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#george karim x reader
tiredofthehumanlife · 10 days
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Lockwood waiting for the food George made
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justafandomgvrl · 1 year
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Lockwood & Co Headcanons
Sharing a bed with them
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George
- probably isn't a massive cuddler
- but will have one of his limbs flung over you to make sure you're still there
- he probably wakes up first most mornings, gazing at your blurry form until he remembers to put on his glasses
- there are always glasses of water next to the bed and you gotta be careful not to knock them over when getting in or out
- there's generally a couple of books at the end of the bed that George forgot to take back to the library
- before you fall asleep, he kisses the top of your head
- he definitely makes the bed every morning
Lucy
- one hundred percent a little spoon
- she likes to feel you wrapped around her, it helps her feel safe
- you probably end up breathing in her hair but it doesn't matter cos you're close to each other
- there's about a hundred teacups on the bedside table, most of them half full from drinking them before passing out
- she almost curls up like a cat, and when you don't spoon, you often end up with her on top of you, limbs splayed everywhere
- it's a tad warm but neither of you mind. you're close, you're safe, and you're relaxed
Lockwood
- big spoon. likes to know he's protecting you, even at night
- there's a thousand blankets on the bed, most of which get kicked off every night
- he still layers them on there though. just in case you get cold
- he doesn't sleep much but knowing that you're asleep in his arms help him to relax
- on the rare occasion that you wake up and he's fast asleep, you daren't move, not wanting to wake him
- he never makes the bed other than tossing the blankets back on it
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cameronspecial · 9 months
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Masterlist
Welcome to my writing! Hope you find what you are looking for and if you don’t, then requests are closed rn! Also just comment or send me a message if you want to be a part of any of my taglists.
Rafe Cameron
Drew Starkey
Zach MacLaren
Anthony Lockwood
George Karim
Evan Buckley
Tom Holland
Peter Parker
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wordsarelife · 2 months
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—fearless
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pairing: george karim x gn!reader
summary: george admires you deeply. not only because you're his girlfriend, but because you have an extraordinary gift
warnings: slightly suggestive if you squint, mentions of dying, ghosts, the usual
note: i just noticed, that this was probably the last george fic i'll ever write. it was so fun to write and i love george with all my heart. i hope you guys like it!!
the stairs were rusty and every bit of wood was making a sound when you were walking over it. george was following you and even though you knew it were his steps behind you, they still made you turn around and check. just to be sure.
lockwood and lucy were inspecting the first floor of the house, while you had decided to accompany your boyfriend upstairs, feeling like a type two wasn't far away.
george had been impressed by your ghost fighting skills ever since you had joined lockwood and co. you were one of a kind, able to talk to ghosts and calm them down.
george had been a bit suspicious of you when you had told him and lockwood what you could do.
"sure" george had said "you know, when it gets dark i can fly"
lockwood had noticed the look you where sending his friend and had known right in that moment that the two of you were a match made in heaven. or at least thats what he liked to claim.
in reality he had to seperate the both of you, because you kept making each other more angry.
after your first case george had apologized to you and the rest was history.
"do you have the chain?" you turned around to look at him
he patted the bag hanging from his shoulder. you could hear the silver clinging and nodded relieved. "good"
he followed you into one of the bedrooms and closed the door. he put down the bag and started laying down the chain, while you inspected the walls. "not long" you mumbled while checking the temperature
"i can feel it too" george got up from the ground and watched you closely. you closed your eyes, feeling over the walls and hearing voices fill the room. you gasped, walking backwards, right into george's arms.
"what is it?" he asked worriedly
"it was an accident" you mumbled "she isn't angry"
as if on cue, a ghost emerged from the wall. she was flowing in front of you in a constant motion.
"then what is she?" george voice slipped into a light panic
"sad" you answered softly.
even without your special talent, you were able to notice that the ghost in front of you was the opposite of angry. she wasn't even coming closer. her long hair was flowing in the air and her eyes looked so regretful you almost wanted to pack everything up and leave her alone.
"hello" you said instead.
she looked confused at your try to talk with her.
"i'm y/n" you continued. you pointed behind you "this is george"
george raised his hand hesitantely "ehh, hi!"
"and you're maddy, right?" you asked and the ghost smiled "your mum told us about you" what she leave out where any information about how her daughter had died. now you were wishing she hadn't. the eyes of the little girl made you so sad, you almost couldn't concentrate. but you had to.
"yeah" george added, unsure if she could understand him as well. but you had told him she could, as long as he was holding onto your hand.
that was another extraordinary thing george had noticed. you were even able to share you talent, by touching other people. he could only admire you for using your power. he had never met someone less scared of ghosts than you. not even lockwood.
no ghost could scare you, he thought. not even wraiths. most of them would calm down by your presence alone. maybe it was that they had no one to talk to before, or it was just something about you. maybe your smile or your kindness that they could feel and kept them from hurting you.
"mum" maddy repeated and george's eyes grew soft when he heard her voice. it was a lot to see a young girl as a ghost, but her voice tore his heart open.
"yes" you smiled sympathetically. "she moved, that's why she's been gone"
"because of me?" maddy asked
you shook your head. "no, sweetheart. she wanted to take her with you, but she didn't know how, so she called us"
maddy smiled.
it was true what you were saying. her mum had been too scared to hurt her or destroy the ghost form of her daughter, while she had sworn that she was a friendly ghost. but she wasn't sure of she would react to the strange agents in her house. she had thought that maddy would be angry perhaps. that's why you came as prepared as you were.
lockwood had promised the woman to safely secure her daughters source, so she could take her with her.
"teddy" maddy said simply. your eyes wandered around the room, until they landed on a chair, a little teddybear sitting on top of it.
"this one?" you asked, picking up the bear.
maddy nodded.
"okay" you smiled. "we will put it under this net. you will be gone for some time, but we will give it to your mum and when you wake up, she will be there, okay?"
"okay" maddy said and george was surprised how easy it was to deal with her. almost too easy. as if on cue, you could hear loud sounds from downstairs.
"the man" maddy said fearfully
"what man, maddy?" you asked, hearing lucy cry out your name "you have to tell us, okay?"
"the angry man" maddy said again "he is screaming and he is mean"
"it's alright, sweetheart" you tried to calm her. george had never seen a ghost be scared before. "wrap her source" you took out the silver net and held it in george's direction. "we will make him leave" you assured maddy "and you will be with your mum"
"okay" maddy nodded and the next second she was gone.
"what now?"
"we have to get rid of an angry man" you smiled, leaving the room and dashing down the stairs to help your friends.
lucy and lockwood were in the middle of a fight with the ghost, when you entered the living room. "y/n" lucy called relieved "maybe you can-" she jumped to the side, escpaping a chair the ghost had swung at her "talk to him"
"i'm not sure that will work" lockwood panted, throwing a few saltbombs. "it won't take him long to come back" he fixed his suit.
"we have to find the source" you turned to george, who nodded at that. "you go" you told lucy and lockwood "we will take care of him"
"are you sure?" lockwood asked and you nodded, making a gesture for them to leave the room. "okay" lockwood said "we'll be quick"
"i know" george took his position next to you
"how about some netflix and chill after this?" you asked as soon as your friends hat left the room
"y/n!" the shock on george's face made you giggle
"what?" you laughed "a perfectly normal question if you ask me"
"you are always flirting in near death situations" george rolled his eyes
"yeah" you smiled smugly "but it got you to sleep with me, didn't it?"
"oh my god" george hid his face in his hands
"shit" your words made him look up. the ghost was slowly coming materialising again. you losened your belt, holding it in george's direction
"are you getting undressed?" george asked and his voice seemed to be a pitch higher than usual
"no" you dragged the word out "the belt is filled with saltbombs. i want you to get behind him and throw it, in case my plan doesn't work"
"what plan?"
"just do it, darling" george complied hesitantely, but did eventually walk across the room, behind the patch where the ghost was slowly coming back.
"hello" you muttered "maddy already told us about you"
"a talker" the ghost bid back, in a voice that send shivers down your spine. he seemed to be intrigued by you, which held him back from attacking you. well at least for now. "did she now?"
"she's scared of you"
"did you destroy her?" he was a lot calmer than he was before, george noticed, so he relaxed a bit, having new found trust in your abilities
"no" you said, truthfully "her mum is moving. she couldn't leave her behind" you explained "where did you come from? you weren't mentioned"
"i wasn't mentioned?" he repeated, laughing sarcastically "this is my house. i was here before any of you were even born" he screamed the last part and george was ready to throw the belt.
not yet, you mouthed in his direction. "we want to find your source. you'll be at peace" you said
"you want to destroy me" the ghost corrected angrily, but to george's surprise you didn't falter at his tone, but rather matched it.
"we want to save you" you said between clenched teeth "there's a clear difference there. let us help"
"you can't fool me" the ghost laughed
"fighting me is a lost cause" you crossed your arms "we got the best listener in the country. she will find your source and any fight will be in vain"
"you're foolish" the ghost muttered "you can talk to us and you don't use it for bigger things? we could rule the world" he clenched his fist, raising it diabotically.
"sorry" you smiled "i have a date at seven"
in the exact same second, as the ghost began charging at you, lucy called from the next room. do it you mouthed in george's direction. "contain it!" you called to the next room, moving on your feet quickly, to dodge the ghost's closer coming form.
george threw the saltbombs and a second later, the ghost disappeared. lockwood and lucy came back into the room. lucy held up the silver net, which was wrapped around a book.
"the bible" she said "who would've thought?"
"i don't care about his source" you shrugged your shoulders "let's get maddy back to her mum"
your friends nodded. leaving the house close behind you. ghosts like the second one where the true threat to your world, but maddy was the opposite. you didn't use your powers in a wrong way, like the man had claimed. you were doing the right thing with them. helping people who weren't able to help themselves.
on the way out you interlaced yours and george's fingers, thankful that the world you were living in had at least brought you both together.
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gayandfairycore · 1 year
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Marmalade and mischievous mornings
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Summary: spending a morning in 35 portland row, regular shenanigans ensue between the four of you.
Word count: roughly 800 words(?)
A/n: this is my first time writing for lockwood and co. So I hope I did the characters justice! Feedback is muchly appreciated but please do be kind, This is not proof read.
The smell of toast, and marmalade filled the little kitchen at 35 Portland row, the comforting yellow light of the kitchen casted a warm shadow over the inhabitants of the house. The thinking cloth white, and yet covered in inky black doodles, and words scrawled messily down on the white tablecloth. the biscuit crumbs that seeming always found home on the table had began to make your arms itch as you sat next to your friends around the table, a warm cup of tea in hand.
As an ever drying pen is left uncapped, and discarded. The soft linen curtains blew in the mid morning air a conversation started to arise between the group of four. The conversation went a little something like George rattling on about the case they had just completed, Lucy calling the fact that it was clearly was not a low level type one and was actually very strong type two and that George was getting rusty on his research skills.
you couldn’t help finding it a bit funny that everyone around the table were in their pjs having a slow morning like usual to rejuvenate themselves after exhausting nightly escapades.
you couldn’t help finding it a bit funny that everyone around the table were in their pjs having a slow morning like usual to rejuvenate themselves after exhausting nightly escapades.
you couldn’t help finding it a bit funny that everyone around the table were in their pjs having a slow morning like usual to rejuvenate themselves after exhausting nightly escapades.
you couldn’t help finding it a bit funny that everyone around the table were in their pjs having a slow morning like usual to rejuvenate themselves after exhausting nightly escapades.
you couldn’t help finding it a bit funny that everyone around the table were in their pjs having a slow morning like usual to rejuvenate themselves after exhausting nightly escapades.
you couldn’t help finding it a bit funny that everyone around the table were in their pjs having a slow morning like usual to rejuvenate themselves after exhausting nightly escapades.
George had yet again refused to wear trousers, Lockwood a plain white tshirt on, as opposed to his regular suit and cut tie. Lucy an oversized shirt, and some comfy shorts, you having adorned something quite similar to Lucy. opting for a band shirt, pj shorts and some fluffy socks. It didn’t look like only last night three out of the four had almost died, in fact it looked as if the four of them had just had a slumber party.
Sadly it wasn’t a slumber party, instead they spent majority of last night running for their lives in a panic, away from a powerful ghost that they were unprepared to face. so majority of the group were surely going to be aching for the next few days.
munching down on a piece of toast and sipping your tea, the warmth from the chipped glass radiated to your hands, the steam from your tea momentarily being inhaled. a soft smile graced your features as you sipped your tea, Lucy and George’s bicker had yet to be stifled.
When you joined the agency Lockwood had actually warned you to usually just tune them out, that’s what he did. It made you laugh originally but dwelling on it now you’ve decided tonight you’ll pull him aside an ask him to teach you to tune out the friendly bickering.
“clearly you’re just a bit rubbish of a ghost hunter then!” George yelled, clutching his biscuit as he swung out his hands, shrugging his shoulders.
“Rubbish?!” Lucy exclaimed in faux outrage, a piece of buttered toast hanging from her mouth as she spoke the gravity of her exclamation declining as it came out muffled by the aforementioned toast.
“I am not rubbish, george karim! how many times have I come to your rescue? Hmm. You wouldn’t call me rubbish then!” The brunette persisted pointing her half eaten toast piece at him her eyes glared at the boy.
Knocking the piece of toast away from himself, “that’s different!” He retorted as slumped back in his chair slightly coy smile adorning his features.
“Oh is it?” The brunette raised her eyebrows her voice no longer yelling, George gulped quietly slumping impossibly deeper in his chair at the girl, her voice lowered in a warning. The same warning voice she used when they had first met. Watching the scene play out from across the table, toothy grin on your face as you admired your friends, your eyes caught Lockwoods. majority of his face hidden behind a crumpled and tea stained newspaper.
You watched as he shook his head at his friends antics, chuckling into his tea cup. Your eyes meeting in a silent melancholic comforting moment.
your attention only moving when you heard your name called, ”cmon y/n back me up!” Lucy’s expecting gaze told you that you had missed something.
Your eyes darting between the pair nodding unsurely and feigning confidence as you replied with an “oh yeah, absolutely what she said.” Before tilting your head in subtle exasperation taking a large sip of your tea, to mask your embarrassment of admiring Lockwood so much that you had managed to tune out the pair.
“No! Y/n how could you!” George exclaimed mock outraged taking over his expression as he slumped back in defeat, Lucy’s laughter filled the air, a lost expression passed over your face as you glanced between the pair, Lockwood pulling you into his side to answer your unspoken question,
“she just stated she’s the better researcher than him, and that anyone would agree she could do it with her eyes closed.” Lockwood smirked stifling a chuckle as he let go of your arms “and you just agreed with her”
The boy smirked, flicking out his news paper with flourish.
