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dippedanddripped · 2 years

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Bespoke clothing company 5001 Flavors and its retail location Harlem Haberdashery are celebrating two anniversaries — 30 Years of 5001 FLAVORS and 10 Years of Harlem Haberdashery — with special events and upcoming collaborative partnerships with The Museum at FIT and the Museum of the City of New York.

ABOVE: Entrance of Harlem Haberdashery / Driely Vieira

“The Museum at FIT (MFIT) is thrilled by the recent donation from 5001 FLAVORS, which represents Guy and Sharene Wood’s significant influence on fashion, hip hop style, and popular culture. These pieces will be prominently featured in the upcoming exhibition Fresh, Fly, and Fabulous: Fifty Years of Hip Hop Style (opening January 2023), and will be a part of MFIT’s permanent Hip Hop Style Archive. Preserving these fashion objects ensures that scholars, researchers, and future MFIT exhibition audiences can access 5001 FLAVORS’ one-of-a-kind creations, which have helped shape and tell the story of hip hop style and American culture,” says Elizabeth Way, Associate Curator, The Museum at FIT.

“We are honored to celebrate these milestone anniversaries, proud to have expanded into our various lifestyles brands, and excited to see what’s next for 5001 FLAVORS, Harlem Haberdashery, and the #FirstFamilyOfFashion,” says Sharene Wood, President & CEO of 5001 FLAVORS and Harlem Haberdashery.

Sharene and her husband Guy Wood, Sr., along with partners Kells Barnett, Louis Johnson, Jr., Ashlee Muhammad, and Guy Wood, Jr., will commemorate these special anniversaries with the following in-person and virtual activations and events (with more to be announced):

Harlem Haberdashery presents The Harlem Derby Harlem Haberdashery, 245 Lenox Ave at 122 St., NYC Saturday, May 7, 2022 | 3 – 9 PM Free | 21+ over with ID to receive Maker’s Mark® cocktails

Inspired by the Kentucky Derby, Harlem Haberdashery will welcome elected officials, celebrities, and notables to celebrate its award-winning and critically acclaimed boutique as a pillar of community, culture, and commerce for 10 years. The public event encourages all to look their Derby best while enjoying cocktails sponsored by Maker’s Mark. Light bites and fun photos from day to night including the legendary brownstone group photo!

NYCxDESIGN Self-Guided Tours Harlem Haberdashery, 245 Lenox Ave. at 122 St., NYC 10027 May 10 – 20th Free

Harlem Haberdashery will participate in the 10th annual New York design week with NYCxDESIGN’s Self-Guided Journeys, an interactive online platform that uncovers the engine of creativity across New York City’s five boroughs–featuring design studios, architectural facades, cultural institutions, creative landmarks, restaurants, and more.

Cocktails & Culture Museum of the City of New York, 1220 Fifth Ave. at 104th St., NYC Thursday, June 16, 2022 | 6 – 9 PM Free

In celebration of Harlem Haberdashery’s 10th anniversary, the lifestyle brand extension HH Bespoke Spirits, the award-winning craft spirits collection, will be the featured spirits during MCNY Juneteenth-inspired public program. The evening will feature HH Bespoke Spirits complimentary tasting (6-7 PM) and craft cocktails throughout the evening.

Uptown Bounce! Summer Stylin’ featuring 5001 FLAVORS Museum of the City of New York, 1220 Fifth Ave. at 103rd Street Thursday, July 21 | 6 – 9 PM Free

To celebrate 30 years of 5001 FLAVORS, MCNY welcomes back 5001 FLAVORS to feature six live mannequins wearing 5001 FLAVORS ensembles created within their illustrious 30-year career. The evening will consist of a soundscape featuring 5001 FLAVORS artists played by Mobile Monday’s DJ Misbehaviour with cocktails served throughout the evening.

Fresh, Fly, and Fabulous: Fifty Years of Hip Hop Style The Museum at FIT, 27th and Seventh Ave., NYC January 2023

5001 FLAVORS will be featured in this groundbreaking, free exhibition that celebrates the 50th anniversary of the birth of hip hop by examining the roots and history of hip hop fashion from its inception to the present time. Co-curated by hip hop style scholar and journalist, FIT professor Elena Romero and MFIT assistant curator Elizabeth Way.

