#I wrote this about my fic of lockwood and co | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

neewtmas · 5 months

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12 days of Christmas // A Lockwood & Co Advent Calendar

DAY 10

Hello everyone! It's the second-to-last post for this advent calendar, and today, it's time for my personal favourite. I wanted to include an x reader fic for every member of the agency, and after Lucy (day 2) and Lockwood (day 6), it's finally time for George! Seeing as this is a certified George-Fanblog™️ of course his fic is gonna be the grand finale.

But the best thing about today's post is that it is actually a collaboration! I wrote this together with the wonderful and insanely talented Eden (@givemea-dam-break) who understood my vision for this so well and I am so proud of what we created together. Thank you so much for doing this with me Eden, it was so much fun!!! love you🫂🫶🏻

make sure you don't miss out and go check out Eden's other writing here: masterlist

Brother Knows Best

pairing: george karim x fem!reader

wordcount: 6.3k

short summary: George's brother shows up at 35 Portland Row and shakes things up between George and reader

advent calendar tags: @givemea-dam-break @wellgoslowly @maraschinomerry @losticaruss @oblivious-idiot @uku-lelevillain @avdiobliss @strawberryloveyyy @strawberrycowgirly @demigoddess-of-ghosts @thefriendlyneighborhoodmomfriend @boookfreeak

my masterlist

day 1 day 2 day 3 day 4 day 5 day 6 day 7 day 8 day 9

It was a beautiful day in the middle of winter when (name) realised she was in love with George Karim.

The two of them were walking side by side, their breaths forming little puffs of white in the freezing air. It had snowed the night before, but all that was left were some dirty grey piles on patches of grass by the road. She’d had her hands buried in the warm pockets of her coat the whole walk, but still, her fingers felt stiff as she pushed open the gate in front of 35 Portland Row. George followed closely behind, carrying a bag full of books and newspapers they’d borrowed from the Archives.

(name) bounced up the stairs like she always did, not considering what the puddle of melted snow on the steps that had wet her shoes this morning would turn into over the course of the cold day. The worn sole of her boot slid over the patch of ice, and she lost balance, trying to grip the railing to prevent a fall.

But that wasn't necessary. George was there in an instant, arms wrapped around her and steadying her until she found her footing again.

"Are you okay?" he asked, and she nodded, finding herself unable to speak.

He released her from his grasp, taking a slow step back. (name) could do nothing but stand still for a moment, trying to calm her racing heart. She had no idea if it came from the adrenaline of almost falling or the shock of having George be so close to her so suddenly. She watched as he picked up the bag he had dropped on the ground in his rush to catch her, and then searched his coat pockets for the house key. His fingers trembled slightly, probably from the cold, as he pulled it out and turned it in the lock, keychains jingling.

Inside, the kitchen was deserted, but the kettle was still warm so (name) just had to choose two mugs and quickly reboil it while George laid out the books they had gotten. At this time of year, the warm, cosy kitchen of Portland Row was so much more inviting than the somewhat chilly archives. They could turn the heating up as much as they wanted here, which was why they had opted for just a short trip over to gather some books and then return to the warmth of their home.

(name) brought the two steaming mugs over to the table and made herself comfortable on the chair beside George. He had already grabbed one of the books and was intently skimming the table of contents.

“You can get started on the newspapers," he said without looking up, flicking through the book to find a specific page. “We’ve got a few to work through.”

She knew that, of course, because she had been the one to go on an hour-long hunt for all the ones he claimed they needed. Silently, she pulled the heap of newspapers over and started with the one on top, dating back 15 years.

George took a sip from his tea and grimaced. "You forgot the sugar."

That wasn’t like her. She always remembered the sugar. What was up with her?

George leaned over and reached past her for the sugar, and (name)'s breath hitched in her throat at the proximity. She could faintly smell his shampoo and was near enough that she could see the little scar on his temple, barely visible, from a case they’d taken on a month or two ago. Wordlessly, and seemingly oblivious to the thundering of her heart, he poured some sugar into his cup and stirred, all the while focusing back on what he was reading.

(name) tried to do the same, she really did, but the fact that George was now so close that their legs were touching made the simple task everything but. How was she supposed to focus when all she could hear was the blood rushing in her ears; hearing him muttering quiet words under his breath as if he hadn’t just stolen the air from her lungs?

It was when she looked at him then, a picture of serenity in the winter sunlight streaming through the kitchen window, that she felt it in her heart. Some urging sense of need, of want. A desire to do this for the rest of her life - to sit beside him, whether it be to research something or remember to put sugar in his tea or God knows what. To spend an eternity pressed up to his side, feeling this thrum of her heart. To feel the thrill of his fingers brushing hers as he reached over to peek at something in the newspaper she was reading.

There was no guarantee he would feel the same, she knew that. She didn’t expect him to, not when his life revolved around uncovering the root of the Problem. But she was grateful for what she got: the time he spared for her; the books he would gift her after visiting a bookshop on his way home from the Archives; the tea he’d make in the morning, served with some partially burnt toast he’d forgotten he’d put in the toaster until the moment it popped out.

And that was okay. Truly, it was.

—

35 Portland Row was in chaos.

George was in the middle of a cleaning spree, rushing around in a flowery apron and blue rubber gloves, scrubbing at every crack and crevice to be found - and, well, there were many of those. Lockwood was straightening the pillows in the living room, something he would seldom be found doing, and it was likely that he was stuffing things under said pillows to save having to find space for them in the cluttered house. Lucy, bless her soul, was making tea quicker than her hands could move and had spilt boiling water on her toes. Many curse words ensued.

This chaos, however, did not extend to (name).

Standing by the living room window, staring out onto the street beyond, she felt an odd sense of calm mixed with a hint of excitement.

Why? What incredible company could they be having that had the ability to send the members of Lockwood and Co. into such a frenzy?

Issam Karim.

She had been set on guard duty, ordered by the younger Karim brother to shout out when she saw him approaching. In all honesty, she wasn’t entirely sure why George was making such a fuss about it. He had four older brothers, Issam, or Sam as he preferred, being the youngest of them and, according to Lockwood, the one most similar to George. So it wasn’t like he had anything to worry about.

Even still, when (name) saw a familiar mop of dark curls, she called out to the others and hurried over to the front door.

The knock came soon after; two slow taps followed by silence. George was there, staring at the door over her shoulder, tugging his rubber gloves off. And there was Lucy and Lockwood, peering from the end of the hallway like overly interested parents meeting their child’s friend for the first time.

(name) swung the door open.

Seeing Sam was like looking into George’s reflection, minus the glasses and with slightly neater hair. He was a little taller, broader, and, well, more adult-looking, she supposed. But he was most definitely a Karim.

And, god, did he smile like George, too.

It was the same kind of smile that George showed when he was proud of something - full of teeth and elation, with a sparkle of dark eyes to top it off. If it had been George smiling at her like that, her knees would’ve buckled and her heart would’ve threatened to beat out of her chest, but there was something different about Sam’s variation of the smile. Something extremely fraternal.

George ushered his brother in, scooting past (name) with barely any room thanks to the narrow hallway. Her heart lurched at the feeling of his arm brushing against hers as she hurried to move out of the way.

“Oh, Georgie,” Sam said, smiling at the decorations covering the walls, “you’ve been holding out on me. If I knew you stayed in a house like this…”

He plucked the nearest mask off the wall, scrutinizing it, and Lockwood looked as if he wanted to tell him off, but he refrained after the warning look George gave him.

(name) could understand that. He wanted to impress his brother, especially after years of feeling excluded from his family simply for pursuing a life revolving around ghosts rather than engineering.

She just hoped that he knew he impressed her regardless.

The five of them sat down in the living room, the coffee table laden with mugs of steaming tea and plates stacked high with biscuits and doughnuts. Sam plucked a Hobnob from one of the plates and chewed on it carefully, glancing around the room like a child at a theme park. He had a look of wonder in his eyes that (name) so often saw and admired in George’s.

“You’ve met Lockwood before,” George said from beside his brother. “But this is Lucy, and that’s (name). They’ve both been here a year and a half now.”

“Oh. This is the infamous (name)?” Sam’s smile was dazzling despite the scathing look George gave him. “Wonderful to meet you.”

(name) and Lucy shared a look. Lucy looked like she was trying not to smile as she caught Lockwood’s eye. It seemed like the two of them knew something that (name) didn’t, and it had her feeling a little uneasy.

“Nice to finally meet you, Sam,” she said, offering up a smile.

The conversation went well enough thanks to Lockwood, who started asking Sam about his university life and how classes were going. Most of what he said, however, was just confusing to them. As agents, they hadn’t gotten the chance to experience much of a school life, so all this talk of complicated maths and big, fancy words went straight over their heads. Sam didn’t seem to mind. It appeared that he just liked having people he could sound incredibly intelligent to.

Definitely related to George. Although George was much more willing to simplify what he was saying so that the others understood.

Not that (name) minded. She could listen to George speak in his overly-complicated way for the rest of their lives and she’d be grateful.

An elbow dug into her side. “You’re staring,” Lucy murmured, leaning close.

“Hmm?”

“You’re staring. At George. Hard.”

(name) blinked. “No, I'm not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No! Look, over his shoulder, there’s a tear in the sofa cover. That’s what I was looking at.”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Oh, yes, with lovey-dovey eyes, huh? You can’t even give a half-decent fib.”

(name)’s face felt awfully hot, and she couldn’t even get herself to look in George’s general direction. She hadn’t been staring at him, right? She had just looked for a moment, finding herself particularly fond of how his hair flopped over his forehead in soft curls; how his fingers fiddled with the loose threads from a rip in his jeans, and -

With a silent curse, she realised that, yes, maybe she had been staring.

