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whimsy-core · 9 months ago

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just another love song

pairing: anthony lockwood x fem reader

content: almost six thousand words of yearning and fluff. everyone sees it but them trope! reader is implied to be shorter than him, reader neglects her personal health for a sec, but u can skip the acts of service section if this bothers u!

word count: 5.6k i have a problem

summary:

you dont believe you and lockwood are in love with each other. george and lucy prove you wrong.

or,

you and lockwood through the five love languages

notes: title from lovesong by beabadoobee its so fitting bc i can not stop writing about this boy. thank u anon for ur request i hope its ok i took many creative liberties with it lol!!

“Lucy, you’re insane.”

“I’m insane? You’re the one who’s in a relationship and doesn’t even know about it.”

The roll of your eyes was nearly automatic.

The both of you were sprawled out on Lucy’s blue and yellow sheets while you helped her paint her nails. She was complaining earlier about how she sucked at painting with her nondominant hand, so you offered to do it for her.

You probably would have changed your mind if you realized she was going to corner you about your apparent relationship with your best friend.

Lucy’s face was half pressed into her blanket while her hand was propped up on one of her pillows. You were only halfway done, but you fought the urge to leave the rest of her nails unpainted as a form of protest.

“C’mon, you really can’t see it?”

“See what?”

“The way Lockwood’s in loooove with you.”

“He’s not.”

“He is.”

“He’s not.”

“He i—”

Lucy immediately went quiet at the sound of a knock on her door.

“Who is it?” She called out while you put another coat of black polish on her index finger.

“It’s George. Lockwood sent me up here to tell you he’s starting dinner,” he voiced through the door.

“He’s in the kitchen?” Lucy asked.

“No, he’s getting dinner ready in the library,” George responded sarcastically. “Yes, Luce, he’s in the kitchen. Why?”

“Perfect. You mind coming in and shutting the door behind you, Georgie?”

Your confusion only seemed to grow, but Lucy did nothing but wave you off as the sound of George ascending the steps grew louder. He took in the sight of Lucy face down on her stomach while you painted her nails, a disgruntled look on your face. He sank into the mattress next to Lucy, prompting her to speak.

“How long would you say Lockwood’s been in love with her for?”

“Lucy!” You scolded, blood rushing to your face. “George, don’t listen to a thing she says, she’s crazy.”

“For as long as they’ve known each other, probably,” he said matter-of-factly. “Why?”

That shut you up rather quickly. The girl next to you let out a rather evil sounding cackle.

“She doesn’t believe it when I tell her they’re practically dating. Oh — and get this! She doesn’t think he’s in love with her.”

George blew air through his nose, one of his quiet laughs.

“That’s funny.”

“I know, right! And—”

“I’m literally right here, you know.” You cut in, aggrieved and a little embarrassed.

George tilted his head to look at you, genuine curiosity swimming in his eyes. “Well, why don’t you believe her?”

“Because he doesn’t like me like that,” you said simply. You ignored the way your heart oddly constricted in your chest.

You tugged a bit harshly on your necklace that now felt like it was choking you, missing the way George took note of the movement.

“What even led you two into thinking that we’re madly in love with each other?”

Lucy rolled over onto her back, effectively stopping you from painting her nails.

“I’m so glad you asked, because I can name a few.”

“Oh, can you?” You challenged.

“She’s been planning this intervention for a while,” George added.

You rolled your eyes again.

Lucy leaned over to rifle around in her drawer, careful of her wet nails. From it, she procured a bright pink magazine, the color nearly blinding your eyes. She rifled through it before finding the page she was looking for.

“Lockwood’s been a passenger on the Love Train for so long, he’s past the point of just having one or two love languages. He manages to hit all five. Daily.”

You had to admit, you were slightly impressed with how prepared she was, already knowing which page to turn to.

You couldn’t help but ask, “Just how long have you been thinking about this?”

“A while.”

The look on your face made George laugh. “Believe us, if you were around a couple like you and Lockwood for this long, you would go a little insane too.”

You shoved his shoulder playfully before leaning closer to the magazine Lucy had pulled out.

She pointed to a bulleted list on the center of the magazine page. The title, The Five Love Languages, was written in frilly cursive and surrounded by hearts and a drawing of Cupid.

You read on.

Want to know how to love your significant other better? Find out what their Love Language is! This article was written by Tammy, our resident love expert!

“I’m so glad we’re getting a real professional opinion on this,” you deadpanned.

Lucy jabbed a finger at the first bulleted point. “Suspend your disbelief for a second, alright?”

