#Tiny House (Portland)

[tinydigshotel]

Tiny House for Rent in Portland." Nestled in the heart of this vibrant city, these tiny houses offer an unforgettable escape from the ordinary.

[flemingsfreckles]

Replacement Pt.12

Read the rest of the series here!

Warnings: just some pg13 making out, nothing else.

WC: 3.3k

A/N: hi, I finally got this chapter finished, it’s been a struggle, like I’ve said I’ve been incredibly busy, I’m hoping to get some short blurbs written for yall so I can get back to consistently posting.

You didn’t hear much from Jessie the next day. A few texts here and there, but nothing like you were used to. You acknowledged each other at training, uncomfortable glances in each other's direction, followed by quick, training related conversations.

You hated it. Feeling like you had messed up, that you were to blame. You had spent the night feeling angry, at Jessie and at yourself. Her words had hurt, the way she nearly dismissed what you had seen as valuable. You loved the safety you felt when it was just the two of you in her apartment. You loved how it felt to finally feel comfortable exploring this side of your life. You loved being able to touch her, hold her hand, kiss her and not feel scared. You loved being able to open talk, no teammates or strangers potentially listening in. You figured she had felt the same, until she had called it all fake.

At the same time you were mad at her, you were mad at yourself. You knew it wasn’t fair to force Jessie into dates at home. She deserved someone who wanted to show her off, someone who was proud to be her girlfriend and showed it. You hadn’t given that to her. The longer you sat in bed thinking, the more you felt torn. You didn’t want to lose her, but you weren’t ready for everyone to know, at least not yet.

“Can I pick you up tonight? 9pm? I’ll have you home by midnight I promise.” Those were the first words you spoke to Jessie this morning that weren’t related to soccer. You had waited around in the locker room after training until all your teammates had left and just the two of you sat side by side in your cubbies.

“Kinda late don’t you think?” She questions quietly.

“Please?” You didn’t want to have to beg her, but you needed to talk, you needed this chance with her.

“Okay, sure.”

“Okay, I’ll pick you up.” You say to her as she heads out of the locker room. A little hurt that she hadn’t waited to walk out with you, but you also couldn’t blame her too much. This morning had been tense and awkward, it was fair for her to run off.

“You’re not going to kill me up here are you?” Jessie tries to break the silence in the car. You just glance at her. “Sorry, obviously a joke.”

You and Jessie had been driving for about 25 minutes before you parked the car. You had traveled out of the city of Portland, into the woods, down a gravel road, to a small clearing you found last year. Away from the hussle and bussle of the city, it became a quiet place for you to think. It probably wasn’t at all what she was expecting, but you didn’t mind surprising her.

“9pm picnic?” Jessie says, puzzled look on her face as she followed you out of the car and watched you lay out the blanket you had brought.

“No, stargazing.” You point upward to the clear sky displaying tiny bright dots of light.

“Oh.” Jessie makes her way to the blanket, toeing off her shoes before sitting down. You follow, sitting beside her. Just like the car, the two of you start off in silence, waiting for the other to break it.

“Look, Jessie.” You start, waiting for her to turn to look at you, when her eyes meet yours you continue. “I know this isn’t completely public, but I’m trying. You asked to do something outside of our houses, this is what I’m comfortable with for now. I wanted to show you, I’m in this, I want this.”

“I know, I’m really sorry, for what I said, I should have never said those dates were fake, because they weren’t. Those evenings together meant something to me and they meant something to you. They weren’t fake and I’m so sorry I said they were. I’m in this too, I want this too. I just freaked out, thinking you’d keep me a secret forever, which now that I’ve reflected was stupid and I just panicked.”

“It was never my intention to keep you a secret forever. I just need a little bit more time. I’m still figuring this out.”

“Yeah, I know. You deserve to take the time you need, I’m sorry if I made you feel pressured in any way.” Her hand on your thigh gives you a gentle squeeze, sending tiny feelings of electricity up between your legs.

You respond with silence, not quite knowing where to take the conversation, but also just falling into a comfortable silence with the girl next to you. As you both lay, you lean your head over, resting it on her shoulder. The two of you lay in silence, admiring the display in the sky above you.

“This has been really nice.” Jessie says rolling over on her side to look at you. You keep your eyes trained on the sky, looking at the stars. “Thank you for showing me this.” She puts a kiss on your cheek before shifting to lay her head on your chest, one of her arms coming to wrap around your waist.

You feel your face rush with heat at the feeling of her kiss. You couldn’t believe something simple from her, like a peck on the cheek still gave you a tingling feeling in your stomach. “You know it’s been three months technically since our first date, and one month since we agreed to be girlfriends?”

“I did.” Jessie lets out a little sigh. “I just wasn’t sure if you wanted to make it a big deal or not, people are different, we hadn’t really done anything for month one or two, so I wasn’t sure if you maybe weren’t a monthly anniversary person or not.

“I wasn’t sure if you were, that’s why I haven’t been saying anything.”

“So we’ve just been not acknowledging it.” Jessie laughs softly as she speaks.

“Yeah I guess.” You shrug.

You feel Jessie shift on the blanket, she lifts her head momentarily.“I’ve had a really nice three months with you.”

“Me too babe.” You both share a smile before Jessie leans up toward you, her lips finding yours.

As you kiss you can almost feel a shift. One you can’t quite place but the way she kissed you, felt deeper, more passionate, her tongue running against yours felt dirtier, in a way that made you want more. Before you can get too carried away you find yourself pulling back. You wanted it, but not on a blanket, on a rock, in the middle of somewhat secluded woods.

“Um, so it’s almost eleven, I promised I’d have you home by midnight.”

“Right…” Jessie says. “I mean, we do have film and recovery tomorrow. Should probably get at least some sleep.” Both of you groan as you stand up, not wanting to leave the peaceful night you had created, but you knew you had to.

After the short drive home you found yourself parking your car outside of your own place, instead of Jessie’s. “Sorry, I’ll drop you off in a second, I forgot something for you, I meant to grab it earlier.”

“Of course, no problem.”

“Unless you wanted to come upstairs?” It was an innocent enough question you posed to Jessie, but both of you knew it likely had a less than innocent underlying meaning.

You had been more physical on your date tonight than most. Your hands had constantly been finding ways to touch Jessie. Your hand in hers, your hand on her thigh, hand on her back, your fingers running through her hair, and she was returning the favor, her hands running down your side as she had rested with her head on your chest.

“Yeah, if you want me to?”

“I do.” You nodded. “Plus, tomorrow is just film and recovery, if we’re a little sleepy, it’ll be alright.” You end the sentence with a slight smirk on your face. The two of you made quick work of getting out of your car and she followed you up to your building.

You initiated it. The second the two of you made it through the door, your lips found Jessie’s, kissing her hard, not wasting any time before you let your tongue slide against her lips. Hands on her hips you urge her to move backward in the direction of your bedroom.

You poured years of self hatred and denial into the kiss, you were finally getting what you had always wanted deep down. The feelings you had suppressed for years poured out as the two of you made your way into the bedroom.

You reach the bed, finally breaking your kiss and you climb onto it as Jessie stands at the side, watching you. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Not having to think twice you reassure her with an enthusiastic nod, it felt right, tonight was the night. You had no idea what you were doing, but excitement filled your stomach.

“Okay, just tell me if you change your mind.” Jessie says as she climbs onto the bed next to you, situating herself between your thighs.

Leaning down, she covers your body with her own, her lips making their way back to yours and the two of you spend time kissing. You slowly become used to the feeling of her body on yours, it's new, but you liked it, your hands hold her sides as her own hold her above you. Every slight shift of her weight you can feel, the longer you kiss her the more restless you become. You can feel the way her hips softly rock against yours. For a moment you’re in heaven.