At least it was Lucy who had noticed and not George. Although, she likely would have to deal with incessant questions at night when she was trying to sleep.

The conversation carried on for a while longer before Sam sat his empty teacup on the table and rose from his seat on the sofa.

"Alright, that was lovely, but I’m going to head off for a bit. I have some friends in the city that I haven't seen in a while", he said, wiping his hands on his jeans.

Lockwood stood up as well, brushing some imaginary dust off his trousers as he so often did. "Will you be back for dinner?"

"(name) is cooking", Lucy added.

Sam turned to (name) and shot her a smile. "Well, in that case, I'll make sure I'll be back. Wouldn't want to miss that."

(name) lowered her head, embarrassed at the attention that was on her now. "I'm not even that good,” she mumbled.

"I think you're great", George blurted out, though if the slight pink tinge to his cheeks was anything to go by, he hadn’t meant to say it.

(name) was sure she was blushing now. She knew George appreciated her cooking, but considering his cooking skills, she sometimes wasn't sure if he didn't just say so to make her feel better.

Sam left the house a few minutes later, and any indescribable tension that had built up dissipated. Lockwood and George started up a conversation while Lucy and (name) grabbed the dirty mugs and took them through to the kitchen.

"So… What do you think of him?" Lucy asked as she dumped the dishes into the sink.

"He's nice", (name) replied, adding the dishes she was holding to the pile in the sink, though much more carefully than Lucy. She frowned at a chip in the top of one of the mugs. "But I didn't expect anything else. After everything George has said about him, you know, I half expected the sun to shine out of his ass."

Lucy snorted, leaning back against the counter. "George seems a little on edge, though, don't you think?"

(name) wasn't sure where Lucy was going with this. "He's probably nervous if we'll like him. He's family after all."

Lucy looked at her for a moment with an unreadable expression. "That must be it,” she finally said, before leaving the kitchen to retrieve the rest of the dishes that were still waiting in the living room.

----

(name) was quietly humming to herself as she sliced some tomatoes, periodically checking if the water in the pot on the stove next to her was boiling already. The house was still and quiet, just how she liked it. Sam was out with his friends, Lucy and Lockwood were out doing whatever - they had been gone since lunch - and were, in all honesty, probably fawning over each other in that way they so often did, albeit obliviously. George had buried himself in the library since Sam had left, mumbling something about 'important research and experiments'. (name) had the sneaking suspicion that that meant he was doing something with the skull, but what exactly, she didn't really want to know. Based on the faces the skull always pulled after a day like this, his expression more horrid than ever, it couldn't be anything good.

The evening sun was shining right through the kitchen window in front of her, and in her peripheral vision, she saw movement in the garden. She looked up and spotted a small red squirrel running through the high grass before racing up the tree. She smiled at the sight of the animal and its simple joy in the winter garden, but a sharp pain tore her from her stupor, and she couldn't help the yelp that slipped past her lips.

Immediately, her gaze fell to her hand, where a deep cut on her finger was bleeding heavily. Shit, there was blood all over the cutting board. Without thinking, she hurried over to the sink and held her finger under the water, cursing at how cold it was. The water faded to red after running over her finger, and she could already feel herself starting to get lightheaded. The shock of the cut was wearing off, and the pain was intensifying.

It was stupid, really, that she was in such a fuss over a small slice. Nevertheless, she yelled for George in what was probably a futile attempt. If he was deep in his experiments, there would be no tearing his attention away. Lockwood had tried many things in an attempt to get his attention, so she didn’t hold out much hope.

But just a few seconds later there he was, suddenly in the kitchen doorway. His eyebrows were raised, lips parted in a silent question as his eyes found her finger in the tapstream, leaking a seemingly endless amount of blood.

"Oh shit, (name), what happened?"

“Thought I’d add a bit of my finger to dinner." She spoke through gritted teeth, joking in an attempt to ease herself, or even George. It didn’t work that well.

She’d never had any problems with blood, and she’d cared for many injuries her teammates had sustained over the last year, but her blood - that was an entirely different story. George was next to her in an instant, rummaging around in the medical cupboard for a plaster of the right size. She almost laughed upon hearing him complain that they needed to reorganise the whole thing as he tore a long strip from a box and cut it with a pair of scissors.

"Can you turn off the water?"

(name) did what he asked. Before she knew it, one of his hands was gently holding her wrist, bringing her hand closer to inspect the cut. It wasn’t as deep as it had appeared at first glance, just long and thin, but it was still oozing blood. Most of the issue had been the sheer shock of it and the throbbing pain that filled her whole finger.

It was easier, though, to forget about the pain when his skin was touching hers. He held her so softly, dabbing blood away with such care that her heart swelled as she watched him, brows furrowed in concentration as he tried to avoid the cut itself. He pressed slightly too hard, and her breath caught.

"Sorry, I'll try and be gentle,” he promised.

He led her over to the kitchen table, where she could rest her arm atop the scribbled-on cloth as he worked away. He was quiet as he took the plaster off the paper, slathering on antiseptic cream before wrapping it carefully around her finger. Something in his cheek twitched.

She watched as the concentration moulded his face into some softer version of a frown, the kind of one he often donned when working away in the Archives on a more complex case. Delicately, he stuck the remaining side of the plaster down before relaxing a little. His hand rested on hers, enveloping it in comfortable warmth, and she had to question if the lightheadedness she felt was still from the blood or just from the way he smiled at her.

For a wonderful moment, neither of them moved. His hand squeezed around hers ever so slightly, and his eyes found hers; his gaze encapsulating her very soul. She couldn’t look away, trapped in eyes that no artist could ever replicate, and found a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She could’ve stayed like that forever, would’ve given anything for this moment to last just a little longer, but it didn’t.

George cleared his throat, pulling his hand back and tearing his gaze from hers as he stood. (name) looked down at her finger, wrapped snugly in its waterproof plaster, and hoped he couldn’t see the blush that was staining her cheeks.

"I'm going to take over dinner", George said, shuffling awkwardly. "There is no way I'll let you cook with your hand like this.”

“But -”

“Research can wait before you say anything.”

And that was that.

(name) reluctantly did what he said and stayed in her seat, watching as he washed off the cutting board and then continued where she had left off. It was frustrating how much neater he sliced tomatoes than she did.

The pain that had momentarily subsided had come back worse, and her whole finger was pulsating with waves of dull pain. She tried her best to keep up a conversation with George, and not let on how she was feeling. No need to make him more worried than he already was. But it was clear that he was still concerned, what with his short glances back every two minutes. She had to fight back a little smile at that.

A bang sounded, signalling that somebody had just come in the front door, and she turned to look through the kitchen doorway to see who it was.

Sam, upon seeing the kitchen door open, made his way down the steps after taking off his jacket, smiling as he entered.

"Man, that was exhausting", he said, making himself comfortable on one of the seats - Lockwood’s. He wouldn’t be happy about that. “Forgot how big London is.”

"Do you want something to drink?" (name) asked.

"That would be great."

She squeezed past George, half-annoyed at the small walking space in the kitchen and half-grateful that she had another excuse to be closer to him, and reached up into one of the cupboards for a glass.

"What happened to your finger?" Sam asked, gaze fixed on the plaster as she filled the glass with water.

"Just a little cut", she said, plastering on some semblance of a smile. The pain was worse now after bashing it on one of the shelves. “Nothing much.”

Sam furrowed his eyebrows in a way that looked so much like George. "That doesn't seem like just a little cut", he said. "Can I check it?”

(name) didn't know what to do. She looked over to George, who was busy stirring the contents of the pot, seemingly not listening to their conversation.

“Oh, no, George has already patched me up. I’ll be fine.”

“George is about as good at first aid as our dad, which is to say shit. I insist. It’ll be quick.”

With one more glance at George, she sat back down, setting the glass in front of Sam. No harm in letting him check, she supposed.

He shuffled his chair around, sitting so that her legs slotted in between his, then took her hand and inspected the plaster. A shadow of blood was already peeking through.

"I'm going to take this off and see how bad the cut is, alright?"

(name) nodded in agreement, already dreading the pain this was surely going to cause.

George had turned down the heat of the stove and now leaned against the counter to watch them, his arms crossed. There was something in his expression, a sliver of unfamiliar emotion hidden in his eyes and the slight downturn of his lips.

"Is that really necessary, Sam?" he asked, his voice unusually sharp.

Sam moved closer to (name), slowly peeling the plaster off and revealing the cream-covered, blood-stained finger that had her feeling lightheaded again.

"Oh, it’s necessary. After that one time you tried to patch me up when we were younger, I wouldn’t trust you with a paper cut.”

George huffed. “I was eight. It’s not like I was going to be an expert. Besides, you’re an engineer, not a doctor.”

Sam only hummed, glancing at his younger brother for less than a second. A shadow of a smile haunted his lips.

(name) shuffled uncomfortably, gaze flickering between the two. Tension was rising for some reason unknown to her, and she had a feeling that she was the root of it. But why? She’d only cut her finger. That shouldn’t have been a cause for anything.

“Just as well I’ve checked,” Sam murmured. “That’s definitely more than a little cut.”

“It barely hurts now,” (name) lied. “Seriously, it’s fine.”

And it was. It had been. She had liked it when George had held her hand so tenderly, making sure not to hurt her. Sam doing the same wasn’t necessarily bad, but it felt wrong. Especially with that look on George’s face. He looked ready to kill.

That look alone had a flicker of hope igniting in her chest. Did it mean he felt the same as she did, even just a little bit?