“Acts of service,” she began. “We all know how much Lockwood loves those.”

—

It wasn’t unusual for case research to stretch on for multiple days. With some visitors going back centuries, it was actually very normal. Records could be hard to find, which meant spending many late nights. Oftentimes, the four of you would be poring over documents under the light of the moon until it gave way to early morning sunrise.

There was nothing quite like finding the piece of information that made all the pieces fall into place, and you were clearly committed to finding it. You had been running yourself ragged over this job, scarily determined to find and secure the source.

Ms. Church was a kind old lady who pinched Lockwood’s cheeks and offered you all caramels from her bag. This particular visitor had been tormenting her for weeks. Terrified and unsafe, she came to seek Lockwood and Co.’s help.

Everyone knew you were insanely sympathetic. And when you saw the suffering of this sweet woman caused by this specific visitor, you would not let yourself rest until it was dealt with. Quite literally.

After the first late night of research, Lockwood had walked you to your room, ensuring that you actually got in bed. After months of working together, he was well aware of your working tendencies.

“Go to sleep,” he reminded you. “I know you’re eager to close this case, but get some rest first, alright? We’ll start early in the morning if you’re so eager.”

Your laughter was muffled by your blankets. “I can’t believe the champion of sleep deprivation is telling me to go to sleep right now.”

He gave you a fond smile. “I’ll only get some rest if you promise to as well, so you better close your eyes.”

An exaggerated sigh spilled from your lips as you turned over. “I suppose I’ll sleep. G’night, Anthony.”

He flicked the lightswitch off. “Goodnight,” he said into the darkness before swinging your door shut. You could hear the creaking of the floorboards get further away as he retired to his room too.

You shut your eyes as promised, and waited for sleep to take you. After being focused on a case for hours, it was near impossible to shut your brain off. You tried counting sheep, but found them morphing into visitors instead. Case facts tumbled around in your mind like clothes in a washing machine.

Groaning, you sat up in bed. If you were going to think about the case, you might as well look over the actual documents.

You made your way to your desk with all the stealth of a fox, wondering if Lockwood was awake. His room was just across the hallway, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were doing something wrong by staying up.

Why were you even worried about what he had to think? You weren’t a kid, you could do whatever you wanted.

Nevertheless, you made sure to keep as quiet as possible. When Anthony slept, he would either go into a sleep state similar to Ghost-Lock, or a sleep state that had him waking up at sounds half a mile away. You hoped that tonight was not one of the latter days.

It’s not even that late, you justified, looking at your clock. You promised him you would get some rest, but never said how much.

You could keep your promise to him while still doing something with your overactive mind. Sleep would come in a couple hours when you got tired, you were sure of it.

It did not.

Without you realizing, the clock was showing you a time you definitely should have been asleep by. A glance up from your papers showed the sun already risen through your window.

Oops.

You tried to reason with yourself. Against your will, you had nearly dozed off about a hundred times that night. Those brief moments of sleep had to have added up to at least an hour. Technically, you hadn’t gone back on your promise. Not really.

It would have to do. You pulled the documents into a pile, and made your way downstairs to make something for the four of you to eat. One by one, your friends trickled down the steps. Lucy was first, looking rather nice for someone who had just woken up. She lit up at the sight of the breakfast you had prepared and gave you a kiss on the cheek in thanks.

George was next, looking like the epitome of a good night’s rest with his ruffled hair and wrinkled tee. His dimples popped up when you handed him his special plate.

By the time Lockwood arrived, the three of you had finished your meals. The boy looked the complete opposite of the well rested George. The dark circles under his eyes were prominent as always, and you wondered if he also hadn’t slept. His face pulled down into a frown at the sight of you already filtering through papers this early in the morning.

Anthony took his usual seat next to you, studying your face carefully. “You look tired.”

“I’m fine,” you said honestly. Although you hadn’t gotten any sleep, you felt unaffected by it. If anything, you felt more energized than you were normally.

“Did you eat?”

“Yes, I had some biscuits and tea.”

“And you’re feeling alright?”

“Of course,” you assured him. “After I made breakfast, I went through our remaining files and divided them equally between the four of us. This way, we can be as efficient as possible.”

You motioned to the individual stacks of papers you, Lucy, and George were leafing through. His pile was sitting on the counter behind him, while his usual breakfast plate was placed in front of him.

He hummed. “Thank you.”

He began to eat, but you could feel his gaze on you from your peripheral vision. Glancing up at him, you found that you couldn’t read the expression on his face.

