#joe mazello x reader

[crayonwriting]

other men masterlist

Aladdin/Mena Massoud

L.A. Premiere

Harmony

Street Mouse

The Other Princess

Buzzkill

A Day In The Life

All About Me

Canada Day!

Cute-Sized

Missus [part 2 to ‘Harmony’, sort of.]

Meet My Dad

Footloose

The Massouds

Baby? Baby.

Disney-fy

Hickeys

Gary “Eggsy” Unwin

Hide And Seek

Shawn Mendes

Bright

Joe Mazzello

Daylight

a/n: here are the other men i wrote for. i don’t know where to categorize them, haha!

[floralfloyd]

One-shots and Imagines Requests

Below is a list of all the people I write for but I’m always willing to give anything a try if you don’t see your favorite person on there. As for plots, I’m open to anything and will write any kind of plot idea minus smut. 

Band of Brothers

Floyd Talbert

George Luz

Dick Winters

Joe Liebgott

Babe Heffron

Lewis Nixon

Chuck Grant

Harry Welsh

Bill Guarnere

Ronald Spiers

Donald Malarkey

Carwood Lipton

 The Pacific

Robert Leckie

Bill ‘Hoosier’ Smith – willing to do Jacob Pitts too

Eugene Sledge

Sidney Philips

Andrew ‘Ack  Ack’ Haldane

Bohemian Rhapsody Cast 

Gwilym Lee - all characters including Brian May

Queen

Brian May 

John Deacon

Pink Floyd

David Gilmour 

Rick Wright

Nick Mason

[whatstruthgottodowithit]

Can I request a fluffy Joe Mazzello x fem. reader wedding oneshot and when reader is getting ready for their wedding she thinks about when Joe and her first met in college when he bumped into her on the way to class and helped picked up her books and it was love at first sight?

Cute Coffee Shop Guy

Fandom: RPF, American Actor

Pairing: Joe Mazzello x Reader, Joe Mazzello x Female Reader,

Characters: Joe Mazzello, Original Female Character, Female Reader, Reader

Word Count: 1006 // Rating: Gen

Summary: Reader reminisces on her wedding day

Tags/ Warnings: Reader, Female Reader, Marriage, Wedding Day, Love, Mother/Daughter Relationship, Fluff, Requests, Request, My Writing, requested fic, RPF, Joe Mazello x Reader, OFC, Reader,

Notes: Hope you like it

‘You look lovely if I do say so myself,’ Courtney said as she dabbed the last bit of lipstick on the corner of Y/N’s lips. Y/N turned to look at herself in the mirror. Her hair was curled and gathered in an elegant updo interlaced with beaded hair slides. Tendrils shaped her face which was now made up. She looked amazing but not too overdone thanks to Courtney’s handiwork. 

‘It’s great I love it,’ she said turning around so she could inspect it from every angle. 

‘As if you needed it in the first place,’ her mother said coming to stand behind her. Her arm draped over her shoulder as she watched Y/N in the mirror.

‘Mom,’ Y/N said self-consciously.

‘Oh if there’s a day I’m allowed to brag about my beautiful daughter it’ll be today! Not every day you get married is it?’ her mom said with tears in her crinkled eyes. 

‘Here here,’ Courtney smiled offering Y/N a champagne flute. She took a tiny sip of it and looked at herself one more time as everyone started moving on to the next tasks. Courtney beckoned her maid of honour forward and sat her in a nearby chair so she could start her hair. Her mother started sorting buttonholes out for the groomsmen. But Y/N didn’t pay any attention. She was focused on herself. 

She was getting married today. And she couldn’t wait. She had been lucky to find Joe. He was an amazing, sweet, thoughtful and funny guy and not to mention handsome to boot. And he was going to be her husband.

It had been pure chance the two of them had met. Sure, they had both been at the same college but he was a year older and they didn’t really run in the same circles. They took different subjects and she was more of a small-town girl whilst he was a city boy. The first time she had even been to California was on the open day for USC whilst he had spent the majority of his childhood in and out of Hollywood. A child star. 

They had met by accident. She had been late for a test and had been racing out of the library on campus practically bowling him over as she collided with him. Her head had hit his chest and her books had jabbed right into his stomach. 

‘Woah where’s the emergency?’ he said as she pulled back. Her books had clattered to the ground and she had bent down to start picking them up when he followed suit. He smiled at her as he handed her her psychology textbook. Their hands touched for a moment sending a shiver down her spine. 

‘Sorry for bumping into you,’ she said meekly. 

‘Bumping into me? For a moment I thought I was a ghost and you were going to go straight through,’ Joe chuckled as they stood up. 

‘Again I’m sorry,’ she said. 

‘Don’t be,’ he said, ‘so…I take it you have somewhere to be?’ 

‘What?’ she said. 

‘Just you seemed in a rush? Sorry I shouldn’t pry-’

‘No, no, it’s not prying,’ she said, ‘I’ve got a psych test on the other side of campus.’

‘That’s a shame,’ Joe said. Y/N looked at him confused for a moment.

‘Why?’ 

‘Because I was gonna see if a pretty girl like you wanted to go for a coffee…but if you’ve got somewhere to be,’ he said. 

Y/N thought for a moment. She did have a test but it wasnt a big one. And it wasn’t as if psych was her major. And he was really cute.

‘If I’ve overstepped the mark I’m sorry I just thought you might want to-’

‘I do,’ Y/N said almost shouting, ‘I mean I do.’

‘But you’re not free, raincheck?’ Joe said. 

‘No,’ she smiled, ‘I was never gonna make it on time anyway. And my professor’s stance is ‘if you come late don’t bother coming’.’

‘Hence the running,’ Joe chuckled. He turned and started walking away from the library. Y/N followed him. Her books were now nestled back in her arms and her bag slung safely over her shoulder though she dreaded to think of what she looked like. Her hair was surely in disarray from the number of times she had run her hands through it trying to get anything to go into her head. She was wearing no makeup and a pair of yoga pants and a sweater. 

‘So,’ Joe said, ‘Starbucks or campus coffee house?’ 

‘Coffee house,’ she said, ‘it’s further away from the psychology building.’ 

‘Oh so we’re hiding out now,’ Joe asked. 

‘Definitely, it’s not going to look good if I get seen dodging a test and out for coffee with a cute boy,’ Y/N said. 

‘So you think I’m cute?’ Joe chuckled. 

‘Well I would,’ she said, ‘but I don’t even know your name. Or should I just call you the cute guy from the coffee shop?

‘Joe,’ Joe said, ‘it’s Joe.’

‘Well, Joe. Yeah, I’d say you’re pretty darn cute,’ she chuckled.

‘Huh Y/N?’ Courtney said pulling her from her thoughts.’

‘What?’ she replied. 

‘I said do you mind if the girls vary on hairstyles? I mean most of them I could do I think but Claire’s hair is too short-’

‘However they want it is fine,’ Y/N said. 

‘Lost in your thoughts hun?’ her mom said coming behind her and looking at her daughter in the mirror. 

‘Yeah,’ Y/N sighed. 

‘Not having second thoughts are you?’ her mom said her brow furrowed.

‘No,’ Y/N said, ‘no I’m not.’

‘Right, well let’s get you into your dress huh?’ her mom said with a smile. She would never regret it. She just thanked her lucky stars she missed that psych test. 

[assembledherethevolunteers]

Day 13- Snowed In

A/N: Prompt #13 for @acdeaky ‘s writing challenge! I changed the prompt a little bit, but I still loved it

Pairing: Joe Mazzello x Female!Reader

Summary: You and Joe are roommates and have to deal with the power going out during a snow storm.

Warnings: Fluff , cursing, confessions, mentions of cheating

Taglist: @queenlover05 @theblossomknows

 You came stomping into your apartment building, trying to get the snow off your boots. It was mid-December so you shouldn’t have been surprised that there was snow, but it was still annoying.