No, she told herself. This was George. George loved his books and scribbling insults on the thinking cloth for Lockwood to find later and reading away in the Archives. There wasn’t enough room for her to fit in his heart. Surely.

Sam was quick to put a new plaster on, this one more neatly cut than the one George had rushed to tear, though there had been an essence of care in it. In reality, she preferred his jagged edges over Sam’s cleaner ones.

She wasn’t entirely sure if she was thinking about plasters now.

“Thanks,” she said, taking her hand back out of Sam’s grip. “Uh, George, how’s dinner coming?”

For a moment, there was no reply. Then George seemed to remember that there was a world beyond the little bubble that had encased the three of them and hurriedly glanced back at the boiling pan of vegetables.

“Fine,” he said eventually.

“Hope you’re better at cooking than you are at first aid, Georgie,” Sam jested.

It was clear he meant it to be a joke, but whatever had soured George’s mood had twisted it into something different. He all but scoffed as he turned back to the pan, stirring methodically.

“George is the best,” (name) said. “If we didn’t have him, we’d be living off of Lockwood’s toast and jam.”

George’s shoulders eased slightly at that. “Either that or spag-bol every night. There’s only so much of it I can eat.”

(name) laughed and so did George, albeit breathy and quiet. Even still, it had the pressure building in her chest ease off a little and had her heart aching to hear more.

Sam’s eyes flickered between the two of them. “So, how long have you two been together?”

Dead silence. There it was again - that suffocating tension. (name)'s heart felt like it had stopped in her chest entirely, and George had ceased every movement. The wooden spoon in his hand hovered over the simmering water, dripping and dripping and dripping until the sound became unbearable and, somehow, too loud.

Did she mind someone assuming she was in a relationship with George? No, of course not. She couldn't imagine anything better for herself. But the hesitation in his movements, the way he looked back at Sam with what could only be described as acute disbelief, had her lunch making its way back up her throat. That tiny sliver of hope she’d felt earlier? Gone.

“No! We’re not - ” George stammered helplessly, eyes wide.

“Oh, my mistake,” Sam said nonchalantly. There was a glint in those dark eyes of his. Mischief. “Just from what I’ve seen today, and how much George talks about you, (name), I kind of assumed…”

“Sam!”

Sam closed his mouth, apparently unwilling to be further berated by his brother, but there was a hint of satisfaction in his smile.

- - - -

Dinner, to begin with, went as smoothly as it could after the bomb Sam had dropped. Lockwood and Lucy returned from their escapades, rosy-cheeked and laughing, but their demeanours soon shifted upon feeling the tension filling the kitchen. With nothing more than a look, Lucy seemed to gauge the situation and began talking about some of the strange stuff she and Lockwood had encountered on the streets of London.

Well, to her and (name) it was strange. To the native Londoners, it was an everyday thing. But truth be told, (name) was much more concerned about George… it was strange seeing him behave like he did.

George was often quiet, unless he was talking about a topic he was particularly enthusiastic about or insulting Lockwood or the Fittes team they’d dubbed their rivals. Yet there had always been a sense of peace in those silences, a comfort that allowed (name) to know that he was okay, either just listening or pondering away in his own little world.

Now, though… This silence was new and different and she knew that it was caused by the implication that they were acting like a couple. (name) tried to think over everything they’d ever done to make it seem that way - the lingering touches and long-held gazes, the time spent together and the happiness they always seemed to feel around each other - and she could see why. And if Sam had been telling the truth, George had talked about her to him in what she had to assume was a positive way.

So why was he reacting like this? Why did he seem so distressed by the thought of her?

It was halfway through dinner when she decided she couldn’t bear it anymore. He wouldn’t look at her. Wouldn’t answer her questions on how his research was going. Wouldn’t listen to Lockwood droning on about heaven knows what.

She stood from her chair and moved away from the table. “I’m going for a walk.”

That seemed to perk everyone up.

Lockwood frowned. “You all right?”

“I just need some fresh air,” she said. “It’s stuffy in here.”

Sam shifted in his chair, making to stand. “I’ll come along. I know some good places to clear your head -”

“No, it’s fine,” (name) insisted, and her voice came out rather firm. “I’ll not be long. Just a walk around the block.”

And then she was gone, fighting not to look back to see if George was concerned or unbothered.

Why did she care so much if he was? He had practically ignored her throughout the whole of dinner, despite her effort to have a conversation, all because his brother had assumed they were a thing. Was she truly so inadequate? Was the mere prospect of being with her so terrible?

It didn’t matter. She’d be just fine on her own. She’d managed it all of these years, and she’d do just the same regardless. What did it matter whether or not he liked her?

But, as she strolled through the wintery streets, it became abundantly clear that no matter how hard she tried, it would always be important to her.

(name) loved George more than anything she had before. She would give him the world if she could. And part of her wanted to believe that, even if he didn’t feel the same, she would always hold on to those feelings.

But that sentiment was just for the romantic movies and sappy novels she spent her free time reading. In reality, she didn’t have it in her to give and give and give and get nothing in return.

The cold air bit at her cheeks, and she crossed her arms as she walked, trying to preserve any warmth that she could. Maybe she should’ve grabbed a thicker jacket on her way out, or changed from her trainers into the pair of boots she’d left out because, god, the frost was seeping through the canvas material.

She almost jumped out of her skin when something wrapped around her neck.

In a burst of fear, she whirled around and stumbled backwards before realising that the thing was soft, and it was warm. And the person who had wrapped it around her was someone extremely familiar.

“George?” she asked, frowning. Her hand reached up to the thing he’d wrapped around her, nails catching on the knitted fabric. “You brought me… a scarf?”

George, who looked mildly shocked by his actions, nodded. “Uh, yeah - yes. You, um, you left without it. I didn’t want you - didn’t want you getting cold, you know?”

“Uh, thanks.”

And for a moment, she lingered, waiting for him to say something. George stood still before her, looking at her in a way she was sure he had never before - slightly wide-eyed, awe-like - but he tore his gaze from her and looked at the ground.

It was then that the feelings she’d been consumed by just moments ago began to creep back again. Why was she still standing here? So what if he'd brought her a scarf? He hadn’t even been able to stomach speaking to her after Sam assumed they were together.

The thought was enough to convince her. With a tight, thin-lipped and awkward smile in his general direction, she turned to continue on her walk. She’d come out to clear her head, and although she was grateful for the scarf, George was jumbling her thoughts again, just as he always did. And, well, if he wasn’t going to say anything, then she was just going to continue her stroll.

“(name), wait.”

She was half-tempted to keep walking, but the tone of George’s voice was enough to stop her feet from moving. He was nervous. Yes, sure, she had seen him nervous many, many times, but this was different. With the slight tremor in his voice, so very subtle, he had all the power at that moment to stop her.

Slowly, she turned to face him again, stuffing her hands in her pockets. “Yeah?”

There was a look in his eyes, unlike anything she had ever seen before. They had softened considerably from when he had been talking to Sam, and there was a crease between his eyebrows that showed a hint of worry she would usually have to search for in his movements. Never did he show his anxiousness as clearly as he did now.

“I -” His voice caught, and he tore his eyes from her face, instead looking at his muddy trainers. “I’m sorry. About how I’ve been acting today.”

She shrugged. “I get it. Your brother’s here. You want us to like him, but he’s getting on your nerves. It’s what siblings do. None of us mind, George. Sam’s nice.”

“That’s not…” It wasn’t what he had meant, and it was clear that he knew she was trying to avoid the topic. “Sam is a lot of things, you know. He’s annoying and insanely smart and kind and -”

“I’ve met him,” (name) said, not unkindly. “I know.”

George ran a hand over his face. “I know, but what I mean to say is that he isn’t a liar.”

Usually, George Karim was not someone to beat around the bush. It was one of the things that (name) admired about him. If there was something he wanted to say, then he would say it, straight and upfront. But to see him now, fumbling over himself and avoiding the point…

“You’re making no sense,” she said.

“What he’s been saying about me… me talking about you a lot.” There was a brief pause. “He’s not wrong. I do talk about you a lot. I think my mum knows more about you than about me.”

A smile tried to fight its way onto her lips, but she held it back. If this was going where she so desperately hoped it would, it wouldn’t hurt to have him say it directly.

“I suppose that’s what friends are like,” she said. “Growing up, my dad knew every detail there was to know about my best friend.”

If one were to describe George Karim, bold would not be a word they would use. Smart, of course. Sarcastic, yes. Awkward, yes again. Bold? Absolutely not.

But there was no other way to describe his actions at that moment. The certainty he stepped forward with, the soft yet assured feel of his hands wrapping around hers. God, he was so close now that she could feel his warm breath ruffling her hair. And his eyes, lord, his eyes. Despite the slow-creeping darkness in the evening sky, his eyes only seemed to grow brighter. She could see the anxiety creeping beneath the surface, whether it be for the actions that may follow or her possible reaction.

“I don’t want to just be your friend,” he said. His voice was barely more than a whisper, but she could hear the words as clearly as she would if he had shouted them.

She had known the words had been coming or had hoped, but hearing them was an entirely new thing. She could feel her heart swell with joy and relief, feel the smile that had so badly wanted to break free rise onto her lips. Her hands shifted carefully, cautiously, until her fingers could fit in between his.

“I’m sorry again about how I’ve been acting.” His words were beginning to rush out the way they did when he had too much to say. “I hadn’t felt ready to tell you, and Sam kept pushing and pushing. I thought if I ignored him I could sort my feelings out, but then I got too nervous and couldn’t even speak to you. God, you make me nervous. Did you know that?”

Her face scrunched with delight. “Georgie?”