He was studying you like one of the crosswords in the paper he loved to do. You swear he was an old man in a teenager’s body.

The time ticked by steadily as he slowly finished his plate and the rest of you made your way through your piles. After a few more minutes of this, you excused yourself to get a pen you forgot in the other room. Lockwood didn’t take his eyes off of you until the kitchen door swung shut behind you.

As if he had been planning for this very moment, he put down his fork and slipped about a third of the papers in your pile into his.

George guffawed. “Looks like we know who the favorite child is.”

Lucy could not help but join in on the teasing. “You mind taking some of my pile too, Lockwood? Seeing as you’re being particularly kind.”

Lockwood shrugged, unashamed.

“Just trying to make things easier for her. She didn’t sleep last night.”

You burst through the door a few moments later, and dived right back into work, completely unaware of your missing papers. This did nothing but affirm Lockwood’s suspicions. On any normal day, you would’ve called attention to the difference immediately. Your sleep deprivation was getting the better of you.

He huffed, a little bothered. He wasn’t upset with your dedication to work, in fact, he admired it. He just wished that you would take care of yourself a little better. You wouldn’t know what a healthy life and work balance was if it hit you in the face.

Of course, he wasn’t any better, but at least he was self aware.

Looking over a rather interesting photograph, you took no notice of Lockwood washing his dish in the sink and rifling around for something on the top of the pantry. Your attention was drawn to him when he placed something in front of you.

“I picked these up for you yesterday.”

Trying to focus your eyes, it took you a moment to realize it was a tin of your favorite cookies.

He knew you so well, it made you want to explode.

You beamed up at him. “Anthony, thank you, thank you, thank you! Where did you find these? The corner store has been out of stock for weeks!”

“Found them at a little store in Piccadilly Circus,” he lied. He had taken a thirty minute cab ride to get these, but you didn’t have to know that.

Giddiness written all over your face, you got up, ready to squeeze the life out of him.

Instead, you became a victim of gravity immediately. The room went dark and you had to grip the table to keep from falling over.

“Woah,” you breathed out on shaky legs. Your hands went to hold your head, your vision still swimming. Lockwood grabbed onto your shoulders to stabilize you.

“Are you alright?”

He looked concerned, you think. You couldn’t really see that well. George and Lucy looked up from their documents, everyone now aware of the fact that you were not alright.

“I’m fine, I swear. I think I just got up too fast.” You rubbed your temples, trying to bring back your sense of sight.

Lockwood was not having any of it. His frown deepened.

“No, you’re tired and running on no hours of sleep. You need to get some actual rest,” he admonished you, guiding you to the door.

Thoughts about the job disappeared from his mind completely. You were now the only thing he was concerned about.

Already halfway up the steps, he missed the knowing look your two friends shared.

Instinct carried your feet towards your door, but you let yourself be led away when Lockwood steered you towards his own room.

“I take it you broke our promise, then?” He asked as he corralled you into his bed.

“Sorry,” you said into his sheets.

“Don’t apologize. Truthfully, I didn't get much sleep last night, either.”

He pulled the covers up to your neck, and you held back your comment about how much of a mother hen he was.

“Actually get some rest this time.”

“What about you?”

The chair at his desk squeaked as he pulled it out.

“I’ll be here until you fall asleep.”

“You need rest too, though. You didn’t sleep either.”

He smiled warmly. “I’ll be fine.”

“Then we can stay up together.”

“We can’t help our lovely Ms. Church if half the agency is dead on their feet.”

“That means you need sleep, too. Lay down with me.”

“I’ll fall asleep before you, and who’s to say you won’t escape my evil clutches and go back downstairs?” He was settled into the chair at this point, one leg kicked onto the ottoman.

“I promise you that I won’t.”

“Because our last promise turned out so well?” The incredulous look on his face had you backtracking.

“Fine, I won't promise, I’ll swear it to you. Make a vow, I don’t know. If you really doubt your ability to stay awake while we lay down, then read a book or something. Just don’t sit in that rickety old chair. You’ll get back issues, you old man.”

That seemed to convince him enough to get up. He peeled back the covers and rolled you onto your stomach when you wouldn’t move off his side of the bed. Your hair now obstructing your vision from his manhandling, you could only hear when he opened his drawer and pulled something out.

Well, how were you supposed to sleep when you were this curious?

Rolling back over to face him, you felt the oxygen leave your body.

He was propped against the headboard, a hardcover book in his hand. He refused to read softcover books, and called them annoying repeatedly. The novel was one you had got him last month.