You walked up the steps to your apartment, ready to just relax with a bottle of wine, and the book you were currently reading. Your day at work hadn’t been terrible, it was just long. It didn’t help that it was dark when you went to work and dark when you came home.

You walked inside your apartment, ready to relax. You went to your bedroom to change, turning the lights on as you did so. You changed, came back out, and went into the kitchen. You pulled the wine out of the fridge and started to pour yourself a glass when your apartment went dark.

You sighed. “Really?” You walked over and flipped the light a couple times, realizing that it wasn’t the light. “Shit.”

“Did we just lose power?” A voice came from behind you.

You jumped in the dark. “Fuck, Joe. You nearly gave me a heart attack!” You swatted at where you thought he was standing.

Your roommate chuckled. “Sorry, but you didn’t answer my question.”

You sighed. “No, I just magically turned all the power off in the building.”

“Somebody’s cranky.”

You rolled your eyes and ignored him, reaching into your pocket for your phone. You turned the flash light on so that you could actually see Joe’s face. He squinted against the light and then smiled at you.

“Well hello, gorgeous.”

You shook your head with a slight smile. “Come on, we gotta find candles or something.”

You and Joe searched the apartment for candles and matches, finding a couple in the bathroom closet.

You lit them and the two of you set up a sort of base in the living room.

“I thought you and Erika were doing Christmas tonight?” You said, bringing your glass of wine over, along with one for Joe.

“Welp, we decided to do something different this year. I got her those earrings she said she wanted and she gave me a speech about how she cheated on me.”

You nearly spit your wine out. “I’m sorry, she what?”

“Yup,” Joe took a big drink from his glass. “Told me it was just a couple times and she was so SO sorry and blah blah blah. That was until I pushed her on it. Turns out that guy from her work?”

“Rod?”

“Yup! Apparently they’d been sleeping with each other for close to a month now.”

“Oh, Joey, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe that.”

Joe just shrugged and drained his wine. “So, that’s why I’m not at Erika’s.”

Joe then rested his head on your shoulder. You pressed a kiss his forehead and then placed your head on top of his. “If it helps, I never liked her.” It was true that you didn’t like her, but for reasons that Joe didn’t really know.

Joe chuckled. “I know you didn’t.”

“Let’s get some dinner.”

“Do we have stuff that doesn’t need to be cooked?”

The two of you got up and threw together some sandwiches with chips, refilled your wine glasses, and then went back to the living room.

You tried to get Joe’s mind off the breakup by telling him some funny stories about work and the phone call that you had during your lunch break.

“...nearly fell getting the lights on the house.”

Joe laughed. “Doesn’t he do that every year?”

“Yes! You’d think he’d learn.”

Once the two of you were done eating, the two of you discussed what you could do.

“I mean, I’ve got data so we could watch something on my phone,” Joe offered.

The two of you agreed on The Office and configured it so that you both could see.

“It’s freezing in here,” you shivered after an episode.

“Heat isn’t working either I take it,” Joe said as he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer. You grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped it around both of you, scooting closer to Joe. You rested your head on his shoulder, leaning closer into him.

This wasn’t the first time the two of you had cuddled like this. Joe was a touchy guy so things like this had never bothered the two of you. However, it was the first time that the two of you kept each other close because of warmth. And were being lit by candlelight. It was weirdly intimate.

‘Intimate’ wasn’t usually the word that came to mind when you thought about Joe. You hated that you didn’t get to have that. There was a reason you hadn’t liked Erika. The truth was you hadn’t liked any of his girlfriends because you wanted to be his girlfriend. It was stupid. The two of you had been friends for about two years before you moved in together. You’d been living together for nearly two years and over those two years, you had fallen in love with him. The funny guy with the heart of gold. And the way the sun hit his hair when he was sleeping on the couch…

“Y/N?”

“Hm?” You opened you eyes. When had you fallen asleep?

“Your phone is ringing.”

You blindly reached for and answered your phone, bringing the portable charger with it.

“Hello?”

“Y/N,” the voice of your boss came through, waking you up. Had you over slept?

“Yes?”

“The streets to the office still aren’t plowed, so we’re not having anybody come in. Have a nice day.”

“Thank you,” you replied before you heard the phone beep telling you the call had ended. You hung up and snuggled back into the warmth.

Joe chuckled. “No work for you today?”

You hummed in agreement, still mostly asleep. Then you sat up, realizing you were still on the couch, your back to Joe’s chest. You turned and looked at him.

“Hey, come back, it’s too cold.” Joe opened his arms up. His voice still had that groggy touch to it.

You hesitated, wondering if you should talk to him now. You decided against it, and cuddled back into Joe, just to pretend for another hour or so.

“Can I ask you something?” Joe mumbled when you had taken your position again.

“What’s up?”

“Why didn’t you like Erika?”

You hesitated, debating on if you wanted to tell the truth or not.

“Women’s intuition?”

“Come on, really, why didn’t you like her?”

You couldn’t see Joe’s face, but clearly he didn’t buy it. Maybe it would be easier if you weren’t facing him.

You took a deep breath. “Because…she had you. And I…didn’t.”

There was silence in the room.

“That um…does that mean…I…that seems to imply that you wanted me.”

You turned and looked at him, not saying anything.

“Y/N, do…do you want me?”

You bit your bottom lip and nodded. “I…I don’t know when exactly it happened, but…”

You were cut off by a pair of lips. You kissed back, wrapping your fingers in Joe’s hair.

You pulled away and stared at him, breathing heavy. “What the hell was that?”

“Something that I’ve wanted to do for a long time,” Joe smiled at you, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“You have?”

“Of course I have. I just…you were with Dwayne, and then Steven, and then I started dating Erika and…now that we’re both single…”

You grinned. “Really?”

“Really. I mean, ever since we moved in together, honestly.”

You pulled Joe in for another kiss. He kissed you back for a bit before he pulled away for a moment.

“You know, we both have beds, and all day.”

You stood up, pulling him with you. “Race you.”

The both of you took off for Joe’s bedroom.

[not-another-fangirl74]

I feel you Joe

[musedblues]

Send My Love

summary: Eugene misses home. You miss him. But there's a lot neither of you can say.

a/n: Here's an angsty bit of nonsense I word vomited out of the blue for no reason at all- besides the fact I love Eugene. Plus I sort of owe this to @joemazzmatazz​ for hooking me up with The Pacific and for also just being the angel that she is!

w/c: 5k

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

He couldn't burden you with his darkness. He couldn't tell you that he hadn't caught a wink of sleep in three nights straight. He dared not tell you whose blood was on his hands, if he even managed to figure out who it'd belonged to. Or how he'd become fearful of lingering silence. His chest would fill with lead as seconds crept by in the twilight and even the blowing of the wind pricked his ears as he waited for the next big bang. He couldn't even tell you he missed you. Because all the other throat constricting truths were tangled in that one simple fact. He missed the warmth of your bed. The smile on your face on a breezy Sunday drive. He missed never knowing what he was missing out on, before.

I love you. Now that, he could say. Actually, he said it all the time. He said it when he admired his only worn photo of you near candle light. He said it when he thought of you, as all his friends and enemies cries pierced so loudly it deafened him.

I love you. He thought, hours after sending you another letter, as he dug his nails into the dirt of a foreign land. He thought only of how dearly he loved you because even the mud he crawled through wasn't enough to ground him. Not when the dirt clouded his already blurred vision.

///

"I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I-"

You let the new letter fall against your writing desk as your eyes scanned the page. It was chock full of those same three words without punctuation. His writing was sloppy, almost careless. But he'd taken the time to scribe the sentence in repetition, so you knew his heart was in the right place.

But the word's meaning didn't leave a long enough effect on your heart before worry swallowed you whole. He loved you, and you knew it. But a whole page full of the declaration felt tragic. Like a warning. Not at all what it should have felt like.

You bit your lip as you pulled your own stationery in some kind of sudden hurry. The quicker I write this the better. You though. But the thought caught you off guard. You'd never thought it before.

"Dear Gene,"

No sooner than your pen hit the paper did a knock come across your bedroom door.