He looked a little out of breath. “Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Judging from the look of pure shock on his face, he had not expected such a straightforward request. He didn’t speak, but he nodded.

(name) grinned, slowly pulling one of her hands from his grip to push his glasses up his nose before placing it on his shoulder and leaning forward.

As a child, she had not liked to watch the kissing scenes in movies. They had always felt awkward and, at the time, she had never been able to imagine sharing an intimate moment like that with anybody, nevertheless enjoy it.

But here she was, kissing her best friend, and loving it.

It was a little stiff to begin with but after a moment, they relaxed into it - into the feeling of fireworks and butterflies and warm lips. George’s hand squeezed hers, and his free hand slipped around to her back, pulling her a little closer.

The kiss didn’t last long, no more than a few seconds, but (name) found herself unable to compare the breathtaking moment to anything she had ever experienced. And, well, the look on George’s face told her that he felt much the same.

“I don’t want to just be friends either,” she said, finding herself feeling somewhat shy after such an uncharacteristic moment of confidence. “If that’s okay with you.”

George nodded with such vigour it was a wonder his head was still attached to his neck. “Okay with me.”

thank you for reading!

#lockwood and co advent calendar #george karim x reader #george karim #lockwood and co #lockwood & co #lockwood & co x reader #lockwood and co x reader

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writtenontheport · 10 months

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Just an Afternoon at Portland Row

Pt. 1: Just a Morning at Portland Row

Finale: Just a Night at Portland Row

Anthony Lockwood x (gn) reader

Warnings/Tags: Idiots in love (again), mentions of death and loss, Still a romcom though, major tropes, a bit of bittersweet angst, Lucy and Reader friendship, Old Man with advice, Lockwood’s a silly guy and I stand by this, George and Lockwood friendship, Norrie is mentioned indirectly, please tell me if you catch any more, Imagine that moment where character a dumps on a random elderly stranger and has an epiphany about character b

Notes: I wrote this all under a trance, I will be 100% honest with you, I only lightly read it over after 😭 I will make a part 3, but who knows when it’ll be!! This fic is what happens when you’re forced to binge classic romcom 2000’s movies and then treat yourself to Lockwood and co LAWL.

Summary: Lockwood wants to return the favour for once, and gets a bit of advice from an old-timer along the way. You have a lovely chat with Lucy, and George is too close to pulling his hair out over everything happening.

Word count: 2k+

The jingle of a bell has Lockwood turning up to find it hanging over the door, his lips pressed thin. The shop is empty as he walks in, sunlight pouring from the windows lining the walls and splaying over the flowers tucked in every corner and on every surface. The whole place smelled refreshingly sweet; cool despite the heat. Teal walls hide behind endless arrays of every other colour, tables strewn and pots haphazard.

An old man comes out from a door behind what must be the counter, small pots lined along the top. He hobbles over and squints his eyes at Lockwood, a dopey smile on his wrinkly face.

“Would you like to come in?” He asks kindly, his voice like a croak. Lockwood sends him a small smile as he steps out of the doorway and shuts softly behind him. “Do you have anything specific you’re here for, or are you just looking around?”

He runs a hand along the edge of the nearest table, basking in the openness of each and every bud and bloom. “I’m here to return a favour. Someone I… know gave me a bouquet recently and I…“

“My,” the old man laughs when Lockwood’s words fail to come through, “You sound awfully shy! Someone you fancy?”

“Well—“ he thinks about it for a second, and the weight of his words lies like a dam in his throat “—I don’t… know?”

“Are you asking, or telling me?” The old man (who Lockwood doesn’t really know what else to call but The Old Man, which is starting to get repetitive) says, rounding the counter to make his way opposite of where Lockwood is lingering. There, a whole shelf of red flowers sits like a still parade, and the old man looks back at Lockwood curiously when he catches him caught on one bouquet.

“Those- um, the red carnations,” He says, making his way over, and gently picking up the red bouquet. The flowers shake and settle in his hands.

The elderly man hums, giving him a terse nod with his eyebrows lifted. He doesn’t say anything as Lockwood fumbles for words, and waits with an amused smirk as he picks up a watering can from the corner and starts on some of the pots.

“…What does it mean when someone gives you red carnations?” Lockwood finally asks, his voice small and his eyes focused on the flowers twirling between his hands.

“My better half used to tell me that they meant pure adoration or true love. Not much different from a red rose then, that lot,” He chuckles, and Lockwood is surprised dust doesn’t burst out of the cough that follows. He sounds worn but content, the old gardener. Lockwood wonders if he still misses them, and aches.

The thought of losing someone after so long frightens him. He doesn’t want to be someone people lose and he doesn’t want to lose anybody else, but there’s just so much love hanging around him. It chokes him sometimes; scares him when he realizes he can lose something— some people. He wonders how any one, even the gardener, can handle it at all.

“Are they not here now?” Lockwood blurts out before he can catch himself, but the elderly gentleman just shrugs.

“No, but it’s not like that’s surprising,” He chuckles, “I’ll be with them soon, anyhow. These old bones won’t be running around for much longer I tell ya’. No use in waiting to just join them, though. The shop still needs tending, and there are people to love, still.”

Thoughts of Portland Row call to him, an echo of all the people he’s loved and still loves. The house still stands whether or not the people in its walls are still the same, like how this old shop still stands, whether or not how many flowers pass in it. His hands tighten lightly around the pot of the carnations, and in his peripheral he can feel the man watching him patiently.

“When someone gives them to you—” Lockwood says instead, because what can you say to that? “—say, a friend of mine received a bouquet of these from someone they… fancied, what does that mean?”

“I think it means they really like you enough to give you flowers,” The shopkeeper laughs, deepening the wrinkles on his temples. Lockwood hides his smile at that, giddy even if it might not be the answer he had exactly been fishing for.

It takes him another half an hour before he’s found a bouquet fitting to give you. He gets the bouquet for free (the shopkeeper insists), but in return he has to come back after and tell the old shopkeep what happens.

“Good luck on you,” The old man smiles on his way out, “Don’t let those flowers go to waste, you hear me?”

The door to 35 Portland Row clicks open with ease, and you carefully step around the line of shoes near the front to slip yours off. A breeze ruffles you from behind as the door falls shut, and you hang your coat up on the stand. Surprisingly, only Lucy’s coat seems to hang up by yours.

“Lucy?” you call out, feeling your voice echoing about the walls. The main hall of the house is spotlessly clean (all thanks to George) yet the walls feel lived in and old. You can feel the history of the house rumbling in your bones; a welcome wave of nostalgia washing over you.

“In here!” Lucy calls from what sounds like the kitchen, “I’ll come out to meet you in a second! Don’t come in!”

You quickly find a seat in a stray chair out in the hall, and settle down to wait. Lucy pops out not a moment too late, quickly shutting the door behind her. Something about the way she doesn’t look away from you as she shuts the door makes you raise your brow in suspicion.

“Thought you would come by a bit later,” She says, pulling you up from your chair with a guiding hand on your arm.

“Did I stop by too early? I can go, if…” You ask worriedly, checking her over in case she was hurt. She’s dressed casually business-like, and it makes you wonder if you’d interrupted her from something important instead. She shakes her head quickly, a sincere smile finding its way onto her cheeks.

“Just— some gadgets in the kitchen that we’re trying out.” She takes you both up the stairs to the library, going on about some new salt bomb as she wildly gestures with her other hand. You eye her suspiciously; she never does that unless she’s nervous.

“Uhuh… and George and Anthony?” You ask playfully, stopping by the doorway of the library. She teeters on the balls of her feet in front of the bookshelf.

“At Satchell’s,” She says easily. Too easily. “How are you and Lockwood?”

Ah, you finally get it. “Did he get himself into trouble again? You don’t have to cover for Anthony, Luce.”

When she quickly shakes her head, you feel a little more confused and suspicious. She pulls an old book out of the shelves, and throws it open, pretending to read it.

“Just… wondering. Can’t a girl just ask her friend how they and their other friend who they’re totally not in love with, are doing?” She hums, flipping a page as she glances at you from the corner of her eye. Her words hit you with a resounding strike, but you manage to keep steady.

“We’re… fine.” You look away from her, which was a mistake because she catches the way you tuck your lips in, and her grin grows teasing.

“Fine? You gave him flowers!” She says, incredulously. When you snap your head her way to protest, she holds a hand up and starts listing all the things you and Lockwood do together that just don’t make sense for ‘fine’.

“…I’m pretty sure you guys pretend to be mad at each other just so you can stare at each other and call it glaring— which, the only thing glaring thing there is the glaringly obvious fact you are ogling each other—“ She takes a breath, all but dumping herself onto a chair, and you take it as a chance to interrupt her.

“Who even says ogling anymore—“

“You are ogling at each other. Face it.” She levels with you, glaring at you through her lashes.

You shuffle your feet for a second under where you’re sat across from her, and you huff in something close to defeat. You bury your head in your hands and refuse to look up. She softly whispers your name and reaches out to pat your shoulder.

“What if… he doesn’t like me back though? I don’t want to ruin all that just for my silly feelings, Luce. I can’t lose him like that.” You meant for it to be playful, but it comes out self-deprecating and quiet. Lucy hums thoughtfully, and you hear the note of it turn a bit sombre.

“Gross as you guys are, I think it’s sweet that you have each other— that you’ve always had each other. It can be easy to lose something like that, and it hurts like hell when you do, but… I don’t think that would happen so easily to you two. I mean, with how long you’ve both been dealing with each other, it’d be mental to let this be the end of it.” Her eyes are glazed over when you peek up; her hand still on your shoulder. You pull her hand into yours and give it a squeeze.

