#FOOD FIGHT | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eeechooo · 3 months

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Flour, Fear and Rain.

Fandom : Lockwood and Co

Pairing : George Karim x Reader

Request : @ilbradipodisagiato

Three moments : baking, nightmare and rain.

The kitchen at 35 Portland Row was filled with the aroma of freshly baked cookies. George and you had decided to take a break from ghost-hunting and try your hand at baking. Naturally, it had turned into a competition.

"You call that a cookie, George?" you teased, holding up a slightly misshapen lump of dough. "I think it's trying to escape!"

George adjusted his glasses, pretending to be deeply offended. "That, my dear friend, is a masterpiece in the making."

"A masterpiece of what? Modern art?" you quipped, giggling. "It looks like it melted."

"Fine talk from someone whose cookies are more like dry biscuits," George shot back, a mischievous glint in his eye.

You rolled your eyes, scooping up some flour. "Oh really? Well, let's see how it holds up against this!" With a swift motion, you tossed the flour in George's direction.

He sputtered, momentarily blinded by the cloud of white powder. "Oh, it's on!" he declared, grabbing a handful of cookie dough and launching it at you.

You ducked, laughing as the dough splattered against the wall behind you. "Missed me!"

"Did I?" George smirked, advancing with another handful of dough.

You grabbed a bowl of sugar, brandishing it like a weapon. "Stay back, or I'll make sure you look like a sugar plum fairy."

He paused, raising an eyebrow. "A sugar plum fairy, huh? You might need to work on your threats."

You scoffed playfully, flicking a pinch of sugar in his direction. "Consider it a promise."

Laughter filled the kitchen as flour, dough, and sugar flew through the air. By the end, both of you were covered in ingredients, the kitchen a complete mess.

Breathless, you leaned against the counter. "Truce?" you asked, holding out your hand.

George took it, a smile spreading across his face. "Truce," he agreed, shaking your hand. For a moment, neither of you let go, the playful tension hanging in the air before you both pulled back, chuckling nervously.

"You know," George said, looking at the disaster zone that was once a kitchen, "we might have to clean this up before Lockwood sees it. Unless you want to be on cleaning duty for the next month."

"Oh, so you do care about cleaning after all," you teased, nudging him lightly.

"Only because I know you'll make me do all the work," George replied, his tone lighter than usual. "Besides, I think we make a good team. Even if your baking skills are a bit questionable."

"Questionable?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow. "I'll have you know, my cookies are the epitome of perfection."

"Sure, if perfection means slightly burnt," he retorted, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Before you could respond, the door swung open, and Lockwood walked in, freezing mid-step as he took in the scene. "What on earth happened here?"

You and George exchanged a guilty look, both of you covered in flour and dough, the kitchen a disaster. "Um, baking experiment gone wrong?" you offered weakly.

Lockwood shook his head, a bemused smile playing on his lips. "You two are impossible. Clean up this mess, and next time, try not to destroy the kitchen, okay?"

As Lockwood left, you turned to George, both of you bursting into laughter. "I think we got off easy," you said, still giggling.

"Yeah," George agreed, wiping flour from his glasses. "But I wouldn't trade it for anything."

You nodded, feeling a warm glow in your chest. "Neither would I, George. Neither would I."

Nightmares gripped you tightly, tossing you into a realm where fear and reality blurred. You watched helplessly as George, his face contorted in pain, struggled against the ethereal grip of a malevolent ghost. The scene played out in agonizing slow motion, his eyes pleading for help that never came. The terror peaked as the ghost's icy fingers grazed his skin, and you woke up gasping, covered in cold sweat.

Heart racing, you stumbled out of bed, desperate to escape the lingering nightmare. The house was eerily quiet as you navigated through dimly lit corridors until you reached George's bedroom. Hesitating only briefly, you pushed the door open gently.

George lay on his side, his features softened in sleep. Moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. Without thinking, you crawled into bed beside him, seeking solace in his presence.

He stirred slightly, blinking awake with a mix of surprise and concern as he registered your presence beside him. Before he could say anything, you buried your face into his chest, seeking comfort in his warmth.

For a moment, George hesitated, not accustomed to physical touch. But seeing your distress, he tentatively wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. His touch was tentative yet comforting, a silent reassurance that you were not alone in your fear.

"You're safe now," he murmured softly, his voice breaking the silence.

"I... I saw you..." you started, your voice trembling. "It was... I thought..."

George tightened his embrace, his hand gently stroking your back. "It was just a nightmare," he assured you, his own voice surprisingly steady despite the emotions swirling within him.

"I was so scared," you admitted, your words muffled against his chest.

"I know," George replied quietly. "But I'm here. I've got you."

The tension ebbed away with each passing moment, replaced by a quiet understanding that words couldn't fully express. As you lay there together, the night slowly gave way to dawn, the world outside beginning to stir.

