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mostly-marvel-musings · 6 months

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Not your average summer romance

Chapter One - Here goes nothing

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader

Word count: 2k ish

Warnings: 18+ themes, fluff, kissing.

Monday

It was the mother of Mondays as you hurried out of your apartment, your pot of coffee left forgotten on the kitchen counter simply because you were running super late. You were heading to a coffee shop for your meeting with the publisher anyway.

Your last meeting had been promising, so you had your hopes up about this one. The problem was, you were late. And your publisher, Sarah, was particular about time. Praying and hoping she would forgive you just this once, you dodged foot traffic that was perpetual on the streets of New York and stumbled into the equally busy cafe.

No sign of her.

Damn it.

Did she leave?

A part of you was hopeful that she was late too. That thought was shut up rather quickly when your phone buzzed with an email from Sarah.

Hi Y/N,

I hope you’re well. I’m sorry we couldn’t meet today, you know how I am with time.

I should have done this face to face but, unfortunately the team has decided against continuing the contract. I really did try my best but you know the decision isn’t all up to me. You can call me if you want to discuss anything.

I’m really very sorry. Stay in touch and keep writing.

Regards,

Sarah Waddington

A bunch of emotions went through you as you read and re-read the email. There had been rejections in your life in the past, but none of them stung or made you mad as this.

Who does this over an email?

You shoved your phone inside your purse angrily and looked around. You were in severe need of coffee, the only pick-me-up that could work.

Making a beeline for the counter, you pushed past people and stood behind a man wearing a black suit who was furiously whispering over his comms to someone.

Your phone buzzed again. This time it was your best friend calling you, the line was moving rather slow and you needed to vent.

The man in front must have changed his order at least three times adding to your frustration which you didn’t hide. You wondered who the person on the other line was who was unable to decide on a simple coffee order.

As your friend went on about her weekend, you moved ahead to order yourself a large Americano, this day called for nothing else but a strong cup of joe; the man in the suit grabbed his coffees and a bag of muffin and turned the opposite way, straight into you.

Iced coffee spilled down your blouse and some of it on his crisp white shirt, the paper bag turning soggy wet as both of you cursed out loud. Some of your piping hot americano managed to spill down your hand in the process too.

“Are you fucking kidding me??” You yelled, part in fury, part in pain as your hand stung.

Happy Hogan profusely apologized as he tried to grab as many tissues he could to help you. The commotion had gathered enough attention in the cafe already to add to your embarrassment.

“I am really sorry, I have a spare shirt in my car if you’d like. Please ma’am.”

He kept insisting, both of you staring at your blouse that was stained beyond saving point. Uttering a small ‘fine’ you followed him out to a rather sleek Tesla Roadster.

A man sitting at the back rolled the windows down as you two approached, a pair of brown eyes peeking through expensive looking sunglasses taking in your appearance with an amused smirk.

“Boss, would you mind passing me that shirt at the back please?”

The man continued to gaze at you for a few more seconds before paying heed to his, you assumed drivers’ request. You stared back, taking in the man’s sharp suit, a rather well maintained anchor beard and eyes that checked you out shamelessly.

“Tony?”

The other guy said more forcefully this time, breaking up your little staring match. ‘Tony’ fumbled around a bit before throwing a large white t-shirt that said ‘I survived my trip to NYC’ towards the guy you found who was named Happy Hogan as they exchanged a conversation.

“Honestly Happy, I don’t feel so secure around you and by the looks of it, neither does this lady or coffee for that matter. Why did I promote you to head of security again?”

“Because I’m the only one you trust and the only one who unfortunately can put up with your tantrums.”

“What tantrums? And will I get my coffee today?”

Tony huffed, making you hide your grin behind your hand as you accepted the t-shirt from Happy.

“Here. I’ve got all the caffeine I need for the day. Stains and burns included.” You held out your cup for him, frowning when he looked at Happy instead.

“Yeah, I’ll take that. Boss doesn’t like being handed things.” Happy gratefully took the coffee you offered and gave it to Tony.

What an entitled prick! You thought.

“What address should I send this back to?” You held the t-shirt up, Tony waving his hand in dismissal.

“Oh keep it. Mr. Hogan has a closet full of cheesy, oversized graphic tees. You can send the dry cleaning bill over to Stark Industries.”

He added with a small smirk, giving your blouse one more thorough glance.

“Oh no. I have plenty of pristine white blouses that haven’t had coffee spilled over. But thank you for your generosity, Mr. Stark I presume?” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“The one and only.”

Happy watched the two of you interact like a tennis match, clearing his throat audibly to break off your staring contest yet again.

“See you around, Miss..?”