“You’ll be ok, no matter what happens,” she whispers like a secret. You wonder if it is one; if it’s a secret like the cassette tapes she sends home and the flowers you give to Lockwood. You wonder if they were really that much different at all.

“Thanks, Luce,” is all you can say, as you pull each other into a hug that squeezes at the doubts and the fears and the worries.

“You know, George, this makes me think you actually care about me,” Lockwood chirps, walking backwards as George scowls at him from behind a big hefty bag of supplies.

Curfew’s soon to set in, and George is not keen on wasting anything they could save for a case by being tardy of all things. So he scowls at Lockwood, even though he’s endlessly amused.

“Did you hit your head hard enough to finally start hallucinating?” Is all he replies, huffing as he bounces the bag in his arms. Lockwood’s got one full bag, too, but he’s strutting along like it doesn’t bug him. He should have made him take the heavier bag, George thinks.

“You came to fetch me when I took too long—“

“Cause you were taking too long, dickhead!” George feels a smile slip onto his face, and Lockwood beams. They’ve rounded the corner before they spot the house’s porch lights, the route familiar to George.

“I was already at the door when you opened it!” Lockwood argues, spinning forward and slinging the bag about.

“With flowers, Lockwood. You went out to get supplies and came back with flowers—“ George froze as they came up to the house. In one of the higher windows of the townhouse, he can spot two silhouettes in the window laughing about. “Lockwood.”

“It slipped my mind! Besides, we ended up getting the supplies anyway and having a nice little adventure, yeah?” Lockwood goes on, still walking up to the house without a clue in the world.

“Lockwood, stop walking,” George hisses a bit louder, trying to catch up.

“It’s been a while since we’ve had an adventure with us two, if I remember correctly. Last time was… that case, with Ms. Whittle? Luckily Lucy’s still there to make sure they haven’t seen the flowers yet just in case they stop by early,” Lockwood says, still completely unaware.

“Yes, but— Lockwood,” George whisper-yells, finally catching his attention, “They’re already here!”

Now, George Karim is a sensible and (in his very right opinion) incredibly patient person, but it still took everything in his power not to strangle Lockwood when he begins to panic-walk to the front door, rambling the whole way. Sometimes it helps to have had siblings, just so they can train you for moments like these and your head doesn’t go flying at how frustrating people can just be.

The things George does for his friends, he’s glad someone can tolerate Lockwood’s scatter- brained attitude enough like you can. He finds it endearing how much you both go stupid about one another, and just hopes one day you both level out, or else he’s going to go absolutely mental.

A/N: There’s an almost completely written version of this where Lockwood was 100x sillier and miscommunication ensues, but my instinct just told me not to post it. Instead, I got sappy, and you all get this. I wrote the other version mind you, and almost completed it, the same night I started and finished my George x reader fic, so I was honestly a little proud of it. Took a bit to the ego when I realised I could absolutely go about it in a more satisfying manner, but I’m glad I went and took the plunge

Also @tangledinlove asked me to tag her in case I wrote a part 2 so here you go!! Hope it isn’t too bad of a sequel!! Though I did write this mostly sleepy…

#anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood x reader #lockwood and co x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood x you #Portie writes fanfic

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novelizt · 4 months

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HEY LIZZIE

Just here to ask you what your fav LW&Co fics are that you’ve wrote. Like ones your particularly proud of 😁

Hi, Eli!! AHHH I LOVE THIS QUESTION

I don't mean to sound narcissistic but I'm generally in love with everything I write. It's fun to look back and go, "Holy crap. I wrote that? How insane of me." I can turn my brain mush into stuff people in fandom can enjoy! Sometimes just seeing how much I write makes me proud of myself. I think a lot of writers can relate to that feeling of being proud of just putting their work out there and having people enjoy it.

Personally, I indulge in reading which parts my readers enjoy the most. Nothing screams unity like crying over our favourite boys. It makes me feel important even if all I do is play games and write silly little stories hehe

That said, I have a few favourites, as does any parent.

First up is Peering Eyes Over Wrought-Iron Fences. I never finished a long fic before this one so I'm always giddy to remember that it got the ball rolling for me. That and I just love the idea of having a window next to your childhood friend(and future lover 🤭)'s window!

Next is my longest project ever, the Hogwarts AU: Expecto Patronum. I love Harry Potter and childhood rivals to lovers and Anthony Lockwood. 'nuff said. I loved writing it and I adored the responses it got and I squeal every time I remember your art of Slytherin Lockwood! Everything about it makes me happy 🥰

Last but definitely not the least, The Complications of A Fake Engagement! This fic still has the most notes I've ever gotten on a fic and knowing that it's enjoyed it makes me giddy. I like to think that the exposure it got makes it eligible to be someone's comfort fic. That possibility never fails to make me smile.

Sorry my response is so long, I got lost in the sauce XD I love talking about my stuff and I'm sure other authors do too. So, I hope you don't mind me tagging my favourites (@atlabeth @tangledinlove @lewkwoodnco @bella-rose29 ) because I'd love to hear which of your fics are you guys most proud of! And for the lovely Eli, I'd also love to hear which one of my fics left an impression on you and why 💙

P.S. Your Parachutes request is in the works. I have it plotted, I've just been so addicted to Genshin that I haven't worked on it much lol. I'm trying to rectify that now!

P.P.S. Get ready, I also have the Royal Suits series in the works; Four fantasy Lockwood fics where the reader is a princess of a Card Suit kingdom ✨

#anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood fanfiction #anthony lockwood x reader

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itripandfallalot · 6 months

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I was tagged by @dangerously-human for a heads up seven up challenge, to post the last seven lines you wrote and then tag others!!

So this is for my Lockwood and Co Big Bang fic releasing on 1/27/2024, on the anniversary of the show. Title: Lockwood & Co: The Other Side.

I took a breath and cleared my mind. Nothing. I breathed again and tried to empty my mind of everything. I thought about a white piece of canvas before an artist starts to paint. I thought about the Thinking Cloth before any of us has scribbled on it, and in that moment, I felt a sense of annoyance. A desperation, a longing, and a feeling of needing to have something that others didn’t have. I felt vaguely like I did when we had been near the hell gates, and the hulking spirit walked past, but this was a feeling that was far more dimmed.

Without fully realizing what I was saying, I uttered the words, "I think the hulking spirit is Ezekiel."

I opened my eyes and stared at Lockwood who was looking at me, his eyes wide. "What makes you say that?" he asked, his voice low and rough.

I thought. I didn’t know. I couldn't explain it. "I'm not sure," I said, "but, I think, I think I'm right."

Lockwood leaned back and inhaled a deep breath. "We have to destroy that damn source," he said.

Tagging @polithicc, @womaninwinter, @nomolosk, and @cats-and-metersticks

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #l&co book spoilers #anthony lockwood #locklyle #lucy carlyle

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krash-and-co · 2 months

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wdym by the infantilisation of george? genuinely asking as I haven't rlly seen that myself ahah but could you elaborate/give some examples?

note: I edited this ask after posting bc i wasnt done and also didn't say stuff entirely the way I meant lmao. I probably got redundant but idek what I wrote anymore, also there's a tldr at the end.

oh hey !! yeah, something ive seen are karim's (specifically this version) autistic traits and how they were portrayed in his fanon. some people either reduce him to or focus his character heavily on his 'cute' or 'childish' autistic traits, and this kind of becomes his main identity. he's autistic, and his childishness is pounced on and multiplied by fandom, because they want him to be cute like autistics are. he's autistic, and therefore vulnerable and dependent. a baby, not as capable as Lucy and Lockwood, which is nowhere near true. see the problem? /gen not only is it an unrealistic depiction of autism, but it can make people uncomfortable and be harmful.

I will mention this is an unfortunately common thing both in general fandom and irl, not something I expect one post to change. I am just sharing thoughts here :] but anyways lol

yes we as autistics can be childish. yes it may even be cute to you. yes we may feel childish ourselves, comfortably so, and that's totally fine. but it's when our whole being is warped into that one stereotype it becomes a problem. it's when people forget the rest about us, and we're your fandom vessel for angst and fluff where cute tiktok autism is our whole personality and we're not really a person anymore but a little pet people coo over. objecitified. people want to embrace these 'dependant' characters and they mean well, but the treatment of autistic traits can be.... uncomfortable. because, I mean, where does that leave you if you share these same traits? you likely don't want to be treated in such a way; you know you aren't some child to be coddled. but these characters are, and it feels wrong.

in good portrayals of autism and its acceptance, we can have all our autistic traits-- yes even the cute ones you want to baby us over, and yes even the weird and negative ones youd rather ignore, and still be treated as an equal, like george is. we wont be coddled more than a neurotypical, not treated as lesser in maturity or awareness, or shoved in a box. lockwood and co is like that to George, which is wonderful. as is most of the fandom, which is even better.

however I have seen this in fics and hc posts most notably, and it's a glaring contrast compared to the most works, and I do wonder if others have noticed and it leaves them with a funny taste in their mouth too.

not to get all preachy on this fine Wednesday at 2 in the morning, though.

tl;dr: reducing an autistic person to vulnerability and a childish nature, with malevolent intentions or not, is harmful. george is capable and badass !!! and honestly? it makes me as an autistic uncomfortable, seeing people with my traits treated like that over them by fandom, even though they mean well. balance is key. not being a total freak over our cutie patootie autistic faces is also. <- /hj /silly

obligatory end message where I mention again this isn't something horribly common in this fandom around my side of tumblr, at least, but I have seen it and wanted to ask if 1) y'all noticed it with George too and 2) share thoughts lol

ty for the ask, always happy to clarify my posts for y'all !! :]

#actually autistic #Lockwood and co #lockwood and co netflix #George Karim #also I say much of this from experience #unfortunately lol

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lockwoodandcoff · 6 months

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Lockwood and Co Flash Fiction Challenge 10 Wrap Up

thanks again to everyone who wrote!

