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hurtcomfortficstilltheend · 29 days

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When a Counterspell Backfires, Part 1.

Nancy Drew x gn! Reader

Summary: After not taking it seriously for some time, breaking the curse Temperance casted on you and Nancy proves harder than expected.

Warnings: angst, deteriorated health mention, passing out.

Word Count: 1.3k

“Nancy! Guess what I found?” you called, in a singsong manner.

“My car keys?” The redhead turned around to look at you from her place at her desk.

“Well, of course, but also something else…” You shook the keychain in your right hand, but kept the other behind your back. Nancy raised her eyebrows expectantly and a half smile appeared on her face. “The map of the forbidden catacombs! With the entrance spot and everything.”

“No, you didn’t!” Nancy jumped from her chair and, in mere milliseconds, stood in front of you to engulf you on a rib-breaking hug. She was beaming, just like every time something went well on an investigation.

You wrapped your arms around her as best as you could with the items on your hands, being extra careful to not tear the ancient piece of paper. “Yes I did! Don’t ask me how though, I don’t think you wanna know.”

“Ha, ha, you are soooo funny.” She rolled her eyes. “We both know you wouldn’t dare break middle school rules, nevermind the actual law.”

“What can I say? Maybe being around you so much is starting to rub off on me.” You sported a mischievous grin when she rolled her eyes once again and leaned in for a kiss, which you returned gladly. You gave her a last peck on her cheek and stood beside her, offering your arm to link with hers. “Shall we?”

“We shall.” Sporting huge smiles, the both of you walked to the blue car outside her house and you tossed her the keys. She really was looking bright today, all happy and excited. You love to see her like this.

—

That was long ago. The ghost you were looking for ended up being part of a cluster case, something very new to the crew. Still, you managed, as always. After days of research, a messy and exhausting hand-to-ghostly-hand combat, and a bunch of salt bombs, it was all over. You had gotten an awful purplish slash on your back that wouldn’t quite heal, but it was fine, it acted as a normal scar anyway.

Thinking back to it now it felt silly, a fun little supernatural mystery to solve. Now everything is complicated, personal. Since Temperance casted the curse on you and Nancy nothing is the same. You haven’t seen your girlfriend’s smile in a while.

“The universe will do everything in its power to prevent you from enjoying the time you are in each other’s presence. Accidents, missteps… death? But you will be in love forever, unable to move on, unable to be distant. Until death do you part.” Had been the sentence.

When Nancy told you this, you didn’t believe it to be such a bad thing (except for the dying part, of course), you thought you could get through it. At that time, all that had happened was you kicking a table leg right on your pinkie toe at The Claw, and your girlfriend spitting coffee from her nose. It surely had been unfortunate, but you had laughed about it. Ace had even jokingly started calling you trouble couple. Also, the being in love part you were already counting on, so what was the issue?

Things had escalated though. First it was breaking glasses, pumping your knees on furniture, burning skin on the stove. “Accidents happen”, you had said. You were actually known for being a little clumsy, no biggie. Then came the misstep on the stairs that had ended in a concussion, the falling into the sea from the docks and almost drowning, the car crash… You had tried taking a break from each other, moving away for some time to see what happened, but it had made you both awfully ill. Nancy had ended up in the hospital.

Being together was dangerous, and so was being apart. So you took the offensive. You were a witch, and so was Bess, you’d figure something out.

It has been months now. Nancy’s health is deteriorating, her face paler each day, dark circles under her eyes, new scars and bruises adorning her body; you are in no better shape anyway.

“Baby wake up please…” you whispered. Your girlfriend was curled up in your arms, her sleeping face so soft despite everything. “Today we are trying the counter-spell Bess found, remember?”

After a few seconds, she stirs awake. For a moment she looks at you like she used to, shimmering eyes glad to feel you with her. Then the heaviness takes over, she nods in agreement and gets up to use the bathroom. You worry she might cut herself with her shaving machine, or slip on the tiles and hit her head on the toilet.

That’s all you do lately, worry. Maybe that's what will finally kill you.

She comes out of the bathroom safe and sound, and you feel like crying in relief. “So, are they all coming here?” She asks while looking for a clean shirt to put on.

You swallow the knot on your throat. “Yeah, Bess said it was better if we didn’t move too much. They are bringing the supplies too.”

“Good.”

You hear three firm knocks on the old wooden door. You look at Nancy, place your hand on her knee reassuringly, and stand from the couch to greet your friends. A string of curses can be heard when the door handle gives you an electric shock, but everything is fine. Nick, George, Ace, and Bess have their hands packed with bags and boxes, and they all look ready for war. You are gonna end this, once and for all.

The pitying looks from everyone in the last few months annoyed the fuck out of Nancy, so she shut off almost everyone in her life. You had tried to talk some sense into her, only managing to get her to meet up with friends and family once a week in small gatherings or movie nights you organized.

“Here goes nothing.” Nancy lets out a heavy sigh, you have a feeling she doesn’t believe this is going to work out. You squeeze her hands and conjure a calming smile on your face, as much to appease her nerves as yours.

Everything is set up, Nancy and you are standing face to face in a salt circle. The studio is flooding with lit candles, the flames waving with each breath you take. Your friends are standing in each of the four cardinals, a few feet away from you, holding a set of obscure antiques you know nothing about. You should get back to researching soon.

Bess starts chanting in latin, the others mimicking the phrase over, and over, and over again. Your body feels heavier, a buzzing sound in your ear. You look up to check on your girlfriend, and she looks weirdly brightened. Her eyes seem more attentive, her expression more alive, her cheeks are flushed as if she just came back from a short run. You are glad she’s already doing better, and would love to stay and enjoy the moment with her, but you feel yourself slipping away.