You can feel your head start to spin as she kisses the side of your neck. The feeling you're experiencing is one you’re unable to put into words, a mix of uncertainty and excitement fill your system. Feeling bold in your movements you let your hands pick at the edges of Jessie’s shirt, your fingers just barely touching her bare skin underneath. She sits back, breaking away her lips from your skin and you watch as she puts her arms up.

“Go ahead.” She nods with a smile down to you and you slowly pull the shirt up and over her head. You let your eyes trail down her body, pausing a little too long at her chest, still covered in a sports bra. It was a view you had seen hundreds of times in the locker room but this was different. This wasn’t seeing her change into her kit for a game, this wasn’t her changing after practice. She was undressing for you. That made it different.

You’re enjoying the attention she’s giving to your neck and lips, until her hands find their way to the hem of your shirt and you feel her begin to gently pull on it. She doesn’t quite make a move to take it off of you yet, but you know that’s what she’s teasing at, her fingers creeping further under your shirt. That’s when your stomach feels like a sinking rock, it finally sets in what the two of you were doing. She was going to be naked, you were going to be naked. She’d be seeing every inch of you. You hadn’t done anything like this before, before Jessie you’d hardly made out with anyone.

As her fingertips graze the band of your bra the feeling in your stomach grows and for a moment you’re worried you’ll be sick. “Hang on Jess.” You’re able to whisper out and you almost regret it as you feel her lips pull away from your sensitive skin.

“Are you okay?” Jessie pulls back looking at your face, her fingers still touching under your shirt.

“Uh.” You try to find your voice, the words to tell her. Feeling frozen you just look at her. When she moves her fingers slightly you jump under her touch. Jessie now looks concerned as she looks down at you. You feel like you could cry in the moment, the lump in your throat starting to feel impossible to swallow.

“We can stop.” Jessie offers sweetly.

“No Jess, it's fine.” You quickly find the words trying to convince her and yourself that you’re okay. “I’m fine.”

“I don’t think you mean that.” Jessie stays still, her hands still resting on either side of your abdomen, you hope she can’t feel how uneven your breathing is, or just how hard your heart is beating. “I can tell you’re nervous, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

You shouldn’t be embarrassed, but you were. Tucking your head down to avoid her eyes, you can feel them burning into the crown of your head. The heat rising on your cheeks makes this feel even more embarrassing. “I’ve just, I’ve never, and I don’t, I mean, I’m just not sure.” You manage to mumble out.

Jessie doesn’t say anything initially, but you feel her fingers slide out from under your shirt, resting on your thighs that were still wrapped around her waist. “Hey, it’s okay.” She begins rubbing slow strokes up and down your shorts, comforting you. Her right hand leaves your thigh and finds your own hand, gently interlacing your fingers.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice cracks slightly and you can feel the tears welling up, blinking hard a couple escape and roll down your cheek. “I thought I was ready.”

“It’s okay, look at me.” Jessie politely requests. You turn your head, giving her a quick glance before shying away again. “Please,” it’s a gentle ask and you do as she says, making eye contact with her for just a moment before your eyes fall to your lap again, “I don't care, I mean, I do obviously, I care about you. I just mean, if you’re ever not ready, not comfortable, we’re not going to do anything.”

“I want to, I promise, I want to have sex with you, just, I don’t know, it’s still all new.” You couldn’t quite put into words the feelings you were having, uneasy, anxious, and yet excited, all flooding your system making you feel unwell.

“That’s okay.” Jessie swings her legs over yours, sitting down on the bed next to you, she reaches for her own previously discarded shirt pulling it over her head quickly before returning her focus to you. “You don't need a reason, and it's also okay to just not be ready.”

You just nod. You stay staring ahead, where Jessie used to sit, now your eyes fell across the room on the empty wall. An unsettling feeling still in your stomach, you just wanted it to go away. Your brain felt like it was ready to explode and yet it was silent at the same time, having no idea how to process the emotions you went through.

You’re not sure how long it’s been when Jessie speaks again. “Do you want me to go? I can leave if you need some space, Or I can stay, it’s your choice, whatever will make you comfortable.”

You hardly had to think before you knew the answer “Stay?”

“Of course.” Jessie says, you can almost feel her relax into the bed slightly. She moves around, covering herself with the throw blanket that rested on your bed.

“You’re not mad?” Finally having the courage to speak, you ask, slightly terrified of what the answer might be.

“Why would I be mad?” She turns looking at you with a hint of sadness in her expression.

“I don’t know. I mean I started it, I made it seem like we were going to, ya know.” Your hands play with the blanket.

“I’ll never be mad at you for saying no, no one should ever get mad at you for that.” Her hand finds yours, encouraging you to stop fidgeting with the blanket. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Okay.” You turn, swinging your legs off the bed. “I’m going to get ready for bed, I have an extra toothbrush if you still want to spend the night.”

“Yeah, only if you’re sure?”

“I am, feel free to grab clothes from my dresser, if you wanted something besides what you’ve got on.” You point over where your dresser was against the wall. Jessie nods then moves toward the dresser opening a few drawers before finding your t-shirts. She looks through a few and then holds one up. M

“Cool if I take this one?” She holds it up to you. You nod before heading into the bathroom. While you’re rummaging through your closet to find the packaged toothbrush for Jessie she joins you, your shirt now across her chest and one of your favorite pairs of sweats on her legs. You can’t help but feel your stomach flutter at the sight of her in your clothes.

“Here ya go.” You hand her the toothbrush and she walks to your sink. “I’m going to go change, I’ll be right back.” Quickly throwing on sweatpants and a shirt of your own you return to the bathroom, washing your face and brushing your teeth before heading back toward your bed.

Jessie is standing at the foot of it, looking at you. “Do you have a side preference?” You shake your head before moving to the closest side of the bed, lifting the covers and beginning to climb in, you reach over setting an alarm for the morning. Jessie gets the idea and moves to the other side, putting her phone on the bedside table and climbing in as well.

You’d never slept next to anyone in a romantic way. Sure you’d shared beds with teammates before but never a teammate that you also kissed, and hugged, and lov-, really liked. You feel your face heating up at the near confession that just happened in your brain.

Despite the darkness of your room, Jessie somehow could see right through you. “Just lay how you normally would, pretend I’m not here.” Following her instructions you roll off your back and onto your side, facing away from Jessie. “There ya go.” Staring at the rest of your bedroom you can’t see, but feel the bed shift as Jessie moves around. “Is it okay if I lay behind you?”

“Yeah go ahead.” As you give her permission, Jessie moves and you suddenly feel her legs against yours before her chest is against your back.

“Can I put my arm around you?” Instead of verbally answering, you reach an arm of your own back, finding Jessie’s wrist and pulling her forward so her arm draped across your middle. “You comfortable?” She checked in with you.

“Yeah, I’m good.” That was mostly the truth, you were more comfortable than before, and Jessie’s body against yours was a welcomed warmth, but that didn’t mean it calmed your mind fully. Your mind was still thinking about how it had felt to have Jessie on top of you, your legs wrapped around her waist as she ever so slightly had rolled her hips, how it felt for her hands to be under your shirt, how her lips felt on your neck, and while you had loved all those things, you couldn’t stop thinking about how embarrassed you felt.

Here you were, an adult, still terrified of physical intimacy. You wanted it, you just couldn’t. It made it all too real. “I’m sorry.” It’s a weak apology from you that has Jessie immediately shushing in your ear.

She places a kiss to your shoulder and tightens her grip on your waist. “Go to sleep babe, nothing to be sorry for.”