Shattered Mirrors After the Bickerstaff case, George isn't handling things very well. Thankfully, Lockwood and Lucy are there to take care of him.

our stained glass means nothing (without light) “You have your flashlight, Lucy?” She does, even if her fingers fumble clumsily for it in the dark, in her panic. It clicks on and shows the opposite wall, barely two steps forward. Lockwood shuffles closer, presses his arm against hers. His face is smudged with dirt, his hair dusty and disheveled, and there’s a small cut across his jaw. George, now peering off into the hallway before them, has mud across his whole back from when he fell in the graveyard. “Alright,” Lucy says, clearing her throat. She feels more stable, now, with the light. With the sight of both of the boys, whole and with her. “How do we get out of here, then?”

I see my reflection in your eyes He’d never seen Lucy look so rough, and he’d seen Lucy in admittedly too many worse situations – namely, post-Combe Carey Hall, post-Kensal Green Cemetery, and most recently post-Aickmere’s. Arguably, plummeting down a chasm in the middle of a department store and wading through waters to get out after fighting a poltergeist before ever even falling, should’ve left a person looking worse than being sick, but Lucy looked downright like she was nearing Visitor territory herself. Black Winter brings about the "black illness". Overworked agents are especially susceptible, and one in particular soon finds herself down for the count. With some help from those who currently care about her and have cared about her in the past, she'll make her way through it. Sick!fic for Yammy!

her watch reads 5 a.m. “Glad you’re okay,” he hums, quiet. She smiles at the familiar words: his half of the routine they’ve picked up for when cases are done. For when they’re home again. “Glad you’re okay,” she echoes back. Her part of the pattern. George dips down a little, closer, until his forehead presses against hers. (George and Lucy get back home, source in hand, and go to sleep.)

A Reflection of your Heart “If something happens in your life thrice, it’s an indicator of something. It’s a warning. A premonition. And so, you have to take action.” Those were the words of Paul Bell, or Mr. Conspiracies, her old team had called him. Lucy hadn’t thought of his words in a long time, because she hadn’t thought of him in a long time. She hadn’t because she didn’t want to remember her failures. That was until now. ———— A dark winter fic, involving three (3) times Lucy received an ominous warning (or maybe four) when she was an independent agent. Lockwood is in trouble, and she would do anything it takes to save him. Even if it means facing the most terrifying ghost she had ever encountered.

lavender haze (chapter 2)

#lockwood and co #lockwood and co flash fiction challenge #lockwood and co ff 10

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catkin-morgs-kookaburralover · 1 year

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grabbing my brain by the shoulders and shaking it LISTEN TO ME BRAIN look at all the things you have to live for

ceramics from robin!! they are in the mail!! i really want to see them

tshirts! also in the mail! including the one that says 'i do not wish to perish today'!!

i want to reread lockwood and co and write fics about it! there's this one specific au i have in mind

literally nobody could make sense of adira's story if I was unable to keep working on it lol there's just too many notes hidden in my brain and this story's GOOD it has POTENTIAL it just needs a lot of work

same with taira! like i have a reasonably clean draft but it needs editing badly (but i'm waiting until im in a better frame of mind in general bc otherwise i will mess it up with depressed stuff)

i'm halfway through my reread of into the silent planet

i want to see ransom grow up into a full sized cat

i want to work as a fully qualified midwife!

i want to see a nicu!

i want to go back to my previous placement place for my next mid placement bc they were so good last time i loved them sm

i want to regain my friendship with the boy! whether or not that's something that will ultimately work idk but both of us want it it's just awkward rn

amira's world tour this year might include australia i don't know yet and wouldn't it be a shame if i missed seeing her live bc if she comes to anywhere in my country i am gonna do everything i can to get to a concert

the sheet music my friend gave me of the music he wrote for me, i haven't learnt to play that yet!

i have three and a half socks promised to my parents that i haven't knitted yet

i have that fidget to crochet that i bought the pattern for a while back

i want to try crocheting another bracelet in a slightly different style that might work better in terms of sitting on my wrist (the one i have is too loose bc it fits over my hand and then sits weirdly, i want to see if i can improve that)

vaniah's story is so incredibly personal to me i know hopefully without hubris that im the only person who can write that story and it would be a terrible shame if it was uncompleted

all the many many stories i have in my brain that nobody else would understand without context

gonna borrow my brother's graphics tablet! and i have that set of artworks on psalm 23 to finish

and also a bunch of other artworks i haven't finished yet

i haven't watched lockwood and co yet!

nor have i read mistborn!

someday i want to meet up with various online friends

i haven't seen my sister for over three years irl and sometime i want to go to her place of residence overseas so i can see her

gonna go see harry potter and the cursed child sometime next month with two of my brothers

i just really want to go to a concert of some kind maybe later this year or start of next year when the mso has free concerts

i want to learn that whole thing Jesus says in the later parts of john, it has some of my favourite verses in it

i need to finish learning hebrews

i need to read the queen's thief! i have wanted to for ages but i've been tending towards not reading or only comfort reads/rereads lately

i have so many pieces of music to finish writing

i have that double-knitting hat to learn how to knit and then knit

all those cds i have to listen to!

i need to sort through my photographs, a great many i haven't even LOOKED AT yet

i have to pursue diagnosis for adhd! imagine never knowing if i had adhd or not

i want to paint my nails at least once just to see what it's like

#personal #catkin rambles #grateful #feel free to add your own or anything ive missed

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mihrsuri · 2 months

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some getting-to-know-me questions

thank you to my friend @nocompromise-noregrets for the tag <3.

three ships I like: Faramir/Eowyn, Anne/Henry/Thomas (Tudors OT3) and Rey/Finn/Poe.

last song I heard: ‘Darling’ by Halsey as a rec by my saati @shes-a-voodoo-child and then the one below which is beautiful.

youtube

favourite childhood book: Tolkien (I read The Hobbit I want to say between the ages of 6-8 and then LOTR when I was eleven), A Little Princess, The Wolves Of Willboughy Chase, The Ordinary Princess (I just got my own copy of this book recently and the illustrations are so lovely as well), Swallows and Amazons, The Drina Series, White Boots (a book by Noel Streatfield about ice skating), Obernewtyn and Narnia are the main ones.

currently reading: I actually just finished Cassiel’s Servant which is a prequel to the Kushiel’s Legacy series by Jacqueline Carey and it was really good/well done - the character POV is great (even though I am still like the only person who is not into one of the pairings) but also I am side eye about the Jewish Fantasy Analogue which did kind of, it was a shadow over. I’m trying to decide what to read next - I have a book about Holbein, the first Murderbot book and I got a couple of Brandon Sanderson from the library to try again because I liked Tress of the Emerald Sea and thought I’d give his other work another go.

currently watching: I am so so bad at convincing myself that I deserve/have earned the right to watch TV shows but - I would like to finish Shadow and Bone S2 even though I curse Netflix for not renewing. Then probably Lockwood and Co and then I have no idea - maybe Percy Jackson?

currently craving: I have been really wanting corned beef with mashed potatoes and cauliflower cheese so I’m going to work hard on making myself that (I actually kind of want my dads cauliflower cheese honestly).

first ship ever: The first one I ever wrote published fic for was actually the Kushiel Books (at least going by fanfiction.net it was in 2003 - this fic does not exist online anymore). I think the first ships I ever imagined out content for was probably Scarlet Pimpernel related - i wrote a lot of gen fic in my head as a kid though.

Tagging (entirely optional): @unseenacademic @sherwoodknights @six-of-snakes @quillington @jesidres @miabicicletta @emilykaldwen

#meme #Youtube

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wackus-bonkus-maximus · 7 months

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20 questions for fic writers

i'm very late but thank you so much for the tags @chocoluckchipz, @kasienda, @ladyofthenoodle, @lesbitorte, @rosie-b, and @bittersweetresilience (and if i missed anybody who did tag me i'm sorry! this post is dedicated to you in spirit <3)

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

somehow it's up to 26

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

somehow it's up to 307,102

3. What fandoms do you write for?

miraculous ladybug right now, but i've had some lockwood & co ideas spinning ever since i finished the show and books!

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

one does not love breathing

what makes a monster

this is how you lose him

keys to the kingdom

like smoke from a furnace

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

yes i try to respond to all! and i think this might be why odnlb and lies of attrition have more comments than kudos now... or it's just my wackus touch :3

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

i think it's rest your head (upon my shoulder) - but only because i know what happens after! i might write a follow up someday to fix that...

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

i had to think about this because i tried really hard to make the ending for odnlb worth all the angst and the happiest of all. but i think the truest happy ending goes to like smoke from a furnace 💛

8. Do you get hate on fics?

i've gotten some salt, some mean bookmarks, and exactly ONE hate comment on don't be a stranger (which i keep there as a badge of honor 🤩). but other than that people have been really respectful to me and supportive of my writing. it makes me really happy to be part of this community!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

no, it's not for me. i stay off nsfw tags/ channels too.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

ooh i distinctly remember writing a sonny with a chance/ wizards of waverly place crossover when i was a middle schooler on ff.net and thinking i was very clever.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

YES. back on ff.net 😔

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

i've had a request for odnlb to be translated, but idk what happened with that!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

yes!

ephialtes/reverie with @bittersweetresilience, @ninadove, @paracosmicat, @trishacollins, and @ultear-tigra.

atm i have lies of attrition in-progress with @ladyofthenoodle!