“Y/N.” I really hope not, you thought to yourself, giving them a polite smile.

Taking your leave, the two men sped off, leaving you with an amused grin and Tony Stark’s unforgettable gaze that seemed to still linger.

…

That evening the doorbell rang, it was nobody but a large package with a little note.

Another pristine white blouse to add to your collection. Though this is more dinner worthy, I feel. What do you say, Ms. Wordsmith?

Tony Stark

Inside the box sat a satin white top, your size, surprisingly, and a lovely bouquet of beautiful white hydrangeas.

It was an awfully bold yet sweet gesture from someone you encountered for less than ten minutes. By the handwritten note, Tony had researched you in advance, now, it was your turn.

…

Tony’s POV

“I’ll be honest with you Ms. Wordsmith, the thing is, ever since I saw you at the coffee shop, drenched in coffee, I couldn’t get you out of my head.”

Okay, what? Did those words actually leave my mouth? That wasn’t supposed to be uttered in front of her. Sure, the statements were true, but, whatever happened to the smooth-talker, unapologetic womanizer Tony! He was back at the lab probably judging the shit outta this guy.

The air conditioning was faulty in this place, I think, feeling sweat beads trickle down my back. The fanciest restaurants in New York with the most beguiling lady sitting across and all my mind focuses on is the goddamn AC?

“Well, I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been thinking about you too, Mr. Stark. I think you’re possibly the most spoiled bratty billionaire I’ve met.”

Her words stirred something in me, my cock twitched curiously at them as I smirked, cleverly hiding my shock at the honesty. No woman was ever this frank before, this was new, intriguing.

I could tell she was interested, just by the way all of her focus was on me, her body angled towards mine, her gorgeous eyes taking in every movement, as if memorizing it.

I hadn’t been subtle either, her personality, her curves, her aura were all too inviting for me to back down. Ever since I laid eyes on her, I knew I had to meet her again, keep meeting her for reasons unknown.

Other girls I’d met were pretty much cut from the same cloth, pretty things wearing tight dresses that accentuated their boobs enough to skip dessert and take them home. That usually ended in Pepper kicking them out in the morning before any of them had a chance to say ‘we should do this again sometime’.

Not Y/N though.

I wanted to listen to her, speak to about absolutely nothing, bring her home, explore every bit of that smart mouth, run my hands all over her soft skin, and claim her as mine…

Whoa there! Some boundaries, Stark. It’s only the first date.

“Earth to Tony?”

I snapped back to reality with her hand waving in front of my face, dear God, I wasn’t on my best game tonight.

“Did you say something I missed?”

Damn it. Obviously she had. What a question even?!

“I just wanted to know if you’d like to split a chocolate cake with me?” Her eyebrows raised in wonder as the waitress patiently stood next to the table, waiting for me to give some sort of reply.

Geez. Was this woman for real? I could’ve kissed her senseless right there. I don’t think any of my previous dates had even uttered the word cake before, let alone chocolate.

“Right uh, sure. Yes.” I cleared my throat and croaked, downing the rest of my drink, giving myself a mental shake.

“Are you alright?” She asked, leaning forward, concern filled in her eyes.

“Perfect. I was just preoccupied with something, I’m sorry. Tell me about where you grew up.”

The whiskey provided some liquid courage for me to get up from my seat and join her on her side of the booth. There was plenty of space but I had to make sure our knees touched, I couldn’t sit too far away, not now.

Angling my body toward her, I laid my arm against the backrest as she spoke, willing my eyes not to slip down to her tempting lips or the way her gesturing moved her blouse slightly to reveal her cleavage.

As her lips moved, a part of my brain registered the words while the other hornier part focused on the way her lips formed the perfect O, the way her tongue danced along making me wonder how it would feel wrapped around my length. The sounds that would leave her as I fucked that pretty little mouth, then her, and make her mine.

“Honestly, the whole thing was such a shitshow, I would not mind a sugar daddy at this point!” She laughed, making something flutter inside my chest cavity.

“A sugar daddy huh? How about an eccentric, genius billionaire?”

I smirked, letting my fingers skim the soft skin of her shoulders, pleased at the effect I had on her as she blushed.

Something changed in her eyes as she shifted closer to me, curiosity replaced by something darker, more carnal.

“Don’t look at me like that.” I murmured, looking down at her lips that screamed to be kissed.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re begging me to devour you until you scream my name.”

That very moment, both of us shifted closer until our lips finally met. That very moment, I knew I was in trouble.

The kiss was everything I had imagined and everything I hadn’t. She tasted like a dream, a mix of chocolate and berries mixed with a bit of wine she’d been drinking. I couldn’t get enough.