Your mouth formed a ‘o’ at the revelation, before a cocky smirk overtook your face “I mean George may be a the best researcher- No offence, Luce-” you pause, looking at their confused and impatient faces with a coy smile hands in in the air as you point to them.
“But what I want to know is, whose the best ghost hunter?” Leaning back in your chair you watch as chaos ensues clasping your hands tigether like you were an old villain
“I’m sorry?”
“Excuse me?”
Both Lucy and Lockwood exclaim, the latter dropping his news paper onto the table and the force shaking and spilling his tea.
A silence formed over the room, as George watched as his competitive friends began to turn on eachother in friendly competition.
“No offence Lockwood, you may be a prodigy and all that but it’s got to go to Lucy!”
“Y/n!” Lockwood exclaimed his eyes darting wildly as his mouth agape
George reclining in his seat as he stifles a laugh lockwood whirling around to face the boy attempting to look serious and upset.
“George- do you think this is funny?!” The ebony haired boy exclaims, as a chuckle breaks midway through his facade as he speaks.
A mischievous grin adorns George’s face as he replies “I do actually I think this is very funny!”
“Lucy cmon back me up here!?” Lockwood pleads his hands together in a prayer eyebrows raised
“Sorry Lockwood!” Lucy retorts “But y/ns right I’m just the superior ghost hunter.” The girl replies straightening her posture and flipping up imaginary jacket cuffs.
A plan begins to formulate in lockwoods mind “Well if it’s like that then” he states before pulling you into him and tickling you
Between bouts of giggles you exclaim “lockwood! Lockwood! No! Oh cmon!”
His fingers never stopping their assault at your side no matter how much you try to wriggle away, he only stops tickling you to bargain
“Say that I’m the best ghost hunter you’ve ever known!”
Struggling to breathe through your laughter you chuckle out an estranged “No!”
Lockwood smirks “Alright then.”
His fingers moving at your sides painfully fast breathlessness taking over you, as tears well in your eyes loud laughter fills the kitchen.
pouting your lips you exclaim in defeat“okay! Okay! You’re the best ghost hunter I’ve ever known!”
Lockwood stops his assault at your sides smiling and slinging his arm over your shoulder before he taunts the brown eyed girl
“see Luce, there’s only one person here whose the best ghost hunter-“ mischievous looks are shared between you, George, and Lucy. As you move yourself from under the arms of the boy.
Lucy exclaims a “sorry Lockwood! But it’s not you, george get him!” And with her exclamation both you and george begin to ambush the boy flinging your body onto his back watching as he loses his footing. Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck like he was giving you a piggyback.
“Ah- uh oh!” His yells voice high pitched and shrieking laughter fills the room despite the mess that had somehow accumulated over the time you had been in a tickle fight.
The spilled tea over old newspaper clippings a spilled tub Or marmalade staining the thinking cloth
As the sound of a camera flashing momentarily blinds both you and Lockwood as you both come toppling down the wooden floor your body above lockwoods.
Bashfulness blooms in your chest “oh uh sorry-“
Lockwoods narrows his eyes in disappointment “No it’s quite alright” he murmurs. Moving to sit up on his elbows a look of surprise takes over his face as you turn to look behind you
Your two friends about to dog pile you both both you and Lockwood exclaim almost at the same time “George, Lucy you don’t have to do this!”
The two share a glance at eachother before flinging their bodies onto you both collectively collapsing your attempts to get up. groans leaving you and Lockwood at the added weight.
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bella-rose29 · 18 days
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the jockwood universe (college au)
basically jockwood is a thing now, and these are the generic world building hc's of this au :)
essentially what's going to happen is a bunch of x reader fics set within this universe, all probably slightly different but every one of them set with this same background to them, so... yeah!
(also a special thank you to the multiverse of George for helping answer my pestering questions)
Lockwood is on the football team/part of the university football society
Also the fencing society
George and Lockwood are friends from high school but are in separate circles in college
George is also on the ice hockey team 
Kipps is on the football team too
When they were like… preteens or something Kipps and Lockwood had a friendly football match where they were on opposing teams
Lockwood’s team beat Kipps’ by… a lot (and Kipps totally isn’t bitter about it)
Holly is a student rep
Lucy is in debate club and fencing
Skull is a campus cat who hisses and scratches everyone but Lucy
He’s called Skull bc he’s got a weird patch on his head that looks a bit like a skull
And also Lucy seems to always know what Skull wants?? It’s like she can actually talk to him or something 👀
Barnes is a very tired senior lecturer who is the academic advisor to the trio + Holly and Kipps, and he wishes they would stop hogging his office hours
The Winkmans are a family who live in town and sit on their porch every morning shouting abuse at people who walk past
Bobby!!! On the football team and also in band (plays the clarinet probably)
Kate and Ned as well - both on the football team and hang out with Kipps obviously, along with Bobby
Rotwells College is in the same town/city and often competes against the Fittes university (that Penelope is head of)
Flo goes to Rotwells’ and is in their fencing society, but she sneaks onto the Fittes campus all the time to feed the ducks and throw frozen peas at passing students
Visitors - there’s a lot of local folklore and haunted buildings, and Lockwood and Co go and investigate because they’re Like That
Technology is modern, and as such they have phones
And group chats
Obviously Lockwood and Co is the name of Lockwood, Lucy, George, and Holly’s group chat
Lockwood is surprisingly old-fashioned when it comes to technology though? Like he has a record player and cassette tapes in his room that he just whips out every now and then
People’s courses/degrees!
Lockwood’s course is chemical engineering with fine art/art history
George - chemistry
Lucy - English (language and literature)
Holly - English literature + publishing
Kipps - Architecture (but he’s a dick about it)
Ned - Spanish/Spanish + international development
Kat - chemical engineering
Bobby - history
Flo - classical and archaeological studies
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tag list:
@no-morning-glories, @t2sh0, @informedimagining, @strawberryloveyyy, @chameleon021, @demigoddess-of-ghosts, @genderfluid-anime-goth, @cottagecore-babe, @ahead-fullofdreams, @light-23, @locknco, @briar-rose23, @mischivana, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @superpositvecloudshipper, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @mitskiswift99, @anathemaloren, @ran23sblog, @taygrls, @dangelnleif, @el-de-phi, @augustisintheair, @wordsarelife, @tournesol77, @novelizt, @anthonylockwoodandco111, @curseofhecate, @karensirkobabes, @mrsklockwood, @whenselenefallsinlove, @zoom1374, @a-taken-url
and the multiverse of George (of course): @avdiobliss, @neewtmas, @oblivious-idiot, @bobbys-not-that-small, @lewkwoodnco, @uku-lelevillain, and @maraschinomerry 💕
I'm aware that there are a lot of people and if I've forgotten you then I am so so sorry (my tag lists are all over the place whoops), so if there is anybody who wants to be added to my lockwood tag list, then please go here!
I am aware that it has been a while, but from now on I will be checking this post every time I write a new fic to see who is there, so head on over to give a comment or a like and I'll pop you on for next time! <3
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imaginespalace · 1 year
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⋰˚☆ 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙘. 𝙫𝙤𝙡. 𝟮
𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘳: 𝘪 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 ♡
♡ — 𝗌: 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍 | 𝖺: 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍 | 𝖿: 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿
♡ — 𝗆𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍
♡ — 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖼. 𝗏𝗈𝗅. 𝟣
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╰ ⌗ 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 
the xx file (jonathan byers; s)
alexei surprising you (alexei; s)
breeding kink (alexei; s)
hi, pretty (steve harrington; s)
neglected husband (steve harrington; s)
single dad/dilf!steve and the babysitter (steve harrington; s)
it happened one night in detention (abo!universe; eddie munson; s)
take the edge off (eddie munson; s)
who’s to say (older!eddie munson; s)
trailer park babydoll (wayne munson; s)
╰ ⌗ 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿 𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗸
an interrupted nap (montgomery scott; s)
of oil and antiseptic (a/b/o universe; alpha!montgomery scott; s)
the natural order (a/b/o universe; alpha!leonard “bones” mccoy; s)
the seduction of scotty (montgomery scott; f)
hold my hand (montgomery scott; f)
worrying about scotty when he’s on a mission (montgomery scott; f)
red (montgomery scott; a, f)
being held hostage and bones worrying sick (leonard “bones” mccoy; a, f)
╰ ⌗ 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝘂𝗹𝗮 𝟭
braids (max verstappen; f)
rings (lance stroll; f)
obsessed (lance stroll; f)
green suits you (lance stroll; f)
biggest champion (lance stroll; f)
lover (oscar piastri; married!au; f)
wildflowers and fruits (series; lance stroll; s, a, f)
╰ ⌗ 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗺𝗲𝗻 𝗯𝗲𝗿𝘇𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗼
love to lay (s)
“i’m not wearing underwear, thought you’d like to know.” (s)
shivers (s)
dirty mouth (s)
nights like this (s, f)
chef’s kiss (s, f)
╰ ⌗ 𝘀𝘄𝗮𝗻𝗻 𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗮𝘂𝗱
squirm (vincent renzi; s)
home movie (s)
sometimes, love isn’t enough (vincent renzi; a)
soft, early morning (vincent renzi; s, f)
touch starved (vincent renzi; s, f)
╰ ⌗ 𝗮𝗱𝗮𝗺 𝗱𝗿𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗿 
the delinquent (marriage!au; flip zimmerman; s)
lemonade (marriage!au; flip zimmerman; s)
love on me (ancient emperor!au; kylo ren; s)
bedding (medieval!au; kylo ren; s)
paris pregnancy (mob!kylo ren; s)
╰ ⌗ 𝗾 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗷𝗮𝗺𝗲𝘀 𝗯𝗼𝗻𝗱 
sadness is fixed with coffee cake and cuddles (f)
late night’s and tea (f)
birthday cuddles (f)
every breath we drew (a, f)
logical fallacy (series; a, f)
╰ ⌗ 𝗴𝗲𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗲 𝗸𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗺
a personal experiment (s)
daylight (f)
sleeping buddies (f)
death and doughnuts (f)
nightmares (a, f)
╰ ⌗ 𝗷𝗼𝗵𝗻 𝘄𝗶𝗰𝗸 
indulge (s)
alone together (s)
an even exchange (series; s)
╰ ⌗ 𝗻𝗲𝘄𝘁 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗮𝘇𝗲 𝗿𝘂𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗿
letters addressed to you (a)
you heart i will choose (f)
tired (a, f)
╰ ⌗ 𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝘄𝗼𝗹𝗳 
dominance (theo raeken & scott mcall; s)
sex tape (stiles stilinski; s)
riders on the storm (stiles stilinski; s)
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neewtmas · 6 months
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A Fateful Bus Ride
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A/N: I'M BACK! wohoo! Hopefully at least some people are happy about that whoops
I finally somewhat dug myself out of this slump I've been in (writing and otherwise) and this is my reintroduction piece, if you will. It's not my greatest work (when is something ever lol) but I think it's decent and if anyone has any more requests, I'd be happy to write them. This request is from literal months ago (I'm so sorry it took so long, I hope you're still interested) and it's the only one that didn't get deleted with my whole inbox bc I had started writing it already elsewhere. anyways, enjoy &lt;3
pairing: george karim x fem!reader
wordcount: 2.2k
request: Could you make a George Karim x fem or gn reader where they are on their way to a mission and they have to ride a bus and there aren’t enough seats so she sits on his lap and he realizes he likes her and he confesses to her when they get home and he holds her in his arms (sorry if that is very specific It just came to me and it’s so cute) 💜💕 - by @iloveyousomuchhhhhh (it's not 100% exact but I hope you like it anyways :))
taglist: @maraschinomerry @marinalor @oblivious-idiot @lockwood-lover @givemea-dam-break (if you want to be added or removed, just send me an ask)
masterlist
George stood in the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of tea when he heard a commotion in the basement. The door to the staircase was slightly ajar, and he heard the clattering of metal chains against the concrete floor, followed by some curses and then more clattering. After a short silence, in which he contemplated if he should go downstairs to check, he heard the stairs creak as someone stomped upstairs, chains loudly sounding against the metal of the steps. The door got pushed open, and Y/N entered the kitchen, arms full of chains. She was breathing heavily as she unceremoniously dropped them next to the kitchen table on the floor. "What idiot put them into the closet like that? Of course they would just fall out and break my goddamn toes." George cleared his throat. He knew the culprit all too well, but a look at Y/N's face told him it would be wiser to feign ignorance. So he just shrugged. "Maybe Lockwood was feeling lazy last night", he offered and took a sip of tea to hide the small smile that fought its way onto his lips. From the way she glared at him, he was sure that she knew exactly who was responsible for putting the chains away the evening prior.
She left the kitchen and pulled the door closed rather strongly, as she always did when she was irritated. If it had closed, the bang would have probably shaken the pictures on the wall in Lucy's room in the attic, but it didn't. Instead, Lockwood came in, pushing it open again. He seemed to be in a good mood and full of energy, strutting over to the kettle on the stove, lifting the top to check for the tea inside before turning around to George. His gaze fell to the pile of chains. "Why are there chains on the floor?" He didn't even wait for George to answer, instead, he kept talking as he grabbed a cup from the cupboard and poured some tea in. "Just got the confirmation call, the case tonight is still on. Have you had a chance to gather some information?"
George filled him in on the findings the morning in the library had brought. It wasn't anything too special, it seemed to be a routine case. "Couldn't find any deaths related to the house or the ground it was built on. The lady on the phone talked about how the haunting started sometime after her great-aunt died. She wasn't living in the house though, so my bet is on some sort of haunted heirloom." Lockwood nodded contemplatively. "Sounds interesting enough."
An hour later, the four of them stood by the door, all packed and ready to go. Lockwood had the telephone by his ear, listening to what the person on the other side was saying. His expression turned from neutral to irritated quickly. He listened for a few more seconds, then said a curt goodbye before hanging up. "Can you believe it? Not a single cab is available in all of London. That guy must be mad!"
"What do we do now?", Lucy asked and Lockwood let out a long drawn sigh. "We take the bus. As the gentleman on the phone let me know, that is just as fine of transportation as a cab." He huffed, clearly of a different opinion. But complaining wouldn't get them to their destination any quicker, so they begrudgingly grabbed their equipment and left the house. Y/N had the straps of the duffle bag containing the chains thrown over her shoulder, and she quickly realised that carrying the heavy bag down the street would be much harder than simply carrying it a few metres to a waiting cab. She had a slight stumble in her step, the weight of the chains throwing her off balance.