[lewkwoodnco]

buy me presents! - Lockwood x Reader

A/N: jealous!lockwood, gift giving (lockwood's version), I like to think I'm funny hehhe, maybe maybe veeery borderline crack fic? this is MY christmas present to myself and I WILL indulge in my favourite tropes so if you saw me kicking my feet like a thirteen-year-old, no u didnt. (I needed a concrete holiday for this so i used christmas but its all the same hehe) I've thrown the schedule out the window, it'll be a christmas miracle if all 12 fics even get written so happy holidays!!!!! wc 2.6k!!

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST

She was sitting at the kitchen table, agonising over the horribly organised financial records of Lockwood & Co. As tedious as it was, she enjoyed the work the most out of the four of them, and had taken on the extra role of being somewhat of an accountant. She had lightly teased him about receiving a boost in her pay until she saw their dismal financial situation. The joke stopped being funny alarmingly quickly after that.

Lucy was hurrying through some last-minute packing, while George was trying to locate their train tickets, sporadically yelling through the house for Lockwood. She didn't have quite the heart to tell him that Lockwood had unfortunately escaped hours ago, winking at her as he had shrugged his coat on while she had been looking particularly ragged in the sea of receipts.

She hears the front door open, and after a minute or two, Lockwood walks into the kitchen, rosy-cheeked from the brisk morning air.

"How are the accounts?"

"Terrible. The only thing more astonishing that these bank statements is the fact that we somehow haven't gone bankrupt..." she presses a few more keys of her calculator. "...yet."

George yells again and they wince in unison.

"How long has that been going on?"

"Long enough. He's going to leave you here if you don't find him soon."

He sighed. The three of them were getting ready to leave for the holidays. Lucy was going back North to visit a friend, Lockwood and George were headed to George's for the holidays. She would have come to, but they were already at the max capacity and she had waved off their worries smoothly, since she had spent most of her Christmases alone as an agent. So, as much of a fuss Lockwood kicked up about it, she'd be celebrating Christmas in a cheery if empty 35 Portland Row.

"Are you sure you'll be alright on your own?"

"One of us has burnt a house down and it's not me. I like my chances."

"Still. Christmas, all alone?"

George yelled again, his voice entering a new octave.

"Christmas with peace and quiet, more like. You know, maybe they'd have space for me if you weren't bringing your mountain of hair products for you fancy hair."

He pulled his gloves off with a lazy smile.

"You think my hair's fancy?"

She rolled her eyes as Lockwood revealed a small delicate pastry box, sliding into the seat in front of her. She had had a feeling it was coming from the way he had been lingering in the kitchen.

"What's this?"

"Red velvet doughnut with those tiny candy cane sprinkles you like."

She traced the box longingly, feeling torn. "I thought Arif was fully booked with Christmas orders."

"He made an exception for you."

She raised her eyebrows.

"I might have...tipped him extra."

"Lockwood."

"You're going to be alone for the next week. It's the least I could do."

She looked at him sternly. Lockwood had the particularly bad habit of impulsive spending. She had carefully broached the topic of gift-giving with him before; namely, after the time he purchased an ornate decorative set of glass robins which she had casually expressed a vague interest in in passing. She tried to explain how gestures like that made her feel obligated to him, and he tried to explain it was the least he could do, given how much of their accounting work she shoulders. They never reached a satisfactory conclusion, and though he did tone it down afterwards, she would still come across the occasional trinket adorned with a frilly bow in her belongings.

It was this very spirit, in fact, that had inspired her to tediously and secretly work on creating a snow globe of 35 Portland Row for him. She couldn't find anything commensurate to the loving thoughtfulness behind each of his gifts, so the next best thing was one decent, homemade, meaningful present. Even though he was going away, she still wanted him to receive it on Christmas, so she had passed it to George. It had been a bit of a nerve-wracking decision, especially if she was being too forward, and she had a pair of snowmen socks at the ready for a backup, but now the snow globe was tucked safely in George's trunk and there was no going back.

"The least you could do is save your limited funds for things that actually matter." She pointedly flips her notebook close.

He reaches out towards her face but gets interrupted by Lucy yellnig at him from somewhere in the house for blocking the stairs with his bags. He scrambles off apologetically, nearly tripping over himself as her threats grow more vivid.

Their reserved cab, courtesy of George ("flagging down a cab one week before Christmas? In this economy?"), arrives and the four of them start piling way too much luggage in it. Just as they're about to leave, Lockwood hesitates and turns to her.

"It's not too late for me to stay."

She pushes him out the door, waving to the others as Lockwood stumbles clumsily down the steps.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Y/N!"

"Lockwood? Hello?"

"Ho - How have you been?"

"What?"

There's a lot of commotion at the other end of the line. She had been waiting for them to call the past few days, and was eagerly settling down to hear all about the festivities. She can hear a thousand different sounds overlapping and the thuds of footsteps criss-crossing, mixed in with some familiar threats from unfamiliar voices. Huh. Though it did make sense that of all the things George might have inherited from his family, it would be this.

"Just a moment." She hears the kerfuffle die down and the crinkle of the telephone wire shifting. "Sorry, had to find a closet. Now, where were we?"

"Sounds busy."

"Oh, it is. But it's nice, meeting George's family. Had to fight them off with a stick to get to the telephone, though."

He hears the smile in her voice. "I can see that. So what have you been up to?"

"So much. Too much. Y/N, you cannot repeat this to George but...they take Christmas far too seriously."

"Really?"

"We spent an entire day picking out the tree. I am sick of Christmas cookies and it's only my second day here."

She frowned. "I told you to pace yourself."

"My fingers - oh, my poor fingers - worn down to the bone stringing popcorn and cranberries together."

"What's the popcorn for?"

"Hell if I know! They make Christmas look like an extreme sport."

She tried to suppress her smile, putting on a grave voice. "You have my sympathies."

"Good. Though I suppose it hasn’t been all bad. I liked the ornament painting. Plus, Belinda’s been helping me loads.”

“…Belinda?”

“George’s cousin. George’s somehow even busier than I am and I haven’t got a clue what’s going on sometimes, so she’s been a real help.”

“That’s nice,” she says bitterly. An uncomfortable silence follows.

“So, I was just saying, earlier, that I hope you're not feeling too lonely."

She lets him trail off, unhappily aware of how the only life and excitement the house had seen in the past three days was emnating solely from the telephone. She hadn't expected it to be this difficult to have a quiet Christmas.

"Oh, I'm fine." She stares at the Santa Claus figuring opposite her cynically. Saint Nicholas, indeed. "Just having a whale of a time with...Nicholas, here."

"Nicholas?"

An impulse brews in her head. It's a poor one, but she's got nothing to do, and it's Christmas.

"Yeah, Nicholas. I met him at the Christmas market. He's amazing, really."

"...Nicholas."

"Yeah."

"Never heard of him."

"He's a little bit older. I wouldn't expect you to know him."

"Hm."

"Anyway, I've hardly even noticed you've left, since we hang out together so much."

"So, you're spending time...with him?"

"Oh, he's not here right now. He's been a bit busy today at his..." she cast her eyes around wildly, landing on a a porcelain figurine of some grinning elves. "...workshop."

"Workshop?"

"He carves wood. He's a wood carver. You should see some of the ornaments he makes. He's great with his hands."

"I'm sure he is."