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

ahhh i have to pick?? i'm still very weak for raven x beast boy from teen titans 💜💚

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

quitting is for quitters.

16. What are your writing strengths?

plotting and action scenes. i get a lot of compliments on those!

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

poetry, stream of consciousness. i feel like my dialogue could be better a lot of the time.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

if it serves a narrative purpose, keep it! best examples i can think of is the spanish in blood meridian by joseph conrad, and the soldiers speaking czech in saving private ryan.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

👻 danny phantom! 💚

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

oh it's definitely odnlb. that was my practice fic for writing a novel - my own private test to see if i could do it. turns out i could.

tagging @sizzleissues, @erisluna35, and @narukoibito - no pressure ofc!

#tag game #20 questions for fic writers #ml fanfic #writing

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insidethekaleidoscope · 7 months

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So, I surprised myself with this one and wrote a fic that involves 0% Locklyle. But hopefully someone is still interested in reading it 😅

Ok, so I know in the books Lockwood and Flo are friends because of fencing, but in my opinion the show was setting up a closer backstory for them. This is based mostly on the fact that its implied Flo knows what's behind the door on the landing. I find it hard to believe that Lockwood would have shown her unless they were really really close or she'd known him as a child. Also, show Flo just has real unhinged big sister vibes.

Anyway, I was just very intrigued by the fact that they obviously were very close and care deeply about one another, but there's also some level of distance between them.

This fic also plays off the comment Flo makes to George about knowing he's mesmerized because "we can smell our own."

Anyway, never expected to write a Flo character study, yet here we are, and I'm quite attached to it.

#lockwood & co #lockwood and co #lockwood and co fanfiction #anthony lockwood #flo bones #prequel fic #found family

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neewtmas · 1 year

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Jealous // Part II

A/N: this is part two to the first fic I wrote in ages. I left the ending of that one open on purpose so that i could write a part 2 if anyone was interested (thanks @poisonquinzell for the request <3) I went into this part with no real idea and the story kinda took over. Writing in first person is a little weird, but also fun. Not really sure what to think, but we’ll see. also if anyone can think of a title that is better (probably not that hard, I hate coming up with titles) let me know!

pairing: george karim x fem!reader

wordcount: 2k

masterlist

taglist: @maraschinomerry @marinalor @oblivious-idiot @galactidiot (if you wanna get added or removed, shoot me a message or an ask :))

part I

I can't stop thinking about what Lucy said. The whole conversation plays in my head over and over as I finally lie in my bed. All traces of tiredness have disappeared. Could she be right? George had started acting weird right after that weirdo had mentioned a date. But jealous? It wasn't like he had asked me out or anything. He doesn't have a right to be angry. But saying that I'm not at least a little happy about the thought of George being jealous would be a lie. I'm more than a little excited. The butterflies in my stomach are going wild, and my cheeks are hot again. A while later, after a lot of tossing and turning, I fall asleep with a stupid grin on my face.

The next morning George doesn't join us for breakfast. Like he promised last night, he sleeps in until the early afternoon, and when he finally comes trotting down the staircase, his mood is just as sour as it was when he went to bed. He doesn't even look at me when he sits down with his breakfast and tea, completely ignoring my presence at the table.

He starts eating in silence, still not acknowledging me, and suddenly I can feel doubts over Lucy's and Lockwood's idea start to creep in. There is no way he is jealous. There must be something else. I must have done something to damage our relationship beyond repair and now he can't even look at me. What exactly did I do? I have truly no idea.

Anxiety starts building up inside me and suddenly it's unbearable to sit next to George in this awkward silence. I jump up, the edge of the table hitting my thighs painfully and George looks at me as his tea spills over the edge of the cup from the movement of the table. "Sorry", I mumble, head down as I rush out of the kitchen.

My hands are sweaty and I wipe them on my pants as I enter the library. It's been my favourite room in the house from my first day of employment at Lockwood & Co. While I usually spent time with George here, this time it's Lockwood who sits in the armchair, aimlessly flipping through a glossy magazine.

He looks up as I enter, brows furrowing as he sees my expression. "You good?", he asks, closing the magazine and placing it on the shelf behind him. I plop myself down on the couch opposite him. "No. He's not talking to me. Like, at all. I think you're wrong, there is no way he's jealous. He must be angry."

Lockwood raised his eyebrows. "You think that is a good argument for your case? And let me tell you, he does treat you differently. You just never see how he looks at you. Or how he saves the last doughnut from me or Lucy so you can have it. Or how he always carries your bags so that you never have to. Or how he -"

Lockwood grins. "He is. But not at you, y/n. I bet he's kicking his ass right now bc he didn't manage to ask you out before this other guy did."

"You think?" I had my doubts about that. "But he never did... anything. He never treated me any differently. He treated me like you treat Lucy!"

"Okay okay! Message received!" I raise my hands defensively, and my face feels hot. Was I that oblivious? Or was Lockwkod messing with me? My favourite kind of doughnut was always the last one in the box, no matter how long it stood unattended in the kitchen. Until now I had assumed that's just bc no one else liked it.

Lockwood smirks at me. "I know how I can prove it to you."

I lean forward, suddenly intrigued despite my doubts. His expression is the kinda look he only has when he's up to no good.

"Tomorrow evening, you'll dress up. You leave for a few hours, but you make sure he sees you and knows that you're gone. You stay out for a while and come back in the evening. He'll assume you went on the date. He'll fold immediately." I'm not quite convinced. Lockwood on the other hand seems very sure of himself. "Try it" he challenges. "I bet you'll be surprised."

He seems to have told Lucy about it immediately because she bothers me the whole next day. Whenever George is in earshot, she starts talking excitedly about how happy she is for me, what she thinks I should wear, if she can do my make-up. And as the day progresses, George's mood takes a turn for the worse. He's stomping around, slams every door he walks through, and wears a scowl whenever I see him. I start to wonder if maybe Lockwood and Lucy were right after all.

As late afternoon approaches, Lucy pulls me up to her room and sits me down on her bed. "You need to trust me", she says as she starts pulling different make-up products out of a bag. "I still don't think this is a good idea", I say weakly, but she gives me a look that tells me I have already lost.

"Have you not seen how he's acting today? He's never in a mood this bad. And he's not stupid, he has picked up that you're going on a date."

I don't have anything to say to that, so I just let her do my make-up and hair. When she is done, she pulls me up and pushes me in front of the mirror she has hanging in her room, smiling at me proudly through the reflection. "You look gorgeous, LISA. George will not know what hit him!"

I have to admit, even though I'm still reluctant, she's right. I do look good. I have no idea where Lucy learned to do makeup this way, but somehow she managed to accentuate everything I like about myself. Suddenly I'm feeling sad that I'm not actually going on a date.

After we picked out an outfit, it's time to go downstairs, and suddenly I'm so nervous I feel like I might throw up. Up until now, I had humoured Lucy and Lockwood, but it seems much more real now that i'm about to see George. My hands are shaking and my stomach feels like a giant knot.

In front of the closed kitchen door, Lucy stops me. "He's in there", she whispers. "Here's the plan: I go in, you wait a few minutes, then act as if you wanna say goodbye to me, alright?"

I can't help but admire how invested she is in this whole thing. I nod, my throat feeling too constricted to get out a single word. She gives me a thumbs-up and squeezes my hand, then walks into the kitchen.

"Oh hi George", she says cheerfully, as if she hadn't known he would be in there before she entered. George says nothing, and I wring my hands.

It doesn't take much longer than a minute of standing in the hallway and staring at one of the ghost masks that looks grimly back at me before it's too much and I open the door. I only stick my head in because suddenly I'm too self-conscious to stand in front of George the way I look right now.

"I'm leaving now", I say, and my eyes meet George's and I forget everything I wanted to say. He looks at me intently, sitting at the kitchen table with a tea cup raised to his lips.

Lucy rushes over to me, and before I can stop her, she grabs me by the arm and pulls me into the kitchen.

"Doesn't she look gorgeous, George?"

He looks at me in a way I have never seen. His eyes travel over me, down and up and down again and he slowly lowers his cup of tea, eyes never leaving me. His gaze makes a shiver run down my spine, and I feel a blush creeping up my face.

"George?", Lucy asks and he looks like he snapped out of a trance. "Uh yes, yes, of course. Great." He looks down at his hands, but I can see how flustered he is. I look over at Lucy and she smirks at me.

"You're gonna be late if you don't leave now", she says and pulls me out of the kitchen. I just let her, like I have let her pull me around the whole day already.

"See? I told you so. Have fun!", is all she says before she pushes me out the door and closes it behind me. Since it's summer, even at this hour it's still light out. Otherwise, I wouldn't even be able to leave the house, so I guess that's good. I grasp the bag I'm holding more tightly before I set off to my destination. I have packed a book and plan on staying in a cafe for a few hours, just long enough so that it's believable, but not too long so that I can get home safely.

The whole time, I can barely concentrate. The entire day, I've been reluctant, because I was convinced whatever Lockwood and Lucy were seeing was non-existent. But the way George had looked at me in the kitchen - it still gives me goosebumps every time I think about it. But that also means that I have no idea what will happen once I come back.

A few hours later, I make my way back to Portland Row. As I'm standing in front of the door of number 35, a part of me wishes for George to be already in his room. Another part wishes for him to be still in the kitchen. I turn the key in the lock, and my hands already start shaking again, even though I'm not even inside yet.

I enter the hallway as quietly as I can, not wanting to disturb anyone and turn around to close the door carefully.

"You're back." I whip around at his voice and find him standing a few feet away from me, arms crossed, leaning against the door frame.

"Yes."