"Come finish dinner before your father and I have to leave to beat the snow." Your mother softly demanded, and you stood without haste. But your eyes lingered on Eugene's letter as you turned to leave.

"The mail was from Eugene, wasn't it?" Your mother grinned, stabbing her fork into a lump of mystery meat she insisted on coming over and cooking for you. The exchanges between yourself and Eugene had dwindled significantly over the while he'd been away. And quite the while it had been indeed. So when a letter finally did arrive between the collection of cobwebs in your mailbox, it was like Christmas day. Better.

"Uh-huh." You agreed, biting into some asparagus and hoping to high heavens that your voice sounded even and calm. The new letter was so sweet. So why did it leave you with such a heavy heart?

"How's Gene, then?" Your father boomed.

"He's good." You decided, keeping your gaze fixed on your dinner plate. Sure enough, your father spun into the most frightening updates of the state of your country's men. You pretended to listen, white noise flooding your ears and stealing your focus. The sinking feeling in your gut took up too much space for any more food.

Your sister changed the subject to some school girl fantasy. The boy she fancied had yet to leave the comforts of his family home. But he would likely be up and away like the rest of em' soon enough. So was it really a change of subject at all?

///

"Gene?" You called. His silhouette was shaped by a sunlit door frame. When he stepped into the room all the way, the floorboards didn't creak. But your heart did. He lifted a silent arm toward you, but you couldn't let him any closer.

"This isn't real. Don't break my heart in another world, Gene."

You shot awake from the dream with the realization that you hadn't finished writing a response to Eugene's latest letter. You couldn't be stopped from padding toward your writing desk in the black ink night.

You scribbed a hurried response that assured your lover you loved him just as much as all the times he said so on paper. You tried to keep it short, but as you kept jotting down your feelings, you couldn't stop. You took up three pages confessing how scared you were. How lonely and worried and dazed you'd become. If anyone should know your heart's murmurs, it was your Gene. So you sealed your words in an envelope and sent your lengthy letter through priority mail the next day.

///

You couldn't be sure if your letter got to where it was meant to go. Six long dreary months passed since you'd seen anything besides bills in your mailbox. The winter's snow had been melted by a warm spring. Trees blossomed and flowers too. So why were you wilting? Because you hadn't received one single bit of mail from Eugene since his page-long declaration of his love for you.

The repetitive letter laid exactly where you left it on your writing desk, something your eyes glanced over at least once a day. It had become a fixture of your scenery, and you were glad for the reminder.

Maybe Eugene knew he wouldn't be sending more letters. Maybe he filled up every blank space in his last with love, for all the times he feared he'd miss out saying so in the future.

Some days you let ideas like those get the better of you. Friends of friends would be united with their war-torn lovers. A girl dropped her grocery basket in the produce aisle to sprint into her long lost man's embrace. Another would brush past you at work to tackle her husband to the ground with all the kisses she'd saved up. You would pretend to smile for them and curse at yourself for feeling so selfishly bitter. Their love came home. And in a way, yours did too, in so many written words. You had to remind yourself that Eugene's last letter was better than nothing at all.

But soon, nothing at all was your everything. No letters, no calls, no news from anyone you'd hope would have some. Nothing. You kept Eugene's side of the bed neatly tucked in, and his clothes on his side of the closet. You ran out of shirts that smelled of him, after cuddling them all too close. Their charm might have washed off in the laundry, but they were still Eugene's.

///

You worked through the summer and went out with your friends on the weekends, if you could. When another lonely autumn started to approach, the steadily dissipating hope you'd been grasping hold of, had been lost. You'd passed the stage where everything made you sad; like frequenting Eugene's favorite shops in the city, and catching glimpses of his favorite cars on the road. You'd turn the radio down when songs he liked came on air. You'd noticed his favorite trees outside your cozy home, but wouldn't let yourself admire how they'd grown.

One afternoon you noticed the letter on your desk for the first time in a while. It'd become a part of your background, something your eyes were so used to it was almost like the letter wasn't even there. But one day, you sat down to do some mind numbing paper work; and glanced over to realize half of Eugenes scribbles had started fading from the sun that crept past your curtains day in and out.

You took the sun bleached letter into your grasp and let your eyes fall across the page. His words might have started to disappear but you didn't have to squint to know what he'd written. The patterns of each sloppily scrawled line had been burned into your brain for good, by now. But you couldn't let it go on fading. It was all you had left. So with a heavy sigh, you pulled out the box where you'd kept all the other letters, and stuck it in the very bottom of the pile. That way, if you'd ever venture to read through some of Eugene's outdated updates, the last one you received would hopefully keep some semblance of it's original form. And if the words were even harder to make out by the time you came upon them again, you'd know exactly what was missing from the washed out letter.

///

Your friends stopped asking if you were alright, because they knew you'd only answer like you always did, by pretending you were. Secretly hoping that forcing a smile on your face would make it stick till it became real, or at least natural, again. But you hadn't felt that fizzle in your chest for a long time, the one that bubbled up in the theater during a funny film, or a thrilling plot twist. You hadn't even felt a tinge of jealousy when your coworkers went on trips to spend time with their lovers distant relatives.

By Halloween, you barely felt anything at all.

Your sister begged you to come along for a night-long hallows eve celebration. You didn't know what kind of night she planned on having, but you simply weren't up for pretending to have any kind of fun. And you really didn't want to be pulled through a house of horrors or tossed a handful of sweets to tied you over till the next scary thing popped out. You'd spent too many nights scared of what might happen next. You wanted to stay in and practice your new routine of praying for a better tomorrow.

But nothing could stop the neighborhood children from knocking on your door, asking for candy. And you'd be a real monster if you didn't have any to offer. So you filled a big bowl with chocolates and spent the night marveling over kid's homemade costumes.

You spent a while chatting with little werewolves and ghouls, musing with their parents about the weather. You handed out candy as the sun went down and put a record on in between. Your home felt lonely as ever but the bustling streets were an odd comfort.

When a fireman, and a lion knocked on your door for a treat, a princess was leaving a trail of flower petals on your porch, dedicated to her role. You chuckled and watched her twirl into the crowded street, shouting about the excellent quality of the candies you were handing out. Children of all ages were floating down the block, and your neighbors were giving out sweets too, on their aptly cobweb-covered porches. For a moment you wished every day could be so full. You wished the streets were always jam packed with smiling faces. You wished the knocks on your door were always so frequent.

Among the sea of costumed kids, and parents with cameras, one figure slowly parted through the rest, making their way toward you. It was akin to an eerie vision. A sick joke. You'd had dreams like this, that never came true...

You stilled as the kids on your porch reached into your candy dish, and more came up the steps for their share. But your gaze was fixed to the person in the road.

Could it be? A lone soldier was drifting closer and closer, a familiar swath of auburn hair tousled in the warm night air. This was no costume. Suddenly, children's laughter was muddled, and the record inside your door sounded miles away. This wasn't another one of your dreams, for once- even though time seemed to slow down while your heart beat a mile a minute.

Eugene was here. Eugene was home. He was looking right at you, and when he realized you noticed him, his face relaxed into something softer, sweeter than a smile.

You dropped the dish of sweets in the doorway because you were only capable of running now. You pushed through the group of children scrambling to collect your mess of candy and bolted down the petal covered porch steps.

Eugene stopped walking through the crowd in order to brace for impact. He scooped you up in a long-awaited embrace, nearly stumbling over from the momentum you'd gained.

"Hey watch it!" Some kid cried, ringing the bell on the front of his bicycle. The crowd of comers and goers had to redirect their swarm that you'd rushed into the middle of. But you were in no state to offer up apologies for disrupting the bustle. All you knew was the feeling of Eugene's strong arms around you. That's where you belonged. You wrapped yourself around him, like if you didn't cling on for all it was worth, that he would evaporate into a fever dream you'd had once before. But then he spoke up, reminding you this was all really real.