"Do you need help with that?" George slowed down until she was next to him and extended his hand. "No it's fine", said Y/N through gritted teeth and attempted to keep walking. It was clearly not fine. George quickly caught up to her. "Just let me help you, Y/N." She sighed, setting down the bag and rubbing her shoulder with a grimace. "Fine. But let me at least carry your bag." George couldn't help but smile at her defiance. He remembered very well how long it took him to convince her to let him help her when she was struggling with something.
When she had started working for Lockwood & Co, she had been friendly but closed off - nothing that George hadn't experienced with Lockwood already. And after all, he himself wasn't known for being the most sociable person either. But something about her had caught his interest from the very first time she had walked through the door of 35 Portland Row. He handed her the much lighter duffle bag he had been carrying and picked up the one with the chains.
At the bus stop, they didn't have to wait too long, but that made their situation only marginally better. The bus that came to a halt in front of them was full, much fuller than one would expect at this time of day. But that's just how it was in the summer months, their work started when it was still light out, and that always meant that much more people were around. They hauled their bags and themselves into the vehicle and past the passengers already sitting inside. It was very apparent that the sight of their filled duffle bags, dark clothing and especially the rapiers that gleamed at their sides made the people around them somewhat uncomfortable. There were only three unoccupied seats left, and when Y/N, who entered the bus last, reached them, they were of course claimed by her colleagues.
It wasn't very comfortable, they had too much stuff with them and the bus was already overfull. "Do you wanna sit down?" George asked her and was already about to get up to let her have his seat, but she shook her head and motioned him to sit back down. "It's fine. I can just sit on the bags." They had stacked the bags to not take up any more space. But before Y/N could find a way to make herself comfortable on them, the bus driver started the engine back up and the bus lurched forward. She stumbled back, losing her grip on the pole she had held onto and landed on George's knees. She immediately started apologizing profusely, embarrassed by their sudden closeness. "It's fine, don't worry", George interrupted her, feeling a little overwhelmed by how flustered he felt all of a sudden.
She didn't try to get up and away from him immediately, and George surprised himself with his boldness as he pulled her closer so that she was on his lap completely. "Just stay here. If that's fine with you", he added hastily, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. Maybe that was a little too forward. He half expected her to jump up and get as far away from him as possible, but instead, she sheepishly nodded and didn't move. George turned his head to look out of the window, and he could feel the stares of both Lucy and Lockwood almost burning holes in the back of his head.
It was quite a long drive to the house they would be working at tonight, and George was happy to notice that Y/N seemed to get more comfortable with every passing minute. Where she was sat straight at the beginning, she was now leaning back against his chest. And again, with a boldness he didn't know he had he wrapped his arms, which had been by his side until now, around her waist and pulled her even closer to him. For a few seconds, his heart felt like it was about to jump out of his chest as he held his breath and waited for her reaction. But she just crossed her arms, placing them on top of his.
They spent the rest of the drive like this, and it was only when they reached the final stop, that George reluctantly pulled away his arms from her to let her get up. She didn't look at him, but her cheeks were pink as she grabbed her bag and dragged it off the bus. They were to only ones to get off at this stop, and so they stood alone on the sidewalk as the bus drove off. George prayed that no one would say anything about what had just happened. Luckily, neither Lucy nor Lockwood seemed to be in the mood for any teasing, though he could still feel them looking at him curiously. He chose to ignore them.
The case was just about as uneventful as he had predicted, and the source of the ghost - the great-aunt's necklace - had been found and cleared pretty quickly. Still, when they arrived back at the bus stop, it was dark. It was obvious that Lockwood still wasn't happy with this kind of travelling, but at least they didn't have to wait too long. This time, the bus was empty - no one besides agents was still outside now. The bus driver looked even more unhappy than Lockwood, and it was clear that he too would have preferred for them to have taken a cab.
But George was convinced that neither of them - neither the bus driver nor Lockwood - was quite as unhappy as he felt when he realised there was absolutely no reason for him and Y/N to repeat the seating arrangement from before. With them being the only four passengers, there were plenty of free seats available. But what somewhat lessened his disappointment, was the fact that Y/N chose the free seat next to him to sit.
Back home in Portland Row, George put on a kettle on the stove. Lockwood and Lucy had excused themselves to bed even though they came back earlier than usual from their case. Y/N on the other hand stayed with him in the kitchen while they waited for the water to boil. She was telling him about something that happened last time she had gone grocery shopping, but while he usually had no problems paying full attention to whatever she was saying, tonight it was different. He couldn't stop thinking about the bus ride. He had known before that he liked her, and that it was very different from how he liked Lockwood and Lucy - but it hadn't been clear to him just how much he liked her. And the way she had reacted to him - it gave him hope that maybe she felt something similar. He filled two cups with the water from the kettle and added the teabags. "Do you wanna sit in the library for a while?", he asked.
Y/N followed him to the library, where he sat down on the couch. She quickly contemplated if she should sit down next to him or if she should opt for the chair next to the couch. After what had happened on the bus, she was entirely unsure about how to act towards George. He smiled at her and she suddenly felt very nervous. Nonetheless, she decided to sit down on the couch, even though that meant they were now sitting very close next to each other. They were silent for a while, both sipping on their tea. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, it never was with them, but something was different than before.
Y/N finished her tea first and put the empty cup back onto the table. She was suddenly feeling very tired, but she liked the way she was sitting so close to George on the couch, and she didn't want this moment it end, even if she didn't exactly know what was between them right now. So instead, she leaned closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder.
George could feel his heartbeat quicken as Y/N leaned against him, and he had to force himself to finish his tea without choking on it. He quickly leaned forward to put his cup on the table as well, but the sudden movement had Y/N sit up straight again. "No no!", he said hastily, cursing himself silently for being so awkward in this moment. "Don't go away. That was nice." He almost bit his tongue. Was that too forward? But Y/N smiled shyly, in a way she had never smiled at him before. She resumed her position, and with his heart beating out of his chest, he slowly put his arm around her shoulder. A part of him was scared that this was too much, but instead of pulling away, she just cuddled closer to him and closed her eyes. "You are right, this is nice", she said quietly smiled as George leaned forward and pressed a kiss on her forehead.
thanks for reading, feedback is appreciated :)
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maraschinomerry · 1 month
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Meddling Git
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Pairings: George Karim x gn!reader
Summary: When George connects with Arif's new shop assistant, Lockwood makes it his mission to make more opportunities for them to meet
Content: fluff, meddling Lockwood, insecurity about agent work, slight mention of blood
A/N: I'm back!! After an unintentional 7 month hiatus, I've finally been inspired to write again! I've also decided to switch from using (name) to y/n if anyone has any opinions on that. Thank you to everyone who shared anniversary/meet content for reminding me how much I love this fandom, and all my love to the multiverse of George chat for giving me so much inspiration and encouragement 💛
Word count: 4k exactly!
Taglist: @neewtmas @marinalor @ettadear @honey-with-tea @mischiefmanaged71 and also tagging @bobbys-not-that-small @bella-rose29 @oblivious-idiot @uku-lelevillain @lewkwoodnco
Lockwood, Lucy and George marched proudly towards Arif's. They'd completed another house call and been tipped generously by the owner, so Lockwood had promised to treat the team to breakfast. Of course, with the first rays of the morning only just beginning to peek through the clouds, there weren't any cafes open yet.
“I'll cook,” George offered, “as long as you buy the ingredients…”
“Of course.”
“...and those strawberry cream doughnuts.”
“Fine,” Lockwood rolled his eyes dramatically. Lucy grinned.
The bell above the door rang out lightly. Only agents would be around at this hour, and Lockwood & Co was the only agency who ever came to Arif's. In fact, their presence was so regular that the boy who worked the morning shift, Max, would greet them before they even came into view. Today, however, the shop remained silent.
“Morning, Max!” Lockwood called over a shelf when the quiet lasted a moment too long. “I don't suppose you have any of the strawb-” He hesitated as the group rounded the corner and finally came into view of the counter.
You frowned a little to yourself at the gentle chime of the bell. Surely there wouldn't be anybody about this early? Though you couldn't see the front door from behind the counter (a bit of a security flaw, you reckoned) there was a small window to your left which showed only the slightest hint of sunlight. Then again, Arif had mentioned a group of agents that would come by often. You weren't aware there was a local agency, but you were so new to both the area and the job that you didn't like to question it. The bell had been followed by overlapping footsteps and more than one hushed voice. Maybe this was them.
“Morning, Max!” one of the voices suddenly spoke up, a little deeper than you expected but unmistakably that of a boy and not a man. The footsteps drew closer. “I don't suppose you have any of the strawb-” At last the owner of the voice appeared from behind a shelf. The words stuttered to a stop, as did the movements of the tall boy in the black overcoat. Behind him, a girl in a blue jumper almost ran into him with the sudden pause.
“You're not Max,” she stated bluntly.
“No, I'm not.”
“Is he…?”
“Moved back to Cornwall with his parents,” you reassured her. You knew what it was like, wondering whether someone's absence meant the Problem had claimed another victim. “I'm y/n.”
“Well,” the boy cut back in with a charming smile, “morning, y/n. I'm Lockwood, this is Lucy, and George is around somewhere. As I was saying, do you happen to have any of those strawberry cream doughnuts?”
You returned his smile with one of your own as you fetched a square box from the chilled cabinet. “You're in luck, but I suppose you'll have to fight over who gets the fourth.”
“We won't,” another boy piped up from the far corner of the shop - George, you assumed. “If I'm making breakfast, I'm calling dibs.” Lucy giggled and you felt yourself suppressing one of your own.
“You'll have to forgive George, he's-” Lockwood began.
“No, no, he's got a point.”
“Finally, somebody gets it!” George's voice sounded triumphant, and much closer than before. After a beat, he arrived and you were able to put a face to the voice.
George was taller than Lucy but a little shorter than Lockwood, with dark curly hair and round glasses. Under his jacket was a vibrantly orange T-shirt, and in his arms he cradled a carton of eggs and a few different vegetables. He shuffled closer, attempting to place the produce on the counter without dropping the eggs but having trapped his hand in too awkward a position to keep a good hold of them.
“Let me,” you found yourself leaning over the counter, your fingers brushing the crook of his elbow as you rescued the carton and set it down gently. The boy blinked at you in surprise before quickly recovering and placing down the bulb of garlic he was holding. “What are you making?”
“Gojeh farangi, a sort of omelette.”
“Sounds good.” You handed him the ingredients, now bagged, and slid the box of doughnuts towards him as well. Lockwood stepped forwards with a handful of cash, and George shrunk back.
“It's been a pleasure meeting you, y/n,” Lockwood gave you another of those smiles. You got the sense he was the head of the team, the diplomat, the charisma. “No doubt we'll see you again.”
“Nice to meet you all too. I'll be here most mornings, in case you want to beat the regular crowd to the good doughnuts.” Without realising, you found yourself directing the latter part to the other boy, and you could have sworn you saw a flush tint his cheeks as he gave a slight smile and a nod of acknowledgement. What you didn't see was the glance exchanged by the other two.
The trio were back at Portland Row, the kitchen filled with the smell of fresh tomatoes and the glow of a job well done.
“Y/n seemed nice,” Lucy remarked as casually as possible.
“Mm,” Lockwood agreed into his cup of tea. “What did you think, George?”
They turned their attention quite unsubtly to their friend at the oven. He stayed with his back to them, and they couldn't be sure it was just because he was focused on breakfast, as he shrugged. “Suppose so. Didn't get much chance to judge.” He turned at last, not making eye contact as he slid two plates across the table.
“Ah well,” Lockwood continued after thanking George, who had turned away to collect his own plate, and he took the opportunity to throw Lucy a conspiratorial wink. “Plenty of time for that.”
Lucy almost choked on her mouthful.
The next day, George was halfway down the main stairs on the way to the training room when Lockwood poked his head out of his room. His hair was dishevelled, the collar of his shirt was wide open and his tie was hanging loosely around his neck.
“Ah, George! Do me a favour and run down to Arif's? We're out of detergent.”
“Why can't you go?”
“I've got that meeting with Mrs Pemberley to go over the details of the case and I'm running late as it is.”
“And Lucy-”
“Has gone to see Barnes.”
“Right.”
George held the door open for an elderly man just leaving the shop before slipping inside. He made his way to the detergent, stopping for a packet of chocolate digestives. Seeing you at the counter made him falter a little. You'd said you worked mornings, but it was almost lunchtime and he thought someone might have taken over by now.
“Oh, hello,” you greeted him cheerily. “Didn't hear you come in. George, right? Are your friends with you?”
“Just me,” George huffed. You picked up on the huff and wondered whether he was just having a bad day. From the small interaction you'd had yesterday, he seemed to get on well with his fellow agents and his annoyance was playfully exaggerated. Was it too soon to play along? You'd only met him yesterday. Then again, it was ordinary enough for shop workers to make conversation with the customers, and you wanted to at least try and make an effort at this new job.
“One of those days?” you prompted.
“Tell me about it.” The response was dry but not sarcastic, and you got the sense that he would have opened up more if he knew you better.
“Surely these will help,” you held up the biscuits as you passed them back to him, which earned you a slight smile. That was all you got, however, as he paid and walked away with only a muttered thanks. For some reason, you found yourself fishing for a way to make him stay and talk more. There weren't many people your age who came by while you were on shift (not many people at all, to be honest), as most of them worked the night shifts and barely went out and about until later in the afternoon. You just wanted someone, anyone, to talk to, and he was right there and getting further away by the second. Plus, you couldn't deny you were intrigued.
“Can I ask you something?” you blurted.
The boy turned, curiosity colouring his gaze. For a moment, you thought he'd still leave, but he came towards you and placed the detergent bottle back on the counter with a thud. You continued, “Which agency do you all work for? I noticed your rapiers yesterday, and Arif mentioned you being in the area, but I wasn't sure where."
George brightened. “We're Lockwood & Co, on Portland Row.”
A few more days passed, and the longer it went on the more George was unable to stop thinking about the new shop assistant. There was something about their question - most people didn't pay much notice to off-duty agents, much less care about which agency they were from. Sure, Arif had mentioned or warned them about Lockwood & Co, so perhaps it was just polite conversation, but they'd seemed genuinely invested in the answer. And with the shop opening in the early hours specifically for agents, it often took someone with Talent of their own to be brave enough to be out so early. Maybe…
His thoughts were interrupted by Lucy wandering into the study. She flopped into the armchair opposite, trying not to pay too much attention when George peered at her over the top of his book.