She doesn’t notice, her eyes are too focused on the light smoke coming out from your chests, and you don’t blame her, it really is a show to see.

The second Ace, Bess, George, and Nick stop chanting, darkness engulfs the space. The candles release their iconic burnt-wick smell. The only noise is everybody’s quiet breathing. Nobody dares to speak, but the same question plagues their minds: Did it work?

Your body, that long ago stopped feeling yours, collapses. Nancy barely manages to soften your fall by getting a grip of your arm. The moment breaks, your girlfriend is screaming your name, but you can’t hear her. Nick is checking your pulse, George fishes her phone from her bag and is already dialing 911, Bess wonders what went wrong.

You see, from somewhere above your body, how Nancy holds you in her arms, gets a strand of hair out of your face, tells you that everything will be okay. She's crying, screaming to no one in particular to do something to help you. You are unresponsive, every single muscle limp, you wish you could just tell her how much you love her.

A/N: There is not enough written about this show!! It's my guilty pleasure to be honest, The level of angst the show manages to put out is outstanding.

Tell me what you think! Feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

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hurtcomfortficstilltheend · 29 days

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Masterlist

I usually write gender neutral reader, but I might slip sometimes with female pronouns. There is no use of "(Y/N)".

Natasha Romanoff x gn!reader

Rainy days and tired souls

Summary: Natasha and R take a break after a tough mission, some painting, some crying, and some comforting.

Warnings: mention of injuries (nothing graphic), hurt/comfort, fluff. Soft nat ;)

Word count: 865

Wanda Maximoff x gn!reader

Study sesh gone wrong.

Summary: It's finals week and you are overwhalmed, Wanda helps you get through a rough study session. (College Au)

Warnings: Academic stress, being very overwhalmed, flow state is a bitch sometimes, hurt/comfort, fluff at the end.

Word count: 862

Wednesday Addams x gn!reader

Mateine is the new caffeine

Summary: Wednesday tries mate for the first time, by the hand of her partner, R.

Warnings: None! Only fluff! soft!Wednesday

Word Count: 1178

Necromancy? No, cardiopulmonary resuscitation!

Summary: When the time comes, will reader be able to save her girlfriend? (or: The final battle, but make it angstier)

Warnings: Blood, Fighting, Death.

Word Count: 1281

Lucy Carlyle x gn!reader

The C in Concussion stands for Cuddles!

Summary: The aftermath of the screaming staircase case (Doubt Thou the Stars episode), Reader gets a concussion and there might be some cuddles involved.

Warnings: ghost-fighting (brief), getting a concussion (feeling dizzy and confused), hurt/comfort and fluff (I know, very surprising).

Word count: 1623

A little post-river pick-me-up.

Summary: R makes panqueques con dulce de leche (argentinian crepes filled with a milk based caramel) for the team after the shiver-inducing Thamesis fiasco.

Warnings: Falling into the Thames (chapter 7 follow-up), me sugarcoating the end because I'm weak for this fandom and this fandom only, and fluff.

Word Count: 1.9k

Sometimes it's just better (not to know).

(Multichapter)

Summary: When you get a gut feeling that something is targeting 35 Portland Row -and therefore your family-; how far will you go to protect it?

Warnings: angsty angstt, violence, a lot of nightmares and witchy stuff, reader has the gift of precognition.

Word count: 2.2k

Nancy Drew x gn!reader

When a Counterspell Backfires, Part 1.

Summary: After not taking it seriously for some time, breaking the curse Temperance casted on you and Nancy proves harder than expected.

Warnings: angst, deteriorated health mention, passing out.

Word Count: 1.3k

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hurtcomfortficstilltheend · 29 days

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The C in Concussion stands for Cuddles!

Lucy Carlyle x gn! Reader (lowkey could be read as platonic)

Summary: The aftermath of the screaming staircase case (Doubt Thou the Stars episode), Reader gets a concussion and there might be some cuddles involved.

Warnings: ghost-fighting (brief), getting a concussion (feeling dizzy and confused), hurt/comfort and fluff (I know, very surprising).

A/N: I really liked how this one turned out :D Lockwood and Co is amazing!

Word count: 1623

Lucy letting go of her sword should have been warning enough that something was off.

Every time she had ever done that, it had been a sign of trouble. She made her way right towards the well in the corner of the dark crypts, moving slowly, in a snooping fashion.

You were trying to keep the angry monks at bay with your rapier, but when you noticed Lucy leaning towards the abyss you decided you needed to intervene urgently.

“Guys! Cover my back please!” you said, already running towards your friend before it was too late. You reached the well and yanked her by the jacket. The both of you tumbled back a little, and she immediately gripped the sleeves of your coat. “Shit Luce, that was ghostlock, wasn’t it?”

Her face was the spitting image of panic. “Yeah, but I found the source!” She looked shaken, but the new information seemed to light up some hope in the group, as you all knew you weren’t going to get out of this one by fighting the wraiths hand to hand (more like silver to ectoplasm). You needed to isolate and destroy the sources. “It’s in the well, their bodies!”

“It’s too late, there’s too many!” You were all on the ground at this point, cornered, trying to stay as far away from the visitors as possible, a job that was getting harder by the second.

The monks’ chanting was drilling holes into your ears, and you guessed that so was the case for Lucy, for she grimaced each time there was a new verse. You blindly searched for her hand with yours, and gave it what you hoped was a reassuring squeeze.

“Lucky I broke the deal,” Lockwood had a proud smirk on his face, and even though his cockyness would usually irritate you, you could only feel grateful as he took the grenade out of his pocket and threw it in the well. “Watch out for the explosion!”

George, Lockwood and Lucy curled into themselves and covered their heads with their arms, but you were a second too slow, failing to prepare yourself for the massive blast that followed.