My lips glided over hers smoothly, tongue peeking out testing the waters at first but as her hands found their way up my chest, I knew she wanted more.

I could’ve been more drunk on her than the whiskey as we kissed, the restaurant had faded away into oblivion long ago.

Her tongue skimmed along my lower lip shyly, making me smirk against her mouth and card my fingers through her hair, pulling her closer.

“Mind if we get out of here?” I breathed, momentarily halting the kissing to look into her eyes.

She nodded, unable to form words as she bit her bottom lip to stifle a grin, her eyes swimming with the same want and desire that was probably reflecting in mine.

“Do your worst, Stark.”

A/N: Here we go! Chapter 1. Feedback is love, as always.

#tony stark x reader #tony stark series #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark fluff #tony stark oneshot #marvel fanfiction #tony stark x you #tony stark imagine #tony stark #tony stark fic #iron man series #iron man x reader #iron man fanfiction #the stark squad #mostly marvel musings

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cannibalovers · 3 months

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Hannibal song of the day : song no. 5

a bit about the song:

"Breezeblocks"(released in 2012) is song by alt-J, written by Thom Sonny Green, Gwilym Sainsbury, Gus Unger-Hamilton & Joe Newman(the whole group), most likely their most popular song. It starts off mellow and quiet guitar, interchanging between build ups and drops with synthesisers and a lot of deep bass, drums and other percussion instruments till the end of the song, which ends with an arrangement of overlapping vocals, like a choir. It fits genres like indie rock, indie pop, art rock and folktronica. The song itself tells a story of two lovers, where one of them wants to leave the relationship, feeling unsafe and unfulfilled but the other is obsessive and deranged and so in love that they don't let the other leave, the desire and love being so strong that they dare to hurt their lover and themselves just to make them stay. There can be another meaning to the song when taking the music video into the account(that the group themselves said is kind of different but managed to fit the vibe), which is filmed in reverse, presenting a narrative where a man kills a woman(maybe an ex or smth) who was most likely keeping his wife hostage. Since the chain of events is presented in reverse, it looks as if the man is the abusive lover trying to kill his wife, although by the end we find out he was actually defending his wife and killed the woman that kidnapped his wife, sending a message to not judge a book by its cover - don't assume and judge until you know the full story. It also references a book "Where the Wild Things Are" by Maurice Sendak, talking about a young boy who misbehaved badly at home and got scolded for it. His hostile and intense emotions sent him to an imaginary jungle with creatures called "The Wild Things". In this world, he feels appreciated and powerful as the wild things make him a king, but as soon as he realises the responsibilities a king has are hard, he wants to leave and go back home, to his loving mother who took care of him and coudl depend on, but the creatures don't want him to leave, threatening cannibalism (woah i wonder why I am writing this), saying "Oh, please don’t go! We’ll eat you whole! We love you so!". The band thought of it as a very powerful image and referenced these words in the song. In the end, the boy does manage to get away, unlike the lover of this song.

yeah sorry for the long intro to the song um. i've loved this song for years I swear I could listen to it forever so.

overall the song creates such a chilling mix between aggression and affection it's just so fucking insane and well. very hannigram. I think that was expected. Tbh i feel like it's prob known to fannibals, i made a post once asking ppl for song recommendations for hannibal and this song has shown up a few times and honestly? it fits them SO. WELL. especially when you think about the whole mizumono episode. The music video reminded me of mizumono a lot... so I'll be basing this on that episode a lot...

Pardon me for the pain i'm gonna provide today<3

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Verse 1

"She may contain the urge to run away But hold her down with soggy clothes and breezeblocks"

The girl doesn't want to be in the relationship with the man anymore, maybe recognizing that he is not in a good state of mind or she just believes they're not fit for each other anymore, whichever it is, she is contemplating getting out of the relationship, which she feels trapped in, or the man feels like he's scaring her away, hence her "running away"; He doesn't like this, being way too attached for her, he can't just let her run away after the comfort she brought him and the strong emotions he developed towards her, so he decided to weigh her down (literally) by drowning her with breezeblocks. Metaphorically, Breezeblocks are blocks used for building houses and are supposed to represent foundation here, so perhaps he has been making her stay by guilt tripping her about everything that they have built together and the fact that she can't just "leave behind" the trust, support, stability and safety that they have gained from each other - the foundation of their relationship. After she wasn't giving her idea of leaving up, he decided to actually weight her down with their foundation in forms of breezeblocks. In my eyes, the soggy clothes could also have a little bit of meaning, soggy clothes being quite uncomfortable and probably clinging to her(just like he does) - perhaps they're soggy from the times he was guilt tripping her, perhaps tears were shed and her clothes getting soggy just represent the manipulation and fakeness of them, or the severity of the situation and how long it has been going on and how this has affected her (made her feel heavy at heart and uncomfortable)