“Everything okay?” he asked. It wasn't often Lucy joined him for research.
“Lockwood's going to buy food so I thought I'd come and hang out with you. Don't mind me,” she shrugged. George took that rather literally, turning his attention back to the book on his lap. In the distance, they heard the front door open and close again, marking Lockwood's exit.
Lucy spoke again. “Oh, I almost forgot! He said we're out of cornflour but can he just use baking powder instead?”
George's eyes widened, and Lucy heard him mutter something particularly cutting as he dropped his book onto the arm of the chair and darted from the room. Moments later, the front door sounded again.
Lockwood turned in his stride and met George with a sharp grin, almost like he was expecting the other boy to come after him.
“I take it we do need cornflour, then?”
“You're such an idiot.” George fell into step beside him, and the two walked quietly for a while. George wondered whether it was worth going back to the house at all after this or whether to carry on to the Archives; it was early enough in the day that they might not be full yet. At least it would mean not being a part of whatever scheme his friend seemed to be cooking up.
You were greeted by Lockwood remarkably quickly after the bell alerted you to his presence, but he barely got a word in before you apologised, explaining that you hadn't meant to be rude when you first met, you just didn't know the agency to put his name to it.
“It was only when George explained-”
Almost as if you'd summoned him, the curly-haired boy stepped into view and gave you a small nod.
Lockwood's grinned, wider than before. “You didn't tell me you'd been chatting to y/n, mate.” He turned his attention back to you. “You must have quite the impact if you're getting more out of him than I am.”
A glowing warmth spread through your cheeks, and instinctively your eyes flew to George, whose expression reflected your own. The other boy glanced between you both with delight. “I suppose so,” you mumbled. “I was just curious because-”
“You have Talent.” It was George who had spoken, and he moved forward with his gaze levelled on yours. The words were spoken not as a question or a statement, more like a realisation. It struck you that behind the unassuming first impression the boy gave off was a quiet but brilliant intelligence for him to have figured you out so quickly. Very few people ever figured you out at all, especially not about your Talent.
“How did you know?”
George seemed to suddenly realise how close he'd come, practically leaning over the counter to study you; he pulled away and dragged his gaze to his shoes. “Educated guess.”
Lockwood, on the other hand, was having none of it, eyeing you up mischievously. “Don't be so modest,” he elbowed his friend in the ribs. You tried very hard not to fixate on the way the movement tightened his shirt across his chest and waist. “He's not our researcher for nothing, he's a genius.”
George sighed, but his head lifted with a burst of confidence. “I figured you must to feel safe working here before dawn, I just wasn't sure why you're not an agent. Oh, and the iron cross above the counter is new.”
There wasn't a single other person this week who'd noticed the cross you installed on your first day. This boy was really something.
“Wow,” you breathed subconsciously. George's cheeks reddened; this time he was definitely blushing. As for why you weren't an agent, what were you supposed to say? That you were less scared of the Visitors than you were of never finding your place within a team or worse, finding the right people but then losing them? How could you possibly explain that to him? So you didn't, and after a few more pleasantries Lockwood headed for the door. George threw you a backwards glance and a small wave, and the butterflies that had appeared in your stomach waved back.
Lockwood was positively beaming as they stepped out into the midday sun. Golden rays danced across his face, the air was mild, a soft breeze ruffled through his coat. It was all far too cheerful.
“What's got into you?” George frowned. “I haven't seen you this happy since we watched Kipps fall over his own rapier.”
“Am I not allowed to be happy?” Lockwood feigned outrage, clutching his chest. “And it's you that I'm happy for!”
George stopped. “What?”
“Come on, I've known you long enough to see there's something between you and y/n. Why don't you ask them out?”
“It's not like that! We've only spoken a couple of times, I don't know them well enough for anything like that.”
“If you say so…”
God, Lockwood was insufferable. He'd abandoned all subtlety, and it was driving George up the wall.
The smell of strong black coffee drifted up the stairs as George drifted down them. Lockwood had booked a big case for that night with absolutely no background information, so he'd spent the whole night on initial research. Hopefully caffeine would keep him awake long enough to get through the day.
Lucy was standing by the toaster, wielding a butter knife and humming to herself. George slumped into his usual chair with a groan.
“Coffee? Toast?” she offered.
“Please.”
“Sorry,” Lockwood appeared from the basement. “That's the last of the bread, you'll need to pick up more while you're out today.”
“You're joking,” George looked up. “There's still three slices in the bag there.” This was the third time this week he'd pulled something like this. The first was ‘accidentally’ stepping on an entire packet of biscuits. The second was announcing the milk was off, pouring it down the drain before anyone could check with enough force that it splashed back and went all over his trousers. And now this.
Lucy opened her mouth to respond, but Lockwood was faster. Before anyone could react, he pulled out the remaining slices, folded them all in half and took a massive bite. When he unfolded them, it left a gaping hole down the middle of all three slices, which he held up and peeked through triumphantly.
“You're ridiculous,” George scowled.
“ ‘m miwwian’” Lockwood mumbled around the wad of bread in his mouth.
George wanted to put his foot down. He didn't want to let Lockwood win. He knew he'd be so smug about it. But he also knew that every time he was sent to Arif's he stayed a little longer, talked a little more, watched you smile a little brighter. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he'd started looking forward to being sent out for things.
“Oh hey, Georgie!” Your face lit up when he entered the shop, and he smiled back. You weren't sure when you'd started calling him Georgie, he'd been here so often it was hard to tell which day was which any more. Not that you were complaining - he was easy to talk to, more interested in your Talent than anyone else had been, understanding when you'd finally explained your concerns about becoming an agent, and undeniably cute on top of all that. “What do you need today?”
“A boss who's not a meddling git,” he scowled dramatically, “...and milk.”
“I can only help with the second one,” you teased as you made your way out to the shop floor. Speaking to him from behind a counter felt so impersonal now, so you'd taken to wandering round the shop with him. You really hoped he didn't think you were overstepping or anything. As far as you knew, he thought of you as just the shop assistant, nothing more. You hoped it was more than that, could be more at least.
Another customer came and went, and George was still there, enraptured by your opinions on the Problem. He'd taken up a stance leaning against the shelves, one hand tucked into his pocket and looking the most relaxed you'd seen him since that first time he came into the shop. A light smile played across his face as he watched you hop onto the counter, not breaking your train of thought at all.
“I should get on before my shift finishes,” you sighed eventually. George immediately stepped forward and offered his hand to help you climb back down. His skin was warm and slightly calloused. You stumbled a little as you hit the ground and his other hand flew to your elbow, eyes scanning yours in concern.
“Thanks,” you murmured, painfully aware of how close you were. You'd put your hand out to steady yourself; it was clutching at the soft fabric of his orange plaid shirt. His eyes met yours once more and you both hastily pulled away.
“I'd better get back,” he cleared his throat.
“To the meddling git?”
He chuckled, a low sound which rumbled pleasantly in his chest. “Exactly. We're, um, we're out on another case tonight, but I'll see you soon, okay?”
“I hope so,” you replied, hoping he knew you didn't just mean because he made it back safely. “We'll have those doughnuts you like again tomorrow, if you're back in time.”
“I'll definitely be here for that,” he grinned.
It had been a hell of a night. The man who hired them had tried to bolster his ego by downplaying how intense the Visitors were. ‘A couple of Type 1s’ had turned out to be three particularly vicious Type 2s and it had taken until dawn to neutralise all the sources. The team emerged into the dewy morning covered in dust, rubble and, in George's case, blood. He'd taken a piece of debris to the face and, while it wasn't a serious injury, it had left him with a small cut which throbbed when he spoke. They were quite far from home too, and it was almost midday before they made it back to Portland Row.
George flopped onto a sofa in the living room as soon as they were through the door, while Lucy fetched the first aid kit. She sat down next to him, clicking open the case, and her face paled even more than it had with the exhaustion.
“We're out of antiseptic.”
“Lockwood,” George glared at his friend. He really wasn't in the mood.
“This isn't me this time! Look, you stay here and rest, I'll go and get more. Anything else we need?”
George pushed himself up to his feet. At least venting to you might make him feel better, and you had promised him doughnuts. “It's fine, I'll go.” Lockwood glanced at Lucy, taken aback by his insistence. He'd only been teasing George about going to see you, he never expected it to actually work.
“Please tell me you've still got those doughnuts, y/n,” George groaned as he pushed open the door to Arif's.
“Sorry,” came the reply from a voice distinctly unlike yours, as Arif glanced up from the shelf he was reorganising. “They took the last box at the end of their shift, maybe ten minutes ago.”
The last glimmer of hope that George had harboured fizzled out in his chest. Of course there was going to be no silver lining to the day. He was tired, he was hurt, and he didn't even get the doughnuts he'd been holding out for. Worse than that, though, he finally admitted to himself (and practically to his friends too) that he wanted to see you, that he liked you, and for what? Of course you weren't, you'd finished work and why on earth would you stick around just in case he showed up? It was unreasonable, he knew, but he couldn't help but feel disappointed. He'd have to wait until tomorrow, when he'd recovered a bit and could have a proper chat to you about everything. Ranting with Lockwood and Lucy was alright - they'd been there, they knew what he went through - but you were so gentle and understanding with him every time that he was desperate to hear your thoughts.
A figure on the steps of 35 Portland Row made George stop in his tracks. A new client, perhaps. Nothing unusual there.
The figure turned.
“Georgie?”
His face split into a grin the instant he recognised you. You'd changed out of your plain uniform into more casual clothes. The vibrant colours made you look almost radiant.
“Y/n, what are you doing here?”
You shuffled awkwardly on the step, suddenly aware of just how much of a risk you were about to take.
“When you didn't show up this morning… well, I was worried about you on the case. And I know I said I was scared of becoming an agent in case I made friends with my team and then lost them, but I realised I could just as easily lose you like this and I'd never get to really know…” George watched you in awe, silently gravitating closer with every breath. Your own breath was trembling, the sound of it echoing from your chest up to your ears. Finally, he was close enough that you noticed the stark red line on his cheek. “Oh my god, you're hurt.” Just imagining him in pain sent ice through your veins.
“I'm okay,” he assured you gently. “Just a scratch. I've just been to Arif's for antiseptic and…” he looked almost as nervous to speak as you, “I missed seeing you.”
You wanted to reach out to him, to take his hand or hug him close, but instead you held up the box you'd forgotten you were holding. “Me too. I brought those doughnuts just in case, figured you might need the extra one.”
His expression softened. “It's not an extra if you're here. I mean, if you want? You could come in and we can share them with the rest of the team.” Team. He gave you a look that showed he meant the implication behind it. You were one of them now, if you wanted to be. With a smile, you wound the fingers of your free hand into his and allowed him to lead you into the house.
118 notes · View notes
warrenposts · 1 year
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I'll never get over the fact that George's Fight vs Flight leans towards Fight.
Wasted 0 seconds before throwing hands ✋
734 notes · View notes
klineinie · 1 year
Note
Hello !! I just finished lockwood & co and I’m obsessed so I’d love to request smth :D
Reader has lived in the apartment to the left of Lockwood & co for about a year. The way it’s set up in my head is like readers apartment has a mirrored layout to lockwoods, so their kitchens share that one wall. There’s a door that connects to the others apartment through the kitchen like how some duplex’s have that yk ? The idea of the fic is like it’s showing how Readers relationship with Lockwood (& co) grows through that door. Like they meet when reader knocks on it to ask for a cup of flour or because they need help getting a spider out of the kitchen. Then bringing them baked goods later to thank them. Also probably telling them to shut the ever loving fuck up at 3am because some of us do not want to hear about ghosts when trying to sleep. This is kind of a huge mess but I think it makes sense ? This is meant to be a platonic fic mainly between reader & George but anything is great !! 👾
— knock knock. who's there?
lockwood & co. + (gn + neighbor) reader
disclaimers; cockroach. it's all i can say
a/n; anon the way you literally just described half the plot to my hiraeth series haha &lt;;33333
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The familiar acrid smell was starting to seep through the cracks of the door connecting both kitchens, followed by a familiar muffled adolescent voice squawking expletives. You banged on the wooden hatch aggressively.
"Excuse me- George Casper Karim better not be broiling a certain ghost jar at eight in the morning! I'm eating breakfast, for gawd's sake!" you shouted at the thin wall.
"He's a bit annoyed right now, but I'm sure he's sorry," another voice called through the door. "Aren't you, George?"
"Shove off, Lockwood," the other boy snarked, "I apologize, (name), for your terrible tolerance to the scent of baked goods."
"Dumbass, it's not even edible," you muttered grumpily.
++
You sipped at your mug of English Breakfast, enjoying a warm cup of tea while annotating yet another novel. Your eyes skimmed over a paragraph that made your eyes widen in excitement, and you quickly grabbed a pen, underlining the section. You were about to use your highlighter to add emphasis, when something next door thumped.
"OW, FUCK!"
You closed your eyes in exasperation and walked to the adjoined kitchen door, knocking on it yet again.
"Should I call DEPRAC, an ambulance or both?"
"Sorry, dropped the skull on my foot," George said in a strained voice.
"Neither, then. But for the sake of my soul, please don't bake that silver-glass again!"
"I'm just putting it away!"
"Good," you retreated back to your book and tea for a short time before the smell started to reach your nose again. "George!"
"I never said I wasn't putting it away in the oven!"
++
The eggs had been separated, whites in the fridge and yolk in the mixing bowl. Baking powder, cream of tartar, sugar, vegetable oil, vanilla and lemon extract had all been gathered in the right amounts in their respective bowls- ah, that's right, you were missing the flour. You reluctantly slumped over to that door and knocked on it gently.
A girl's voice answered. "Yes?"
"Oh. You're new. Do you happen to have cake flour?"
Shuffling and cupboard hinges creaking.
"Uh, not cake flour, but is all-purpose alright?"
"That'd be amazing," you chuckled. The door unlocked and swung open slightly, a bag of flour poking through the gap. A red haired girl stared back shyly.
"Hi, I'm Lucy."
"I'm (name). Are you new?"
"Yes, I just got hired recently," she smiled.
You returned the gesture kindly. "Good luck with those two. And please, if you see George messing with the skull, make sure he doesn't start baking it again."
Her face twisted in confusion. "Okay?"
++
You tapped lightly on the door later that day, precariously balancing a tray of chiffon cake held between your hip and hand. "Hello?"