When you came to, you found Lucy’s face above you. You could see that she was worried, and her mouth was moving frenetically, but you didn’t understand what she was saying. There was a ringing in your ear and you felt an awful headache spreading from your temple.

You felt your best friend’s hand on your cheek and tried to tell her that you were okay, but you only managed to let out a string of incomprehensible slurred syllables.

“Guys I think that’s Spanish, do you think she’s okay?” Luce’s voice came through the fog in your head, and you perceived the ever growing desperation in it. You closed your eyes to put yourself together, fighting the haziness.

When you opened them, the whole team was hovering over you. “I said I’m fine” you uttered weakly, doing your best to sit up leaning on the wall behind your back.

“You definitely didn’t say that” George remarked, which earned a soft elbow to the ribs by Lockwood and a sharp glare by Lucy.

You lifted your hand to the throbbing spot in your temple and gasped when you felt something wet and sticky. Even in the almost pitch black darkness that surrounded you, you knew what it was. “Shit, guys I'm bleeding”

The lack of response told you that you were stating the obvious, they had already noticed.

With newfound energy, they helped you to your feet and started looking for a way out. You felt awfully dizzy, but you decided against mentioning it. First, get the hell out of the country house; then, figure out the head trauma.

The following events occurred with you barely noticing. You were aware there was a fight, and heard the screeches that came from Annabel’s ghost when it was set free; but other than that, you found yourself stunned when you realized it was all over, in the Deprac van.

“I think I blacked out for a second, were we arrested just now?” Your head was resting on the metal interior of the transport, and you didn’t like the tension in the air. You felt like a caged animal.

Lockwood was pacing in the cramped space, George looking out the small window, and Lucy and you were sitting on the floor. “Apparently…” your friend drifted off the sentence when the inspector got into the vehicle. The next thing you knew, you were signing an NDA and going back to London.

“Lucy, I think I have a concussion” you whispered as you entered 35 Portland Row, part of your weight being carried by George.

Lockwood and Lucy exchanged a worried look. “That’s exactly what the paramedics said, love”

“Oh” You lifted your hand to wander around the left side of your head, and you were surprised to find out that the cut was already bandaged. “Shit.” You looked out the window, it was already bright outside. “I need a nap”.

Your friends couldn’t agree more, and after telling Lucy to feel free to yell if needed, (and announce that breakfast would be in the afternoon) she helped you to your shared bedroom, and to your mattress on the floor. She took off your boots, but other than that, you went into your bed fully clothed. You clumsily pulled the covers to your chin, more as a symbolic protection than to fight the cold, and stared at the ceiling for a long moment.

“That was scary” you voiced simply. Your eyes watered as everything that had happened since entering that bloody haunted house downed on you. Your roommate scooted closer, so that she was resting the closest possible to you on the edge of her bed.

“It was,” she responded. She reached down with her hand, and you held it gently before passing out cold.

You heard sniffles, still groggy you looked at the clock on the wall. 9.13am. Barely a few hours had passed since you fell asleep. Your head was pounding, your worst ghost-attack-induced hangover to the moment, but you felt more aware of your surroundings, and the ringing in your ears was gone.

You seated up, and after glancing over to Lucy, you noticed she was already awake. “Hey, you okay?” You mentally facepalmed, that was the stupidest question, of course she was not okay, she was crying, for god’s sake.

She nodded, you both knew it was a lie. “Sorry for waking you, you need the rest”

“You need it, too” Her gaze softened. “Do you wanna talk about it?” She shook her head. She spoke anyway.

“I thought- For a moment back there, I thought I had lost you” you noticed that she was barely keeping herself together.

“I’m here, and I’m fine, okay?” Lucy hastily wiped her tears. You decided that if she wasn’t going back to sleep, you weren’t either. The last thing you wanted was to leave her alone. “What can I do?”

“You were the one who got hurt, and I’m the one crying, I shouldn’t-” you knew that she was about to get herself into a spiral, so you cutted her off.

“I mean it, what do you need?”

She tried to fight against it, but your expression looked so genuine that, in a moment of vulnerability, she caved in. “Could- could you come up-” She patted her bed, “just hold me?”

You didn’t let a second pass by before a gentle “Of course” came out of your mouth. You knew how hard it was for Lucy to open up to other people, and you weren’t about to make her feel like a fool. Plus, you were just as shaken, and you could use some grounding as well.

You climbed up to her bed, now mindful to take off your filthy coat that you forgot before, and plopped down in the spot your friend had cleared out for you. Your head pounded for a few seconds, but you were okay.

Since arriving at the agency, both of you had felt a special connection to the other, but you were taking things very slowly. You were comfortable and felt safe around each other, and that was all that mattered for now.

You scooted closer to her and gently laid one arm around her waist, so that you were hugging her. Now that you couldn’t see her face, she let herself shed a few more tears, and you felt her quiet sobs on your chest. You didn’t say anything, but focused on slowing your own breathing as to calm hers.

“Luce?” Her breathing had evened out a while ago and you weren’t sure if she was still awake. A soft humm from her told you that she was. “If you fart, I’m going back to my mattress”

You felt it before you heard it. Her surprised laugh filled the room with a needed dose of freshness.

She kicked you under the sheets, and a halfhearted “You’re so gross!” scaped her mouth.

“I’m just kidding! God!” then you whispered right behind her ear “I would stay with you, even if you farted right now”

“Bloody hell, you’re unbearable! Shut up and sleep already!” She uttered between giggles.

You could hear the smile in her words, and after a mocking “Yes, ma’am” you went right back to sleep, with your mission of cheering her up a little bit accomplished.

At half past three the smell of something caramelizing, accompanied by George calling for breakfast woke the whole team up.