Anthony wasn’t doing anything remarkable, just lounging next to you and reading. But love made people act funny, and rather interesting thoughts started swirling in your head. You wouldn’t mind if you had this for the rest of your life, the two of you in one house forever.

“Can you read to me?” You asked before you could lose the courage.

Wordlessly, he dropped his right arm so you could rest your head there, letting you see the words on the page. Leaning on his shoulder and his voice in your ear, you fell into the best sleep you had in ages.

—

You smiled affectionately at that memory. Since that day, Lockwood had got on your case about selfcare whenever he could. If he even thought you were close to pushing your limits, he would cut you off immediately, forcing you to take a break.

Lockwood cared a lot, there was no doubt about it. But you were still rather unconvinced.

George cleared his throat, and you could practically feel the teasing that was about to ensue. “Lockwood left me and Luce all alone downstairs after that. What were you two even doing up there? Just sleeping, I hope—”

“He read me a book,” you said, amused. “And then I fell asleep. That’s all.”

Lucy continued to smile evilly.

“And that brings us to our next point. Quality time.”

—

George thought that the most interesting thing in the house was the piano.

It was interesting to him solely for the fact that no one ever played it. When he had asked Lockwood about it, he had claimed he was out of practice and didn’t know how to play anymore.

(He was a little liar, by the way.)

George tried convincing him to pick it back up again by listing off all the benefits of playing an instrument. Lockwood rejected him each time.

“Between running my very successful psychical agency and gracing you with my presence, I’m a little pressed for time.”

George reluctantly let that slide.

Lockwood was caught in his lie when George and Lucy had come back from a trip to Satchell’s. They had been low on flares for weeks, and this upcoming job forced them to actually go out and get some.

George had volunteered immediately, already planning his side quest to the grocery store to pick up snacks. Lockwood was such a by-the-list shopper, much to George’s dismay. If it wasn’t a necessity on the list, it wasn’t getting bought.

For someone who loved eating George’s biscuits, Lockwood sure had a lot to say about getting ‘unnecessary things while shopping.’

Lucy volunteered to go with him, not wanting to make him go alone.

This left you and Lockwood alone at home, left to do whatever two people who were in a relationship but not dating did with their free time.

He was really at his wit’s end with you two.

Weighed down by the supplies and very necessary snacks, George nudged the front door open with his foot.

The sound spilled out of the house immediately. It was the beautiful sound of the piano.

Lucy looked just as shocked as George was. The sound of the instrument was unfamiliar to hear inside 35 Portland Row. To the two of them, it was the first time the piano had ever been played.

The song was easily recognizable as your favorite, a tune you hummed under your breath all the time. They had no idea you could play as beautifully as this, and you were obviously extremely talented. The song continued on as the two entered.

The four of you spent almost all your time together, and neither George nor Lucy had ever seen you go near the instrument. Trying to be respectful, George chanced a quick look into the room.

The bags nearly fell from his hands.

At the piano bench wasn’t you. It was Lockwood.

His hands flew up and down the keys, clearly a natural. Lucy would’ve thought it was a trick of the light if she wasn’t witnessing this with her own eyes.

The song came to an end and it was only then that George noticed you standing at the end of the piano, smiling in awe. You began speaking animatedly, probably praising him for his great playing. He could see that your eyes were filled with nothing but adoration.

Lucy thought it was sickeningly cute.

The same look was evident on Lockwood’s face as well, pure fondness in the way he looked at you. He got up from the bench, giving you room to sit down. You sat down in the spot he just vacated, and he moved to stand behind you, a perfectly practiced motion.

He spoke slowly as he talked to you about the instrument, and you tentatively placed your hands on the keys before more notes sounded from the piano. You played the first half of the song before tapering off.

Standing over you, his arms came around your body as he placed his hands on yours. The rest of the song began to fill the room, although it was at a slower tempo.

Still frozen in shock, Lucy nearly dropped a bag on her foot when Anthony spoke directly to her and George. His eyes didn’t leave the keys the entire time.

“Would you two like to sit in on our lesson?”

George showed no signs of embarrassment at being caught. Dropping everything in his hands, he bounded right over to the nearest armchair and got comfortable. Adding her bags to the growing pile, Lucy took a seat on the armrest, only a little sheepish.

“Anthony’s been giving me lessons for a few weeks,” you explained, a giddy smile on your face. “He’s basically Mozart, you should’ve been here to hear him play.”

He smoothed a hand over your back, his eyes crinkling. “Chopin should watch out for you. It took me months to master what you’ve learned in a few weeks.”