The door opened just a smidge, letting a familiar red head of hair peek through. "Oh, (name). Do you need anything?"
"Can I come in?" you asked. Lucy turned and conversed with someone in hushed tones before opening the door wider to let you in.
"Oh?" George hummed curiously. You set the tray down on their table and pulled out a butter knife.
"This, my friend, is a chiffon," you said, slicing a piece for each of the three. Lockwood bit into the spongy cake, closing his eyes in bliss.
"It's amazingly good."
"Why thank you, Lockwood," you quickly ran to retrieve something from your side of the kitchen wall. "By the way, would anybody like to try some of this loose tea I bought?" you shook the tin can "I placed an order for Vietnamese oolong, it's quite good."
The company's eyes widened, staring at the tin like it was an expensive ancient relic.
"Yes," George blurted, getting up to put the kettle on.
++
You squeaked in fright, backing against the counter at the sight of a cockroach under the table. Slowing inching towards the adjoining door, you pounded on in furiously while keeping an eye on the insect's movements.
"What? I'm not even baking anything!" George's annoyed voice uttered through the wood.
"There's a roach under my table," you hissed urgently. He sighed and retreated.
'prat just abandoned me like that,' you thought, irritated. The door opened suddenly, causing you to stumbled back and almost fall.
"Where was it again?" the bespectacled boy asked indifferently, holding a long broom and a spray bottle.
"Under the table. What's in there?"
He sighed, shuffling into your house. "Soapy water," he shook the bottle, "it suffocates as a result of a soap film entrapping the body."
"Wow. That's dark," you chuckled as George sprayed the pest, waiting for a few moments before sweeping it away into a trash can.
"There," he disappeared into his side and came back with a bag of diatomaceous earth, sprinkling it in the crevices of your kitchen, "problem solved. Call again for clean up if there's more."
He began to shuffle back when you stopped him.
"Thank you, George."
"You're welcome," he mumbled tiredly, "just don't try to break our door next time."
747 notes · View notes
lady-ashfade · 1 year
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Lockwood & co x reader crack
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Warnings: Sexual jokes, just some incorrect quotes and things i find funn, and swearing. Nothing to bad…But there is some that I will warn you about the have sexual things, 
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*3am while the team researches a case and making plans*
Y/n opnes her mouth and everyone groans: You don’t even know what I was going to say.
Lockwood: It’s never good, plus you’re tired and we all know how your brain gets.
Y/n: It was a question, one that has been on my mind.
George actually proud she wants to know something new: And what would that be?
Y/n: So a spirit can get attached to anything, and it can be its source?
George nods*
Y/n: So that means a dildo can be a source.
Lucy hits her head on the table.
Lockwood sighs and pinches his nose.
George throws his book at her.
*****************
Y/n trying to convince lockwood to let her do a case alone*
Y/n: I’ve solved a lot of cases for us.
Lockwood: And yet cases continue to come in.
Y/n: Alright. * Leaves*
*****************
The team in a house searching for clues then they all hear screaming*
Y/n running passed them: She doesn’t like to be called hot- Or maybe it was the milf part-* Gets something thrown at her*
Lockwood: Then stop saying shit like that!
*****************
George walking out of his room in a big t-shirt and no pants
Y/n: But when I take off my shirt it’s a big deal!
Lockwood: I have no rules about that.
Lucy: Me either-
George: Can’t I get one night of peace-
*****************
Y/n sitting on the couch with a book in her hands
George walks in and stops midway and backs up slowly and runs away.
*Five minutes later they are all standing at the doorway watching y/n likes she’s a alien*
Lockwood with his hand going for the rapier: Y/n, what are you doing?
Y/n looks up: I found this cool picture book, look at this shit. * Holds it up and shows a picture of some dinosaurs*
They all sigh in relief knowing she never reads-Or unsure if she can actually read.
*****************
Lockwood: Does anyone have a idea on how to get inside?
Y/n raises their hand
George: Without slides or trampolines.
Y/n puts her hand back down
Lockwood nods: Okay-
 *****************
George reading and sensing he’s being watched and looks over to see y/n staring at him
George: What?
Y/n: You’re really pretty.
George: wHAt? * Voice crack*
*****************
Them all get ready for the dance and y/n walks in with red lipstick
Lucy: Woah! What lipstick is that?
Y/n: Cursed wife.
Lucy: Can I have some?
Y/n nods: Sure! * Walks over to her and kisses her lips and walks off like nothing happened*
Lockwood and George and even Lucy are confused
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tigerf00d · 7 months
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UNBEARABLE
George Karim x Fem!Reader
Tags: Smut! Aged up characters obv :), no use of y/n, all of Lockwood & Co., Brief Quill Kipps interaction.
6.7k words
a/n: I love George and just had to get in on the fun.. crossposted on ao3 as well, so if you've come from there and already read this, hi!
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George Casper Karim was unbearable. There’s simply no other way to put it.
His big stupid head was always getting in your way, correcting you, and complaining when you forgot who took the biscuit last and helped yourself. You could hear him in your head, “Really, you ought to have gotten it by now!”
But oh, how you loathe to admit that you needed him, how helpful it was when he ironed your clothes before a client came round, and the comfort of coming home from a particularly draining case to warm food placed wordlessly in front of you.
And he could be sweet. He could. As uncomfortable with touch as he was, he’d brush your shoulder with his hand if he could tell you really needed it; he’d stand close on cold nights walking home, Lockwood and Lucy would too, but they readily shared their space like that, George didn’t.
It didn’t help that sometimes you’d catch yourself watching his side profile as he researched or the quiet admittance that he looked like an Angel as the sun illuminated his hair in a halo of curls as he helped you up after tripping and landing on the pavement, even though he was laughing at you.
There were just no other words. He was unbearable. You had the inability to bear him.
You wanted to take him by the shoulders and shake him so hard his world spun so he could feel just a fraction of what he did to you. Shrink him down, trap him in your pocket, and feed him to his heart’s content so he is always warm, safe, and happy. Ugh, he was just the worst. Ever.
So it’s safe to say you have no idea why you agreed to this.
Rotwell’s was holding its annual celebration, and Lockwood & Co was invited. Well, most of Lockwood & Co, Skull obviously couldn’t come, no matter how annoyingly they asked. Despite the agency not being in any immediate danger, for once, Lockwood still deemed it essential to be partially undercover to try and snoop out new cases that were particularly interesting (read: dangerous, life-threatening or otherwise malignant), and for some reason that meant George and you had to be a couple for the evening.
Anthony Lockwood wouldn’t get to be a ghost. You were sure of it. He was going straight to hell. Sorry, Luce.
“I’m going to die.” The pillow muffled your voice as you lay face down in Lucy’s bed,
“Oh, come on, it can’t be that bad.”
“It’s not like you’ve had to pretend to date one of them, Lucy.”
“Well…”
You stared at the girl opposite you, “He’s… done this before…?”
She nodded solemnly, betrayed by her eyes sparkling with mirth. Groaning, you rolled back over.
“Did you have to be with George?”
“No, mine was with Lockwood.”
Deep down, you refused to admit that that made you pleased. If she had said otherwise, it might have stoked useless jealousy in the pit of your stomach.
After a moment, you sat up, nodding and looking at what was prepared for tonight. You thankfully had a nice dress already, a velvet cranberry coloured thing with mesh sleeves that opened at the elbow and draped elegantly. It'd been a gift as congratulations on joining the agency and moving out from your family. Lucy had painted your nails with some sheer iridescent polish, matching the shine to the silver on your accessories.
George’s outfit remained to be seen, but the way Lockwood smiled when you showed what you’d be wearing, it matched somehow.
“Uhm, Luce?”
“Yes?”
“What– what is that?”
That was the two-piece set on top of your dress, but it was clearly meant to be worn beneath.
“Oh.” She smiled awkwardly, “There was a two-for-one sale.”
“I see.” Accepting this, you picked the garments up, and she turned back to fixing her makeup. “How did you know my size?”
She froze.
“Lucy?”
“You aren’t gonna like it.”
“What did you do!”
“You aren’t the… only one that does your laundry.”
George.
You turned to face her fully, “You. You.” The words wouldn’t come out.
“It’s fine! He just checked for me quickly. He probably doesn’t even remember.”
Eyes unblinking, you stared at her. “I don’t think I can do this.” having said that, you flung yourself back onto the bed.
“You don’t even have to wear it, I just saw that the colour I picked out matched your dress, so I put it out for you. Please get up.” She pleaded. “I don’t think I told him what it was for, either,” she was speaking like she was conversing with a wild animal.
Relenting, you got back up. “These feel expensive.”
“Hence the two-for-one,”
“They won’t show under my dress?”
Lucy grinned wolfishly, “The plan is to be hidden until the last moment, so no. They’re pretty comfortable too. I’ve worn mine a few times.”
“Oh ew, Lucy.”
“All I’m saying is it’s a hit for both parties.”
You couldn’t help but make a face.
“Not that George will be seeing them, anyway… but I guess it’s good to be in the right state of mind…”
She dragged out the E in “Exactly.”
✧☽────•⋆°˖⋅✹⋅˖°⋆
You felt pretty. The lingerie did match your dress nicely and fit perfectly, you noted with mixed emotions. And your hair, makeup and accessories all seemed to be working together and playing nicely for once.
“Don’t you two look excellent!” Lockwood said, sidling beside Lucy and giving her an affectionate kiss on the cheek, “Come here; I want to look at you both properly.”
You did as he said, pretending to be doing it unwillingly but feeling very pleased inside.
“Yeah? D’you think it’ll go with George’s?”
“Oh, you haven’t seen him yet, have you?”
You shook your head no, and he turned to holler the other man’s name through the house. George, to his credit, arrived very shortly after. You half expected him to be in a too-big dress shirt and borrowed pants, but you were begrudgingly surprised.
“Oh.” You whispered.
“Oh?” George answered from the doorway.
His suit was a rich burgundy, and while you wore silver, he wore a simple gold chain. The shirt was off-white and a wispy ghost-patterned teal tie.
“You look smart.” You provided.
“I am smart.” He deadpanned.
To that, you rolled your eyes, “You know what I mean. You look good. Clean up well. Whatever,” you averted your gaze and waved your hand in an ‘and so on’ motion. You could feel your face warming, avoiding Lucy’s all-too-knowing expression.
“Ah. Thanks,” and after a moment, he quietly added, “Your dress is nice.”
“Thank you.” You looked up to see his eyes already waiting to meet yours, goosebumps dancing on your skin in reaction.
Lockwood groaned loudly.
“Shut up, Lockwood.” Lucy chided.
“Are they going to be like this all night?”
George broke his gaze first, turning his attention to the taller man. “You’re the one that wanted us to be dating.”
Temporarily throwing your nerves to the wind, you decided that maybe you could have fun with this. You walked to stand beside him, dramatically throwing an arm around him before facing Lockwood and Lucy, “Yeah, what my honey said!”
“My honey?” George questioned, a confused smile on his face.
“We need pet names. If we were really dating, I’d settle for nothing less.” You smiled resolutely, then added. “You don’t like honey? What about… snookums?” He shook his head. “Sweetie pie? Light of my life? My heart? All I hold dearest?” He shook his head no to each one, pausing at my heart, which you would definitely be filing away for later.
“Any normal one like love or babe will do fine, thanks.”
“You spoil my fun, love.”
Distantly, you could hear Anthony retch as Lucy and George sent him twin glares.
“What about you?”
“Hm?”
“Well, you need a pet name too, don’t you?” He asked, and you realised that you hadn’t really put much thought into it. You tried to think back to things on tv or in books.
“Um, I’m not sure. What do you think?”
The pair of you continued to ponder when you stumbled on the memory of when he’d made you both laugh so hard your sides hurt.
You’d gone to Arif’s with him, eating one of the doughnuts as you walked back to 35 Portland Row when you’d unexplainably dropped it and, in your effort to catch it mid-tumble, tripped on a gap in the concrete and fell yourself.
Annoyed and hurt, you’d looked up at George to see him already offering a hand to help you up, but he was laughing. And as much as you wanted to pout, his laughter was infectious. The sun behind his head illuminating the edges of his hair and the sides of his face, which had a chocolate smear and sprinkles on either side of his mouth from his own doughnut, and you couldn’t help but laugh too. The memory made you smile even now.
“What about angel?” You said softly.
“Angel? I can do that.” He nodded, eyes narrowed in curiosity, having noted your mood shift.
With a clap, Lockwood announced, “Great, well, now that that’s settled, we better get going. The gala starts soon, and we wouldn’t want you two lovebirds to miss your first public appearance as a couple.”
You made a face alongside George.
“No… we wouldn’t want that… not at all…”
✧☽────•⋆°˖⋅✹⋅˖°⋆
The gala was bustling. Rotwell’s was flaunting a new hall they had built recently, a temporary centrepiece to the room being a large fountain that was probably meant to be some sort of vase but ended up looking like an urn overflowing.
Standing at the entrance nervously, you felt George’s hand slip into your own, and you tilted your head in silent question, to which he’d shrugged and simply said, “Looked like you needed it.”
You smiled gratefully and began walking in, greeting a few people you only sort of knew and avoiding the ones you wanted to.
“So, what’s the plan again?”
“Lockwood wants us to schmooze, basically. Find out what the top agencies are interested in. Personally, I want to know what technology is coming out soon.”
“Course you do, babe.”
His eyes flicked to yours briefly before focusing ahead once more.
“So…” You started nervously, “Who to speak to first?”
“Rather the devil you know?” He answered, and you saw him nod his head to the left, which made you turn and see Quill Kipps walking straight for you.
You smiled at the offending man before turning to your date and whispering, “Great…” smiling wider when you realised that George held back a snort of amusement.
“Fancy seeing you two here tonight. I don’t suppose Lockwood’s here.”
“He’s around somewhere. Why d’you ask Kipps?”
“Oh, nothing.” He was pretending to be distracted. That much was obvious. “You look good, by the way.”
That was not what you were expecting. You could feel George wrap his arm around your waist, the palm of his hand warm on your hip, and you could tell that the action wasn’t unnoticed by the other man.
“I– Thank you, Quill.”
He nodded, then answered your earlier question,
“I’m surprised he’d let you off without a short leash, is all, after what happened last time.”
The last time he was referring to was you shouting rather angrily at someone holding up the line at the toilets, who happened to be an honoured guest of that event. Not your finest moment, and the reminder caused your cheeks to heat furiously.
“Well, he did, something about my George being able to keep me in line.” You smiled fondly at George as you worked your budding relationship into the conversation.