#harlem haberdashery #5001 flavors #fashion institute of technology #Fresh Fly and Fabulous: Fifty Years of Hip Hop Style The Museum at FIT #nyc hiphop #hiphop fashion brands #sharene woods

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gramarobin · 1 year

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@idratherberunning49 Today is thebig day!!! Welcome to your 50's little sister! 💙💙😃

#happy birthday sister #happy birtbday #birthday #my little sister #garfield #50 #fifty #fifty years old #fifty and fabulous

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murmiss · 22 days

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Living with a monster guy.

(inspired by the anime 'Monster Musume no Iru Nichijou')

Pairing: TF141/you, maybe Kortac/you.

Warning: Possible mistakes in words,OOC,This is all purely my personal vision of the characters.I will not say that this is a full-fledged fanfiction, more a sketch of the idea.

summary:Hybrids and humans began to live in peace and harmoniously. You're just a girl with a damn lonely and boring life, but your friend, the head of the interspecies exchange department, decided to add a little tin to your life..

Part.1

A few years ago, a great secret was revealed to the world: the existence of hybrid creatures is real. Lamias, Harpies, and even fairy, mermaids were no longer myths and legends, but became common creatures for mankind. Now, going to the store, you can meet not only the neighbor's grandmother or a former classmate, but also a beautiful fairy choosing a herbaceous tincture with the aroma of roses, or maybe a centaur occupying the grocery department, with a grocery basket in her hands. So, hybrids have tightly integrated into our ordinary life, have become friends, colleagues, and even defenders. Defenders? You may ask. That's right, hybrids have obvious advantages over humans:speed, high jump, flight, fire breathing-and these and many other abilities were used in the army, the police, even in volunteering! Werewolves are good at finding people under rubble, they are strong and have an amazing nose that can smell the target they need for several kilometers.

There were also special groups created from hybrids with exceptional outstanding combat skills. One of them was the Task force 141, the most famous group in narrow circles.It will be discussed.

-Tess, you have no idea how lonely it can be, Girly...- you mumbled to the blonde sitting next to you. Tess Oskott is one of the employees of the interspecies exchange organization. This organization is responsible for ensuring that some types of hybrids (and, concurrently, almost all) have at least one owner who would monitor the well-being of his ward and ensure compliance with all the rules.

-And what about Cullen?-Tess asked with a chuckle, leaning back on the bar stool.

- Cullen? I've never seen worse assholes in my life!- you hiccuped, complaining in a genuinely indignant voice about your recent beau.- He talks for fifty minutes about his wonderful work, then made me pay the entire bill and asked me more "Let's go to you or to me?"

-Oh, it sucks -a friend laughed in response, smiling significantly, looking in your direction.

- I know how to help you, dear-Tess's self-confident smile did not mean anything good, for sure not for you.

- No zombie hybrids!- you moaned, getting to your feet and not taking your eyes off this cunning fox. Tess was up to something, but fatigue weighed on your shoulders, forcing you to run away as quickly as possible.After a short chat, you and Tess parted, she went to the office, and you went home.

Opening the door of your small house, you stumbled inside and kicked off your heels at the entrance, staggered up the stairs, opening the first door and casually throwing off your bag by the bed, plopped into the arms of soft and much-desired furniture.Sleep enveloped you almost instantly, taking you somewhere on a fabulous journey through the beautiful open spaces. You're riding a horse across wide fields, the wind is in your hair, and the horse is neighing and saying, "Pretty girl, wake up." You smile weakly, but at the same second it dawned on you: is the horse talking??! And as if at the behest of that bad man, you open your eyes, wanting to look into the eyes of this shameless intruder of your sweet dream. Next to the bed, Tess was leaning over, dressed in her strict black suit, holding a folder of documents in her hands. Workers walked nearby and dragged some furniture into the house. You jump to your feet and let out a cry of incomprehension.

-What the fuck, Tess!?