"I missed you." Eugene's warm voice was muffled in your hair. And he meant it. He always had, of course. But now that he was back, he didn't have to miss you anymore. So he could finally say it. And it wasn't until then, that you realized he'd never said it before. You realized why, too.

You couldn't hold back your tears as you wrapped your arms tighter around his neck. If you could have focused on anything besides the reappearance of your long lost love, you would have been able to register the neighbor's chatter and the children's ongoing griping for you to get out of the middle of the road. But you just kept on crying.

So Eugene kept one arm around your middle, and pulled the pair of you steadily toward the porch steps, apologizing to the candy snatching children he maneuvered around.

By the time he shut the pair of you inside your home, the record had stopped playing and the neighborhood's collective buzz was reduced to white noise.

Eugene pulled you to the floor and held on to you all the same. He couldn't tell you he was too relieved too cry along with you. He couldn't ever find the proper words for a moment like now. So he just savored the way you adhered to him; as he held you close in the living room of your home that's carpet felt like clouds beneath him.

Your cries slowly morphed into whimpers as he smoothed back your hair and hummed in your ear. It was amazing, the way Gene sent you reeling and calmed you down all at once.

"I'm sorry." Embarrassed that you couldn't stop crying, you buried your face in Eugene's shoulder. Only then did he dare to release his comforting grasp on you.

He tugged you to face him, wiped your tears away and peppered your cheeks with soft kisses. The way he always used to do, when you were angry or exhausted. You lifted a hand to his face and relaxed into his frame in a way you'd longed to do for ages.

"It's alright. I'm just glad to know you missed me so much." Eugene admitted through a sweet chuckle as you pulled back to gaze into his eyes that were even more striking than you'd managed to remember.

"Why didn't you tell me you were comin' home?" You asked, not unhappy in the least, just curious when you recalled all this time you'd gone without hearing from him.

He couldn't tell you why he'd gone so long without sending you something. He couldn't tell you that time seemed to tick, and when it stalled, the words he could have conjured just for you were stolen away when those rare moments of respite were, too.

But he could tell you that when he was finally sent on his way, the train he'd boarded with anxious glee- broke down in the middle of no place at all. He combated another couple days of waiting to get home with the peaceful knowledge that he was headed in that direction without a doubt.

"Well, welcome back." You smiled, sitting up with your knees on either side of his legs, pulling his shoulders closer toward you for a kiss. You felt Eugene melt in your clutch as his strong arms coiled around your waist. This was just like before. But better. You could get used to this.

///

He was everything you missed. He was patient smiles as you fretted over what to wear. He was the last to ask for help with anything, but you were the first he asked, when defeated. He was around every corner with big strong arms already outstretched, eager to pull you in for a bit of reassurance, or just because he simply longed to hold you close.

And as the weather turned cold and you got used to his being home, readjusted to the way his presence brought you warm peace; you had a few other things to get used to, as well.

He still waited for the perfect time to crack jokes, when he knew they'd make you laugh hardest. They made your family laugh too. And when all the champagne bubbles and chuckles fizzed out near the end of a big dinner, so did something in Eugene's gaze. He didn't go missing his spark or the warmth that radiated from his forest toned eyes. But you noticed the shift before everyone else seemed too. You watched his focus break away before he got up from the dinner table without a word and slipped down the hall.

Your sister's boyfriend would halt mid tall tale and act as if he couldn't wait to go on telling his story without Eugene near to listen. You had to rest your hand on top of the schoolboys, when he made as if he was going to shoot up away from the table and down the hall to talk your man's ear off. The boy would cast you a curious glare, and you would shake your head as your father made a show of kicking conversation in an all new direction. Then you all sat and waited, hard as it was.

You wanted to run after Eugene too, but you knew he needed the space.You knew, when he'd found whatever he went off looking for, he'd always come back in time to help clean up with a soft smile that reminded you why you'd fallen so hard for him way back when.

So you learned to leave him be. You learned it was normal to find he'd wake up before you, now, and linger in the kitchen with a cup of tea. He'd let the drink go untouched and grow cold till you found him nodding off at the table, and offer to make him another.

When you went on walks, you watched him drift toward the nearest patch of quiet until you'd finished catching up with the women you bought fresh flowers from. When you'd finally manage to float in his direction again, he'd hold his arm out for you to take; and then greet you with some cheesy line that left you blushing, despite all your years of becoming accustomed to his sweet talk.

So you'd let Eugene go quiet. Because you knew sooner or later, he'd pull you into his lap or close to his side, where you'd spend the rest of the day dreaming of the many more you had left to waste away together.

Of course, though, some days you couldn't let him go by sulking in the sunroom one minute longer. Your heart would crack down to the wire, each hour you passed by the door to peek in on him-  slumped a little lower in his favorite old chair.

And when the day started turning to night and all that time passed without a peep reminded you too much of the quiet that crept in when he wasn't around at all- you swayed into the sunroom on a mission.

You found Eugene how you'd left him early in the afternoon, flipping the yellowed page of a book you knew he'd read a thousand times before.

"Why don't we call it a night, then?" You wondered softly, leaning against the chair and letting your hand fall to Eugene's mess of hair. His locks were mused by wrestling for a wink of sleep the night before, and his fingers today, as he fought to stay awake through his parents surprise morning visit.

He glanced up at you now, letting the book in his lap flutter to close. You knew just the method to settle his duo of restless exhaustion. So with tender encouragement, you got him up from the chair and scurried to run a bath.

His smile flickered back to life in the dim light of the washroom. The softly coloured walls and the scents of the soaps you'd always found worthy of splurging on, all combined into some kind of small luxury. You filled the tub with bubbles, and unbuttoned your man's shirt while the sky went dark.

When you ushered him to settle in the bath, you kneeled at the edge and asked Eugene if he was happy; like your efforts were a tried and true formula set to melt away every trouble. He responded by splashing a bit of warm water your way with a grin that faded, like he was exhausted by the effort to remember how to smile.

"Would be happier if I had a little company..." He swept his eyes across the vast expanses of the bath as if it were the sea that had kept you apart for too long before.

So then you joined him without discussion. He watched you ease before him, your form disappearing below the steam and bubbles. His gaze was dazzling, albeit foggy, but entirely fixated on you. His brow furrowed when you brought a hand to his face, like he'd never been treated so kindly in all his days. As you studied his expression Eugene hung his head with a deep slow breath, solidifying his unsettled nature. His long, water warmed fingers trailed up your wrist, pulling your hand between both of his to hold.

"I should have written more."

"You wrote plenty." You assured, firmly, softly. Shifting closer, trying to catch his eye.

"But I could'a done more. I went so long without-"  He looked at you just in time, before you managed to hide the flash of sadness that crossed your eyes.

"What you must have thought..." Eugene suddenly realized in a shudder, reaching up to wipe drops of water that he'd splashed to your cheeks.

"It doesn't matter what I thought." You spoke decidedly. "You're home, now." You watched Eugene watch you, the crease in his brow deeper from being so permanently furrowed, his lips curled into a small frown, still. And when you nodded, to guarantee you were simply glad to have him back in your arms again, he still wasn't settled. Eugene's eyes searched yours as his frown grew.

"You... you thought I died, didn't you?" He asked.

It wasn't so much a change of topic as it was a direct acknowledgment of the matter you'd both been dancing far around since long before his leaving. It was always a concern, always a worry. Always something morphing into an ugly, mangled, all consuming thought you'd never let come out from the very back of your mind. And as you try to hide the way Eugene's question made your heart plummet, and as you consider what to tell him without lying or adding to the sadness filling his gaze; you failed to say anything at all.

Eugene decided your silence was plenty loud enough of an answer.

And then his troubled gaze started turning to the look that flooded his expression you'd come to recognize. The look he'd get before leaving families to wonder where he'd gone at the end of dinner.

So to save for the way your silence deafened the room, and the way you still couldn't say anything, you pulled Eugene to your chest. You threaded your fingers through his mused hair and held him close, because your "doesn't matter, you're home now speech" hadn't worked this time around and it was the only one you knew how to give without breaking up.