You shifted on the bench, embarrassed by his compliment. Lucy piped up with a music request, a song from a couple of decades ago that all four of you loved. You made space for him on the seat, and the three of you watched, gobsmacked, as Lockwood played the song from memory.

So much for not remembering how to play, thought George.

—

You did nothing but shrug at your two friends. “I mean, caring about me and spending time with me? Those are things that we do,” you said, motioning between the three of you. “We can’t possibly all be in love with each other. So what’s the difference between me and Lockwood?”

Lucy grumbled, growing a bit frustrated at your blindness. She pointed to the next two things on the list. Words of affirmation and gifts.

“Lockwood doesn’t exactly wax poetic or spend hundreds of pounds on me and George, now does he?”

—

It had been months of you and Lockwood’s gross yearning, and frankly, George was sick of it. You denied the dating allegations fervently, but George was unconvinced. You two were lying to his face, he was sure of it. All he had to do was catch you in the act.

George was just leaving the bathroom when he heard Lockwood’s voice from inside your bedroom. The door was wide open, the both of you clearly uncaring about whoever was going to be subjected to whatever relationship business you two were up to.

“Hey,” he heard Lockwood say softly.

Wow. George had never heard someone say ‘hey’ so affectionately in his entire life. Clearly this was more serious than he previously thought.

“Happy one year, Anthony,” you said, just as quietly.

George’s jaw hit the floor. The makings of a grin pulled at his mouth.

He knew it.

You two were liars! He could not believe you guys thought you were being oh so secretive about your relationship. He guessed that your freaky affection could not be helped. Although smug at this revelation, he was still happy for the both of you. The love was evident whenever you interacted, and George was just glad the both of you had come to your senses a year ago.

However, he wondered why you were so adamant on denying it. Probably just trying to avoid the favoritism accusations.

Lockwood laughed. “I can’t believe it’s already been one whole year since you moved in.”

You’re kidding.

The self-satisfied look got wiped off of George’s face immediately.

One year since you moved in? You weren’t celebrating a relationship milestone at all.

George felt the need to rinse out his ears with soap. He could not believe what he was hearing. With the way you two were speaking, one year of marriage would have made more sense.

“It’s been the best year of my life, you know. Living here with my best friend.”

“Oh, I’m glad you like living with George.”

The boy in question made a face. He could hear you hit Lockwood on the shoulder.

“You know what I mean. I’m just grateful I know you. And… I couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else. You’re incredible. And one of my favorite people in the world.”

George suppressed a gag. Love was unfortunately in the air.

“I like you too, I guess,” Lockwood said stupidly.

Your laughter rang out into the hallway. “Come on, I pour out my heart and soul for you and I only get an ‘I guess?’”

“No, you get this, too.”

There was the sound of paper rustling, and then your shocked gasp.

“Anthony, I can’t accept this.”

He laughed lightly. “Yes, you can.”

“This must’ve cost you a fortune. How much was it? I promise I’ll pay you back eventually, just name the price.”

“There is no price. You’ve already paid me back tenfold by putting up with me.”

“I’m serious, Anthony.”

“So am I.” His voice lost the joking lilt to it. “To know you is to love you. And to be able to love you is the greatest gift anyone could ever receive.”

You were stunned into silence for a moment before you spoke again. Your voice was watery. “You’re the most important person in my life. I love you so much.”

“I love you too. You’re my best friend.”

The next day, you came downstairs with a shiny necklace around your neck. George tried not to slap his hand to his forehead.

You and Lockwood had officially made the words “best friend” lose all meaning.

—

“It’s a cute necklace, by the way,” Lucy teased.

Your face was on fire, and the piece of jewelry around your neck felt heavy suddenly. “George, you really heard all of that?”

He rolled his eyes. “That’s what you get for professing your undying love for each other with the door wide open.”

You pressed your face into one of Lucy’s blue pillows, not able to face them.

“It’s not like that.”

The call of your name made you shoot up off Lucy’s bed.

“George? Lucy?”

It was Lockwood, probably finished dinner downstairs.

“We’re coming!” You yelled down, eager to escape the room (and the conversation).

Lucy’s smile only seemed to grow. You feared for your life.

Lockwood was waiting for the three of you at the bottom of the stairs, his eyebrows raised.

The pleasing aroma of his cooking permeated the air.

“Smells nice,” you greeted, your voice coming out breathless.

His hand skimmed over your arm as you continued past him to the kitchen.