Lockwood gets too irritable to continue the conversation much further and they hang up soon after. By the time they were done, the sun had set and the house was in complete darkness: the perfect atmosphere for brooding. So what if he'd rather spend Christmas with girls like Belinda? She didn't care. Good...riddance.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few days later, she collects the mail and finds an envelope addressed to her in Lockwood's narrow, slanted handwriting. She rips it open like a kid on Christmas morning, but her smile twists when she sees the Christmas card inside. There's a picture of George's entire extended family-and-friends, and Lockwood's hunched over in the corner, next to a girl with effortlessly pretty hair. They're wearing matching sweaters. Not the whole family, just the two of them. While she had always reluctantly accepted the occasional gift from him with an appropriate amount of embarrassment, nothing could have prepared her for the sight of undeniable proof that he just might do the same for others. Picking out a present, spending his money, on her? Disgusting.

It's enough to make her jam it forcefully under the telephone. Next to it, she spies the slip of paper with George's personal telephone number jotted down, in case of an emergency. She drums her fingers impatiently while the phone rings, eyeing the clock while she adds in the time difference. She feels so stupid over the snow globe now. What on earth had possessed her? If she's lucky, Lockwood might have gone to bed by now and she just might catch George-

"H'llo?" Lockwood's sleep-roughened voice strains through the static hum.

"Nothing, go back to sleep."

"Y/N?"

"You're dreaming. Hush now. Good night-"

"Y/N." He sounds wide awake now, and she can hear him start to sit up. The plainness in his voice starts to fade as he gets steadily mroe assertive. "Is something wrong?"

"No, everything's fine. I didn't realise it would be so late for you. Listen - is George there?"

"He's helping with the caramel apples."

"Ah. Do you think you could tell him to phone me when he has the time?"

"Oh, no worries, I'll see him at dinner later. I can pass the message."

She swears internally. "Oh it's nothing. Just wanted to have a chat, see how he was doing."

"He's doing fine."

There's an awkward silence. She can tell he's barely convinced, and the discomfort from the Christmas card prickles at the back of her neck.

"Get anything in the mail?"

"I haven't checked," she lied, clenching the card in her hand. Stupid, lousy card. It was ridiculously childish but really; her acquired expensive taste was his fault for encouraging it in the first place. "I've just been so busy with Nicholas, you know."

"I see."

"Why? Did you mail something over?"

"Just a Christmas card. No big deal."

"Aw. Thanks." She wants to curl up and die. The snow globe was most definitely overkill. She should have gone with the socks.

"Did Nicholas get you anything?"

"He really only goes by Nick."

She can hear the distaste in his voice. "A nickname. How...quaint."

"We went to see The Nutcracker, and took a walk in the park, if you really must know." It had been more like her sitting alone in the park, miserably tossing the pigeons with small kernels of roasted chestnuts.

"Oh. Did he...get you a gift?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"I don't. He just sounds like a..." His voice changes and she can tell he's pulling some kind of face. "...like an interesting person."

"He is."

"Good."

"Great."

"Glad we cleared that up."

They fume at each other through the phone for a while.

"I talked to George, by the way. He doesn't remember a Nicholas either."

"Yes, well, that's because...he doesn't stay here. In London. No, he's part of a, whaddyacallit, travelling group with the, er, Christmas market."

"Like...a circus?"

"...yes."

"Well. As long you're having fun..."

"I am. So much fun." She had a white-knuckle grip on the telephone. Why was she tearing up?

"Merry Christmas, Y/N," he whispers. His voice somehow still manages to sound soft and measured over the telephone, as if he were sitting right next to her. And even through the telephone, he sounds sad.

"Merry Christmas Lockwood."

She pulls the card from under the telephone, staring at the family picture. She flips it and sees a short message scrawled hurriedly at the back.

'Thinking about things that matter. Thinking about you.'

The dial tone reverberates through her skull.

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She wakes up suddenly the next morning, and she can't figure out why. It's so cold and quiet that it takes her a minute to remember that it's Christmas Eve. She has approximately two seconds to wallow in self-pity before the racket starts back up. Someone's knocking firmly at the door, loud enough to make her head pound, interspersed with some heated yet unintelligible conversation with someone else.

She opens the door and almost immediately gets the wind knocked out of her. It's Lockwood, wearing a ridiculously tinseled Santa hat, hands full of shopping bags. There's also a majorly peeved George standing behind him, carrying their bags and, surprisingly, even more shopping bags.

Lockwood hands her one of the bags, which she numbly takes, before pulling her in for a hug, and it all happens so quick it takes her a minute or two for her mind to catch up with what's happening.

"L-huhh? George? Wha- Aren't you supposed to be -"

"Surprise! Couldn't bear the thought of you having to spend Christmas all alone. Close the door behind the presents, George, you're letting the cold in."

George grumbles something about his mother never letting him live this down and where he can stick the presents. She gapes at the presents in alarm, dizzy at the sight of the avalanche of multicoloured bows.

"These can't all be for me. Right? Right?"

Lockwood bulldozes past her as if she hadn't even said anything. "Unless, of course, Nicholas is here! Is he?"

"Lockwood, wai-"

"I wonder if he got you these many presents. I'm sure he tried his best, of course, poor chap."

"Will you stop, for a minute?"

"That's his jacket, isn't it? He stayed the night, didn't he? Wait." He stops so abruptly and looks so crestfallen that something tugs at her in her chest. "He stayed the night?"

"Lockwood." A lot had happened in the past minute, but she was finally caught up. Even though she knows it's her fault for making him up in the first place, she never meant for it to get this far. "Nicholas isn't here, because there is no Nicholas. It was a joke. I'm spending Christmas all alone, I had to do something. I made him up for kicks.

George throws his head back and starts laughing, dropping the shiny shopping bags around the two of them, laughter fading as he wades his way to the kitchen. Now that he's calmed down, even Lockwood has enough decency to look slightly embarrassed.

"Dear God, don't tell me you came all the way back over Nicholas."

"I...I didn't. I had...all these presents..."

It's a lame excuse, and even he realises it when he looks at her face. He stands there for a very long minute, and then very suddenly walks to his room, leaving her surrounded by the sea of bags and frenzily wrapped presents. He turns stiffly at his bedroom door with a mildly stern, completely unabashed expression on his face. She has to bite the inside of her cheek to stop from grinning.

"Merry Christmas."

TAGLIST: @mischivana @dangelnleif @avdiobliss @mitskiswift99 @elenianag080 @houseoftwistedspirits

[mountttmase]

Cherry Earrings

Note - okay before we start I need you to listen to this song first, or have it on it the background cause this fic is heavily based on it. Thank you to the anons I spoke to about this a while back as it got me back into writing when I was struggling. I really hope you all enjoy and feedback is appreciated as always ❤️

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 3.3K

Warnings - fluff and some suggestive content

There was something about England in the sun that always picked your mood up drastically. After months of grey skies and wind so forceful it nearly knocked you over most mornings, waking up to blue skies and the heat of the sun on your face made you happier than you ever thought it could.

It was one of those rare days that you and Mason had to yourselves. No where to be and no one to answer to but yourselves so when Mason suggested the idea of a picnic in the park near by that afternoon you were happy to agree.

You were currently in the small Sainsbury’s near your house, basket filled high with snacks and drinks for your afternoon of soaking up the sun when you realised how much crap you’d both picked up so you dragged him back to the front of the shop.

‘I think we should get some fruit Mase. What do you fancy?’ You asked, hearing him groan at the thought of something healthy.

His eyes scanned over the shelves, seemingly disinterested until his eyes lit up when they landed on what he wanted. A cheeky smirk on his face as he bought his lips to your ear and his hand that was perched on your shoulder suddenly moved down carefully to the back of your arm.

‘How about some cherries?’ He whispered, a shiver rolling down your spine at his words as his thumb lightly stroked over one particular spot. Sometimes you thought he could point out where the tiny drawing was in the dark but you suppose it helped with him having the same thing in the same place on his own body.