Then, Eugene's cold breath fanned across your collarbone as he started stammering through a speech. All about how he could have done more and how he'd so carelessly broken the promise he made to take care of you even while he was away. How he'd failed you and how he hadn't done nearly enough for you, and how he'd never be able to make it right...

"I'm sorry for makin' you think I was dead but, for a while... well  I might as well have been.  But damn it you don't need to hear that kind of thing. I could have done more then and I could be doing more even now but-"

"Gene stop." You gripped his shoulders, pushing him away from your hold until your eyes met. His expression was still curious and grim, but it slowly morphed into something even more somber as your eye's pierced into his.

Eugene broke your stare to hang his head. When he started to cry, you clamored closer and wrapped around him all the same. You held him close as ever and assured he'd done enough. Assured he had nothing to be sorry for. Assured you loved him and were glad to have someone to worry so feicrly over. You held him close while he held you too.

///

And you stuck just as close after the water turned cold and you'd slipped into your night clothes, together. You held Eugene right against you as you both pretended to sleep.

When he drifted from under the covers as the sun rose, you let him clatter about the kitchen for a beat before you followed close behind. Then you both sat at the table with cups of tea and let the silence set in. Eugene's knee brushed against yours every time he snapped back from staring at one page of the newspaper for too long. You bumped your elbow into his side every time you rose your cup of tea for a sip.

And then, as often as you could get away with- without offending too many of your neighbor ladies who stopped for a chat, you let Eugene pull you along when he floated away. He'd never said much, then. But he made tiny promises to do better, for you. You'd tell him he'd already done enough, and sat with him till the quiet seemed less suffocating.

Then, one day, you checked the mail to find Eugene had left a brand new letter. It was written in careful scrawl, echoing the promises he'd always repeated, when he wasn't too burdened to say so out loud. And though it was still missing so much of everything he'd never be able to say, it was full of thanks for you. He wrote how he'd never even want to try and claw through the darkness that seemed to swallow him whole, if it wasn't for you. For your dumb jokes and your pretty hair, and the effort you made to show him how much you cared. He wrote that every little thing about you, were the only things that got him through minutes he couldn't kick the habit of counting as they passed by.

You had to slip into the darkest room of your shared flat to cry where he couldn't hear. But these tears were less bitter, much more sweet than before.

Eugene wrote more letters, when he skipped out on parties you attended. He wrote about how he wished he could have gathered up the guts to have gone along with you. He wrote how grateful he was to know you'd come home to him at the end of the night. He wrote to you when he couldn't sleep, about how sorry he was for keeping you up with worry, all the same.

Your mailbox was usually full of bills, but you weren't surprised to keep finding odd envelops from Eugene. You collected the notes in the same box you'd stored his others away in, and watched Eugene sit up a little straighter each day he'd managed to get some of those heavy thoughts off his chest, in so many words.

Between letters, his laughter came back. His conversations lasted longer. And he'd stick around to join in the chatter at the end of big dinners.

Of course, there were still nights his tears mixed with the bathwater and his cries seemed to echo from places you'd never know. You'd never ask, not directly. You'd just make a warm drink and sit with him in the silence that told you all you needed to know. He'd never tell you. Not even when his thoughts spilled over onto papers he'd leave for you to find. He'd just hold your hand a little tighter under the dinner table until your father was done rambling about his own time fighting.

For fleeting moments, you wondered what Eugene had been through. But you reigned in your imagination as soon as it threatened to keep you up at night. And you made sure to sing along to songs on the radio- even the ones you didn't like very well, theatrically enough to get Eugene to smile, and turn his blank gaze from the empty fields you drove past.

You realized the thoughts that kept him awake till dawn might always. You realized there wasn't much you could do. Sometimes, you wrote letters back, and left notes under his pillow, when sharing silence wasn't enough to ease his frown. But more often than not, you'd started to spend nights together that reminded you of the day's before everything changed. You'd take each morning in stride, next to Eugene.

You got back to some kind of normal. The war was over. Eugene was back in your arms and in your world. He was your world. And no matter how far away he seemed to drift some days, Eugene was finally home.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

[xtrashmammalstefx]

Nevermore (A Joe Mazzello x Reader Smut Sprinkled with Angst!)

WARNINGS: SMUT, LANGUAGE, ANGST...

NOTES: Again I am sorry this took so long but yall know how it is. Writer’s block is a bitch! Anyway thanks for your patience and enjoy! Oh...AND MERRY CHRISTMAS MY LOVIES!!!

Dying is easy (or so I've heard), it's living that's hard. I learned that during a time when other kids were learning their multiplication tables. Well, hows this for multiplication: hatred x time= an explosion that destroys many, sending the innocent into the vast land of Nevermore.

My parents had gotten together in high school but hadn't meant for it to last long. In their minds the other was just something to kill the time until something better and long lasting came along. Then a moment of fun turned into a lifetime of hell. My mom found out she was having me the winter after she turned sixteen. Dad thought of it as a nightmare come true but stuck around because, “That's what a real man does.” He used that excuse a lot, mostly because of his religious upbringing. The same upbringing that led to him marrying my mom at eighteen.

Fast forward a few years....I'm eight, about to turn nine and my dad was packing up his things. I'd be lying if I said it wasn't a long time coming...I just wish it hadn't come so soon. “Can I come with you?” I asked hopeful...my mother wasn't exactly parent of the year.

“Not yet Bun,” he said using his nickname for me. “Mom needs you.”

“Mom hates me,” I rebuked. Dad just sighed and continued packing.

He was gone an hour later.

Why did you have to leave me Why did you deceive me You send me to the path of nevermore When you say you didn't love me anymore

As he drove away I ran up to my room and curled up on my bed. I cried for a long time that day, and mom kept telling me to shut up...that I didn't know my dad like she did. I ignored the horrible things she said about him and the outside world in general...until a soft pitter patter of feet entering my room caught my attention.

“Y/N?” Joe called my name. Joe had been my best friend since first grade. He was goofy, sweet, and just the best human in the world. I sniffed back tears and looked up.

“Huh-he's gone.” Was all I said before breaking down again. My bed shifted as Joe climbed on top of it and drew me into his small twig-like arms. “Nuh-now I'm stuck with her.” I almost started wailing. “Why am I stuck with her? Why can't I be with a family that cares?”

“You are with a family that cares, Y/N,” he said. “I'm your family.”

I looked up at him curiously.

“I'll always be your family,” he said.

I sniffed. “Puh-Promise?”

He nodded.

He held me there for the rest of the day, until he had to leave for dinner. He was going to ask my mom if I could join him at his house but she was passed out on the sofa; beer bottle hanging from her fingertips.

Years passed and things didn't get any better. My mom got sick when I was twelve...Years of heavy drinking sent her liver into hell. She underwent treatments and for fours years it seemed that they had worked. When I was sixteen I found out she was still drinking and eventually her liver became too trashed to function and her doctor said the only hope she had now was a liver transplant. Weeks passed and we were still waiting. Mom was in the hospital, hooked to machines, while I was home alone.

One day the stress finally got to me and I called into school sick. I spent the day under the covers of my bed. I tried to sleep...shut my mind off and go away for a while...but I couldn't. Instead I just laid there wishing this was some sort nightmare that I could wake up from at any minute.

“Y/N?” Joe's voice drew me out of my reverie. I sighed buried myself further under my blankets. “I-um-brought your homework.” He said.

“Thanks,” I muttered. I thought he would get the hint and walk away but then I heard a soft thud and felt the bed shift. Joe draped his arm over me pressing our bodies together. “I-I'm gonna be alone Joey.”

“Don't say that,” he whispered.

“It's true...” I muttered. “Mom doesn't have much time...she knows it...I know it...the doctors know it but they won't say anything...and dad knows...but still doesn't want me to go with him after...said it wasn't a good idea for me...”

“Doesn't mean you'll have to be alone, Y/N,” Joe said his voice cracking. I looked over and found his eyes shining with tears. “You have me...you have us...you’re a Mazzello forever and always.”