-calmly, sleeping beauty, I fulfill your wish, then you'll thank me again -the woman winked and immediately turned on the boss mode, rushed towards one of the rooms, saying in a growling bass voice, "I said the bathroom needs to be expanded! We are also expanding the doorways"

- What?? Do you mean to expand the bathroom?- you rush towards your cozy shower room and see a completely dismantled room. A disappointed groan escapes from your lips when you say "Fuck" in a smacky and disappointed way

Before you know it, workers are turning your house upside down, spoiling all the comfort...

"So, miss, you are participating in the 'hybrid exchange' program, your house has been improved in order to create more favorable living conditions for hybrids."

-What the fuck is so official, Tess? In the sense of hydrides?

"Shh, listen further. You have been honored to become the host for an elite group of handsome men, that is, hybrids.".

-What do you mean?-You asked, raising one eyebrow, but the creatures that suddenly appeared in front of you threw away all questions.

A man of large build, tall, with particularly strong-looking hands came into the house. With your eyes, you unconsciously traced every curve of his muscles hidden under his T-shirt, almost drooling. A black T-shirt with a print of some kind of rocker band, gray skinny jeans and sneakers - a simple image that fit him wonderfully.. Oh, a face with rough features, a scar above the left eye, gray eyes with a blue tint, stubble, thick eyebrows, a mohawk, and that self-confident smile! Tess definitely wants you dead, because this man was definitely hot.A light dreamy sigh escapes from your lips as you shamelessly examine the man in front of you. Tess nudges you in the side, whispering in your ear with a smile.

-Wait, it's too early to melt into a puddle, that's not all

When you hear a quiet hiss, you abruptly turn your gaze to the front door, quietly buncha crawled into the house. Stop.. Crawled in? Oh no.. You see Lamia crawling into your house, cursing at the narrow passages and the cold floor along the way, squinting in your direction in disbelief. Following the Lamia came, or rather, flew, a Harpy- a man with dark skin, a charming smile and the purest plumage. Well, in the end, with a slight alarm, a man with dragon wings came in, he turned from side to side, trying to get comfortable, and accidentally flicking a flower vase with his wings.. Your favorite one! You let out a plaintive moan, but while doing the inhale-exhale-inhale exercise, you managed to squeeze out a smile.

-Umm... oh.. uh.. Hi?- you say uncertainly, greeting them. The man with the wolf ears and tail smiled again, showing his sharp teeth and confidently saying, "Oh shit, Gas, I won. Our hostess is charming."

Charming? Damn, after the bar, you didn't even bother to wipe off your makeup, let alone change your clothes, and this dude is telling you that you're "cute"? It all looks like a dream or a violent comedy, and the director of photography here is Tess. The woman, noticing your bewilderment, patted you on the shoulder and threw something simple like "we'll call you later", busily left the house.

So you were left alone with four hybrids, not knowing what to do.

#call of duty #captain price #fanfic #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap cod #captain john price #price x reader #tf 141 x reader #poly tf141 #gaz cod #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #gaz x you #ghost cod #cod x reader #cod

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theamericanpin-up · 11 months

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Gil Elvgren - June 1956 Fabulous Fifties ("Moonlight and Roses" - Miss Sinclair - 1965) Calendar Illustration - Brown & Bigelow Calendar Co. - Produced in the 1970s recognizing the Pin-up era.

#gil elvgren #june #1956 #1970s #fabulous fifties #calendar #illustration #brown & bigelow #pin up #american pin up

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g1rld1ary · 3 months

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come home with me ; anthony lockwood x reader

➻ hbd lockwood & co!! this was meant to be for the anniversary but as always I have greatly miscalculated the english timezone... (also totally feeling pre-valentine's excitement!!)

➻ word count: 3720

➻ synopsis: when your bus breaks down in the middle of the night, one Anthony Lockwood may just be your knight in shining armour

➻ warnings: slight mentions of drinking, clubbing & drugs, lucy making slight suggestive jokes if you squint, reader is shorter than lockwood, sharing a bed, fluff

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You sat in your bus seat, checking you still had all your cash and your fake I.D. Satisfied, your purse snapped shut, changing shape as you gripped it tightly. Although you took the bus fairly regularly, you felt much more alone tonight than you had in a while. You’d left your friends and their ‘galentines’ celebration early, not in the mood to go clubbing but not willing to ruin their vibe. Plus, you weren’t ready to celebrate a holiday all about love so soon after being dumped.