You laughed, picking up the box before turning to him. You knew you were blushing by the way he was looking at you and even though you were in a public place where people knew exactly who he was, you let him dip his head down to kiss you sweetly.

Matching tattoos was something you’d never thought about until that fateful night in Portland a few years ago. You hadn’t been seeing Mason that long in the grand scheme of things, the pair of you meeting when he’d accidentally stolen your taxi but since you were both going the same way you decided to share. it was very unlike you but you gave him your number when you’d both arrived at your destination, him asking to see you again and you were too blinded by his smile to disagree.

You both told each other you weren’t looking for anything too serious, but that was out the window by day three. Not able to keep away from each other for too long and you loved getting to know every inch of him. You weren’t official but you knew it was coming soon, so when he invited you away for a long weekend with some of his friends and their girlfriends you jumped at the chance.

You figured Portland was an odd choice, but after Mason explained it was out the way and hopefully they could keep a low profile you understood why and couldn’t wait to go. You’d never done anything this exciting before and the fact you got to do it with Mason made the whole trip even better.

You and Mason were sharing the loft room of the huge house you’d all rented and were using the fact that no one could hear you from all there way up their to your advantage. You couldn’t keep your hands off of each other and most nights it felt like you barely slept but on the last night things had taken a weird turn when you’d gone out for some some celebratory drinks before heading home the next afternoon.

Reece’s idea of going to bar for ‘a few’ had turned into a mini bar crawl and whilst on your way to your fourth at nearly 3am, Ben had spotted a tattoo shop tucked away in a alley next to where you were just about to enter.

‘We should so get tattoos together’ he exclaimed, throwing an arm around Masons shoulder as he pulled his date along by the hand.

‘Is that not a bit weird?’ Mason laughed, dragging you through the door and into a small booth at the back. The bar wasn’t overly loud or crowded but the boys always liked the space since they never knew who was around and you liked how they could just be themselves for a bit without constantly watching over their shoulder.

‘They don’t have to be matching, just something to remember the weekend by’ he told you all and even though everyone else seemed on board, Mason looked at you with curious eyes. Unsure of if it was something you’d be up for but you just smiled at him before giving your drink order to Ben who’s round it was.

You never seen Mason this drunk before. Not that he was hammered by any stretch of the imagination, but his little tipsy smile and soft bleary eyes were pulling at your heart strings and you couldn’t help but lean over and kiss him.

‘You two need to learn to keep your hands off each other’ Ben laughed as he made his way back, drinks for everyone and a shot as extra but Mason just pushed his shot to you.

‘Mase? Don’t you want it?’

‘I’ve had enough. You have it’ he smiled

‘Why won’t you drink with me?’ You pouted and even though you’d just been told off for not keeping your lips to yourself he lent back in to kiss you quickly.

‘It doesn’t matter. you’re having a good time right?’ He asked and you nodded at him enthusiastically. ‘Look I would, I just know there’s a long walk home. I want at least one of us to have their wits about them and I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you just because I didn’t know my limit’ he told you softly, feeling your heart thump at sweet words. Thinking about your safety when it had completely gone over the top of your head to think about anything else but what was happening in the moment.

The others had abandoned you at the table now, Mason pulling you in closer so he could kiss you again and you let him. Cupping his jaw to keep him close as his kisses were more addictive tonight and you didn’t want to be away from him. You weren’t too sure of it was the alcohol making the pair of you a bit more carefree but it’s like you didn’t care who could be watching you, you just wanted to be close.

His kisses were slow and sexy, pulling a content hum from you as he continually brushed he tongue against yours. His hands were planted on your waist as he carefully skimmed his thumbs across your skin, feeling his gentle touches through your clothes and you shivered at the intimacy of it all. You’d never kissed anyone how Mason kissed you, real kisses that made your head spin and when he bit your lip you had to stop yourself from moaning too loud. You could of kissed him forever but the sound of Reece’s laugh pulled you apart from each other.

‘You two coming?’ You suddenly heard behind you, turning to see Reece and his girlfriend looking at you with giant smiles. You’d wondered if time had suddenly passed by really quickly but a short glance at the clock behind the bar showed you’d only been here around 15 minutes or so.

‘Where?’ Mason asked as Reece began to walk away but he quickly stepped back so you could hear him.

‘Bens convinced us to get tattoos so we’re heading out. You coming?’

‘We’ll meet you in there’ Mason told him before they swayed out, holding onto each other for dear life as their legs struggled to carry them away. ‘We don’t have to, not if you don’t want to’ he said seriously.

‘Fuck it’ you laughed, downing the rest of your drink and pecking his lips again before grabbing your bag. ‘Whatever, let’s do it’

‘Promise me you’re sure’ he laughed, turning your face to him and you gave him what you thought was a reassuring smile but the alcohol pumping through you right now meant it could of looked like anything.

‘Promise. Now come on, they’re waiting’

You followed him inside the tattoo shop, noticing Ben already getting ready for his whilst Reece stood looking at the wall, trying to pick something to add to his collection. You were all going small, something silly and random but all the designs were starting to overwhelm you and you were glad you had Mason behind you for support.

‘What you thinking?’ Mason asked after a while, his chin resting in your shoulder as he held you by your waist.

‘I’m not sure, I don’t want it to be too random’ you told him, but he wasn’t listening fully. His lips on your neck placing wet open mouthed kisses that were making your tummy flutter. ‘Come on Mase, help’ you laughed, tapping his hand and he smiled into your neck before his eyes glanced back up at the wall. ‘What are you getting?’

‘I was thinking the little cherries’ he told you, nodding to the small drawing and you fell in love with them instantly.

‘Why the cherries?’

‘Cause it reminds me of the cherry earrings you’ve got in. I think they’re my favourite’ he whispered in your ear, referencing the small cherry shaped studs you’d bought in duty free on the way over and you followed his eye line to the tiny cherry symbol on the wall so you could take another look. ‘Why don’t you get it too?’

‘What, like matching with you?’

‘Yeah, I don’t see why not?’ he told you, turning your head to look up at him and he was looking back at you with a wide grin, pulling you closer to his body as he let out a little chuckle.

‘Are you sure you’re okay with the same though?’

‘Of course’

‘But what if…’ you started to ask, gulping down a nervous lump as your words trailed off. You looked down at his chest but his lips on your forehead settled you as he began to sway you from side to side softly.

‘Not gonna happen’ he spoke against your hairline quietly, making you smile that he seemed you know what you were thinking before you’d even said it. ‘And even if it does, then we’ll always be connected’ he laughed before making you look at him. ‘How I feel about you, I could never feel this way about anyone else. Known if from the moment I saw you naked’ he teased and you tapped his chest playfully. ‘If it’s too much or too soon I can pick something else’

‘No’ you smiled, shaking your before kissing him softly. ‘I think it’s cute. Let’s do it’ you told him, letting him know you were happy with your choices before you changed your mind. You knew it was crazy, you weren’t even his girlfriend officially but the thought of having tiny matching tattoos with him was an offer you couldn’t pass up.

Mason did all the talking, even offering to go first as you weren’t quite comfortable yet and you held his hand as the artist started, choosing to get it done on the back of his arm so it would be less seen. He didn’t need to as he was wearing a short sleeved top but you didn’t complain when he took it off, letting you stand and look over his perfect torso as he looked at you cheekily.

Mason eventually pulled you in between his legs so he could kiss you after a minute or so and the tattoo didn’t take much longer than that with with being so small. He hadn’t even flinched the whole time and you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or if he just had a high pain threshold but it was sexy as hell and you knew you were giving him your come to bed eyes. You were just hoping he could see it through all the alcohol clouding your vision.