“I am?”

“Of course,” he said gently. “I love you, Y/N. I think I’m always gonna love you. Even when you don’t love yourself.”

“Promise?”

He nodded. “I do,” he whispered bringing his lips down to mine. His lips were warm and soft...and stunning. I froze for a bit shocked at the feeling it gave. It was like it was the most right thing in the world. That even though I was losing the last of my birth family I would be okay...because Joe was with me, he was breathing, and he was loving.

I kissed back fiercely.

Eventually his tongue slipped in and massaged mine as our hands explored elsewhere. My hands snaked up his shirt, nudging it up until he got the hint. He shrugged it off. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“I’ve been more sure about anything,” I said before tugging off my own shirt, kind of grateful I was too lazy to at least put on a bra that morning.

“Wow,” Joe said. “You grew.” I slapped him playfully on his arm and he brought his lips back to mine. “Seriously though,” he said leaving kisses on my cheek, neck, and collar bone. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so fucking beautiful in my entire life.”

I felt my face warm up at that as he went down to my breasts. He kissed them gently, sucking on my nipple. “Fuck, you really know what you’re doing.”

Joe chuckled and ventured lower. He kissed a trail down my stomach stopping at the waistband of my shorts. I lifted my hips so he could pull them off. Once he did he got between my legs. “So fucking beautiful,” he whispered before pressing his lips to my cunt.

I sucked in a breath as he started kissing and sucking at me. The feeling was intense… something out of this world even. “J-Joey I—.”

There was a stirring brewing within and it was suddenly getting much, much stronger. Suddenly my back was arched, my toes curled, and I could feel a warm liquid leave me. I moaned loudly. Joe gave my cunt a final kiss and climbed back up, smirking. “Huh-how the fuck..?” I asked panting. Joe laughed.

“You have your talents...I have mine,” Was all he said before lining himself up with my entrance. I peered down seeing if he needed any help and gasped. I didn’t know how he was ever gonna make that fit. “Ready, baby?”

I looked up and nodded.

He pushed in and we both cried out. He held still for a while so we could get use to the feel of one another. “You’re perfect…” I muttered. “You’re perfect for me.”

“I dunno about that,” he grunted. “You’re so tight.”

I smacked him playfully on his (cute as hell) ass. “Smart ass.”

“I was just kidding, babe.” he chuckled pushing in a little more. I moaned at the feeling. “You okay?”

I nodded. “Just take it slow...you’re insanely big for a twig.”

“Ha ha,” he said but still pushed in as slowly and gently as possible. Moments later he was all the way in. He held still for a while longer settling for just kissing me on my lips and neck. After a while I felt comfortable enough that my body was aching for him to move.

“Joey are you gonna fuck me any time soon or are you just gonna leave your dick in me?” I asked.

“Oh, uh…” He pulled out and pushed back in.

Our bodies moved together seamlessly. As though this is how we were always meant to be. Together, joined as one. I held onto Joe as though I were holding on to my life; which I was, I really was.

Suddenly the same stirring feeling from earlier started up again. Eventually I was writhing beneath Joe, moaning as I was pushed over the edge. It got worse when Joe started thrusting into a certain spot. I bit back a scream of extreme pleasure. Joe smirked.

“I take it I found your weak spot?” he asked. I nodded furiously and he continued to thrust there. He went in harder and faster, probably feeling the same tension grow within him that I did.

To say that I was almost seeing stars would be the understatement of the century. Finally it all became too much and I became undone. I moaned loudly as my whole body tensed up, and more liquid left me covering Joe’s length.

This sent him over the edge and with a groan he twitched inside me, filling me up. His body shuttered as he released while mine began to relax.

“I love you so much, Y/N,” he said panting once he collapsed beside me. “So, so, much.”

I cuddled up against. “I love you too, Joey.”

We were inseparable after that day. Mom passed soon after and his parents graciously took me in. Happily ever after doesn’t come easy though. The feelings I felt earlier that morning never really went away especially after mom died. It was hard for me to even leave my bed, and even Joe at times would spend the day holding me.

When we grew older and he filmed more movies and stuff, we got our own place. I still had those moments but they were far and few. Joe and I married soon after The Pacific premiered and a year later we were parents to a beautiful baby girl. A girl I swore to do right by, unlike my parents.

I swear on my every breath she will never know what it’s like to be lost in the land of Nevermore. She and her soon to be baby brother, Joey, will live happily no matter what.

I promise.

Taglist: @fairestkillerqueenofall @onceuponadetectivedemigod @boherahpsody @freddie-bulsara @rose-de-jaune @xxkellsvixen19xx @valeriecarolinaw @hearttshapeddboxx @pleasingiswhatweaimfor​ @hatemylifesofuckingmuch​ @painandpleasure86​ @haileynicoleseavey17​ @queenlover1997​ @mrsmazzello​ @hannafuckingsucks​ @zwiezraczek​ @night-writer-writer​ @theborhapboysawakenedmywhatever​ @tinywildeace​

[ineloqueent]

talk to me

Joe Mazzello x Reader

hi regan your gifs are amazing okay

synopsis: Joe’s been quiet for a while. you think it’s your fault, but it isn’t. if only you could talk to him.

warnings: feelings of worthlessness, drowning allusion, straight angst (but it’s a nice ending, so don’t worry :))

word count: 1.5k

a/n: as usual, i have no self control. inspired by the fucking stupid state of the world, and this song. 

⭒

2020

Nighttime. It seemed like it was always nighttime.

You got up before the sun, you only came home once it had set, once the world had been swathed in darkness once more, and the hopelessness sank more heavily without light to keep it at bay.

The world around you was in pieces. Aflame. Gone to madness. Possibly ending.

At least, that was how it seemed.

Dying, that’s what people were, and if they weren’t dying, they were sick, or vulnerable to an extraordinary degree. And if it wasn’t sickness, then they were dying as victims of violence, of hatred, and there was so much of it that you wondered if anything would ever change.

And there was nothing you could do about any of it.

Sure, you could wear a mask and stay six feet from people, and sign petitions and donate money, but you couldn’t stay home from work, and your increasingly sparse budget meant that you couldn’t keep donating forever. The one thing that helped the most, and you couldn’t fucking keep it up. You felt so useless.

You felt so stupidly selfish, so ridiculously privileged, when you sat down in the evenings, at the wooden dining table you were lucky enough to call your own, because you’d held onto your job with nothing but chance; you had a place to come home to. Some people didn’t even have that.

And you had Joe.

For all the despair and the grief, you had Joe.

He was at home— home, home, it belonged to you both— and could be found around the apartment at any given hour. He was curled up on the bed with a mound of books he intended to read, typing away at the new screenplay he swore you’d inspired him to write, or humming as he cooked up a storm in the kitchen using a recipe borrowed from one of his relatives in Italy, not often with the best results, but always with the best intentions.

Always.

He was always there when you came home, ready to slip your jacket from your shoulders and ease you into his arms, after he’d ensured you’d washed your hands at least twice. He was there as you sank into the sofa, cooing to you softly as he kissed away the lines the mask had left on your face, brushed the hair back from your eyes so that he could “see that beautiful smile of yours.”

But, you knew that these ‘unprecedented times’, to quote every email you’d received since March, were just as hard on Joe as they were on you.

Sometimes you would find him hunched over your shared desk, his head in his hands and his fingers in his hair, slumped in an utterly dejected manner. You would wander over to him and begin rubbing his shoulders until he lifted his head and you could press a kiss to his crown. Sometimes, you would find him sprawled on the floor, in front of the television, multi-tasking an existential crisis with an episode of Queer Eye. Wordlessly, you would make your way over and fall down beside him, and after a few moments of silence, he’d pull you to him and cuddle into your side, and the two of you would simply lie there, holding one another until the wave of darkness swelled and slowed, and a smattering of light shone through the water to reach your hearts, your minds.

But he was never quiet.

Not like this.

And he’d been like this for a week.