You fiddled with the bracelets on your wrist mindlessly, knowing you were still a long way from your family’s apartment. You quickly scoped out the rest of the bus. A few middle aged couples — you imagined they were returning from sweet Valentine’s Day dates and ready to be home and in bed before one. You thought it was sweet that their love was stronger than their fear of the Problem, though the iron lined buses probably helped quell their apprehensions. Your eye caught the only other young person on board, a boy around your age who was staring out the window, rapier hanging off the edge of the seat and into the aisle. An agent, clearly, though you wondered why he was alone when they usually travelled in teams.

You quickly averted your eyes, not wanting to be caught staring at anyone who could proficiently use a sword. You bounced along in the seat until the bus began to slow, jerking the passengers around aggressively. When it came to a proper halt you felt a spike of panic run through you. You were all alone in an area you didn’t know and still at least a half hour cab ride from home way past curfew. To top it all off you were in your heels and new slinky dress, prepared for the safety of a club and not the outdoor weather. You were going to die, you were sure of it.

Then the lights flickered and dimmed. Great. You were almost certain this was the end when the doors were locked too. You rolled your eyes as you watched one of the adults jiggle the door around until it could be forced open, then reluctantly followed the rest of the passengers out onto the street. Just your luck, you were in the middle of a random residential street with no overhead covers except a tiny iron bus stop fifty metres away, which you reluctantly let the older couples hide in. At least the ghost lamps were on, and your very average senses told you there weren’t many ghosts out tonight; were you the only person in London — dead or alive — who didn’t have a valentine?

You watched as the bus driver pulled open the hatch to expose the engine, tinkering around nervously to hurry and find the issue. You leant against a ghost lamp as a shaky protection and felt a few freezing rain droplets land on your bare arms. Fabulous, the night was just getting better and better. You watched the driver huff in frustration and glance around nervously, you doubted you’d be getting back on the bus anytime soon.

You slid down the ghost lamp until you were sitting on the damp ground, past trying to impress anyone at that point. You telepathically tried to send your friends a message that you were going to be found probably ghost touched or hypothermic in the morning. You breathed a sarcastic laugh to try and convince yourself it was a joke, but you could feel the panic rising in the back of your throat. At sixteen you were not equipped to be stuck on the side of the road well into the night, past curfew and pathetically unarmed. You could feel someone’s stare and couldn’t tell whether it was at your sad excuse of a dress or at your position on the ground, but you were past caring, not even trying to shield yourself.

“Sorry, everyone, but I can’t fix this. Your best bet now is getting a cab and getting inside as soon as you can,” The bus driver explained apologetically, and some of the couples groaned, eyeing out the street for a taxi. You were past the point of feeling phased, tilting your head up to face the sky and embracing the storm on your face, not even thinking about the mascara tracks being run. When you reopened your eyes there were only a few people left; the driver, one couple, the teenager and you. You stood reluctantly, trying to think of a way to get yourself home.

You cracked open your wallet sullenly, expecting exactly was in there. A few dollars; enough for a few drinks but not nearly enough for a taxi to where you were going. You sighed, feeling defeat creep upon you as you tried to come up with any other method of getting home. You could return to the club — if you survived the walk — but even then your friends would be either too drunk or too high to be of any assistance. A huge crack of thunder drew you from your thoughts, a lightning storm was definitely brewing. Amazing.

You sighed, stress manifesting as the hot tears beginning to stream down your face. You felt utterly hopeless. You had nowhere to go and no way of contacting anyone, you couldn’t even use a payphone to call your parents as you’d promised you’d stay in while they were away for the weekend.

“Why tonight?” You asked the sky, more to express your irritation than to search for an answer. You could hear the agent escorting the couple down the street to a cab, easily soothing their fears with overconfident assurances. You knew he’d returned only by the occasional drag of iron against cement accompanying his footprints, presumably his rapier. Unknown to you he watched you as he approached, taking in your dishevelled state. You were pretty, undeniably, but the mascara smudged from rain and tears and your hair stuck to your face and shoulders made you look like you might’ve seen better days. He sucked in a breath and approached you.