Neither of us says anything, and neither of us moves. We just look at each other. I don't know what to make of his expression.

"So... how was your date?" He practically spits out the word, and I have never heard him say anything with that much contempt.

"It was fine?" It sounds more like a question, and he raises one eyebrow.

"That's great."

"Do you really think that?" I ask him quietly, and he looks at me for a moment.

"y/n...", he trails off, then pushes himself off the doorframe and takes a few steps towards me until he's standing right in front of me. Overwhelmed by his closeness, I take a step back, my back colliding with the front door. I can feel my heartbeat picking up as he moves just the tiniest bit closer and I have to look up to meet his eyes. His gaze is intense and immediately, my mouth feels dry. What is happening?

"I wish you hadn't gone on that date. He isn't right for you. He isn't good enough."

I swallow hard. "Then who is?", I choke out, barely audible because my throat is so tight.

He raises his hand until it hovers next to my face. "Can I?" he asks, his voice just as quiet as mine. I nod and the next thing I know his hand cups my cheek and his lips are on mine. My mind goes blank as he presses me against the door, caressing my cheek with his thumb, the kiss soft and gentle, almost timid.

"I did not go on a date", I breath out after he pulls away again.

#george karim #george karim x reader #lockwood and co #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood & co #lockwood & co x reader #lucy carlyle

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dangerously-human · 4 months

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3, 26, 50 for the writer ask game :)

Thank you for your patience, I know I took forever to answer all of these but this one took even longer because I decided to indulge myself with ALL the details and that was a time-consuming genuine delight. 😅

3. What are some tropes or details that you think are very characteristic of your fics?

I am a big fan of playing with metaphor and challenging myself with defined structure. Years ago, I wrote a Continuum fic (Still Here) with POV from every character in the story, with the swaps happening in a sort of chain based on who the characters interacted with - Dillon talks to Carlos, then we're in Carlos's POV until he thinks about Garza, then we're with Garza until she picks a fight with Emily, and so on - all looking at the same theme of how Kiera returning to her time left a hole that deeply affects everyone she left behind. Love giving myself a theme to work around, like chapters in developing relationship fic each based on a color of the rainbow. As is probably quite apparent, I enjoy writing "five times/things" fics and drabbles, and combining the two. Sometimes I go a step further and do the variations on a theme thing for five interconnected drabbles, like the Sparky five senses series. I like giving myself a challenge with fanfiction so it still feels like I'm growing my writing skills, even though a lot of things come easier than with original works.

26. Would you rather write a fic that had no dialogue or one that was only dialogue?

Easy, I write fics sans dialogue all the time. I do really enjoy dialogue and I think I've improved my ability to write it a lot, but introspection is still where I thrive.

50. Answer any question of your choice, or talk about anything you want to talk about!

Oh goodie, love this question! I'm going to answer 29: What songs would be (or are) on a playlist for [Here's a Safe Place to Lay Your Heart Down]? Explain your choices if you want!

I never used to be the kind of writer who had separate playlists for individual projects (outside of the occasional original work), just one massive playlist for the fandom. It's been a fun way to focus on some of the more effort-heavy, long-term WIPs! Here's the one for the ring fic:

The Graduate - The Arcadian Wild: The bittersweetness of growing up and your perspective shifting so you see the world as it truly is, for better and worse simultaneously. "When you were younger, you dreamed of being tall, but you discovered growing up just leaves you feeling small" / "Failing is fruitful, so long as we do not forget to move" / "We are wandering through the wild, we are wondering when not if we'll reach the other side... When we were ever alone? Together we'll make our way home"

Anomaly - Angels & Airwaves: Lockwood crush angst! "I never wanted to say how much I liked you, I never wanted to be one of your sad discoveries" - not feeling worthy of Lucy

Dark Mirage - Matthew Parker, HIDDEN EYES: Lockwood struggling and Lucy feeling helpless. "I don't possess the power to drive off the darkness that's haunting you, I pray the truth gets louder" - Felt fitting for the wallowing portions of this fic, considering Lockwood vastly overestimates his negative effect on Lucy. Also like... this level of angst is exactly what Lockwood is terrified of inflicting on Lucy, it's not actually like this but he's worried it could be if he's not constantly on high alert (which is what Lucy tells him she's willing to do if he ever needs it)

Taxi Cab - Twenty One Pilots: Ooh, this one hits hard on so many Lockwood & Co levels. "I wanna fall inside your ghost and fill up every hole inside my mind, and I want everyone to know that I am half a soul divided" is just such a good way to showcase Lockwood's growth, from the soul divided being between life and death to being part of a whole (with Lucy). The repetition of "don't be afraid" throughout a lyrical story that is so Lockwood all over just. Argh, it's very very hard for me to put this one into words. Like how the "don't be afraid" could at first be giving up but then it's a promise not to. And it gets at the same idea as the books do with Lockwood as both Christ figure and the one saved ("and then I asked them, am I alive and well or am I dreaming dead? And then one turned around to say, we're driving toward the morning sun, where all your blood is washed away and all you did will be undone"). There's a lot of imagery here I associate with the Other Side and the return, and so I connect it with Lockwood sort of dying and, upon symbolic resurrection, choosing a new life that involves opening himself up to Lucy... Ugh, yeah, this one's harder to explain, it just means a LOT to me

Hot Tea - half•alive: Obsessed with this as Lockwood being pathetically in love, tbh ("Wanna be here ar your door 12am and sleeping on your porch until you get in, looking into your eyes endlessly, crawling into your lap desperately"), and "can't afford to lose you any longer" fits very well for the canon era chapter, but also just the warmth of belonging to each other ("Hold you in my hands like hot tea, knowing I'm safe 'cause you want me")? That is always the Locklyle vibe I'm going for, but especially in this fic. Also the line "sip you through my front teeth" makes me think of Lockwood and his blue whale thing, hahaha

Spiders - Bear's Den: I will eventually come back to write the spiders symbolism kidfic that slots in later in this series, which is the only reason I did not end up using these lyrics for this fic despite it fitting the vibe so well. (Love, I'm Trying had at least three WIPs competing to use it as a title for a while there.) But, yeah, the whole thing with spiders as indicative of a haunting lends extra power to this one in an L&Co context, with lines like "I can't take back all the hurt I've caused, everything I love I have somehow lost, it's four in the morning abd the spiders are crawling in my mind, replaying pictures of all I can't undo, love, I'm trying, but I can't oull myself when the darkness comes" - and that being when Lockwood has to learn to go to Lucy, because that's what they do for each other, they pull each other out when they can't do it alone

Rain Clouds - The Arcadian Wild: The growth! While usually I associate this song more with Lucy, it does still work for Lockwood and the guilt he carries, moving from "I'm being shadowed by my past, reminding me of what I was and what I could become" to a sort of conversation of "I need someone to be my guide, listen to my voice, close your frightened eyes, hide behind my love for you, fear's only a choice, one that we all must make someday"

BREAKFAST - half•alive: Chosen as the title source for good reason; this song is all about vulnerability and the mortifying ordeal of being known, and practicing embracing the safety of leaving your heart in someone else's hands - starting out feeling reluctant and even panicky at the idea of openness ("I fled to the walls, yeah, be sure I'm surrounded, where no one can find me") to fighting your instincts and opening up no matter how hard it is, and being met with the reassurance of being seen and loved in all your complexity ("say you're open through tears and trembling, it's a major step, it's okay to fret, here's a safe place to lay your heart down"), and the reminder that messing up doesn't mean you've broken the relationship irreparably ("it's a second chance, it won't be your last"), which is a message Lockwood really needs to hear from Lucy in this fic, as they repeat old patterns with new endings

Lifeline - Angels & Airwaves: The forgiveness and gentleness Lucy offers Lockwood - "We all make mistakes, here's your lifeline"

Your Burden is Mine - Sarah Sparks, Kenny Komatsu: The doing life together part, a reminder that it's pride that intereferes with letting love in - "Don't spare me from anything, your burden is mine" / "Careful, my brother, there on your own, for it is a fool who suffers alone, there's none self-sufficient, only those who try, so swallow your pride, your burden is mine"

TrusT - half•alive: Ooh, this song absolutely messes me up re: redemption, and also unchanging adoration/stability even in the midst of conflict. Lockwood needs to hear it from a romantic relationship perspective ("rest and know the love you hold won't be taken back, no, how sweet the taste of certainty, the gift you gave is safe with me"), but it hits hard for me from a Christian theology perspective - and isn't that just the surprise theme of this fic, the ways marriage is meant as an echo of Christ's love for his bride, the Church. Also fits really well for this in-between space they find themselves in as they have an answer for the Problem yet are still working on the solution ("the tug of war in the now-not-yet... can you tell me why I feel this way? I have faith that the world I'm in will be redeemed again, but there's a weight that I can't explain, so tell me why I feel this way"), which I think is a tension in the background of most of my work in this particular series

The Kitchen - Tow'rs: For the imagery of dancing together in the kitchen as a way of making amends after a fight - "You made me dance in the kitchen with you, if I was the night then you were the moon"

What Home Feels Like - The Afters: Gosh this song is so CUTE, and that is the Locklyle vibe! Just the idea of finding home and belonging with the person you love - "There is no place I'd rather be for the first time in my life, I know what home feels like" / "No, I never wanna leave, 'cause I've found where I belong, this is what home feels like"

Let's Get Married - Bleachers: This is THE love post-trauma song, and fits the warmth of 35 Portland Row so well along with Lucy and Lockwood promising to make it work even when it's crazy hard, because they recognize where they're a little broken but they also believe building a life together is worth it

#personal #writer probs: fanfic edition #lockwood & co

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