The four of you were starving, and in less than five minutes, the table was set and everyone in their respective chairs munching on something. Suddenly, everything was okay. You were home, safe, and together, and it was the only important thing in the world.

A/N: Hope you enoyed! Feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated, and requests are open!

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hurtcomfortficstilltheend · 29 days

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A little post-river pick-me-up.

Lucy Carlyle x gn! Reader

Summary: R makes panqueques con dulce de leche (argentinian crepes filled with a milk based caramel) for the team after the shiver-inducing Thames fiasco.

Warnings: Falling into the Thames (chapter 7 follow-up), me sugarcoating the end because I'm weak for this fandom and this fandom only, and fluff.

A/N: The uncover DEPRAC agent didn't die, Joplin (just noticed in the book she's a man btw) doesn't exist, and Penelope Fittes is a good person, because I say so. Also, reader is Lockwood's cousin.

Word Count: 1.9k

Thank God.

Thank God you were born in a town surrounded by water, thank God your father had insisted on swimming lessons since you were five, thank God you actually learned.

You’d probably drowned otherwise. Jumping from that rooftop, at least fifteen meters high, was already too much of a physical trauma, to add struggling to keep afloat on top of it. Now that you think about it, thank God you’d done all those scouts survival courses too.

The moment the three of you hit the water, and after the initial sinking -followed by the thermic shock and panic- you instinctively swam up to the surface.The night breeze was somehow even colder than the Thames now.

“Lucy!” You yelled with the first gulp of air you got into your lungs. “Anthony!” You weren’t sure how far they could be, if you had drifted away during the fall, if they were still underwater. It was pitch black, and you didn’t even know if you were safe from the golden blade yet.

You kicked your shoes off into the river to lessen the weight, and considered doing the same with your dressing pants. “LUCY!” You heard some rustling in the water near you, and begun a clumsy front crawl towards it. It was your cousin, Anthony, who seemed to have just had his first breath. You held onto his arm. "Are you okay?"

"Peachy." He was having no problem with keeping his head above the water, so you let go.

You rolled your eyes, a dry but sincere "Great." Left your mouth, then you got serious. “I can’t find Lucy.”

He nodded dutifully, but before either of you started calling out for the girl, she popped up a few meters away from you. You thanked God again, but noticed that she was coughing and struggling to stay afloat.

Lockwood got to her first and helped stabilize her, but you noticed that he was just as shaken, so it was kind of up to you to wear the trousers in the situation. Which right now meant to take them off. You had a pair of biking shorts under anyway, no biggie. So you did, discarding your coat into the river as well.

You got closer to Lucy and took Lockwood’s place holding her up. You weren’t sure Lucy knew how to swim at all.

“We need to get to shore ASAP.” Anthony nodded again. You wondered if today’s events were too much for him, he seemed so quiet, unlike his usual self. You already missed his overconfident attitude.

At some point of the trip to the nearby beach, Lucy had actually started swimming by herself. Still, you kept an eye on her, just in case.

Getting out of the river was not as satisfying as you had imagined. You were grateful and relieved to be on solid ground, of course, as the whole group’s muscles were quite fatigued, and you were all agitated after swimming; but the cold that came with it was almost unbearable. The three were shivering violently when you threw yourselves to the gravel to catch your breaths.

Lockwood was the first to sit up. He felt horribly guilty for how the events had unfolded and how all of you had ended up in this situation. He knew it was his fault, his pride started the whole bone glass thing anyway.

Your teeth were chattering, and you knew you all were going to die of hypothermia if you didn’t get home as soon as possible. Besides, sooner or later you were bound to cross paths with a Visitor, and you were in no condition to fight.

You turned to your side, and saw Lucy looking up at the dark cloudy sky with glassy eyes. Her lips were turning purple.

You jumped up into action, and reached an arm towards your girlfriend to help her up too. She struggled a little bit to gain balance, and so did Lockwood, and so did you, but in no time you were walking towards the nearest ghostlight to hail a night cab.

Your appearance wasn’t decent at all. You were all dressed in night attire, but wet to the bone and filthy. Lucy’s mascara was running down her cheeks, and you were barefoot and in gym shorts. For a second you thought you probably looked like wet, sad, kicked puppies. Still, a taxi driver took pity on you and parked.

You didn’t even have the energy to fight Lockwood on this one, or tell him how reckless he had been, or how you could have all died tonight. You were exhausted. Still, as his family, you had the inherent responsibility to make him take account for his actions. “You can take the shower first, Luce.” You told her the moment you stepped into 35 Portland Row.

“Are you sure..?” She turned around to look at you, hesitant to climb up the stairs to your shared room.

You nodded and tried your best to smile for her. “Of course, just don’t use all the hot water again, please.” The joke went right over her head, but she still nodded and made her way to the attic.

You crossed your arms to try and hide your shivering. When you were both alone, you turned to face your cousin. “Dude..”

“I know. I’m sorry” You didn’t mean to make him feel worse about it, but this wasn’t going to just be forgotten and forgiven like almost everything always was.

“You fucked up big time.” He just gulped and stared at his now water damaged dress shoes. You sighed. It was not the time anyways. “Go shower so I can patch up your forehead.” He was about to complain, but you cut him off with a gesture of your hand, “Don’t lie to yourself, we all know you’re an awful nurse. Now go.”

“You sound like aunt Lauren.” He grumbled. That’s how genetics work, you thought, but before you could react, he had already gone upstairs.

You sat on the second bottom stair step, and leaned your body to rest on the wall. You were facing the door, waiting for George to barge in, and tell you all that the mirror had been safely handed to DEPRAC. You truly couldn’t take any other scenario for an answer.

The dissonant shriek the hinges emitted when the entrance door was opened disturbed your sleep. You hadn’t even realized you dozed off. You clothes were still wet and cold, so it couldn’t have been too long.