“Hi,” He said, “I’m Lockwood.”

“Y/n.” You turned to him, hoping he’d realise you had no interest in talking.

“I know this sounds really creepy, but will you please come home with me? Promise I’m not trying to murder you, but this storm’s not getting any better and I can’t leave you to the ghosts in good conscience. My house is only a few blocks away; I live with another boy and a girl, both my age so we wouldn’t be alone. You can take all the precautions you like — keys between the fingers, walk on the other side of the street if you want,” He rambled and you sized him up. A lanky boy with a sword or the ghosts? You figured you had a better chance against him if it came to it.

“Ok.” You nodded, trying to smoothly push yourself off the pavement and appear well put together in front of the strange boy.

Lockwood led the way, holding the umbrella over his head. You followed a few feet away, cautious to be out of reach, just in case he did want to hurt you. Though you were jealous of his prior planning for the rain.

“Here, take my coat. You must be freezing.” He held it out to you and you gladly accepted, spaghetti straps doing nothing to fend off the cold. The coat was warm and enveloped you entirely, sitting below the hem of your dress. “So, are you in school?” He tried to break the silence.

“Yeah, for history. You?” You cringed as you realised the redundancy of your statement — his being an agent of some sort was more than obvious and only emphasised by the rapier he held out in front of him. He answered kindly anyway.

“I never did much school, I’ve been an agent as soon as I was allowed.”

“That’s cool, you in a big agency?” You asked, and Lockwood beamed with pride.

“Not exactly — not yet. I run my own agency, soon to be the best in Britain. Lockwood and Co, you might have seen us in the papers?” You raised your eyebrows.

“Your own agency, huh? That’s big stuff. Wish I could say I’d heard of you, but I avoid the papers when I can, it just depresses me. You might have to be just Lockwood tonight if that’s alright,” You joked and Lockwood laughed out loud, giving you a glimpse of an illuminating smile.

“Just Lockwood is perfect,” He answered, and the conversation quickly moved on, the two of you quickly losing the awkward silences.

“I got caught up in my research — a first, believe me. If I’d known about the bus and the weather I would have just caught a cab, or bailed earlier which is far more likely.”

“Tell me about it. My friends are out clubbing and I’m here walking in the rain with a stranger — uh, no offence.”

“None taken,” He assured you, “Wait, how old are you?” He didn’t think you looked old enough to get into a club, although the smudged makeup may have had something to do with it.

“Sixteen…” You trailed off, suddenly afraid he would judge you for your bad habits.

“So you’ve got a fake ID?” He raised an eyebrow at your nod. “Lucky. I tried to get one once but my associate George yelled at me for forty minutes straight, I never tried again.” You giggled at his explanation, the image making Lockwood seem younger, less intimidating than he’d initially been.

You moved closer as you walked, eventually ending up under the umbrella and feeling much warmer without the violent rain. As you talked more you noticed Lockwood was quite attractive, in an odd sort of way. Despite his old fashioned attire (you didn’t think agents typically wore shirt and ties), he had the loveliest smile and soft looking hair, though some of it was plastered on his pale forehead, unable to escape the rain entirely. What stood out most though, were his cheekbones. They were impossibly defined and quite dreamy, if you were being honest.

You talked about all sorts of unexceptional things, and you had the impression that Lockwood was doing his best to entertain you and distract you from your previous mood. It was working though, so you had no complaints.

“I’ve got a bit of sensitivity — very average — but I’m not going to waste my adolescence being stuck in the nightwatch ‘cause I can’t make it to really being an agent,” You laughed softly, “So I figured if I studied history I could be of more use, learn more about the Problem and all that.”

“You’d get along famously with my friend George, he’s obsessed with trying to figure out the Problem. For me it’s about the action, knowing that I’m actually putting all these ghosts to rest and having a meaningful impact on people’s lives.” You watched him circle his sword in the air, keeping the few Type Ones around further than they’d been lurking.

“Is that why you started your own agency?”