You’d been giving him some space to breathe, but perhaps that was not what he needed at all. Perhaps he needed you.

You resolved to find out.

It was already nighttime when you came on Friday, running through your usual routine of handwashing, mask removal, clothing-changing, a pitiful glance in the mirror.

You hadn’t yet seen Joe, which was odd, because he must have been home. You supposed he was in the living room, in his favourite corner of the sofa where the walls were close and hid a cosy nook from the view of the rest of the open-plan apartment.

Once you were dressed— in pyjama bottoms, a loose t-shirt, the knitted green cardigan Joe said made you look like a forest nymph— you armed yourself with a stack of take-away menus and shuffled toward the living room.

“So, what’s it to be?” you said, raising a couple of the menus. “Italian for my favourite Mazzello?” you smiled. “Or Indian, Thai, Greek?”

But then your smile faded, when you looked at Joe.

Normally, he had the opposite effect on you, but how could you smile when he lay curled up like that, his arms wrapped around a pillow, his face gaunt and his eyes watery?

The take-away menus fluttered to the floor.

You were next to him within seconds, pulling him up into a sitting position, prying the pillow from his arms to take his hands in yours.

“Joe?” you asked softly. “Talk to me.”

His eyes were on your hands. His own were shaking. You tightened your grip.

Then he looked up at you, and the air left your lungs, like being pushed under a wave without even a chance to inhale before the weight of the water set in.

Or maybe that was just how it felt to have your heart broken without losing someone first, because Joe’s expression broke your heart.

“Will it always be like this?” he murmured, and the tears spilled from his eyes to stain his cheeks.

You couldn’t stand to see him like this, so forlorn and lost.

Cupping Joe’s face in your hands, your eyes flickered between his, and you thought for a moment, about everything. About all the misery and the hatred and the stubborn stupidity, about the tiring precautions and the people putting their lives on the line even more than you did every day, about the ignorance and the passivity, about the lasting effects of everything that had happened and would still happen in 2020.

Hindsight is 20/20.

So look back.

This was not the first time humanity had faced horrors.

There would always be carelessness and obstinacy, apathy and greed, and there would always be the selfish bastards who could do more but preferred to live in their high castles, away from the troubles of the world.

But there would always be doctors and scientists too, activists and ordinary people alike who banded together to fight for good in the world, people who had so little but gave what they had because they thought to suspend their wants for the needs of others.

“No,” you answered firmly, and pulled Joe into your embrace. “It will not always be like this.”

He buried his face in your shoulder and you felt him sigh as he wound his arms around you, as you brought one hand to his hair, which had grown longer and even more unruly than usual, subject to his maintenance of isolation. Joe was always saying that he looked tired, spent, weary, worn, but you thought he looked as beautiful as ever, with his soft smiles and softer eyes, with the way he padded toward bed in the evenings before he crawled beneath the covers beside you and lavished you with kisses, ones that were happily returned.

Now, he pressed his lips to the little bit of skin exposed by your t-shirt and cardigan at your collarbone. And when he raised his head, you brushed your thumb over his tears until there were none left, until the whisper of a smile warmed his expression and you leaned forward to gently kiss his mouth.

“You’ll always have me,” you said. “Whether you like it or you don’t.”

He did smile at that.

“You and I, forever, huh?” His eyes crinkled at the corners as he sniffed back his remaining tears.

“Cry all you want, Joe. I’m not leaving you.”

He laughed, shook his head, tugged you into his arms again.

And so the evening was spent, in the corner of a sofa as the darkness outside grew thicker, one shaft of light in the gloom of the world, one little corner of solace, of happiness, as you laughed and talked, bellies full of the best pizza the city had to offer, hearts full of an ineffable warmth that eventually lulled you to sleep in each other’s arms.

And all around the world, these corners glowed in their solitude, until the glow spread and banished all bleakness, and the only darkness was night.

You would make it. You would all make it, because as terrible as everything was, people had a way of finding a little hope, even when there should have been none of it at all.

As terrible as it all was, it would always be you and Joe against the world.

⭒

a/n: i now recommend listening to ‘dear friends’ by queen, because it’s the lullaby we all need. love to you all x

[lady1505]

Reblog if new Queen fans coming from Bohemian Rhapsody are just as valid as old Queen fans

[isitstraightvodka]

(: 13 & 22 & 28 with joe pls?

13. “You can’t keep pretending it didn’t happen, cause guess what? It did!”, 22. “Choose me.”, 28. “Make me." - really love writing for joe so i hope you love this too!

"I'm better. You know it and I know it."

"I never said you were!"

"Then why did you sleep with me? Answer me that."

Joe had you backed into a corner with that, you hated to admit it but it was the truth. This was your fault, your choice and he wasn't to blame, this was on you, it was like having a boulder on your back and you wanted it off but it wouldn't be that easy.

It was a month ago when you came running over to Joe's flat after a big spat you'd had with Ben, who was your fwb. He let you in, gave you a mug of tea and sat you down on the couch, and listened to you go on about what caused you and Ben to blow up on each other, about him coming home late more often than usual, mostly drunk with the stench of cigarettes all over him, you'd had enough and it turned into a fight. You left in a crying daze, the sound of Ben bashing his drumkit as a way to take out his anger and frustration, and you, well you kissed Joe and before you knew it, you were rolling around in the sheets into the early hours of the morning. You didn't know why you went to Joe when in retrospect, it would've been a lot better if you had gone to Lucy's aid, at least you wouldn't have woken up in her bed naked. 

"Because I was hurt. I didn't know what I was thinking!"

"Sure as hell was not sloppy seconds, not with the way you rode m-"

"Stop stop stop!" You cried, waving your hands around like some sort of crazy lady. Memories from that night flashed before your eyes, how he touched you, kissed you, moved with you, in the moment, it felt amazing but now you realised what a total idiot you were; you left one bloke to go screw another, as if that would solve anything. You weren't exclusive with Ben but if he found out, you knew he'd be crushed, that boy had a heart of gold and he treated you very well, never made you feel like a sex object, and over a stupid fight, you had ruined everything. 

Joe tucked his hands into his pockets and leant against the doorframe of his living room, his leather jacket would make any woman salivate, including the woman you'd been that night you'd come here to his flat.

"Love, we fucked, okay? You can’t keep pretending it didn’t happen, cause guess what? It did!”

"I know it did but it shouldn't have! I wasn't in my right mind, I was upset and sad and you were so...nice and you held me and..." You got lost in your thoughts again, how Joe's arms wrapped around your shaking figure, letting you cry into his shirt, his lips on your forehead, then forehead kisses turned into cheek kisses then they turned into tongues clashing together, your mug of tea forgotten on the table as Joe carried you into his room.

"And what?"

His voice brought you back to the real world, slipping your fingers into your hair, staring at the floor, wondering why the hell you even came here again. Could it be because you slept with him for a reason? Not because you were lonely and upset, what about another reason...No, it couldn't be true. And if it was, you did not want to give in.

"Nothing. I have to go. I'm sorry."

You made a beeline for the front door, fighting back tears, wanting to discard every thought in your head. A strong hand grabbed your elbow, you spun around to find Joe pulling you to his chest, nose just brushing yours, you hadn't been this close since the night you'd been together and it gave you shivers, the same ones you felt when his mouth had been on yours. Joe's face softened, eyes seaarching your face as his fingers ran down the edge of your jaw, taking in the softness of your skin and the brightnes of your eyes.

"Choose me."

"W-what?" You didn't register what he said to you, your judgement of reality seemed clouded, you were in that same daze and you had to get out of it before you ended up in the same situation as last time.

"Choose me. You came over for a reason. Why me? Why not Lucy, or Gwil, or your mother? You chose to come here, to me, we both know why and it took you fighting with Ben for you to realise it. You want me."

He was right. But you couldn't do this. Not to Ben.

"Joe...please let me go."