“George.” You said standing up slowly. Your knees popped and the general soreness hit you like a tidal wave. “Is it over?”

He turned the key and locked the house. “What happened to you-”

“Long story, jumping into the Thames does this sometimes, is it over?” You repeated. It sounded desperate.

He seemed to understand. “Yes, it is. The furnaces are not on during the night, but I made sure they took the mirror to the lowest level to be incinerated first thing in the morning.”

“Good.” Everyone was inside, everything was okay. You were all safe and alive. You tried to hold on to that thought. You breathed out slowly. “I need a shower.”

Halfway up the stairs you looked over your shoulder. “The entirety of today was a clusterfuck. How does argentinian milk caramel crepes tomorrow afternoon sound? If we go to Arif’s before that I can prepare some. This team really needs a pick-me-up.”

George took in your tired eyes and miserable appearance altogether. He formed a half-smile and nodded softly. You did the same and headed to the small bathroom in the attic, making a quick detour to apply a few steri-strips to Anthony's forhead and calling it a day.

You got out of the shower and dried your hair. Your piyamma was already on when you got out of the bathroom and into the room, a cloud of steam following you. The lights were off, but the street’s ghost lamp illuminated enough for you to get to your side of the bed without stumbling over something.

Lucy had been so tired she had fallen asleep over the covers. You picked her up softly, undid the bed and did your best to settle her in, following suit onto your side. She stirred.

“What took you s’long?” she slurred out. You could tell she wasn’t really awake. You answered anyway.

“I was just waiting for George to get home. It's over.” You were lying on your back, and in her drowsy state she got closer and curled onto your side, an arm around your waist. You caressed her hand softly with your fingertips.

“Yeah?” She asked. You hummed in confirmation. Her body relaxed and her breathing evened out. Soon enough, so did yours.

The feeling of freezing water engulfing you and getting into your lungs woke you up. You opened your eyes, the adrenalin already in your bloodstream, muscles itching to get into action. But you didn’t. You were safe, in your room with your girlfriend sleeping soundly by your side. It was just a nightmare.

You didn’t want to go back to sleep though; you knew if you did, your mind would come up with more terrors to torment you with. From your position you checked the clock on the wall. 10.52 a.m. Too early for your liking, but it would have to do.

You got up slowly, making sure Lucy's sleep didn’t get disturbed in the slightest.

Every single fiber of your body was sore, it felt worse than the night before, but it made sense, so you decided to ignore it.

You brushed your teeth and picked up some clothes to change downstairs.

After getting the supplies and getting the pancake pan going, little by little the house started waking up.

“Would you please put the kettle on the stove?” You asked George. He was the first to wake up and the most alive looking, at least compared to the shapeless form slumped over the table, AKA your cousin Anthony. Lucy hadn’t gotten up yet.

It was one p.m. when the last crepe left the pan. They were all stacked up on a plate, ready to be filled with dulce de leche and enjoyed. The tea was already in the teapot, Ariff's swiss rolls on display, and other add ons made by George scattered around.

Still, Lucy wasn’t there.

“Don’t you dare start without us.” you said in an over dramatic manner, pointing at them and making a threatening gesture as you headed upstairs. You knew they were going to be halfway down the stack by the time you came back anyway, but you didn’t actually care that much.

“Lucy…” You sing-songed when you got to the attic. At first glance you noticed she hadn’t changed position from when you left her a few hours before.

You sat on the edge of the mattress and ran your fingers through her hair. Slowly but surely, she started stirring, her eyelashes fluttering open.

“Hi.” She croaked out.

“Hi, babe. There are fresh crepes in the kitchen, and I was wondering if you wanted some… you know, before they get eaten by George and Anthony… who were left unsupervised just about now in front of the plate-”

She jolted up at that. You knew it would do the trick, since it was her favorite dish. She smiled broadly, gave you a little peck on the cheek and got into the bathroom.

In no time you were both heading towards the kitchen, holding hands.

Bonus:

You were surprised to see the guys hadn’t gotten to inhaling the food yet. Then realized as they handed you a butterknife, they were just too lazy to actually spread the caramel into the crepes. You rolled your eyes, but prepared one for each, and then another one. You ate last, but you didn’t mind, you were happy you could bring a smile into their faces, even if it was just with something as simple as food.

After finishing the breakfast feast, the whole agency, one by one disappeared into your bedrooms to take a well deserved nap.

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hurtcomfortficstilltheend · 29 days

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why would you use a refined weapon if you can just punch ghosts around?

also, i missed drawing her

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hurtcomfortficstilltheend · 29 days

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I did a funny… summary of Lockwood & Co for you all:

#so accurate

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hurtcomfortficstilltheend · 29 days

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I did it yall... lucy carlyle as linnie chronicles posts

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hurtcomfortficstilltheend · 29 days

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Entry #4 of the guidebook, coming from Lucy.

Sorry @wellgoslowly but I couldn't keep myself from just slightly hinting at the "grocery store incident" as an established running gag, cause I've just stumbled about that post - and tons of reblogs - a few days ago and I loved it.

It fitted just too well here...

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hurtcomfortficstilltheend · 29 days

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Lockwood & Co. Doubt Thou the Stars, Lockwood & Co.

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hurtcomfortficstilltheend · 29 days

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Did I just spend half an hour in an internet dive to find out if a character would be able ot pick another caracter up from the bedroom to the bathroom in a state of feverish unconsciousness (and how much exercise would be implied they do on a regular basis to get to do that)?

...no?

Also, she wont be picking him up, I'm afraid, it will be more of a push on the back so he walks kind of situation.