The walk seemed much shorter once the two of you started talking, and soon you’d arrived at Lockwood’s house, 35 Portland Row. The outside was unassuming, but beautiful in the classic English way. You caught a glance of the Lockwood & Co sign and couldn’t help but smile; you could feel the love and passion Lockwood had for the company from the small discussion you’d had about it. As Lockwood pushed open the front door a woman was just heading up the staircase in the hall, but turned at the noise.

“Jesus, Lockwood, what time do you call this? I was getting worried! Who’s this?” She looked at you, and you couldn’t help but feel self conscious under the beautiful girl’s stare. You thought she looked a bit teasing, and realised what conclusions she’d drawn. Embarrassing, but understandable.

“Luce, this is y/n. Y/n, Lucy, my associate. She’s staying with us tonight; our bus broke down and getting her home at this time is practically impossible.” Lucy nodded, but the amused twinkle in her eye didn’t dull.

“It’s nice to meet you then. I’d offer for you to bunk in with me, but I’ve got a nasty flu coming on and I doubt you’d want me anywhere near you.” She gestured down to the thick blanket wrapped around her shoulders and the steaming tea in her hand. You smiled to absolve her of responsibility and she waddled back up the stairs and into the dark.

Lockwood, in turn, led you up to the first landing and into his bedroom. He rifled through a chest of drawers as you tried not to snoop, eyes instead catching on the alluring movement of his fingers. He eventually handed you a t-shirt and some tracksuit pants.

“They might be a bit big, but they’ll do for the night,” He sounded embarrassed and you smiled in thanks. “The shower’s just down the hall, second door. You can go clean up.” You thanked him again before heading for a much needed shower.

You stood under the hot water, more than mindful not to take too long. You were so caught up in being grateful to be alive and not ghost touched or stranded in the middle of London that the weirdness of the situation hadn’t fully caught up to you until now. Once dried you put on the clothes Lockwood had given you and laughed slightly at your reflection. Despite your figure the clothes still unexpectedly swallowed you. It made sense since Lockwood was so tall, but you found it funny nonetheless.

You returned to find Lockwood sitting on the edge of his bed and stood in front of him awkwardly, unsure of how to proceed.

“So, um, I’m not a great sleeper so I think I’ll go read in the library for a bit and probably stay there. You can take the bed.” His previous easy confidence was gone, and Lockwood suddenly looked his age again, innocent and awkward.

“Are you sure? I can take a couch or something, I don’t want to intrude.” Lockwood assured you that he wasn’t going to sleep anytime soon anyway, and he was sure you needed the bed much more than he would. You bade him goodnight shyly, and thanked him for the millionth time before climbing into his bed, ashamed to admit how much you liked the pillow that smelt like him.

However, once it was just you in the dark, all your previous exhaustion had dissolved and you were wide awake, too on edge to sleep. You were in a strangers house on the other side of the city in the middle of the night, you very well may not live to see another day. Logically you knew you were being dramatic, Lockwood and Lucy both seemed lovely and genuine, but then again, so did Ted Bundy.

You felt like you’d been lying in bed for hours when the door creaked open and you inadvertently made eye contact with Lockwood creeping in, looking admittedly adorably soft in his worn pyjamas.

“Sorry,” He said, “I needed an extra blanket. Can’t sleep?” You used the light from the hall to glance at the clock, almost two o’clock. You shook your head softly, feeling almost guilty when he’d given up his bed for you. Lockwood stood in the doorway for a moment, seemingly hesitant about something. “Do you, um, do you want me to read to you for a bit? It always worked for me when I was younger.” He sounded sheepish but you thought he was the sweetest person on earth at that moment. You agreed quickly, and he slotted himself in on the other side of the bed.

You huddled in to face him and Lockwood cleared his throat softly. He had continued on from where he’d evidently left off in the library so the plot was a mystery to you, but his soothing voice worked wonders in calming your thoughts, weary eyes closing quickly to send you into a cozy sleep. Lockwood, unbeknownst to you, fell asleep uncharacteristically fast after you, novel left upside down on the nightstand. Despite his usual aversion to sleep, having a warm body and small snores next to him strangely made him want to start getting eight hours a night.