You yawned, eyes filled with tears from exhaustion. "I was terrified. Don't ever leave, we love you too much for that."

"Even you?" His voice was low, as if he was already sleeping.

"You have no idea."

When morning finally came, you both stirred awake, still entangled in each other's embrace. George looked at you with a rare softness in his eyes, a vulnerability that mirrored your own.

"I'm glad you came," he said softly, breaking the silence.

You met his gaze, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders. "I needed to be here," you admitted honestly.

There was a moment of silence, heavy with unspoken words and shared emotions. Finally, George spoke again, his voice hesitant yet sincere.

"You know, I... I care about you," he confessed quietly, his fingers tracing absent-minded patterns on your arm.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, a rush of emotions flooding through you. "I care about you too, George," you replied softly, meeting his gaze with equal honesty.

There was a pause, the air thick with unspoken implications. Neither of you moved, content to simply exist in this moment of fragile intimacy.

But as the morning light filtered through the curtains, reality began to assert itself once more. The weight of your confession hung in the air, yet neither of you addressed it directly as you untangled yourselves from each other's embrace.

The day unfolded with a semblance of normalcy, filled with routine tasks and the familiar banter that characterized your relationship. The night's confession lingered just beneath the surface, unacknowledged yet subtly altering the dynamics between you.

As you went about your day, there were stolen glances and small gestures that spoke volumes. Yet, when Lockwood and Lucy arrived, oblivious to the undercurrents swirling between you and George, the moment of vulnerability shared in the dark hours of the night seemed like a distant dream.

It was as if the confession had never happened, buried beneath the weight of unspoken agreements and the unyielding demands of their ghost-hunting profession. And so, life at 35 Portland Row continued, with its ghosts, mysteries, and the unspoken truth that lingered between you and George, waiting to be acknowledged once more.

The sky had opened up, pouring rain in sheets as you and George hurried through the streets of London, having just left the Archives after a long day of research. The chaotic weather had left you both drenched and disoriented, separated from Lockwood and Lucy in the midst of a downpour (your coworkers stayed home, lucky for them).

"Great, just great," George muttered, wiping water from his glasses. "Can this day get any worse?"

You laughed, the sound echoing faintly against the rain. "At least we're not being chased by ghosts. Or relic men. Or both."

George shot you a sideways glance, a small smile playing on his lips despite the circumstances. "Small victories," he conceded with a nod.

As you continued along the rain-soaked street, George suddenly stopped, pulling a small umbrella from his pocket and opening it above your heads. "Here," he said matter-of-factly, "this should keep us a bit drier."

You blinked in surprise, grateful for his gesture but also caught off guard by the unexpected intimacy of sharing an umbrella with him in the middle of a storm.

Seeking refuge from the relentless rain, you soon found an awning and hurried beneath it, the patter of raindrops creating a cocoon of sound around you both. Leaning against the sheltered wall, you turned to face George, rain dripping from your hair.

"There," George said with a hint of concern, gesturing to your soaked appearance. "You're going to catch a cold if you keep getting soaked like this."

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. "I'll be fine, George. It's just a little rain."

He sighed, his gaze softening as he looked at you. "Stubborn as always."

There was a moment of silence between you, the only sound the steady drumming of raindrops all around. His gaze met yours through the curtain of rain, and without words, you knew that the moment had come to express what had been silently growing between you.

Taking a deep breath, you reached out, your hand brushing against his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin against your palm. George's eyes widened slightly in surprise, but he made no move to pull away.

In that moment, as the rain poured down around you, the weight of unspoken emotions hung heavy in the air. Without another word, you leaned in, your movements guided by an unspoken understanding. The kiss that followed was gentle yet filled with intensity, a testament to the feelings that had silently grown between you. Well, that was about time.

The world around you faded into insignificance as you stood there, the rain soaking through your clothes. It was just the two of you, caught in a moment of raw honesty and shared vulnerability. The kiss tasted of rain and unspoken confessions, each touch and breath a silent affirmation of what had been silently acknowledged but never spoken aloud.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and unsure of what would come next, George's eyes met yours, a silent understanding passing between you. There were no words needed, no grand gestures required. It was a moment of quiet revelation, shared beneath the stormy skies of London.

I'm not really a fan of this, but my laptop is STILL BEING AWFUL. writing on my phone is... well, let's say it's not that nice.

I'm so sorry if that took so long, being happy with your own writing is so complicated, but now it's done! if you have any other request, I'll be happy to write them!

Taglist : @cielooci @neewtmas @35-portlandxrow

#lockwood & co #lockwood and co #george karim x reader #anthony lockwood #george karim #lucy carlyle #george karim x you #yes food again i know #rain kiss #baking #food fight #fluff #lots of fluff #nightmare tho #it's fine #they're happy #kiss kiss

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