I think these lyrics summarise THE monologue in Mizumono and hannigram's plans quite perfectly. Will wanting to run away (from hannibal unfortunately...) and as Hannibal realised his plan of betrayal, reacted very aggressively by literally gutting him (sogging his clothes with blood ig) and breaking down the foundation they have built, more or so with words, but also the knife he uses. At this point I have no idea if its a linoleum knife (knife used for building, houses, rugs and FOUNDATIONS OF A BUILDING.) or a kerambit or smth else but I'll stick to the linoleum here(also check out this post about his choice for the knife, it drives me fucking insane) and say that this is how Hannibal tears down the foundation they have built together. Not only does he gut him, he talks to Will about how betrayed he feels that he was planning to leave him, after letting Will see him, after building this foundation of trust and support for each other. Hannibal was there, understanding Will and offering support and stability and he saw that Will could provide it for him back, which he chose to do only to get closer to him to betray him and take away his happiness (Will...) and stable, carefully crafted life he had. Will was something very important to Hannibal, a person that changed him and made him feel love for once, and then he lied about accepting him. He can't handle losing Will so he would make him stay and tear him down, hurt him, if that's what it would take.

"Cetirizine, your fever’s gripped me again Never kisses, all you ever send are fullstops (La la la la)"

Citrizine is a medicine used for fevers, suggesting the man is so obsessed with her that she makes him ill and stressed (overheated and overwhelmed and overthinking, hence the fever) and he needs medicine. She is constantly rejecting him, rejecting his affections and never giving any to him but instead stopping him, although it can also allude to texts, her not ending them with "xx" (kisses) but with full stops, being quite cold and distant with him.

well first, for the show it can allude to how Hannibal literally gave Will a fever and the amount of aspirin Will took cuz of that if we take this literally, but that mean the roles would have to switch so, instead in my eyes I think of how bothered and overwhelmed Will probably made Hannibal feel the more interested and obsessive he got over Will. I can't imagine how many times this man probably thought of him everyday and overthought stuff (jesus seriously hes obsessed) and how ill and diseased (although alive) Hannibal probably felt (maybe diseased and ill after he knew Will's plan...); the affections the girl is rejecting from her lover could represent how distant Will was with Hannibal at first.

"Do you know where the wild things go? They go along to take your honey (La la la la)"

This is a reference from the book "Where the Wild Things Are". The band suggested that the lyrics are about jealousy, the protagonist being jealous of other people who are catching his lovers attention instead of him, maybe this is a conversation between them about this concern, telling his lover that those people are bad and will use her and leave her(take away her honey); Maybe he's trying to convince her that he would never do that - although he technically is, eating away at whatever support and love(the honey) she has to offer for him.

I feel like this presents why Hannibal decided to isolate Will in the first place, taking away everything from him (or at least how he wants Will to see it, as we know that he was just trying to make his plan come true and return some of the things Will cared about so much). He saw everything that Will had interest in (Alana, Abigail, although he kept her for Will, Margot's child etc) as a threat to his plan of having Will all to himself and so he took them away - because he believed that they were both bad for Will but also because they were not in Hannibal's best interest. Also doesn't he like kill Will's wife in season 3 idk yet dont tell me

"Break down, now weep, build up breakfast Now let’s eat, my love, my love, love, love (La la la la)"

This probably references the many fights the couple had and protagonist's method of trying to make it up to her by trying to get back into a loving, normal routine, forgetting the fights, doing things such as letting her sleep it off and making a breakfast, starting the day over - The breakfast being his love for her. This is most likely to say that acts of service for her would be his love language and he would feel loved if she accepted his services, as well as offerings(his love) he makes for her.

for Hannibal:

do i like. have to explain this one

first of all lets be real cooking and making ppl commit accidental cannibalism is his love language (even better when they are aware of it and accept it knowingly so u dont have to make them commit accidental cannibalism to feel like u're normal for enjoying it and ure not a monster and God didn't punish u by making u eat ur own sister and enjoy it and that they accept and understand u for this and are def not doing it as a manipulation tactic to get u closer to them... that's not smth Will would do to Hannibal wdym)

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Chorus

"Muscle to muscle and toe to toe The fear has gripped me, but here I go My heart sinks as I jump up Your hand grips hand as my eyes shut And I, ah-ah-ah-ah"

The chorus seems to depict the the physical fight going between the two lovers. The protagonist doesn't seem to be in his right mind as he says that even though the fear tried to stop him, he has lost control and is now hurting his loved one (or himself) - His fear of rejection making him not handle this situation well and taking the last leap of faith to "save" the relationship by physically forcing her into it. The harm can either be to himself or her, maybe threatenening suicide and her gripping his hand to stop him, or him hitting her and her trying to deflect his hand with her own.