#I am now obligued to go to the gym until I can pick up someone my wheight #at least in a firefighter carry #cause what if someone is unconcious and in danger #and i cant pick them up because i was too lazy to go to the gym?#not happening #the gym is quite expensive tho #fuck

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hurtcomfortficstilltheend · 3 months

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Sometimes it's just better (not to know) Masterlist

Lucy Carlyle x gn! Reader

Summary: When you get a gut feeling that something is targeting 35 Portland Row, and therefore your family; how far will you go to protect it?

Reader has Touch and the gift of premonition, and knows something is brewing. Lockwood is their traumatized cousin, Lucy their badass (and slightly confused) girlfriend, the relationship with George is a little rocky; but they would do anything to protect each other, as the family they are.

Warnings: angsty angstt, violence, a lot of nightmares and witchy stuff.

Chapter one: The beginning of the end.

Chapter two: Killed by uncertainty.

Back to Masterlist.

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hurtcomfortficstilltheend · 3 months

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Sometimes it's just better (not to know).

Chapter two: Killed by uncertainty

Lucy Carlyle x gn! Reader

Summary: Is this supposed to be the calm before the storm?

Warnings: not much, maybe a nap that lasts too long lmao

Word Count: 950

Your boots are too tight. You don’t like them one bit, but you had made the decision to buy new ones for cold winter nights -with equally cold Visitors-, and now you have to live with rock solid shoes, at least until they soften a little with use.

Your rapier is in place in your belt, and so are your salt bombs and greek flares. You had -against Anthony’s wishes for the team to take a week-long break- decided to take back your verdict on the Geralds case.

You had just gotten out of the library, a while after the reading that ruined your morning (and maybe your life too), all puffy eyes and incoming migraine, when you bumped into George.

“Have you already called the client?”

There was a frown forming on his face, “I was just about to do that.” He held up the folder where you assume he must have had the contact number. He seemed impatient and irritated, you didn’t blame him.

“Don’t bother, we are going tonight, as scheduled.”

His grimace was replaced by a look of surprise, but he covered it quickly and turned around to head to the basement.

You went right up the stairs and flopped on your bed. You didn’t notice Lucy in the corner of the room until you heard her speak (for a second there you thought she would actually be feeding Skull biscuits, just out of spite). “What was all that about?”

Startled, you turned around and held your body up in your elbows.

“Nothing. I was wrong. We’ll do the Geralds’ case tonight, as planned, so we better start preparing in a little bit.”

“You sound like you’ve been crying.” She stated, simply.

“Allergies, you know how much dust there is in the library. I was just talking to Lockwood about a new brand of salt bombs that seems to be more effective in dissipating ectoplasm.”

“Love, we make our own salt bombs.” She caught up on your bullshit too fast.

“Did I say salt bombs? I ment flares- greek fires. Remember the other day and how that cold maiden didn’t react to our usual ones?”

Lucy walked closer to the bed, she kneeled beside it to be the same height as your face. Her calloused fingers found their way to your cheeks. “You know you can talk to me. About anything.”

You leaned into the touch, closed your eyes, and tried to enjoy the moment. “I know. I’m gonna take a 30 minute nap, and then help you with the chains.” You took her hands in yours, pulled her a little bit. “Wanna join me?”

She rolled her eyes but laid down with you until you fell asleep.

“Should I go wake them? There is only a few hours till sundown.”

“No, let them rest. I’ll get their chores, what was it? Snack packing?”

“Chain oiling.” The pair headed to the office to get the duffel bags prepared. “What happened today? They were so out of themselves, I’ve never seen them like this.”

“It was just a rough night. Believe me, this happens more than you’d think. A beauty nap is all it takes for them to get back to normal.” Even as Lockwood said this, he didn’t seem convinced. “That is assuming we don’t get their post-nap grumpy mood. I wouldn’t wish it upon my worst enemy.” He chuckled lightly.

Lucy’s lips twitched, right about to form a smile, but she noticed her friend was avoiding answering the question. She knew how closed off you Lockwoods’ could be; after all, it took a year for Anthony to show her the room on the landing, and two years and a half for you to admit your feelings for her, but she wished it wasn’t so difficult to get some actual information. The team was founded on trust, and survival depended on how well you communicated with each other goddammit.

What was supposed to be a half hour nap turned into an I-have-only-forty-minutes-left-to-prepare-for-the-case-’cause-I-slept-six-hours-non-stop nap, which was quite inconvenient. Still, you managed to get ready, apologize for the lack of help on the iron chain department, and chug up half a liter of water on one go, before getting into the waiting night cab.

This is fine, and your boots don’t bother you, and neither does the little tag on the neck of your shirt that you forgot to cut out (again), or the judgy stares you are receiving from George, or the worried ones from your cousin, or the feeling that very soon everything will end. You are perfectly fine, and this is just another day on the job.

From the moment you get to the house, to the moment you emerge from it, everything goes smoothly. The source is easy enough to find, and the Visitor turns out to be a weak type one, not the type two you were expecting. The client paid full price anyway, and the team got back safe and sound.

It was all perfect. And that was alright. More than alright, actually, it was marvelous, but something felt wrong. You knew there was something about to happen. You wouldn’t admit it, but you wish it had been a rawbones or an impromptu cluster, the Geralds’ case that is. It would have been a pain in the ass, that’s for sure, but you had already gotten out alive from situations like that, and such a vile set of apparitions would have fulfilled the readings’ prophecy. Maybe.

The anticipation that had started in your chest was unbearable. You wanted to get it over with as soon as possible, but still, you felt it wasn’t going to be that easy. It never was.

Taglist: @myownpainintheass @superpositvecloudshipper @carpinchodetecta

A/N: I would love to hear (read) what you think! Hope you enjoyed :)

This story is lowkey stuck, but just because I finished The Creeping Shadow like a month ago, and I haven't started The Empty Grave cause I'm in denial, I don't want to finish the series T-T

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hurtcomfortficstilltheend · 3 months

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Sometimes it´s just better (not to know).