Throughout dinner, you found yourself psychoanalyzing every single interaction you had with Anthony. From the way he pulled out your chair for you and the way he gave you his biscuit when George had his back turned.

He just violated the biscuit rule for you. You wondered if this was love.

You even found yourself questioning his cooking decisions. Tonight’s dish was your favorite, and Lockwood knew it. You gave him a scrutinizing look when his back was turned, much to Lucy’s delight.

You found yourself cursing your friends. You could barely function around him on a normal day, and these thoughts they planted into your mind weren’t helping.

You nearly collapsed when he brushed a strand of hair out of your face. He was just looking at you, and you could feel about eighty emotions rush to the surface.

This had to be love. You were so deeply in love with him.

Much too soon, the night was over. The leftovers were packed away, and Lockwood was at the sink, washing the dishes.

The thought of marriage never sounded sweeter.

Uncaring at this point, you wrapped your arms around his back, frustrated. Your thoughts were all jumbled. His body relaxed at your touch, and then he squeezed one of your hands at his front tightly. You didn’t even care that he got your hand all soapy.

You watched from over his shoulder as he finished drying the last dish and placed it on the rack.

Prying your arms off of him, he managed to loosen your death grip around his waist just enough to spin around and face you. His chin rested on top of your head while his own arms came to rest around your shoulder blades.

“You’ve been quiet. Everything alright?”

You made a noise into the hollow of his throat. “Just thinking.”

He leaned the both of you back against the counter. “Figurative penny for your thoughts?”

Being with him like this was like taking a blanket straight from the dryer and cocooning yourself in it. You felt like a cat resting in a sun spot. Encased in warmth all around.

Your sheer love and care for the boy in you arms made you so soft. This was love.

“George and Lucy made me realize something.”

“Yeah?”

Your knees nearly buckled at the sound of his voice. It was deeper than normal, and the way his voice raised slightly at the end made you feel a little insane.

With a start, you redirected your thoughts. He said a single syllable and it reduced you completely to mush. There had to be something wrong with you.

“What’d you realize?”

“That I’m in love with you.”

Your heart was racing. That six word confession had turned you into a bunch of nerves and clammy palms. Lockwood was quiet, beginning to rub circles into your shoulder with the heel of his palm.

He hummed, a sweet sound that had your heart doing flips in your chest.

“Was wondering when you’d figure that one out.”

If your hands were free, you would’ve hit him hard against the chest. Too reluctant to pull back from him, you settled for pinching his side. You tilted your head to the side and pressed your ear against his chest. His heartbeat was loud and only a little bit erratic. He smiled against your hair.

“I’ve been in love with you for longer, I bet,” he mumbled, always making things into a challenge.

“Really?”

“Definitely.”

“You wanna prove it?”

He leaned back, and you both looked a little shocked at how forward your words were.

“Uh, unless you don’t want to—”

He smiled, and the sight of it was infectious. His face got closer to yours and you had to swallow the enthusiasm that was beginning to bubble within you. His next words were practically breathed out into the silence of the kitchen.

“I’m going to kiss you now, alright?”

Not bothering with an answer, you leaned forward and planted your lips against his.

It was even better than you thought it’d be.

You had no idea how long you sat there, his face in your hands while you made up for lost time. A loud cough had you both springing apart.

Your face was burning up and Lockwood’s chest was heaving, but his smile was as smug as ever.

Lucy was grinning.

George looked disgusted. “Please don’t do that so close to the plates we eat off of.”

Neither of you were allowed to leave the room without about five more minutes of teasing.

As you made your way up the steps, you were stopped by a hand on your sleeve. It was Lockwood, and he pulled you back in to press another kiss to your lips.

“I love you,” he said, and his words sounded like your favorite song he learned to play on the piano just for you.

“Love you too,” you echoed back. Those words had been exchanged between the two of you countless times, but this was the first time it held the weight that it did. As you climbed up the stairs, you found that you had a smile permanently etched on your face.

“You know, we didn’t talk about the fifth love language earlier.”

Lucy was at the top of the next landing, a cheeky smile on her face. Less evil than before, her grin was now more amused than anything.

“What were you going to say?”

“I was going to tell you about the time Lockwood bribed me to switch seats with him so he could sit next to you at the cinema. But I think we just had a great live example of how much you two like physical touch.”

Lucy’s laughter resounded throughout the entire house as you chased her up the steps.

notes: ahh the tangledinlove special! pining and yearning that makes me want to collapse. he needs to be real… jonathan stroud what have you done to me.

as always: please leave feedback if you enjoyed!

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