"Make me." He growled, grabbing your hip to draw you further in, closer to his body. Your hand rested on his chest as a reflex reaction, keeping space between the two of you, your fingers curled around the collar of his jacket, the leather tough to your touch. It was tempting, he was tempting but hurting Ben wasn't worth this. You'd already done it once, you couldn't do it again, even if you admitted it to yourself how bad you wanted Joe, it wasn't right. You'd already fucked up, making matters worse was not the answer.

You sighed and your hand dropped from his chest, reaching for his hand which was still wrapped around your elbow, his grip loosened and you pushed his fingers away, as much as you wanted to pull his hand back, you knew you couldn't. Joe looked deflated, almost sad, you could sense that without even looking at him. You didn't want to look at him. By deciding not to hurt one man, you'd hurt another and it was because of you and your torn heart. Fuck emotions. You never wanted to feel anything ever again.

"I'm really sorry, Joe, I have to go."

And just like that, you turned around and slipped out his door, shutting it behind you and the man you might've had a chance with if you hadn't of let your emotions get the better of you. As you walked away, you didn't mistake the faint sound of sob inside the flat, but you kept on walking, as a single tear slid down your cheek.

prompt list

[normalisnotnormal]

All different stages of Brian. From childhood to elderly.

[killerqueenishere]

[floralfloyd]

Itsametaphorgwil’s WIP - 15/08/2020

Hi all! I’m back from a small writing hiatus due to some personal problems but I’m back with some great content for you all. In this post I’ll give an insight on whats to come in the next coming weeks :) 

1) A Field of Flowers Final Chapter - I am currently editing and adding the last few bits and pieces in the final chapter of my Samuel Castell tale. Its going to be so sweet that you’ll have a sugar rush after reading. For all you Samuel lovers, don’t worry, this won’t be the last of the hunky recorder you’ll be seeing on my feed. 

2) Forgive Me Lord, I have Fallen In Love - Now this, I am most excited for you all to read, Lately, I have had so much muse for Gwilym’s character Henry Jameson from Land Girls (which is a must see if you’d like to see Gwil as priest). I am still to decide if its  going to be a multi part series or mini-series but the plot is based around Henry having his heart broken and then falling for a young girl from the Womens Royal Air Force. It’s a period drama filled with angst, fluff, sad moments and maybe a little smut. 

3) Rock Field Romance - A two part one shot involving the reader and Brian May during the recording of “A Night At The Opera”

Also to note, my asks are always open for requests. I am happy to write for anyone and any plots people have in mind, although my main muse written here is Gwilym Lee, I would love to write for other cast members such as Ben, Joe ans Lucy along with the members of Queen.

Keep safe and keep on rocking!

[theantisocialpeach]

When someone asks me what I do for a living

[ungreeneyed]

yes sex is good but have you seen Roger performing Keep Yourself Alive solo

[musedblues]

Happy almost 600!!! It's cliche, but could you do a blurb of Joe with "And there was only one bed!" Thank you!

Carrie! Thank you dearly. Order up for one cliche blurb! 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

You’d been in London for twenty four hours, and you already felt like dying. Not only was this your first major role, and your first major film premier- you had a major crush on one of your costars. Maybe it was Joe’s natural charm, the way he’d walk back the long way he’d left from just to tell a cameraman he really liked his jacket. Joe was easy to like. Everyone seemed to light up when the guy walked in the room whether he paid them any attention or not. And that’s where your problem really was. Joe paid a lot of attention to you. He offered to stay late for a month after every table read, to help you learn lines and feel more comfortable on the intimidating set. He went out of his way like that for other people. He helped other actors with their nerves. You weren’t special, you knew. But you couldn’t help but melt a little, when he told stories about you at event panels. You couldn’t help but swoon over the comments he left on your Instagram posts. You couldn’t help yourself from falling for him, and after tomorrow night's premier, only God knew when you’d ever cross paths with Joe Mazzello again. 

After the last talk show appearance had been filmed, you followed the rest of the foreign cast to the hotel suite the studio rented for you all to spend one glorious weekend in. The premier was tomorrow night, and you were already a nervous wreck. On the lift up to the room, you and one other pal were the only two of your peers with bags in tow. Everyone else got here earlier in the day. God, how nervous could one person be? 

“There’s only one room left, so you’ll have to fight to the death.” Another of your co stars explained, dashing into the suite. While most of your other co stars wished each other goodnight, the only room left was snatched up by your pal who’d raced toward the bed calling dibs all the way. 

Much to your dismay, you found the couch had been taken too, and in the midst of you and a helpful friend brainstorming a space for you to settle, Joe spoke up. 

“You can stay with me if you want.” He breezed by, like his offer meant nothing. And you struggled to hide the way you blushed at the idea. But if your other costar noticed, they didn’t care. They simply shrugged and wished you a peaceful night’s sleep before the big day tomorrow. 

So that was that, you could either follow behind Joe, or stand in the minikitchen and give away just how nervous you were. You sucked in a breath and went on your way.

Joe took his turn in the ensuite first, swearing he wouldn’t use up all the hot water. You chuckled as you tossed your bags in the corner and struggled not to scream in a panic. You found clothes to change into and just kept telling yourself not to think about it. Not to worry. Not to give yourself away. You averted your eyes when Joe stepped out in a pair of pale joggers and dashed to ready yourself for bed. Joe was only being kind. You knew this. But that didn’t stop you from muttering a string of curses as you showered and took too long worrying over your appearance when it was all said and done.

Joe was kicked back on the bed, scrolling through his phone when your time ran out. You shuffled quietly toward the opposite side, switching out the light closest to you. 

“You don’t wanna stay up till dawn and party?” Joe teased, sounding sleepy despite his offer. 

“As much as I’d love to, sleep seems more important. Tomorrows going to be… well you know.” You waved, turning back the covers. 

“Are you nervous?” Joe asked, clicking his phone off and tossing it aside. 

“Yeah.” You sheepishly admitted. Of course you were. While he followed your lead switching out the last light and settling under the covers, Joe promised you had nothing to worry over. He said it was a guaranteed good time, watching the project you’d been working on for months finally stitched together on screen. You hummed, set at ease by his pep talk, for tomorrow, and now. For a moment, you felt fine with a few inches of space between you and Joe, as you settled to fall asleep in the same bed. 

But then he turned on his side to face you, lessening the gap, with more questions to ask.

“What are you going to wear?” He wondered, like a school girl daydreaming with friends. You couldn’t help but giggle as you dared to peer over at Joe, only a reach away. Then you described the outfit you fretted over choosing, happy with the one you’d decided on. Joe listened, you felt his eyes on you, his piercing gaze. You couldn’t look over again until he asked his next question. 

“Will you be my date, then?” Joe wondered, biting his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Why, will we match?” You wondered, trying desperately not to give away how flustered he made you feel.

“I mean, I’m wearing black. So it wouldn’t matter.” Joe pointed. “I’d just like to show up with you on my arm, is all.”

The worst part was that you couldn’t tell if he was flirting because he was so naturally inclined to do so, or if he really meant what he said. So you had no choice but to look at him once more, despite the way your face flushed like you’d been caught red handed in love.

“Do you really?” You asked through a petrified smile. Joe kept his lip between his teeth as his eyes drifted over the features of your face. His brows lifted and Joe gave you a little nod, and your heart threatened to jump right out of your chest and into his grasp if he’d only promise to catch it. And you sifted through about seven million questions as your gaze locked on Joe’s. His jungle colored eyes were still so bright in the dark of the room.

“In case I haven’t made it embarrassingly obvious, I really like you.” Joe nearly whispered. 

And then you really felt silly. For being so nervous, all this time. For still feeling nervous now. But you smiled, a stupid giggle escaping your lips as you peered to Joe, closer than you’d ever been before.

“I’d love to be your date.” You agreed, with glee. 

Joe let his grin widen then, but you only caught a glimpse of it before he was closing the gap to press his lips against yours. His kiss was soft and sweet, better than you’d dreamed it might have been. And when you kissed him back, and reached out to pull him even closer, you weren’t so nervous anymore.

Almost 600 Celebration Blurbs