‘Last chance to back out’ he laughed as the man wrapped him up but you shook your head, determined to go through with it just as Mason had. Mason carefully helped you up onto seat where he had just been and he held onto your thigh with one hand whilst linking your fingers with the others.

‘Where would you like it?’ The artist asked and you pointed to the same place Mason had his, feeling Masons chest rumble before he placed a kiss to your cheek.

‘You guys are cute’ your artist laughed, getting settled behind you and you felt Mason squeeze your hand. ‘How long have you been together?’

‘Its funny you should ask that, It’s our four year anniversary tomorrow’ Mason chirped and you almost choked on your own breath as Mason winked at you. ‘Think it’s about time I popped the question soon huh?’

‘I mean I think I’ve waited long enough’ you replied, watching his face lighten at the fact you were going along with his silly drunken joke.

‘We pretty much know how we want the wedding to be though, don’t we babe’ he smiled and your tummy flipped at the pet name, not one he’d used on you before.

‘We sure do. Private ceremony with all our family and closest friends’

‘And then a massive party afterwards for everyone with an open bar’

‘And I’ve love a chocolate fountain’

‘And personalised cocktails. One for each of us’

‘In the evenings we’ll let everyone set off a lantern just like in tangled’

‘I definitely want our dog to be the ring barer and wear a little suit’

‘And Summer can be my bridesmaid, Mila too if she’s old enough by then’ you laughed and his whole face changed into the most loving look you’d ever seen him give you.

‘I’d love that so much’ he whispered, his drunken eyes getting a little glassy and you reached up with you free hand to cup his jaw. Kissing the tip of his nose to hopefully make him smile and lucky for you it worked.

‘Right, you’re all done’ you suddenly heard, not feeling a thing as Mason had distracted you the whole way through and you laughed as you caught sight of it in the mirror before you were all wrapped up.

Mason refused to let you pay for yours, calling it an early engagement present which no one else seemed to understand but you didn’t care. You were in your own little bubble with him and the fact you had this weird private joke going on now made you even happier.

You all compared tattoos on the way home, the others going for smiley faces or stars and they were all pretty shocked when you revealed that yours and Masons were matching but the six of you ended up in a fit of giggles when it finally hit you what you’d all done.

By the time your head hit the pillow, you were too far gone to be intimate in anyway with the man next to you so you curled up into his chest and fell asleep to the soft feeling of his fingers dancing over your back.

The next morning you didn’t want to move in fear of your brain possibly falling out of your head as it was thumping so hard. You turned to look at Mason though, still asleep beside you but he was turned with his back facing you and the first thing you saw was the two little cherries that now sat proudly on the back of his arm.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the realisation that the pair of you were now bound by a piece of fruit that was permanently etched onto your skin was funnier than it should of been and Mason eventually turned to give you a confused look.

‘You alright there?’ He smiked, pulling you flush against him and you nodded into his neck, trying to calm yourself so you could form a coherent sentence. ‘Hey, what’s so funny?’

‘Why the fuck did we get matching cherry tattoos last night?’

‘It seemed romantic at the time’ he shrugged, the smile in his voice evident but you felt it against your skin when he kissed your forehead. ‘Why, do you regret it?’

‘Not even a little bit’ you whispered, kissing his chest as you felt him relax.

‘Well thank god for that. Would of been difficult to explain to my dad that I need a tattoo removal booked in for me and my girlfriend’

‘What?’ You breathed, pulling back to look at him properly and he was giving you shy smile.

‘Well, I don’t know about you but I don’t get matching tattoos with just anybody. Figured the girl i love could do with an updated title’

‘Are you love bombing me?’ You laughed, shuffling up carefully so you were now eye level and even in his hungover state you could of sworn you’d never seen anyway look better.

‘I’m just letting you know how I feel’ he smiled but you saw his face faulted ever so slightly. ‘Thought it might of been the alcohol making me feel things last night but I still feel the same now. Why is it too much?’

‘Not at all. For the record I was hoping the boy I loved might ask me to be his girlfriend soon’

‘Oh yeah?’ He laughed, hiding his face in the pillow before peering back at you through one eye. ‘You should tell him to hurry up’

‘Nah, I’ve got you now. He can wait’ you teased, both laughing as you held onto each other. ‘Although if you make me wait four years before you propose I’m off’ you winked before leaning down to kiss him gently. ‘I mean it though, I love you’

‘I love you, too’ he smiled, pushing your head down lightly so you’d kiss him again and you shivered as you felt him lightly brush over the small tattoo as he smiled into your mouth. ‘Maybe that can be my name for you. My little cherry’ he laughed before his hand travelled down to your bum to give it a gentle squeeze.

‘I guess it’s lucky I didn’t get the banana earrings. I don’t think that would work the same’ you told him and he laughed loudly as he pulled you on top of his body.

‘No but you can call me that if you like’ he winked, tickling your sides as you buried your head in his neck. ‘It’s not little though’

‘No, Mase. You have a very big banana’ you reassured him with a roll of your eyes and he tickled your sides gently as you felt him press his hips up into you.

‘You don’t sound convinced, maybe I should remind you’ he whispered in your ear before rolling you onto your back, your finger absentmindedly tracing the new tattoo on his arm as a warm feeling rushed throughout your body. Mason was yours, and in your gut you knew this could be a forever thing. Your matching tattoos only making everything feel more real.

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed :) I’d love to know what you thought so please feel free to comment or drop me an ask, l'd really appreciate it, much love 💕

[teaandransacking]

In response to the Lockwood x reader smut I think that the “we might die tonight” concept is good thank youuuu

Hi! I hope you like this.

fever dream high in the quiet of the night

Pairing: Anthony Lockwood x female reader ~ Words: 1600 ~ content: heavy petting, swearing, sexual tension

a/n: let's agree that Lockwood is 18 or over for the purposes of this fic, ok? ok thanks.

The room is very still around you.

You wish Lucy and George were here, but they’re back at Portland Row, recovering from rapier wounds. Barely a scratch, Lucy insisted, but Lockwood won’t have anyone working unless they’re at full health.

That should count you out, really. You’re never at full health around him. He’s as distracting and frustrating as he is magnetic. You could just as likely kiss him as punch his stupidly handsome face. Most of the time you think you’d choose to do both simultaneously.

Lockwood eventually shrugs off his coat. You’re in the third (?) sitting room of this manor house in Surrey, waiting for the clock to strike seven. That, according to your clients, is when the Visitors arrive. It’s quarter past six - you’re always early, and for once, Lockwood is, too.

“Getting comfy, are we?” you snark.

He folds his long body into the armchair, and you have to resist looking at his lap. You could easily curl yourself up on it.

He lifts one shoulder in a half shrug. “We should rest while we have the chance. We’ll need our strength later, especially with our reduced numbers.”

You swallow. “Yeah. We’ve got this, though.”

He meets your gaze and nods one, decisively. “We’ll do admirably.” He stretches, and you almost miss it - the tiny wince that passes over his face.

He’s still in pain from the gunshot wound.

It was months ago, but-

Your throat goes tight to think of it. How you and Lucy and George closed ranks around him. How his eyes seemed so dim when he finally opened them. How limp he was.

You must make some sound of disquiet, because his eyes narrow and as always, he sees too much. “Are you all right?”

“Fine.”

He smiles, a little. “I’ll allow that I don’t know a huge amount about girls, but I do know when when they say fine like that, they’re far from it.”

You fold your arms over your chest. “You’re a massive hypocrite, you know that? You force Lucy and George to stay at home and rest, and meanwhile, your shoulder isn’t even fully healed.”

Something flashes across his face - vulnerability or pain, you can’t tell. “It’s fine.”

“Oh, and now who’s insisting they’re fine when they’re not?” You hiss, stalking over to him.