“Not that they need to be kept in line, anyway.” He added.
“Ah, well.” Kipps nodded in faux disinterest before tacking on, “Never thought someone would go for you, Karim. But I suppose desperate times call for desperate measures.”
George opened his mouth to retort, but you interrupted before he got the chance,
“Excuse you? What did you just say about my boyfriend?”
Quill seemed genuinely surprised at your aggression, floundering to come up with a witty remark as you continued.
“I’ll have you know that your failure to recognise his brilliance is going to bite you in the arse one day. He is more caring, more funny– more intelligent than you will ever be.” You turned to George, who was wearing a similarly surprised expression, “C’mon love, let’s go speak to someone who won’t behave so rudely.”
And with that, you pulled him off to somewhere secluded, shadow barely disguising the two of you as your own expression slipped, revealing your nerves. “Was that ok? I didn’t push it, did I?”
“No, no, you were great. Very believable…” He trailed off, “Did you really mean that?”
“What? Of course, I meant it. I wouldn’t have said it otherwise.”
He nodded wordlessly, not making eye contact. “Well, it definitely started the rumour mill. At this rate, we’ll be in one of Lockwood’s gossip columns by the end of the week.” You followed his eye line to see Kipps speaking to another agent and glancing at the pair of you, and you groaned, resting your head on George’s shoulder.
“Should we put on a show for them?” There was something about the way he said it that you knew meant trouble.
“You’re starting to sound like our fearless leader.”
He huffed at that, but you could tell it wasn’t without humour.
“Just trust me, yeah?”
You moved your head and looked into his eyes.
“I already do.”
He pulled you until your back was against the wall, and his back was to the crowd. His face was so close now. Had he always had a freckle there? It was so cute… Oh please, please don’t be thinking he was cute right now. You made eye contact, and he smiled reassuringly, murmuring, “Trust me.” His expression went serious once more before leaning down and kissing just below your ear, causing you to make a small noise of pleasant surprise. You felt his lips curve into a smile when he kissed you lower against the side of your neck.
“George.” his name came out more breathily than you had hoped. Another soft kiss, barely grazing the skin this time.
“Yes, angel?”
“I think. I think you’ve made your point.”
“One more for good luck.”
Surprising you with his boldness, he kissed you again before standing up straight and reverted to his usual awkward forwardness.
“I, um, didn’t want to kiss your lips in case that wasn’t alright with you, first.”
“So you… kissed my neck?”
“It’s more intimate than kissing your cheek.” He said as a way of answer.
“True.” You conceded. “And for future reference, I’m ok with kissing as long as you are.”
He nodded but didn’t continue, turning around to the sea of people and searching for the other members of the agency.
“Should we see what the others got up to? Hopefully, they spoke to someone better than we did.”
George did a thin smile before turning back and saying, “I think I can see Lockwood and Lucy.”
“Lead the way.”
As you walked behind him, you couldn’t help but gingerly raise a hand to touch where he’d kissed you last.
“So, how lucky have you two been?” You asked the other couple, and Lucy smirked.
“Not as lucky as you. I saw that.”
“Saw what?” Lockwood asked, and she rolled her eyes.
“Those two necking it in the corner.”
“What?! And you didn’t point it out? How could you, Lucy? I thought we loved each other.”
“I’ll have you know those were tactical kisses.” George butt in.
“Yes. Kipps was rather rude, and Georgie here was displaying gratitude for me defending his honour.”
Anthony grimaced at the mention of the other agent but brightened again, “Defended his honour?”
“Apparently, I’m caring, funny, and intelligent.”
You were either on fire or just embarrassed.
“Why’d you go and tell him that? Now he’s going to get a big head.”
“Bigger than yours?” You quipped, and Lucy smiled. “And it’s true, anyway.” You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant.
“Hence us ‘necking’ in the corner,” George added. “More fuel for the gossip train.”
“Besides, it’s not like getting kissed was terrible.”
“Oh really?” Lucy raised a brow at you, and you silently tried to blow her up with your mind and then yourself for bringing it up. Out of the corner of your vision, you saw George studying your face.
“And it’s good for our cover.” You deflected, watching her eyes glint as a silent reminder that this conversation was not over.
“You didn’t happen to bring makeup with you, did you?” Lockwood asked, suddenly distracting you.
“Uh, no. Why?”
“Just that ol’ loverboy may have overdone it.”
At that, you slapped a hand over your neck, “George Casper Karim, did you give me a hickey?” You hissed. Surely you would have noticed, and Anthony was just ribbing you.
George rubbed his neck awkwardly, “I– maybe? I couldn’t tell ‘cause we were in the dark, and now you’re covering it.”
You turned to Lucy and Lockwood with pleading eyes, Lucy shaking with repressed silent laughter.
“He staked his claim.” That was all you got out of her.
Hesitantly you removed your hand and tilted your head to George in resignation.
“Oh yeah, there it is.” He brushed two fingers over the tender spot so casually, in a way that melted your insides had you not been so mortified.
“George!”
“My bad,” he added apologetically.
Lockwood smiled ruthlessly. “Well, now there’s no doubt about who’s dating who.”
“This is maybe the most embarrassed I’ve ever been.”
“I thought the kissing wasn’t so bad.” Lucy teased.
“It wasn’t, but now I’m going to have to cover it up to leave the house.”
“Or don’t.” George shrugged, and you looked at him. That, combined with the continued hold around your waist was definitely another thing to file away, even when in a fake relationship, George was a little possessive. “‘S not the worst state anyone’s ever seen us in.”
“But what if Arif asks?”
Anthony and Lucy stared at you quizzically. Silently asking, ‘That’s what you’re worried about?’
“Just tell him I gave it to you.” he paused as if remembering that the circumstances weren’t exactly common, “For a case.”
You nodded defeatedly.
“I suppose.”
“Besides.” George had that look in his eye. “You’re the one that liked it.”
Causing the others to laugh as you swatted his arm.
“And you didn’t? One more for good luck?” You reminded him. And he smiled in a way that had heat stirring in your belly.
“I think that was the good luck one,” and he touched the side of your neck again before letting the arm fall to his side. And you struggled not to react so visibly that the others would tease you for it, avoiding Lucy’s eyes specifically.
Something in the air tonight was making George cheeky and touchy, and it was turning you into a swooning damsel. To combat this, you rolled your eyes at his smile, turning to your friends and wrapping an arm around George’s as a tether at the same time.
“But really, did you find anything out?”
“Not much, no,” Lockwood answered.
“He’s lying. Someone from Fittes said that Satchell’s is going to be coming out with some kind of iron tape so that we can do perimeters easier. But that’s still in development.”
Your focus drifted in and out as she recounted what they’d learnt, Lockwood and George’s infrequent additions sometimes catching your attention as you gazed at the closest reflective surface you could, trying to catch a glimpse of the lovebite he’d given you.
“Hello? Is anybody home?” Lucy was waving a hand in front of your face.
“Sorry, what was that?”
“I asked what you’d thought of going to the archives with George and me tomorrow, research some of that case I was just talking about.”
She’d been talking about a case? Oops.
“Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry, I think I’m just more tired than I realised.”
She looked at you suspiciously but ultimately relented. “Ok. I’m about done for the night, too. Lockwood?”
“I’m more than happy with how tonight’s turned out. I’ll have to figure out how we can use you two to get more cases.”
You looked at George worriedly and saw him reflect your expression.
✧☽────•⋆°˖⋅✹⋅˖°⋆
The cab ride home made you realise how overwhelming the gala had been, even in the short time you’d been present. When you’d gotten home, you’d changed almost immediately. You truly were tired of being there, at the very least. And damn it. You were getting all worked up again thinking about earlier. You closed your door, too distracted to notice it didn’t click shut as usual.
Whilst you had changed out of the dress and bra, you couldn’t be bothered to change out of the underwear, vowing to properly clean yourself in the morning and into your comfiest pyjamas. The night was warm enough for cotton shorts, a loose top covering your torso.
Thus faces your new dilemma.
Trying to calm yourself and focus on something other than the sexual tension so suddenly evident between yourself and George without acknowledging tonight’s event, which is precisely how you ended up with a hand in your pyjama shorts.
Your hands moved lower, under the lingerie Lucy had so graciously gifted you— fuck, don’t think about her right now.
You bite your lip to stop a whimper, panting heavily as your fingers move against you as you try to recall the way he’d repeatedly placed an arm around you possessively tonight, the warmth of his hand against your hip still being fresh in your memory.
Vaguely, you could hear footsteps in the hallway, trying to be quieter as you continued to work yourself and resuming once you thought you heard the footsteps fade.
Your eyes squeezed shut, imagining it was George’s between your legs.
Maybe you’d be able to run your hand through his hair and see how soft it was for yourself as he went down on you.
Moaning softly as you tipped your head back onto your pillow, exposing the very neck he’d kissed earlier, and if you focused, you could feel his answering smile against the column of flesh.
“G.. ge-“
You couldn’t bring yourself to finish stuttering out the whisper of his name, trying to imagine what his touches could have been if you’d both not been fully clothed. Wishing that you hadn’t stopped him earlier to see truly how far he would have gone.
The sound of your door swinging broke through your thoughts, your hand stopping as you paused, opening one eye slowly to see George leaning smugly against the doorframe. Your legs clenched together.
“No, please, don’t stop on my account.”
You let out a long, low groan, sliding your hands out of your shorts and rolling over to hide your burning cheeks in your bed.
“How long?”
“Long enough.”
You groaned again. This was beyond embarrassing. It was humiliating. Sure, he’d been in various states of undress around you. But that was just normal stuff, coming out of his room not wearing pants, he’s done that around everyone, and he certainly hadn’t been caught pleasuring himself by the person he was jerking off thinking of.
“You. You should’ve knocked. You can’t just come in!”
George huffed a laugh, “Your door was unlocked, and you weren’t answering. I wanted to see if you needed anything washed to go to the archives tomorrow.”
He paused, apparently intent on enjoying the moment, “But it seems you need a hand with something else, don’t you, angel?”
You would have to move to another country. Wales could always use agents, right? Surely? Maybe there you could find some other hot guy to pine over and hope he gave you his affection. Because this was getting to the point of mortification.
George chuckled, and you heard the floorboards creak, then felt the bed dip down. Your eyes widened where you were hiding your face. Was he sitting on your bed?
“I take back what I said earlier, this is officially the most embarrassed I’ve ever been.”
“Look at me, please?”
Slowly, you turned your head to face him. His expression was unlike anything you’d seen from him yet, he looked like he was going to eat you alive.
“You don’t need to be embarrassed. We all do it.”
He said matter-of-factly, and despite yourself, you nodded.
“Even you?” You wrinkled your nose and made a face of mock surprise, which had him wryly looking at you.
“I’m not going to answer that.” He said, moving further up your bed, gesturing for you to sit up.
“What are you doing?” Your eyes narrowed as you watched him, face still hot despite him assuring you.
Surprisingly forward tonight, George hummed. “Well… clearly, I interrupted you while you were doing something you needed to finish.” He paused, readjusting your pillow. “And I’d really like to help you finish. If that’s alright with you.” One of his hands touched the bare skin on your thigh, watching your reaction for any hesitation.
“That’s alright with me.”
It was astounding how quickly your embarrassment had snapped back into arousal.
You shuffled closer to the centre of the bed, and he slotted himself behind you. His legs wrapped around your own as he pulled your torso so that your back was flush with his chest.
You swallowed hard.
“Are you sure, angel?”
“Yes. Please.”
His face was just beside your head, above your right shoulder. Gradually, his hand snaked underneath your shorts, a soft “Wow,” escaping his lips as his fingers grazed the dampness of the underwear covering you.
You rested your head on his shoulder, exposing your neck again, which he rewarded by peppering it with kisses and soft bites.
His other hand moved to touch the soft skin underneath your shirt, and you could feel your breathing increase rapidly. This was real.
“Were you thinking of me?” He spoke so quietly you almost missed it, and you whimpered. “Hm? Were you touching yourself while thinking of me?”
“Yes.” You responded, already feeling lightheaded under his care.
Beside your ear, he inhaled sharply. “All this just thinking of me?” He seemed in awe.
“Yeah, Georgie.” You confirmed.
He shifted his hands to pull the shorts down and kissed your neck in a way you knew it left another mark.
Briefly, he felt the material of your underwear again, running his finger along the underside of the elastic.
“These feel special.”
“They’re— Lucy got them for me.”
“You were wearing lingerie tonight?”
“You knew that she was buying lingerie?”
“Yeah? She asked me what colours you liked, and I… prodded.”
You didn’t know whether to focus on the fact that he had known what she bought you, or that he had informed what it was that was bought, or even that he knew what you liked to the point of being consulted.
“If it’s anything, thank goodness you didn’t tell me.”
“Huh?”
“We wouldn’t have made it through the gala.”
You turned to look at him and realised he was being serious. His desire to see you in them would have been made into his most recent obsession.
“M— maybe I’ll put the set on for you some other time.”
He smiled, moving your shirt collar so that he could kiss your shoulder.
“I’d really like that, sweetheart.”
His hand slipped into your underwear, mimicking your earlier motions of collecting from between your moist folds. His fingers slid back and forth a few passes until you whined impatiently.
“So wet,” he murmured. “I think I can get you wetter.” He whispered against your ear, a promise.
The pad of his middle finger drew slow circles around your clit, and the hand in your shirt moved upwards to gently knead your breast, causing your nipples to stiffen.
“Oh, George.” You sighed pleasantly, and he groaned quietly in response.
“Have to be quieter for me, love. Not that I don’t want to hear you, just that I don’t want the others to as well.” He increased the pressure, and you fought back a moan, “Think you can do that for me, angel?” and you nodded quickly, not trusting your ability to speak at the moment.
“Such a good girl for me,” he praised.
You didn’t even remember how he’d ended up on your bed, embarrassment lost under his skilful hands.
“Please.” you whimpered, hips squirming against him, his fingers moving faster against you. Simultaneously, he rolled the nipple in his hand between his fingers, causing a low whine to slip through your lips.
“Shhh, that’s it, love.” He nipped at the skin of your neck softly, soothing it soon after by placing soft kisses against it. “Let me take care of you, yeah?”
You turned your head, wanting to see him even if it was through half-lidded eyes.
The sight of him had you sucking in a quick breath; his eyebrows pinched together, mouth slightly ajar, and cheeks reddened. His eyes had that look in them again, which you were quickly realising was something akin to heat or desire. George looked almost blissed out as he focused on giving you pleasure.