For Hannibal, it's literally,,gutting Will. Or any physical fight or holding each other at gun point or any murder attempt they had. In mizumono, Hannibal is visibly heartbroken by Will's decisions, maybe regretting the choices hes about to take. Maybe for once he felt some fear hurting another person, the person being Will, but he pushes through it, knowing it had to be done, to show Will how he made him feel. The physical contact in this chorus could represent the hug that they shared (the most heartbreaking hug in tv history). His feelings seem to contrast with the violence in that scene so much it makes me so fucking depressed

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Verse 2

"[...}She bruises, coughs, she splutters pistol shots Hold her down with soggy clothes and breezeblocks"

The words have a violent imagery to them, maybe to show the lover fighting back and still not agreeing to stay, maybe even trying to hurt him, her words feeling like pistol shots to him, or it could represent her drowning, trying to catch a breath. If that's what is happening, then he tries to remind himself of his point and to not help her, because she will run away - it's better to hold her down and make her stay.

Will's most common weapons is a gun or his hands and words, so i guess it fits his image quite well(not to mention the amounts of time he held Hannibal at gun point lol). These clearly never seemed to have affected Hannibal (until the last supper) and he continues through with his plan of taking everything away from Will, showing what he has lost by not staying by Hannibal's side.

"She’s morphine, queen of my vaccine My love, my love, love, love (La la la la)"

The protagonist compares her to morphine, a drug used to help with pain - clearly he is very dependent on her and uses her for emotional stability and support, losing that would make him insecure and breakdown, he can't lose her after the vulnerability he shared with her. This also fits with the expression "Love is a drug", which to him, her love is clearly like a drug, he has become obsessed, needing her love all the time, addicted to her, suggesting the intensity of emotions she makes him feel and just how obsessed he is - that's why he can't let her go.

The contrast between the dark, violent and destructive comparisons he makes of her, ignoring those destructive feelings and calling her his "love" really deepens the juxtaposition between aggression and affection the song potrays and shows just how blind the protagonist is.

I feel like this fits Hannibal's feelings about Will quite well, considering how obsessed he is with him, to the point of destruction and isolating him to have him all to himself (and also the fact that my man was CRYING after putting Will in prison, missing their therapy sessions. LIKE BITCH). He really puts Will high up on a pedestal, suggesting just how important and addictive Will is to him and how dependent he has become on Will after opening up to him, maybe even feeling like Will numbs his pain and loneliness of never being accepted for who he actually was.

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Verse 3

"[...]Germolene, disinfect the scene, my love, my love, love, love But please don't go, I love you so, my lovely"

This is the aftermath of the protagonist killing his lover. He realises that he killed her, getting an anticeptic(clearly unprepared for this and panicking, using some at-home antiseptic instead of something proper) to disinfect the scene off of his DNA. The realisation quickly hits him of what he has done, making him spiral into a breakdown as he realises that his actions didn't make her stay, they made her dead forever.

Hannibal clearly doesn't disinfect the scene in mizumono, he doesn't even wear his plastic suit or use the cloth that he always uses to not leave finger prints, there was no point in hiding anything anymore, Will helped FBI see through him, although we do see him "cleansing" himself off of the events by walking in the rain and trying to "comfort" Will, telling him to "wade into the quiet of the stream". I don't think these specific lyric apply to the situation much disinfection-wise, although it can represent Hannibal's state of mind, especially after realising everything he has done and the regret that came with it(does he feel guilty tho? i have no idea but the begging and love confessions in this line def represent his obsession and love for Will which left him very heartbroken after everything that was done)

also could represent Will........ him wanting to turn back, if he could only reverse time, undo the events so Abigail lives and everyone else lives..............ouch

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Refrain

"Please don't go, please don't go I love you so, I love you so Please don't go, please don't go I love you so, I love you so Please break my heart (Hey!) Please don't go, please don't go I love you so, I love you so Please don't go, please don't go I love you so, I love you so Please break my heart[...]"

the most beautiful part of the song in my opinion tbh. The layers, the build up, the overlapping vocals, it's all just so overwhelming and emotional and vulnerable.

the protagonist spirals, realising what he has done but not wanting it to be true, he's not ready yet to let go of his lover, slowly, he's losing self control and giving into his violent desires, he threatens cannibalism if she goes away(she can't really do anything my dude...) as he frantically confessse to her that he loves her. He just loves her so much and needs her so much, the desire is so strong that he will consume her if it means that she stays right beside him(or inside him), craving that impossible closeness, it's a way to forever remain with a loved one. This whole refrain is just so incredibly contradicting and depressing and desparate its insane

now, it's no secret that Hannibal doesn't want to let Will go and even consume him. He wants him to live but at the same time he wants to taste him, devour him. To love is to consume, but to consume is to devour and transform in reusable energy. He wants him as close as possible and for Will to accept his desires and give himself up, let him be his - but clearly that's not what Will wanted (yet).

