again. I promised you that work wouldn’t do this to us, and I’m letting it. I didn’t know. But I know now.” His hushed tone drops when Landon stirs in his arms before resting quickly back into soft breath. “I love you so much. You and Landon mean everything to me.”

I realize that in all that happened today, I never kissed him hello, or at all.

I lean forward, careful to not wake Landon, and press my lips gently against his. Our lips melt together, yearning to be connected. I swipe his lower lip with my tongue and soon we are softly battling to taste each other. I pull away when a low moan escapes my throat and I immediately look down to make sure the soft breaths of sleep are still present. Josh laughs softly and side steps me, headed toward the crib. He gently lifts Landon and places him on the mattress before covering him with is favorite blanket. He leans in and kisses our sons rising chest before pulling away. I step up next to him and lean forward. I brush the soft hair from my sons forehead back and I place the softest kiss I can manage there, “I love you baby.”

I pull back and raise the gate on the crib. As I do, Josh pulls the curtain, allowing it to fall across the round window and blanketing the light from outside. He then presses a button on the wall and soft stars above us illuminate the ceiling with a warm glow. It’s just enough light for me to catch the lopsided smile that makes me weak in the knees before his lips are on mine again. The kiss is slow, but when he reaches behind me and lifts me off the floor, I wrap my legs around his solid frame and deepen the kiss. We make our way out to the hallway and he breaks the kiss, “Can I make love to my wife tonight?” His tone is low and gravely, it makes my skin burn.

“I think that would be the best early Christmas present I’ve ever had.” My fingers toy with the soft hairs at the base of his neck, “Take me to bed?” I purr.

His lips curl into a devilish smile and his eyes ignite. He answers in a very deep, southern drawl, “Yes ma’am” as he walks us down the hall and quietly kicks our bedroom door shut.

The rest of the chaos can wait; tonight I want to get lost in a chaos of our own.

The End

The Prank (NC-17)

I take a look at the things I’ve stashed into Jen’s closet and make sure that everything I need is in there.  I’ve borrowed another dummy from the prop master, this time it’s a male dummy.  I also have a long handled broom ready to go.  A water bottle is sitting on the floor too, just in case I have to wait awhile for her to fall asleep.

The prank I’ve planned this time is another great one.  I’m going to hide in Jen’s closet until she’s fast asleep, then gently pull back the covers of her bed and place the dummy next to her.  After covering it back up, I plan to tap her on the shoulder with the broom to wake her up.  Then all I have to do is stand back and watch her freak out when she wakes up and thinks someone has crawled into bed with her!

She’s going to go ballistic on me for pranking her again, but I just can’t resist.  She’s such an easy target.  Her reactions are always over the top and it just makes me laugh so hard.  Good thing she’s such a good sport or she’d probably hate me by now.

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Bump Ahead - Joshifer One Shot

AN: Millie requested this ages ago, sorry that it took so long!  I hope you enjoy!  This takes place in the same ‘verse Special Delivery and Don’t Worry Baby (though neither are necessary to read to read this :)

Bump Ahead

Josh twisted the platinum band around his left ring finger nervously and gazed at the script in front of him.   It was important for him to nail this part.  He hadn’t felt so sure and destined for a part since he auditioned for the part of Peeta Mellark 8 years ago.  And this part…it would be huge.  It wasn’t a blockbuster, but it would be special.  It was the type of role that would set him up to truly embark on his career with adult roles as a respected actor.  Or as his wife referred to it “Oscar Bait”. 

Josh’s ears perked up at the tentative footsteps coming from down the hall and then the weight he felt against his back and a few water droplets dripped on his script, “Hey swamp thing,” he greeted.

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Birds and Bees (Joshifer One Shot)

Sorry this took so long!  Joshifer babies: tweens and teens!

2033

Jennifer peered out glass French doors that overlooked the expansive backyard complete with an inground pool which was currently filled with a horde of teens.

“Whatcha doing over there Mrs. Kravitz?” Josh snickered.

She turned her head and glowered at her husband, “I’m not snooping.”

He placed the script down on the counter and grinned at her, “Oh you aren’t?”

Jennifer scoffed, “I’m parenting.”

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Still the One - Joshifer One Shot

AN: So this turned out to be a bit more of a beast than I thought so I apologize for the excessive length…and all ridiculous typos I probably missed.  I hope you enjoy!

Still the One

“And in the end, we were all just humans drunk on the idea that love, only love could heal our brokenness” - F. Scott Fitzgerald.

Movement across the jungle gym caught Jennifer’s eye as she sat on the playground bench and kept a close watch on the fair haired little boy that owned her heart these days.  He skipped around chatting animatedly with a few of the other children after telling his mother that he wanted some independence, sounding much older than his five years would suggest.

9 years.

It had been 9 years since she had last seen his face.

The face of a broken man.

The face of the man that she had broken.

And here he was, in front of her after 9 long years.

How irreparably changed their lives had been in the years that had passed when she let the love of her life walk out the door.

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March Madness - Joshifer One Shot

AN: Okay, sorry this took so long, I hope you enjoy this little Joshifer March Madness one shot - it’s a combo of present and future :)  Go Cardinals tonight!

March Madness

2025

Jennifer shut the front door and tossed her purse onto the entry table in the foyer as she heard a squeal of laughter come from the back of the house.  She walked into the open living room and rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest at the sight of the four people she loved most in the world sprawled across the large leather sectional, “Why are all my children wearing blue?”

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