He stands from the chair, his face murderous. “You do not get to be in charge here. It’s my name on the door. I am responsible for all of you.”

“Yes! A job that, might I remind you, you cannot complete if you are dead!”

The word comes out in a sob and, startling yourself, you crumple against him.

His arms come around you instantly, and he gently tugs you down into the chair, urging your legs up so you are curled in his lap. You panic for a second but manage to arrange your rapier so it doesn’t stab either of you.

“You have a fucking death wish, don’t you, you prick,” you try to snap, but the seeing as you’re half-crying, the words don’t have the desired effect.

“Believe it or not, I fear death much more these days, now I have the three of you,” Lockwood says softly, pressing a kiss to your hair.

You freeze, and something in the air crackles.

You’ve never been alone together like this before. There’s always someone else in the house, or you’re walking somewhere - Tesco, Arif’s shop - and suddenly the yawning pit of need that constantly lives inside you around Lockwood opens its maw and begs.

“Can’t you just stay home just once?” you murmur into the soft, clean cotton of his dress shirt. “Just stay safe, for fucking once.”

“I’d be a pretty poor agency head if I did, darling.”

It’s the first time he’s used the endearment and it turns everything inside you to liquid. 

You lift your face and see that he’s gazing down at you, his dark eyes lust-blown, and he’s so tempting and so close. You slide your hand up his chest, cup his cheek. “Every time we do this, we court death. And I don’t want to die before we’ve had the chance to live.”

He inhales sharply at your words, and then his hands - warm and rapier-callused - cup your face and he captures your mouth a kiss.

It’s soft and sweet at first, then hungrier, deeper. Your tongues tangle. He tastes of bergamot and marmalade and it’s both exotic and comforting, and his mouth is pliable and delicious. You have limited time, so despite the fact you could kiss him for hours, days, you want more.

He makes a sad little sound when you break the kiss, and that alone makes you want to dive back in. 

Instead, you shift upwards, move to straddle his lap. When you next look down at him, his gaze is fixed on you, his eyes as black as night. He looks at you as if you personally hung the moon and every single star, and it’s heady, these feelings he always stirs inside you.

His hands slide down to your hips, pulling your body flush against his, and oh. He is definitely as into this as you are. 

His throat bobs as he swallows, and then he says, thickly, “Dreamed about this. Being near you. Like this.”

Your heart clenches. “Me, too,” you admit. You glance at the door. You’ll have to go out there soon. Endanger your life. Lockwood will protect you with his. You know it without a doubt.

“Hey,” he begins, and then he whispers your name in that low, buttery smooth voice. “Just be here with me. Don’t think about anything else.”

You almost snark back that he finally has a good idea, but this moment is perfect. You don’t want to ruin it, so you dip your head and kiss him, let your hands start to work on the knot of his tie. It slides through your hands, silky smooth, and then you’re deepening the kiss, plundering his mouth while your slip one, two, three of his shirt buttons through the tiny eyelets, then spread your greedy palms over the smooth, warm skin of his chest.

He groans into your mouth, and it’s a powerful thing, to rob Anthony bloody Lockwood of words, but then you find that any possible clever quip is stolen at your own mouth as his hands burrow under your jumper and cup your breasts through the bra. You arch into his touch, and he mutters something like “perfection” against your lips as he caresses you.

You grind into each other on the wide, soft armchair. He’s hard where you’re soft, and the pressure is exquisite. Impatient, you reach behind yourself, under your sweater, to unclip your bra, and when Lockwood feels the cups release and your bare skin against his, he swears, low and guttural, and making him come this undone makes you feral for him.

He pushes the hem of your sweater up, breaks the kiss, and then sets a hand under your bottom, urging you up so he can put his mouth on your breasts. His face is just a little rough from half a day’s stubble, and the tiny hurt grounds you as he lavishes attention on one breast and then the next, while the push and pull of pleasure makes you dizzy. You fist your hands in his hair, and it’s warm and silky.

You arch your back, pressing into his mouth, and all you can think is yes and don’t stop, and he doesn’t. He is nothing if not thorough, but then it’s not enough, and you’re impatient, every iota of you on fire. You unsnap your jeans and almost rip open the buttons, taking one of his hands from your chest and shoving it right where you want it.

To his credit, Lockwood is a fast learner - he can’t have become the UK’s youngest agency head for nothing, you suppose - and he finds your clit after a only few fumbles, quickly learning which movements make you cry out and press into his hands. 

You’ve wanted this for so long that you’re soaked, and it doesn’t take long before that tell-tale sensation begins to coil in your belly.

“Say my name,” he murmurs against the curve of your breast. “Please.”

And he circles his finger over you twice more and you come like that, squirming against him, breathing his name -  his first name - and he sighs as he works you through the orgasm, until you’re shuddering from it.

You drop a kiss on his forehead, and you’re about to ask if you can return the favour, find out what he likes, how he tastes, Christ that’d be hot - and the clock strikes seven.

Lockwood withdraws his hand, pulls your jumper down.

“This is not over,” you whisper.

He flashes that megawatt grin. “Not by a long shot.”

And reluctantly, you break apart and get ready to face whatever is behind the door in this old house. 

But you’ll do it together.

[theehorsepusssy]

TheeHorsepussys Portland : Vaseline Alley aka Stark Street aka Harvey Weinstein ( I always get that mixed up) Harvey Milk Blvd

Documenting some gay-ass history for the kids

Red Arrow - 2 blocks to Touche. Not gay but spent most of the 90s in that bar. Fancy looking dining room/pool room but mostly service industry clientele. Hard to find a spot to do drugs discreetly.

Green - Everyday Music. Where to sell vinyl for dope money.

Yellow - Big BIG abandoned, scary building. Looked haunted. Was eventually renovated. But gave you the heebie-jeebies walking past it at night. Gay bashing zone

Green Arrow - The City Nightclub. Underage nightclub. Chicken Hawks(is that Gus Van Sant?), lots of drugs, good DJ downstairs, GREAT DJ upstairs

Red - The Henry Weinhard Brewery (demolished) Made the area smell really, really awful. Gagging thinking of it.

(Stark Street starts to the right here. It looks like they built some weird barrier in the intersection..probably cuz drunk gays in middle of street)

Orange - The Bathhouse. Home away from home. I would sell rip-off size bags of meth to subsidize my habit. Sucked a huge penis here. Gagging thinking of it. Gay bar downstairs was called either Flossies or Silverado or both. Male strippers. Would buy my shitty little bags of dope.

Blue Arrow - at one moment in the 90s, a sex club I think owned by Fantasy Video. Robert would meet his side piece there . The director Todd Haynes, I fuzzily recall reading, was a patron. I went once. Weird vibe. There was a plaque on the wall outside the entrance commemorating the recording of Louie, Louie.

Orange - The Eagle. Bar where it was common to have sex. I saw a guy take a foot up his butt. Cops started randomly coming in to cock block. There is a new bar called the Eagle up in NE Portland up by the Heroin Fred Meyer (I suppose they all are now)

Blue - Transient hotel above the store I hated buying cigarettes from but can't recall why. Maybe it was expensive.

Green - Greasy spoon called Roxys. Horrible breakfast food 24/7. I think it used to be down the street on Everett. Had a tiny basement bar. Moved to Vaseline Alley in 90s. Had ginormous picture of Quentin Tarantino or some shit. Very 90s

Yellow - Three Sisters (Six Titties) dive bar/gay bar. Never really went there. At some point was a male strippers bar. Robert had me escort one of his side pieces there. Kid thought the stripper was really into him. I tried to explain. I won $600 on the poker machine and drove the kid home.