...This one is so straightfoward especially considering Hannibal that I don't even know what to say really. The song itself just says it all perfectly.

in conclusion they are fucking insane for this and breezeblocks is the ultimate hannigram (specifically mizumono) song. 11/10

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additional notes:

was so excited for this one but i actually wrote less than i thought wow but maybe thats also cuz most of the song repeats. or im tired

idk if its cuz i literally dont know how to explain cannibalism as a metaphor of love or why but. at the same time the song just describes pretty well on its own

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my playlist

hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading<3

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blood-mocha-latte · 6 months

Text

stormy - a luztoye drabble

for an ask from @malarkgirlypop || request an edit/drabble || i loved loved loved writing this, thank you for the ask <3 <3

The apartment they've found is all brick, sturdy and warm, but George can still feel the shaking of the thunder under his feet.

He sighs down at the metal tin that holds rapidly cooling water and dissipating bubbles. The sad, soggy lump of washcloths in his fist serves as a makeshift mop, because for some reason, they don't actually have one.

They were in the middle of painting the walls of the kitchen blue – a (hopefully) better colour change from the dark orange it was when George, of course, dropped a good half quarter of blue all over the tile floor.

The thunder rumbles outside again. George groans, like it's a queue, and bunches his ‘mop’ together better before dunking it into the pail.

Leaning his knees on a rolled up towel, avoiding the harsh tile of the kitchen floor, he scrubs rather absently for a while.

He likes menial tasks, like this. Turning his brain off, George feels, is something that is both long and far between as well as just. Absent.

When he thinks — always, always thinking, and talking even more — it’s almost always about the now. About needing to clean the floor, about when they’ll need to water the plant on top of the fireplace again, about how they need a new bedspread, because George got blood all over their old one when he accidentally sliced his palm open with a razor.

(A mishap, with shaving. Joe had dropped something in their bedroom, and George had jolted so badly he’d needed fourteen stitches.)

Sometimes, though, he thinks of everyday and it blends into what used to be everyday; disjointed thoughts that he’ll need to call Lip down in West Virginia and ask about confirmation for blasting a house in Hagenau, that he’ll need to get new running shoes because Currahee tends to get muddier with the rain, this time of year.

This time, he thinks about Joe. Who, admittedly, consumes the majority of his thoughts, now.

He thinks of a joke, and thinks about telling it to Joe, and realises he’s already told it to him, because he’s the only one George tells anything, anymore. He wonders vaguely about something that existed when he was a kid, and has to go and find Joe to ask him if he remembers that thing too, just to listen to him talk. He walks by a shop window with all sorts of jewellery in it, and wonders what Joe would do if he brought home rings.

As he scrubs at the tile, blue paint chipping off and into the cloths and George’s hands, he wonders if Joe’d like it if he could find Flash Gordon Conquers the Universe. Maybe they could watch it. Maybe they’d watch it for two seconds and get bored. Maybe, if George talked through it enough, he could get Joe to shut him up with his mouth, anchor a hand in his hair—

“George.” Joe says from the other side of the room, voice almost frustrated. George looks up from the mess on the floor; made no better by his scrubbing, and drops the ‘mop’ back into the soapy tin.

“Something wrong?” He asks, wiping his hands awkwardly on the fabric of his pants as he makes his way over to where Joe sits on the couch, holding the paper against his good leg, pen in his left hand.

“No.” Joe says, too quickly, almost sharply. He huffs, once, through his nose, and shoves the paper up roughly when George comes to stand over the couch, bracing the palms of his hands against the back of it. “Just. I can't— fuck.”

Joe gets like this, sometimes. Usually when it’s cold and it’s been a while since he last ate. Frustrated, sharp. More impatient than usual, maybe a bit clumsier.

George kneels behind the couch, grimacing slightly at the pop of his knees, and fights down the cushioning of the sofa to rest his chin on Joe's shoulder, skimming through the messy handwriting that Joe held up.

It's been easy enough to get settled in. The apartment is a decent size, both bedrooms are nice. George seems ecksausted

exosted

exausted

exaustid

“I don't know why the fuck I couldn't just say tired.” Joe says, dropping the paper back into his lap when George pulls back and noses absently against the shell of his ear to show he was done reading. His voice is strained, like he’s trying to make a joke.