Chapter one: The beginning of the end.

Lucy Carlyle x gn! Reader

Summary: When you get a gut feeling that something is targeting 35 Portland Row, and therefore your family; how far will you go to protect it?

Warnings: angsty angstt, violence, a lot of nightmares and witchy stuff.

A/N: This will be a multichapter because I'm invested, reader is Anthony's cousin, and has the gift of precognition (and Touch).

Word count: 2.2k

Everything was quiet. Or your ears had stopped working. Maybe both.

There is no light, but you can perceive your surroundings. Ruins of something, a life maybe. It felt like the calm after the... or was it before the storm?

Something had happened. Something important, you guessed. Your body was spent, on the floor; your glazed eyes looking up at the sky. If not for the shallow movement of your chest, one would have thought you were dead.

You noticed that you were outside of your own body, watching from afar. Something had happened; something bad.

You saw when a figure put their knee, and with it their entire weight, onto the body’s chest. You weren’t inside it, but it still belonged to you. You knew how it could feel, but you were numb to the actual sensation.

A gasp was heard when the shadow brought out a dagger from somewhere in its clothing. The body lying on the floor hadn’t opened its mouth. There was a resignation written in its face as the eyes closed.

The blade made contact with the neck’s soft tissue. Grazing the skin, once, twice, three times, almost in a caressing motion. There was something unusual about the blood that oozed out. It seemed to float upwards in thin tendrils-

-the attitude of the aggressor changed. The air tested of ruthless violence when the figure held the weapon above its head.

The knife fell down in the middle of the victim's face. A gut-wrenching scream was heard. The body didn’t move. One would expect blood to appear, but it never did. Pitch black smoke came out of the wound, the eyes, the mouth…

…The murderer turned towards you. Not your body, but your omnipresent conscience, the part of you that wasn’t in the real plane of existence. Behind the black hood there was, once again, impenetrable black smoke.

Inky ghost fog comes out of the body -your body- covers the floor. You can’t see anything anymore.

The screaming continued, you noticed. Different voices, belonging to different people; it never stopped, and perhaps, never will.

“Love, wake up.” A helping hand through the black smoke. “Hey, hey. You’re here, you are safe.” A soft but sturdy grip in your arm, a subtle shake.

You open your eyes at last. There is no dead body, no attacker. Only the ceiling of your room in Portland Row’s attic and a familiar face. Trying to wake you up. You were asleep.

Slowly, you start catching up with reality. You are home. “Lucy?” Your voice comes out hoarse. Your throat is dry, you notice.

“It was just a dream darling, you were screaming.”

Oh. A dream. It was all a nightmare.

You incorporate, sit up and rest your back on the headboard. When you rub your face, you notice teartracks.

You stay like that for a while. Unfocused eyes staring blankly forward, you can feel your girlfriend’s concerned gaze on your side.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You shake your head. You don’t have the energy to talk, or at all. This happens quite often, with the lives that you carry and the horrors you see on a daily basis, it isn't weird to get horrifying nightmares from time to time.

Still, this one felt different. Apart from your Touch; you inherited from your mother -and your ancestors way back, centuries before The Problem- the gift of precognition. Just like this dream, all the messages you get are sketchy and heavily symbolic. You would ask the Tarot cards in the morning.

If you could be honest with yourself, most of the time it doesn’t feel like a gift at all, knowing certain things takes a toll on you. It’s something heavy to carry.

Lucy reaches out to stroke your shoulder. You flinch and choke on air, jumping away from her. You didn’t mean to. Her hand retreats as if she’d touched a burning kettle, and the confused hurt in her face is evident.

“Sorry.” You take her hand in between yours and place it on your chest for a bit. “Can we just sleep?” Your voice cracks. You know she can tell, she always does.

“Okay.” She whispers. She seems to understand.

When you wake up again, at quarter to nine in the morning, you decide to make breakfast for the team.

The house is quiet, your footsteps make the old wooden floor squeak.

Having brushed your teeth and checked Lucy’s still asleep, you go downstairs as is, barefoot and on your pajamas. You check the fridge and decide on pancakes for you and a mix of savory stuff and biscuits for the rest. You don’t get how anyone could possibly eat lunch for breakfast, but who cares.

A ticking noise catches your attention. You stop stirring the eggs in the bowl, turn around. The house doesn’t have a clock, does it? You get a wave of deja vu. The dream you had last night comes rushing back to your mind. You should really dig a little into it…

The kitchen door opens loudly. You let out a shriek, the whisk that previously had been in your hand is now striking the wall, right next to-

-oh. Anthony.

“Good morning to you too, cuz.” He looks like he’s still asleep, his survival mode seems to not have been activated by the flying, egg covered, utensil.

You have a tendency to throw projectiles when threatened. Most agents do. Salt-bomb throwing training does that to people. “Sorry Ant. Shitty sleep.” He nods, as if saying it be like that sometimes and lets it go. “Eggs?” He nods once again.

You walk to the threshold with a rag, clean up the wall and retrieve the whisk, in one fell swoop. With your other hand you squeeze his shoulder as you pass by.

The others arrive not long later, and soon enough you’re all gathered around the table. You start scribbling on the thinking cloth with a random pen, alternating between munching on dry cereal and eating a pancake with milk caramel as a taco. “There isn’t a ticking clock in the house, right?”

Three pairs of half asleep eyes look at you, puzzled. “Nevermind.” Your loud cereal-eating ritual resumes. You gulp in one go what is left of your tea cup. “Remember that case we have scheduled for tonight?”

“The Geralds’ House?” George chips in, more alert, while stealing a pancake from your plate.

“Yeah, that one. I don’t think we should go.”