You released a soft moan, panting as he continued, and his brow creased further. His eyes snapped shut as he listened to the broken noises you struggled to suppress, causing you to realise that he was getting off on this. He was enjoying making you fight not to make pleased little noises, the evidence of the effect of him on you. You wanted to kiss him desperately.
Your left hand moved sluggishly upwards, hesitantly cupping his cheek, and you gently traced your thumb down the cheekbone. His eyes flew open, and he turned slightly so that his gaze landed on your face. Fuck, he looked so good. He raised the same brows you had been observing earlier in silent question, and you felt yourself growing shy despite the circumstances you were currently in.
“Mm?”
You bit your lip, still gently tracing the shape of his cheek and being partially distracted by his actions. Tentatively you moved your face closer to his, lifting slightly off of his shoulder and tilting your head for a better angle. Your gaze kept flicking to his lips, then back to his eyes. He licked his lips, readjusting slightly so you could continue forward more comfortably.
“Please?” You whispered, and he nodded.
Your lips barely connected at first before moving ever closer, George finally understanding your earlier wordless begging and further uniting the two of you. Urgently you tried to convey your feelings for him in this– possibly single– kiss. The hand that was on his cheek was now against his jaw, fingers playing with the hair peeking out from behind his ear. Your other hand now came to a loose grip around the wrist that was down your shorts, taking pleasure in just feeling the rotation before falling to your side again.
You moved back to take a breath, his hand that was under your top moved around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You could feel him hard against your back. Then, it moved to join his other hand under your underwear, avoiding the wonderful movements made by his fingers, rubbing along your folds, and a moment later, you felt one of his long fingers pressing into you, both testing and teasing. A pleased sigh slipping out of him as he realised how easy it was for him to move in and out of you before he added another finger, making your jaw go slack as you fought off the noises he was willing to escape.
He took that reaction as an opportunity to kiss you deeper, lips moving languidly against your own, drawing soft aborted moans from you.
You pulled back again to look down at yourself, his tan arms against your skin, shirt ridden up from his earlier touching.
Breathlessly, your gaze shifted to his face again and whimpered, “George.”
He looked into your eyes and smiled. That had your heartbeat quickening, the butterflies in your stomach causing your orgasm to approach more rapidly. His smile grew as he felt you clench down on him.
“Just for my smile?” He looked pleasantly confused. And you groaned against him.
“Y’r so pretty.” You slurred against him, lust-drunk. “‘S not my fault.”
He hummed in amusement.
Your eyes fluttered shut, hips moving against him as his fingers pumped in and out of you, his others working just as relentlessly against your clit. Shuddering as he kissed just below your ear, where it connected with your jaw. Breathy whines became quiet needy moans, and you couldn't help but tilt his head so slightly to press your own kisses to the side of his mouth and cheek.
“So good to me. Y’r so good t’ me, George.”
And you heard him groan in response. Once again, you clenched in reaction.
“Let go for me, angel.” He murmured, softly biting where he could reach. “I know you’re close. I can feel it.”
He was right, you were close. His warmth pressed against you, combined with his hands and the kisses and bites he had been determinedly leaving on your throat, had you just at your tipping point.
He increased the pressure of his fingers, angling the others just so, and you couldn’t help but moan at it as your back arched.
“Geo— Georgie.” You whispered, the pet name sounding all the more affectionate in your haze.
“Let go for me, please? I’d really like to see it, love.”
And you did.
His odd fascination with you spurring him to continue his ministrations in order to draw it out as long as he could, watching your face contort, and your chest rise and fall, not stopping until you shook in his arms.
Slowly, he removed his hands from your shorts, leaving you to recover in his embrace.
Your mind was completely devoid of comprehensible thoughts, face angled into the crook of his neck as you regained sentience after the mind-numbing orgasm he had just gifted you with. You kissed at the skin there, the pair of you sighing contentedly at the feeling.
You felt him shift behind you and started to awaken further from what felt like a very strange but very good dream, and you realised what had just happened between each of you.
He has just caught you masturbating to him, and instead of running for the hills, he… did that. You had let him— invited him to do that. You must have stiffened against him because he asked, “What’s wrong?”
“You… caught me in a private moment and stayed, is all.”
“Mm? All of which I thought was quite nice.”
You frowned at him, but you knew he could see you didn’t mean it.
“‘S just odd. That’s all.” Then, quieter as you looked away, you added, “I didn’t know you even liked me.” And he scoffed, drawing your attention once again.
“I lay into you like a vampire in public, and you didn’t think I liked you?”
“Well, when you say it like that.”
He shifted, and you felt the bulge of his hardness against your back again. He had gotten hard just getting you off. Your eyes widened as he stuck the two fingers he’d just been fucking into you inside of his mouth. His eyes shut briefly, and you saw his cheeks hollow as he sucked your arousal off of his fingers.
“Oh, that’s trouble.”
“How do you mean?”
“You taste really good, angel.”
You inhaled sharply, a second wave of lust washing over you, and he opened his eyes to do that small, knowing smirk at you, the same one he did when he knew something you didn’t, which was often.
You could feel your heart hammering in your chest.
“I’d like a repeat of this if you don’t mind.”
You rolled your eyes fondly at him. “You just reduced me to mush, and you think I wouldn’t want that to happen again?”
He huffed a laugh, gently nudging you to get you to flip over and lay properly onto him, bringing his hardness back to the forefront of your mind.
“Do you..?”
“What? Oh, no.”
You deflated slightly.
“As lovely as that would be, angel,” he continued, “I’m knackered, and I want your energy up for tomorrow.”
“What’s tomorrow? Besides the archives, I mean?”
“Oh, didn’t you know? You’re feeling kind of feverish, so I have to stay home and look after you, and would you please go with her, Lockwood? The archives can be terribly boring when you’re alone.” He was smiling at you as though recounting a funny story, and he pulled blankets over the pair of you, so he was planning to stay the night, it appeared. Or at least until early in the morning when he woke.
“George, are you trying to get me alone tomorrow?”
“Yes. Wasn’t that obvious?” he deadpanned, and you couldn’t help the fond smile in response, and you hummed instead of answering.
“Besides, if not tomorrow, I’ll find some other way to hear those pretty noises you make while you’re under me.”
Your cheeks burned, and you buried your face under his jaw.
“You’re going to be the death of me.”
“I certainly hope not, I don’t want to experiment on your ghost.”
“That was almost sweet?”
“I meant it.”
You were just dozing off when he broke the silence.
“Why angel?”
“Hm?”
“Your pet name, why an angel?”
“Oh.” You moved to get more comfortable now that you were more aware of your surroundings again. “It reminds me of you.”
He waited for you to continue, not letting you out of that so easily.
“Do you remember the time we went to Arif’s together? The grocery boy had left out some things, so we decided to pick up doughnuts on our way home.”
“Last summer?”
You nodded against his collarbone.
“And when we were walking home, and I dropped it for some reason–”
He cut you off, silently adding, “A bird flew right in front of us.”
“And I got so surprised I dropped it,” you amended, recalling the bird now, too. “But I tried to catch it and went tumbling into the pavement?”
A faint exhale of a laugh came from above you, and you knew he was laughing at you even now.
“When I looked up at you, the sun was right behind you and…” Suddenly shy, you drifted off.
“Yes?” He prompted.
“You were laughing, and I couldn’t find myself to care because the sun was behind you. It lit up the edges of your hair like a halo, that’s why. It’s… I really like that memory.”
“Hm.”
“What?”
“I… may have asked Lockwood to stay home so I could take you instead. You’ve liked me since then?”
You laughed suddenly, surprising yourself. “We’re totally useless. Probably longer– I bet if I asked Lucy to take Anthony instead of us tomorrow, she would. She’s probably sick of me pining.”
“She’s got no ground to stand on. She and Lockwood were way worse.” He complained.
“Yeah?”
“And I had to deal with it alone.”
“But not anymore,” you said softly. “You have me now.” and he hugged you tighter to him. “We might have to buy me a scarf, though.”
“Oh, definitely. Don’t let them see tomorrow, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
George Casper Karim was unbearable.
His big stupid head still told you off for taking the biscuit, but now it would bend down and kiss you softly too.
And he still was so helpful, but now you could really see how he picked favourites and was secretly incredibly pleased he chose you, even if it meant investing what must count as an industrial-grade concealer so that his dutiful ironing was the only thing that made an impression on the client.
But now, he was even sweeter. His touches lingered and were more frequent. He still wouldn’t touch the others as openly, but your space and his space soon became shared. He was unbearable.
He still rolled his eyes as you tried to find a nickname of his very own, admonishing you with a heatless “Angel.” but you knew, you just knew you’d find the perfect fit one day.
He made your world spin, and you couldn’t help but always feel warm, safe and happy with him.
Which, without your knowing, was infectious. Spread to him like a leaf unfurling.
You were unbearable.
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lewkwoodnco · 2 months
Text
Be More - George x Reader
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"Er...I think this dough's ready to be cut into the strips."
"Yes, chef."
He coughed awkwardly, too uncomfortable to come up with any decent sort of response.
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a/n: am soooo salty i fell sick in the middle of my 12 days of fics '23 for xmas last year :((( so im giving myself a lil treat by doing a short series of valentine's fics! i SO don't know how souffles work if you can't tell so pls don't come for me, and a special special thanks to lisa @neewtmas for the apron idea heheh. all fluff, which is why I got all my angst fics out of the way beforehand if you'd like a lil palate cleanser :) also totally didn't make this a songfic cuz i was struggling to find a title :} btw I headcannon that george randomly zones in and out in everyday life and this has nothing to do with how much I may or may not do this myself ALSO was strongly influenced to post this earlier by the multiverse of George aka @oblivious-idiot @bella-rose29@bobbys-not-that-small heh
warnings/tropes: lockwood and george bromance supremacy!!! baking, lots and lots of valentine's day fluff, awkward georgeeeee
word count: 2.8k!
TAGLIST | MASTERLIST
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Lucy handed George a steaming cup of tea, which he gratefully accepted. The three of them were having breakfast as usual, and with the last strains of winter fading, Portland Row's kitchen was entirely too bright. He closed his eyes, pretending he didn't see the way Lockwood's hand lingered on Lucy's when taking his mug. They were bad enough on any normal day, but even worse nowadays, with Valentine's Day drawing achingly closer. He felt himself begin to nod off again from the gentle and comforting steam.
He felt a mild rap against his cheek, which he turned to see is from a well-aimed sugar cube launched from across the table by Lucy. He looked up to see her staring hard at him and Lockwood poorly concealing a snigger with his cup of tea.
"George. Have you or have you not got any plans for Valentine's?"
He takes his time wiping his glasses on his shirt sleeve before responding. "Nothing much. Though I've promised Y/N I'd spend the day with her."
He watched Lucy's expression carefully, and she seemed to be watching his. Truth was, with Valentine's drawing closer and closer, George was going into a mild panic. He hadn't exactly arranged it intentionally. They had been having a quiet chat on a morning when George had been too tired from the previous night's case to strictly follow, and suddenly she was waving goodbye, promising to see him next on Valentine's Day.
He had no idea what kind of a Valentine's Day he had agreed to, or how much of a filter he had had, and he had been dropping Lucy desperate cries for help, with decreasing subtlety. Was it a date? Was she expecting a date? Sure, they had went to that play together after Lucy fell mysteriously ill, and maybe they met up for lunch once a week. But she never referred to
His eyes slowly drifted close as Lucy and Lockwood's conversation morphed into gentle white noise, enjoying the warmth of the little sun streaming through their kitchen window. It felt nice to have a little break from his intense week of baking -
Baking! George snapped wide awake, clumsily climbing out of his chair and feverishly counting the stacks of meticulously wrapped, frilly pastry goodie bags lining the kitchen counter. It had become an annual Valentine's Day tradition for George to construct these small goodie bags of baked goods for a sizeable chunk of his extended family. He even roped in Lucy and Lockwood, and as Valentine's Day approached they'd all gather around the kitchen table at night, even if it was after a case, packing the delicaices George had spent the day baking, until one of them started dropping off.
It was tedious work, but they enjoyed it and were well invested in it - Lockwood fiercely so. When a cousin had remarked that perhaps the tradition was becoming a little tired at a family gathering last Christmas, Lockwood had accidentally-but-not-really smacked his head. George relaxed as he neared towards the end of the pile - just one more day of baking, and he'd be ready to send them off.
Lucy and Lockwood were mostly finished with breakfast anyway, so he chased them out of the kitchen and got to work. Once George had his first batch of cookies in the oven, he started planning for the supplementary baked goods. For instance, he was going to make a chocolate souffle for the three of them to share over a midnight supper tomorrow.
So when the kitchen door swung open, letting in a blast of cold air, George spun around scathingly, ready to threaten Lockwood with deflated souffles. But the hiss at the tip of his tongue withered when he saw who it was.
"...Y/N?"
"Hello. Baking, are you?"
George suppressed the urge to shield the vast volumes of confectionary goodie bags littering the kitchen's surfaces.
"...yes." With some difficulty, he slowly resumed his movements, explaining how this was something he did every year. In a way, he was grateful to have something to do with his hands, because the last minute or so reminded him that he had no idea what he normally did with his hands while standing.
"Oh. Need any help?"
It took George another half-minute to process her question. "With what?"
"With the baking, obviously."
"Uh...s'alright, I've got it all handled."
"No, please, I'd love to help."
George paused mid-stir, looking comically perplexed with a smidge of flour on his nose. "What for?" He bit his tongue, hastily back-pedalling since his tone sounded aggressively suspicious. "What I mean is, you wouldn't want to spend your day here, sweating like a pig - not that you sweat, and definitely not like a pig, no - I'm the one sweating like a pig..."
What he wanted to say was, their oven was ancient and so made the kitchen stupid hot every time he baked, but failed miserably. He set down his mixing bowl in defeat. Almost instantly, she stifled a giggle, trying to pass it off as clearing her throat, and George followed her gaze to his apron in horror. What the mixing bowl had previously been hiding was the horrendously cheesy 'kiss the cook' graphic on his apron.
It had been a ridiculous gag gift from Lucy, one that he had never intended to use but was forced to after his last apron caught on fire from one of his experiments with the skull. Bursting into flames would have been more useful now, He stood there, eyes watering from the heat, determined in his refusal to acknowledge both the apron and the smile she was doing a poor job of suppressing.
"Fine. You can start with the cookie batter."