“Well, you've got a big vernacular. Might as well use it.” George says lightly, using Joe’s good shoulder to push himself back up, grunting. “Christ, call an ambulance. Who let an old man get down on the floor?”

“You're only twenty-seven, George.” Joe says absently as George rounded the side of the sofa. “And I don't have a big fucking vernacular. Can't spell for shit. It's not like I use fancy goddamn words all the time.”

“You use fancy words all the time.” George retorts, plopping down onto the couch and slipping his hands under his legs. Joe’s eyes, dark against his skin and framed by even darker lashes, glare down at them. “You just said vernacular.”

“Because you just said vernacular.” Joe says darkly, posture slouched. “I can't even spell vernacular.”

“Well, neither can I.” George says amiably. “There's probably a ‘j’ in there, somewhere.”

Joe frowns down at the paper. “Can you even read the damn writing?” He asks, flipping the pencil clumsily between his fingers. George leans further into him, jostling his ribs with his elbow. Outside, the rumbling thunder seems to make the glass in the panes of their windows vibrate.

“Well, sure.” He says. “Could tell that you kept misspelling exhausted, couldn’t I?” Joe doesn’t meet his eyes.

“It’s not legible.” He murmurs. George sighs, and gently pulls the paper out of Joe’s grip before he crumples it into a ball.

“Well, it’s not easy on the eyes.” He says lightly. He tries not to lie, but he doesn’t like being any sort of unkind. “But you are, so it makes up for it.”

“George.” Joe says, same way he always does. Like the beginning of a prayer, or a story. George just shrugs. He lets his head drop to Joe’s bare shoulder, fingers smoothing across his wifebeater.

“‘S fine, Joe.” He says. He’s leaning against Joe’s bad shoulder, and he can feel the lines of scarring and tissue against his temple and cheek like streaks of lightning. He taps his index finger against the deepest scar; one that runs from the crux of Joe’s neck and shoulder and wraps around his bicep to halfway down his forearm. “I can read it fine.”

Joe’s quiet. He shifts against George, and dry lips press to his forehead.

“I can’t write so good, anymore.” He says. George knows. George was there when Joe couldn’t even use his right arm without it hurting, could barely keep a grasp on a tennis ball. George also knows that Joe tends to get inside his own head, tends to think that things are worse than they actually are, that every event is the start of a chain of bad ones.

That’s alright, though. That’s what he’s got George for, whether he likes it or not.

“Writing doesn’t matter.” George says. “I heard somewhere that Mark Twain couldn’t hold a pencil. He just said stuff and had other people write it down.” Joe snorts.

“That’s bullshit.” He mutters. George spreads his fingers against Joe’s forearm, pressing his palm to the scar.

“Yeah.” He agrees easily. “Who gives a fuck, though.” Joe huffs. The thunder rumbles, as if in agreement, and they both turn their heads towards the window.

“Still stormy outside, I’d guess.” Joe says. George hums, turns his cheek to press a kiss to Joe’s shoulder. Fuck the kitchen tiles. They can be blue. It will probably come into fashion at some point, anyways.

“Yeah.” He says. “Who gives a fuck, though.”

#rie writes #click on words for definitions ;)#i like this one i love luztoye best ship 10/10 #band of brothers #hbo war #luztoye #george luz #joe toye

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universitypenguin · 5 months

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hey alice! i just wanted to ask, does lloyd and princess celebrate thanksgiving? I don’t rlly see lloyd as a holiday kind of guy buy princess i definitely see!! do they make like a feast together and say thanks? haha im jot rlly sure what goes on during thanksgiving im not american 😵‍💫 thank you!!!

Yes, Princess and Lloyd celebrate Thanksgiving.

Princess always celebrated with her family, while Lloyd, Zach, and Jake usually gathered with Jake’s military buddies. However, what they all celebrate together is an annual “Friendsgiving” celebration that occurs on the Thursday before Thanksgiving. This event was traditionally hosted by Landon and his fiancee, Elle, but this year the responsibility was passed to Lloyd. Caught up in the midst of wedding planning she’d decided it was too much and asked if Lloyd would be willing to take over the burden of hosting.

You were surprised by how unfazed Lloyd was about being asked. Of course, you knew that Lloyd could cook. He was competitive in the kitchen and intense about the science of food preparation and even more intense about nutrition. He wasn’t the kind of chef who was tied to a recipe, either. While he was living in France he’d taken culinary classes. Lloyd knew which herbs were soluble in water instead of oil and what ratios of sugar to fat created the best flavors.