Lucy was assigned to wake Lockwood for breakfast the next morning upon George’s request, and silently sent a prayer before pushing open his door, wary of what she might find. To her surprise (and personal relief) you two were in bed together, but not in the way that she’d dreaded walking in on. You were both totally clothed, your head resting on Lockwood’s chest, his arm around your waist, effectively keeping you burritoed in the blanket. Lockwood’s eyes snapped open, a habit he’d never detested more, and groaned at Lucy’s good humoured snicker when they locked eyes. She shut the door behind her quickly, leaving Lockwood to deal with things on his own.

You woke not long after, feeling Lockwood stirring next to you and his breathing start to become irregular.

“Morning,” He slurred, still half asleep and wanting nothing more than to pay off his sleep debt with you keeping him safely in bed.

“Good morning.” You smiled sweetly, already in a good mood. You bent to collect your clothes off the floor, eyeing your dress with mild disgust — it would be quite the walk of shame home.

“Keep the clothes.” Lockwood gestures casually to your outfit and you shook your head vehemently.

“I can’t, they’re yours!” You protested but he seemed not to care at all.

“I don’t need them, just have them. They look good.” You flushed and dropped the fight, words lost in the vacuum of your brain. You busied yourself with rolling the cuffs a few times so it wasn’t quite as obvious they weren’t yours.

Lockwood led you down to the kitchen, asking you about your plans for the day. You were met with Lucy and one other boy in the kitchen, Lucy sitting at the table already tucking into her meal while the boy was standing by the stove.

“I mean, come on Lockwood, you couldn’t have given me any warning we had a fourth for breakfast? Bloody good thing we had enough eggs or it would’ve been you going hungry!” The boy muttered to himself, apparently unaware of your entry. You locked eyes with Lucy who was holding back her laugh and Lockwood coughed uncomfortably.

“Morning, Georgie,” He smiled an amused grin, practically blinding you in the early morning. George froze as he realised he’d been caught, then doubled down his mood with a glare in Lockwood’s direction but it simply bounced off the charm he oozed and you smiled. You introduced yourself quickly and explained the situation, not wanting to uphold the tension in the room. George wasn’t exactly as warm as Lucy, but then you got the impression that it wasn’t in his nature to be.

Lockwood and Lucy upheld forced small talk as you became nervous in the new environment and George simply had no desire to talk, at least, until Lockwood had the bright idea to get the ball rolling.

“So Georgie, y/n actually studies the Problem. Like, academically.” It was like a switch had flipped and suddenly George had so much to say you were overwhelmed with it all. You tried to explain your research area as best you could while trying to politely ask questions about his own knowledge and make a good impression. Lockwood must have sensed your anxiety as he put a hand on your thigh and gave it a reassuring squeeze under the table, chuckling softly into his eggs.

Your meal passed quickly after that, and you felt strangely at home in the cozy kitchen, amongst three people who were total strangers only hours before. Yet, it had to come to an end at some point, and it was soon time for you to go.

You collected your things, profusely thanking each of them for not only saving you (Lockwood), but also for the ridiculously delicious breakfast (George).

“You really saved my life,” You said, as Lockwood disregarded yet another thanks.

“It’s nothing, you would have done the same. You, uh, you should come around again sometime.” You beamed, nodding quickly.

“Yeah, I have about a thousand more questions for you — not an exaggeration,” George said, and you easily agreed to share more of your research with him.

“Plus, we like seeing Lockwood blush,” Lucy added cheekily, and then it was your turn to blush, forcing your eyes down to the floor as both George and Lucy laughed at the pair of you, mirror images in your embarrassment.

Although it may have looked like you were making a post-Valentine’s Day walk of shame, you were gleeful. You hadn’t at all imagined your night would turn out as it had, but you’d made new friends — and maybe the start of something more, and managed to avoid being ghost touched which you always counted as a win. You ignored the judgemental looks you received in slept in joggers and club ready heels, and delighted in getting home before your parents arrived back and noticed you were missing.

You locked the door to your apartment behind you and dialled the number Lucy had made you promise to call when you were safe and sound, hanging up with plans for dinner at Portland Row the following week.

You flopped back on your bed and grinned. You were sure you’d see more of Lockwood & Co in the future.

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