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About a minute or two later, it occurred to George that perhaps it would have wise to ask how much experience she had with baking. Not a lot, he soon discovered, when her bowl nearly flew off as soon as she switched on the egg beater. He dropped his mixing bowl instantly, waving away her apologies.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't expect it to be so powerful."
He cautiously adjusted her grip on the bowl, gently guiding her fingers to a better hold.
"No, no, it's my fault. Not much of a baker?"
"...no."
"Okay, so what you do is, use one hand to hold the - other hand - hold the bowl, and the other holds the egg beater like - no, not quite."
He took a step closer, placing his hands over hers, trying to ignore the warmth radiating from her body, and the smell of her shampoo.
The last time they had been this close was on their way home from that play. With Lockwood out of town for a client meeting, and Lucy developing a mysterious case of the flu, it was only the two of them crouched under a tiny umbrella as they walked home after the play. George would have been more than happy to walk in the rain, but she was the one holding the umbrella, and was firm in her resolve to not send him back to Lucy with a head cold. With the little space between them, their cheeks brushed against each other occasionally, sending a jolt running through the side of George's face.
"Well...this is me."
George nodded dumbly, staring hard at the chips in her front door's paint, agonisingly aware of her looking at his face. He didn't dare turn to meet her gaze; they were far too close.
"I had fun today, George."
He sighed and briefly zonesout. As short as their chat was, he remembered very little, his focus only returning when she pulled her key out.
"We should do this again sometime," she was saying, as she turned the key in her lock. When he finally looked at her, there were the tinies raindrops on her eyelashes. There was something so pure and unassuming about the sight that it tugged at his heart. It made him want...more. More with her. With a brief smile, she disappeared into her home, leaving him standing alone in the rain. He stood there for a minute, prolonging the moment for some unidentifiable reason. It was a nice door. She had a nice smile.
It was as though she had read his thoughts from his eyes, for a faintly embarrassed air hung in the kitchen after that. For the next better part of an hour, they engaged in this delicate dance as they floated through the kitchen, carefully staying out of each other's way, never in the same area for long. It wasn't until she was sifting the dry ingredients that they next spoke.
"Hang on, that might be too much flou-"
As George touched her elbow, her hand jerked, sending a sizeable chunk of flour into her mixing bowl, along with a cloud of it directly in her face. He was sorry, of course, but as she spluttered and tried to blink through it, he couldn't stop the amused twist to his features. When she caught his eye, she rolled her eyes and sent a fistful of flour into his eyes. Now it was her turn to laugh as George groaned through the smarting.
"You're right, Mr. Cook, it IS hilarious!"
George scoffed, struggling to maintain his sanctimonius, above-petty-acts front as he wiped his glasses clean with as much dignity as he could muster. But on the inside, his defences were crumbling fast.
"You're acting like a child."
She looked mildly apologetic for a moment, and George felt a flash of truimph, before she raised both her flour-coated hands and resolutely streaked them across George's face.
"Egg on your face. Or should I say, flour?"
With that, all pretenses of civility were thrown out the window. The both of them swept up as many ingredients as they could and migrated to opposite ends of the kitchen table, pelting each other with everything that could be pelted. George landed a few well-aimed chocolate chips into her hair. She soaked the front of his apron with half a jug of milk, which was nearly enough to send him into hysterics. So it went on and on and on, until they ran out of supplies in their immediate reach, before resorting to shoving each other's faces into bags and tins of baking soda and powdered sugar. This, it occurred to George as he was rubbing cornstarch into her red, wheezing face, is strangely intimate.
Again, there was this tugging sensation in his chest, the kind that made him want to sit in his armchair for anywhere from half a minute to half an hour. The kind of sensation that could not be held in words. The closest he could get was the wish for a never-ending summer, or perhaps orchards full of cherry trees as sweet as the first pick. But even that fell short.
Just as she raised two fistfuls of sprinkles, the kitchen door swung open. Lockwood wandered in, looking sharp as ever in his too-small suit. The two of them smoothly parted, their faces burning under the flour, and George suddenly became very interested in the pastry dough he was kneading. He felt rather than saw Lockwood looking back and forth between the two of them, wishing that he'd just take whatever he needed from the kitchen and got out. But of course, he knew better than to engage in wishful thinking, especially with Lockwood's mildly gormless smile plain as day. "Hang on. George, you do realise that-"
Whatever it was that Lockwood was wondering if he had realised was cut off by the jam tart George shoved into his mouth, because the answer was probably yes, Lockwood, of course I realised that completely inane observation.
"Out. Out. I won't have you compromising the integrity of my kitchen." With a little difficulty, George wheeled a spluttering Lockwood littering soft pastry flakes all over his clean kitchen floor out into the hallway. He shut the door firmly and turned back apologetically, only just seeing the flour in her hair as she watched on amusedly.
"I sure hope I'm not starting up a ruckus - or was it compromising the integrity? - of your kitchen."
George felt his cheeks warming as he returned to the kitchen table. "No, of course not. You never know where Lockwood's been, is all. You're different."
Had he been standing this close to her the whole day, he wondered, close enough to see the pretty flakes in her eyes, softer than any pastry he could make? How was he supposed to look away? And how did he stand it?
"Er...I think this dough's ready to be cut into the strips."
"Yes, chef."
He coughed awkwardly, too uncomfortable to come up with any decent sort of response, embarrassedly muttering something along the lines of how there was no need for any of that. As she got absorbed into getting the strips of dough just right, George glanced at the kitchen door, to see Lockwood silently making exaggerated kissy faces at him. George picked up his rolling pin and Lockwood fled immediately, without so much as a creak from the floorboards.
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Now, they finally returned to their baking with proper focus, now that they were all tired out. She seemed to have picked up some skills pretty quickly, though he still kept an eye out in case she might do something that would, say, set her hand on fire.
An hour or so later, the phone started ringing obnoxiously in the hallway. With some difficulty, George peeled off one of his disposable gloves on his way to it. When he picked up the phone, he almost wished he hadn't, because it was that same cousin from last Christmas' gathering. As his voice wore on and on, George started wishing he had let Lockwood give him another punch or two, just to set him straight.
Suddenly, he picked out a few startling words from his cousin's nasally voice, which made his heart plummet, as the calendar in the hallway came into startling focus. He wandered back to the kitchen door, numbly hearing his cousin's complaints of why no one's goodie bags had reached yet. He blankly stared at her, and she stared back confused, slowing down her cutting of the strips concernedly. After a second or two, he hung up the phone, but was in too much shock to lower it.
"Today's date," he whispered.
"Hm?"
"Today's date. It's not the 13th. I thought it was the 13th. Today is the 14th. Valentine's day was today, not tomorrow."
Even as he was saying those words, the calm look on her face told him exactly what he had feared - that she had known all along.
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"I thought this was what you wanted to do!"
"Unpaid labour."
"What?"
"You spent your Valentine's Day doing exhausting, difficult, unpaid labour." He clumsily placed the phone down on the kitchen counter, struggling to find the right words as he fought against the embarrassment. "I am so sorr- just a minute, I might have some loose change somewhere here-"
"Don't." George was spiraling with shame, kicking himself for his oversight, and she still had the gall to look that pretty and kind. "I didn't mind any of it one bit, I promise."
"I promised you something fun."
"George, this is the most fun I've ever had baking, and I've been making pineapple upside down cakes since before I could - oh."
She broke off when she finally looked up to see the growing shock on George's face. She nibbled at the inside of her cheek nervously, trying to gauge his reaction.
"So you do know how to bake."
"Only a little?"
He took in the sight of her apologetic smile, the careful dusting of flour on her face and her suspiciously clean clothes. "You could have said."
"Oh, but I was having so much fun." George rolled his eyes. "I spent the day learning how to construct the most adorable pastry goodie bags I have ever seen, and I did it all with my boyfriend. Believe me, it doesn't get more fun than this."
Not for the first time that day, George stared at her in wonder, like he couldn't quite figure out how she was real. Even now, when all she was doing was merely existing, words failed him. He had a feeling he'd spend lifetimes chasing shadows, trying to pin what was gone before it bloomed, and he still wouldn't be able to find the right words. There was no other way to put it, or colour it - he wished they were more.
He hesitantly extended his hand, brushing just a speck of the huge handprint of flour on her face with his thumb. He turned, walking out into the hallway, but then just as immediately wheeled back.
"Your WHAT?"
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TAGLIST: @dangelnleif @elenianag080 @snoopyluver20 @ell0ra-br3kk3r @avdiobliss @mitskiswift99 @ahead-fullofdreams @neewtmas @mischivana @houseoftwistedspirits
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wordsarelife · 3 months
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lockwood & co masterlist
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fluff (f), angst (a), suggestive (s), platonic (p), injury/ blood (w)
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❛ 𝐢’𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 ❜
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𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝 (34.9k)
blank space (0.7k) — normally lockwood can hide his feelings quite well. that talent seems to fade every time someone tries to flirt with his y/n (f,s)
peace (0.5k) — y/n is all that Lockwood needs, especially in the quiet moments (f,a)
sweet nothing (0.8k) — eating breakfast in bed (f)
stay, stay, stay (1.3k) — you never leave a fight unresolved (f,a)
delicate (0.5k) — some flirty banter in a near death situation (f,s)
king of my heart (1.8k) — there was always this flirty banter between you, without anything ever happening. one day you grow tired of it and leave lockwood to make a choice (f,a,s)
treacherous (1.3k) — How can it be that two people who grew up together hate each other so much? lockwood and you find out that love and hate are closer together than you had thought (f,a,s)
cruel summer (1.3k) — there’s just one bed, luckily you are the most brilliant person lockwood knows… or are you? (f,s)
you belong with me (1.6k) — you have to flirt to finish a mission. much to the dismay of lockwood you are far too good at it (f,s)
the way I loved you (pt 2 of ybwm) (1.2k) — lockwood is protective of what is his and in his own definition, you belong to him (f,a,s)
london boy (1.0k) — lockwood and you finish a study about what defines the greatness of a kiss (f,s)
it's nice to have a friend (0.3k) — you pass out after a dangerous encounter with a ghost (a,f,w)
enchanted (1.0k) — lockwood and you have been in love ever since you first met and it's been quite obvious for anyone else, but you two (f)
seven (sibling!reader) (0.5k) — a mission went badly and you and your brother console each other (f, a, p)
i did something bad (1.2k) — gathering information from a tied up and horny teenage boy should be easy enough, right? (s)
i think he knows (1.3k) — you have to admit your feelings for lockwood after your heartbeat goes through the roof at his touch (f)
change (1.4k) — lockwood realizes how much he missed of his sisters, the reader, life (a,f,p,w)
back to december (1.4k) — you had left lockwood in a night filled with regret and there was nothing you wanted more than to apologise to him (a,f,p)
the best day (0.4k) — domestic fluff with anthony lockwood (f)
this is me trying (1.1k) — you always try to save your friends life at the expanse of your own. this time you might've gone too far (a,p)
my tears ricochet (1.4k) — you save lockwoods life on a job but he can't save you.. but with a twist (a,w,f)
it's beginning to look a lot like christmas (0.5k) — lockwood is as cooky as usual, luckily you are used to it by now (f,s)
driving home for christmas (0.4k) — in which you come home for christmas surprisingly and lockwood can proof that his girlfriend is real (f)
the very first night (0.7k) — you celebrate your birthday for your friends only, lockwood celebrates your birthday for you (f,a,p)
lavender haze (1.2k) — despite kipps best efforts to keep you away from each other, lockwood won't stop flirting with you (f)
all american bitch (3.4k) — everbody knew that there was something wrong in the way your brother talked to you and lockwood wouldn't let you accept it any longer (f,a,s)
pretty isn’t pretty (0.8k) — he was showering you in compliments all while you felt like you weren’t pretty enough (f,a)
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𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞 𝐤𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐦 (8.2k)
daylight (0.6k) — early morning cuddles with your boyfriend (f)
mastermind (2.3k) — the team has to work together with kipps, for george that means being stuck with the best friend of the blonde leader, y/n. the only person in the whole world that seemed to be smarter than him, that's why he hated her. (a,f)
love story (0.8k) — hiding a relationship becomes a challenge when your bosses are lockwood and kipps, but y/n and george always seem to manage anyway… (f)
i knew you were trouble (0.7k) — you expressed your likeness for george all the time.. seems like he finally gets it (f)
ours (0.3k) — george tries to make reader go to bed (f)
mirrorball (0.7k) — george has been struggling and you help him (a,f)
fearless (1.7k) — george admires you deeply. not only because you're his girlfriend, but because you have an extraordinary gift (f/a)
snowman (1k) — a situation in which you are trapped, causes george and you to confess (f,)
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𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐤𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐬 (6.8k)
i know places (1.6k) — all hell breaks loose when your brother finds out about you and quill (f,s)
paper rings (1.5k) — you & quill are basically married, but when will he finally ask? (f)
today was a fairytale (1k) — you and quill go on your first date (f,s)
gold rush (0.8k) — loving quill kipps feels like a gold rush (f,a)
santa tell me (1.2k) — you and quill had been the parents of the group for years, but nothing ever happened between the two of you. now it’s finally time to change that, or atleast your friends think it is (f)
santa clause is coming to town (0.2k) — you and quill know each other so well, you could almost finish each others sentences (f)
under the mistletoe (0.5k) — you and your boyfriend get caught under the mistletoe (f)
you need to calm down (0.4k) — you and quill wind down after a long day (f,w)
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𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 (5.5k)
anthony lockwood, illicit affairs series (5.5k) — your secret relationship might not be enough for the future you have ahead of you (a,s,f) one, two, three part four (ending: afterglow) part four (ending: closure)
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𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩 (0.6k)
deck the halls (0.6k) — decorating cookies at portland row (f,p)
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49 works
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justafandomgvrl · 1 year
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Lockwood & Co Headcanons
First Kiss
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Lucy
it's tentative, gentle, slow. she cups your face with one hand and holds your waist with the other. the two of you had been left behind by the boys as they went to the archive. lucy made you a cup of tea and the steam from the mugs heats both your faces as she leans in. you close the gap with a smile on your face.
George
it's a little bit awkward, his glasses bumping your nose. you have both your hands placed at the base of his neck. the two of you had been alone after a day of research and had gone for pizza. he leaned across the table and kissed you, a sudden surge of bravery pushing him to make a move after thinking of you for months. you're only too happy to reciprocate.
Lockwood
it's heated, his hands wrapping into your hair as he presses his lips to yours. the two of you just barely survived a mission, not having prepared properly. it just reminded him how easy it would have been to lose you and he couldn't take it. you were very, very happy to let him know you weren't planning on leaving anytime soon.
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