Perhaps it shouldn’t really be a surprise, given that he’d once been a top athlete, but Lloyd knew exactly what went into his body. Since his father, Joe, hadn’t cooked, his skill hadn’t been born from love but rather, necessity/ The need to eat was what drove him to the kitchen. He’d picked up the ability slowly and eventually, cooking had become one of his passions.

Now, returning to Friendsgiving… Lloyd spared no effort in the preparations. He ensured the house would be spotless by arranging for the housekeeper to come on Monday. That night he picked up a fresh turkey and an eight pound prime rib roast from the butcher. The prime rib roast was in deference to the fact that he was the son of a cattle rancher and as such, believed that no festivities could be complete without a healthy serving of red meat.

Then he began the meticulous process of separating the turkey’s dark and light meat because every chef worth their salt knows you can’t cook dark and light meat evenly at the same time. You’ll either make the light meat stringy or the dark meat greasy, so separating the different types of meat is the most necessary step in the whole process. Next, he applied a citrus rub of orange and lemon to tenderize the meat and infused herbs under the turkey’s skin. He used a seasoning rub on the prime rib roast.

Everything had been done. The meats were roasting, the table was set and all that was left was for the guest to arrive.

He’d deliberately invited you to come over an hour earlier to give your approval on the decorations and taste the food.

“What do you think?” Lloyd demanded, two seconds after you’d begun to chew a bite of stuffing.

“Mmmhhh…” you held up a hand, warding off his impatience and savoring the flavors.

“Very good.”

“Good?”

Lloyd’s outrage cracked your composure.

“Lloyd, it was delicious. Can I have another?”

“No. How was the crust? It wasn’t soggy at all, right?”

“It was the best stuffing I’ve ever tasted,” you said.

He frowned. “What kind of stuffing does your mother make?”

“Are you questioning my mother’s cooking skills?”

“I’m trying to get a baseline of comparison. ‘The best I’ve ever tasted’ isn’t very concrete, Princess. Be more specific.”

“You didn’t answer the question,” you said.

Lloyd held up his hands in surrender. “I would never. Now, moving on. Try these.”

He pulled a tray out of the oven and offered you something that looked like a pastry.

You picked up one to inspect. “What is it?”

“Cranberry Brie scones. Take a bite and tell me if it needs a dusting of powdered sugar. The recipe called for it, but I didn’t want to ruin the tartness of the cranberry sauce so I left it off.”

You sampled and approved. Lloyd continued serving dishes. Green bean casserole, twice-baked potatoes, homemade gravy, and mac n’ cheese. The mac n’ cheese impressed you the most and when you said as much, Lloyd delivered a highly technical explanation about the importance of blending to achieve a proper ‘roux.’ You waited until his back was turned and googled ‘what is a roux?’

“How long did all of this take you?”

Lloyd shrugged, pouring you a glass of wine. “I’ve been doing a little bit every day. The potatoes, stuffing, and casserole were made in advance. I just reheated them in the oven. And the meat takes less work than you might think.”

“What are the others bringing?”

“Elle’s bringing roasted asparagus and a pumpkin pie. Zach’s indulging his inner Southern boy and bringing biscuits and a pecan pie. Also, did you know that pecan pie is the official state pie of Texas?”

“No.”

“Well, according to Zach, it is.”

“Is Jake bringing his new girlfriend?” you asked.

“Yes. He’s also bringing a salad and candied yams because she’s a vegetarian.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to share a meal with a vegetarian?”

“Apparently. I’m even letting her into the house. I considered putting a table out on the deck for them on principle… but that seemed a little bigoted, even for me.”

“I’m proud of you. That shows real growth.”

You lifted your wine glass, making a toast. Lloyd smirked, raising his glass to clink with yours.

“To growth,” you said.

“Cheers.” Lloyd’s face wrinkled with disgust and you giggled.

“Don’t worry, it’s only for a few hours. You’ll cope. The house looks nice. Did you have a decorator come?”

“Yeah. She put up the leaf garlands and spread candlesticks everywhere. Who even needs this many candles?”

“They’re just for show,” you said.

“Then what’s the point?”

“It looks pretty.”

Lloyd grunted and sipped his wine. “I get why Elle wasn’t up to hosting Friendsgiving this year. It’s a lot of work.”

“Be careful. If you knock this out of the park, they’ll want you to host Christmas, too.”

“What?”

“Christmas, Lloyd. It’s in four weeks.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

You smirked and sipped your wine.

“Tell me that’s a joke.”

“I love your fireplace. Wouldn’t it look lovely with a pine garland?”

- - - - - - - - - - - -

THE END

masterlist

#lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen x female reader #lloyd hansen x fem!reader #lloyd hansen fic #lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen fanfic #gray man fanfic #the princess and the lawyer: ask #the princess & the lawyer: ask

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