A moment of shock. A clatter of a fork hitting a plate.

“Why would we-?”

“We can’t cancel-!”

Lucy and George speak at the same time. The former rather confused, the latter downright defensive. Lockwood just stares at you. He lets out a breath, knows a quarrel is coming.

“I know we were all so excited about this one, but we can’t go. Not today at least, we have to postpone.” The back of your head starts to hurt, just like every time you are forced to change the company’s plans because of a gut feeling.

Anthony knows you very well, and knows not to doubt your judgment. He knows from experience your intuition never fails.

“You can’t just decide that for all of us!” George seems about ready to launch the table or something. If you didn’t know him as well as you do, you’d start running.

“If this is about last night’s nightmare-”

Your eyes lock on Lucy. Your cousin’s eyes lock on you. George is just fuming, and your girlfriend doesn’t know what she just unleashed.

“You had a nightmare?” Lockwood asks, you’re a deer caught in headlights. “Like a nightmare nightmare?” He sits straight up, suddenly very awake. You stare at your hands and start to fidget with your rings, leting out a quiet ‘yeah.’

“It’s settled, then. We do as they say. George, call John Gerald and inform him we have to delay the service by-” He looks at you expectantly.

“Two days, until I figure it out." Comes out of your lips.

“-two days. Lucy, you can go and check if your pet skull wants a cookie or something.” He seems energized -eager, even- but you can see right through him. He must be reliving the last time you had one of these nightmares, and the one before that; you knew you were. It never went well. For one reason or another, the times you had not been heard or taken seriously when stating things like this, it had always ended badly.

When everyone stands up, deeming the meal finished, Anthony takes you by the elbow and almost drags you to the library, you don’t even have time to explain yourself to your girlfriend. He closes the door behind him.

You settle into your designed armchair, and so does he. You stay quiet for a while, looking at each other's eyes, letting the news sink in. “I’ll bring the Tarot.”

You both know what happened last time you read the cards about a nightmare. You do general readings quite often, but at times like this, it feels like stepping into the coffin. This type of reading always seems to be much more explicit and terminal than any other. Sometimes you just wish you were ignorant.

A sudden vulnerability crosses Anthony’s face when he answers. “Yeah, we should… do that. Do you need me to light some incense?” You nod. It isn’t a necessity for divination, but you find that the smell helps to calm the energy somehow.

The library’s door is locked from the inside. With your deck on one hand, and the coffee table already set in front of you, you take a deep breath. You are sitting cross legged on the carpet, Anthony is right in front of you. Connecting with the cards is similar to using your Talent, but you get a sense of loneliness much greater. Even though visitors are not good company, they are there , and you find comfort in the knowledge that they were once human; with your readings it’s just you, and fate.

You start shuffling. Alternate between riffle and overhand shuffle, a few minutes pass until you feel that they are in the correct order. You leave the deck on the table, cut it three times, place the cards face down in a V shape. You turn them around.

The Tower.

The Chariot, upside down.

And Death .

Lockwood gasps. You try to keep your cool. This could mean anything, you know it. The meaning is not on the cards themselves -even less on their names- but their interaction and placement. You conjure your intuition. Against your will, your eyes blurry with tears, your head starts to pound.

A sudden change, a chaotic outcome; no way out, no direction or possibility of escape; a deep and irreparable loss.

No, it’s not going to go like that, I won’t let it.

A change in point of view, a new direction with an inimaginable outcome, a new beginning.

Too sugarcoated. Try again.

Something terrible, there’s no way to change it or make it better-

No.

“Anthony. Please shuffle.” You hand him the deck. He takes it, stares at you as he would a ghost. His hands start the movement as if in auto-pilot. “Take any card and put it wherever you see fit, don’t try to rationalize it.”

His hands seem clumsy, but he finally takes one and places it over The Chariot, he turns it: Six of Swords, upside down. It serves as clarification for the Major Arcana under it, the message sounds the same, no place to go, no way to run…

In the same motion, a card from the bottom falls into his lap. He goes to place it back to where it came from, but you gesture to the table. He leaves it right in the middle, above the new card. He doesn’t turn it.

You get a feeling of finality. That is the last piece of the reading. No more trying to change things or ask for clarification. Your hand is trembling, a shiver runs down your spine. A second before seeing it, you know you are not going to like it.

A lifeless body stares at you from the illustration, on the floor, impaled by Ten Swords.

That's you.

No, no, it can’t be so literal, it never is-

A sudden, awful turn of events; no way to run, it’s coming towards you, even if you try to stop it; an impending doom, deep and permanent loss; you are already dead .

You don’t let it sink in, don’t let it fester in your mind. In one swift motion, you place every card back in the deck, and the deck back into its linen drawstring bag.

You look up. Lockwood’s eyes are brimmed with tears. “What does it mean?”

“We can’t stop it.” You croak out, you are already crying.

“What was your nightmare about? Maybe we can figure it out together, or find a way…” He trails off when you shake your head repeatedly.

“It’s not even about the Geralds case- Hell, if George still wants to, we can get it done tonight!! This is much bigger and it can’t be stopped.” High pitched, strangled words come out. You let out a sob.

He starts crying too, scrambles to get around the coffee table and hug you. You are both trying to hold onto one another, crying for everything that has ever happened to you, your family, and whatever seems to be coming your way. You can’t help but feel a bitter guilt, sharing this with him, he shouldn’t have to carry the burden of knowing if he is able to just not .

“Why does this keep happening to us?” A broken whisper, followed by an honest:

“I don’t know.” Spoken just as softly.

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! Tell me if you want to be added to the Lockwood and Co or Sometimes it's just better (not to know) taglist, feedback is welcome :D

I do Tarot readings and this might or might not be slightly based on personal experience.

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