Orange - Django Records. Large amounts of cheap used records. 3 for a dollar bins! I bought Eyehategod In the Name of Suffering here. Also the Cruising soundtrack...33cents!

Red - Fancy, expensive hotel. Yell really loud underneath the windows. They like that. Cops always parked along this stretch. Drunk gays got their first DUIs around here.

Mint- block of amnesia. I don't think it existed

Red - Boxes. Gay bar where you did lines of coke/mda/meth in the bathroom without hassle. TV sets with Oprah or Steel Magnolias, shit like that on. Spartacus Leather fetish store was down a couple doors. Inside Boxes, you could take a wood paneled passage through the fish restaurant kitchen ( I don't think anyone ever ate there) and end up at.....

Green - the Brig. Named because dance floor had bars around it like a jail cell. Imagine the creative dance moves as the queens grappled bars, ass out while Madonna songs played on a loop. Your meth dealer could be found here, doing a fan dance. Don't wear black. Semen stains show up under the blacklights. (or do)

Yellow - the house paint store. Eventually became the Panorama in the age of MDMA. Rave type music. Went there once to meet a dealer. Obnoxious experience.

White - Silverado. Country Western night most nights. My roommate dj'd andtaught line dancing but dance floor was like 10 sq ft so it was just the gays holding hands and boot scootin' in a little circle for eternity. Bar I could get into underage.

Orange - Ben Stark Hotel. Like outta Barton Fink. But really,really seedy. Had some weird sex in there. Now a boutique hotel owned by some Donald Trump guy Gordon Someone who did something once. Probably haunted.

Brown - Scandals. Beer /wine bar. Big windows so you can people-watch and talk shit. Used to go in there underage until I got thrown out snorting a rail of MDA off the tabletop. Had electronic darts and video poker in the 90s. Me and Robert had a domestic dispute there.

Red - row of funky vintage/antique shops. Someone used to broadcast a pirate radio station somewhere around there in the 90s

Blue - Portland Underground. Small venue had some big shows early 90s. Top floor is where I swear I saw Econochrist play. But it's an office building. Maybe confused

Yellow. OBryant Square aka Paranoid Park. Skateboarders and street drugs. I got "chased" by AF Nazis here. Probably more like I ran my fat ass up the street after this girl I knew screamed "run!" And they probably just laughed. I didn't look back. I think it's demolished now.

White arrow- up the block toward the Galleria. Second floor toilet was really cruisy. Careful of cockblocking rent-a-cops. Kiosk by cafe I think was only place downtown to buy pipe to smoke pot

[ukulelevillainwrites]

Heist time

One shot

Warnings: swearing, spoilers for the empty grave sort of

Content: I used the characters from the show, but it’s set after the events of the empty grave tho it’s a tiny bit canon divergent. B99 Halloween heist for our favourite agents.

Summary: Lockwood and Kipps engage in another bet, only this one involves a heist.

Word count: 7.3k

This fic was inspired and triggered by this post

Quill Kipps believed that the longest, most excruciating moment of his life had been when he almost bled out from a stab wound caused by a relic man’s sickeningly rusted blade. But now that he thought of it, he sort of missed the cold and comforting embrace of the Other Side. If it were up to him, he’d cross over again in an instant. Anything to get out of lifting yet another heavy piece of furniture up the never-ending stairs of this damned house. Lockwood might have been satisfied with the new look he was giving his home, but Kipps’s back certainly disapproved of his decoration choices. His former rival and current part-time employer had taken the easy side of course and led the way up to his bedroom, the last piece to complete the Portland Row puzzle. How had his life come to this? He had asked himself this question countless times since he had more or less joined the agency. One day he was a highly esteemed Fittes agent, the next he was playing mover for his much younger boss, which was certainly not part of his job description. He almost tripped over the carpet on the landing but at least they had reached the final floor. Lockwood could find a way to fix the headboard of his new bed on his own, Kipps had already done enough.

“Quill?” Lockwood started, obviously about to ask him another favor.

“Nope. I’m going to get some tea, ask someone else.”

The boy didn’t insist. Well, he was eighteen now, but he was still a boy to him. He probably always will be. What happened next certainly confirmed his intuition. As he headed down the stairs to go put the kettle on, he caught sight of the worst prank he had ever seen.

“Are you serious with this?” He asked, detaching a frame off the wall.

“Oh, nice look out, Quill! This is obviously in the wrong place! I usually hang it along the first flight of stairs, where more people can see it.”

Lockwood took hold of the framed article. He didn’t look ashamed, not even a little bit. Instead, he smiled. A wide and proud grin that Kipps really wanted to punch off his face.

“This isn’t funny. You know how badly written that article is! It made me look like a total fool.”

“My point exactly.” Lockwood winked before passing him in the stairs.

“Here! This is much better!” He said as he hung the frame on the first landing of the house. Kipps wondered if he had done it on purpose to hang the article in the one spot where sun shone brightly to reflect in the glass and make it even more apparent than it needed to be. Knowing Lockwood, he probably did. But for a moment he considered if even divine forces were against him in this fight.

“Take it down. I thought we’d grown past this.”

“Well, obviously you haven’t.”

Kipps stayed silent for a moment. However childish Lockwood was, that pesky boy had still managed to get him right where he wanted. Fine. If he wanted childish, he’d give him childish.

“Take it down or I’ll do it myself.”

His light but somehow threatening tone had gathered a crowd around the landing. Lucy was intently listening to their bickering, apparently very entertained. Holly and George were standing by, not sure where this conversation was headed.

“I won’t let you.” Lockwood responded with a grin.

“It’ll be when you least expect it.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Wanna bet?”

George audibly sighed at the offer. Kipps didn’t look away from Lockwood’s defying stare, but he could sense the researcher rolling his eyes behind him.

“What are the stakes?” Lockwood asked back, seemingly eager to humiliate him one more time.

“If I manage to steal that article before 6pm today, I get to burn it.”

“Interesting. I’m willing to agree to your terms,” he kept the attention of the room, voluntarily lingering before certainly overbidding, “but if I win, you have to call me the best agent/genius and wear a shirt with this very article printed on it for a day.”

“Are you really this childish?”

“You’re the one getting mad over a piece of paper.”

Kipps paused to consider the offer. How hard could it be to out-think his pompous and overconfident rival? Lockwood held out his hand for him to shake and without hesitating much longer, Kipps agreed to his terms.

As soon as he shook his rival’s hand, Lockwood could feel the cogs turning in his brain. Besting Kipps should be easy enough, but he wanted his plan to be extravagant. After all, when was he not? With a proud grin, he looked back at his audience. George seemed exasperated.

“What? This one doesn’t involve the future of the agency!”

It did nothing to relax him. Instead, he cleaned his glasses with a concerned frown on his face, like a disapproving parent disappointed in his son’s poor life choices.

“So, how are you gonna do it?” Lucy asked with much more enthusiasm.

“Well, you could always help me out, Luce.” He winked at her and enjoyed seeing her blush slightly.

“Hold on,” Kipps interrupted from behind him, “if you’re getting outside help, I should too!”

“I’m out!” George exclaimed, “I have work to do for that case coming up in two days. A case we should all get acquainted with, by the way.”

“I’ll help you out!” Holly volunteered, “Let the responsible adults win for once.”

“I will allow no such courtesy.” He declared. “Now, time to strategize.” He grabbed Lucy’s hand and lead her towards his bedroom to discuss his plan behind closed doors.

He didn’t register the inherent intimacy of such a gesture until he saw Lucy lingering near the door, unsure where to sit. The desk was still lying in pieces on the floor, his office chair was downstairs, the headboard was resting sideways against the dresser and the only available seat was the bare mattress resting on the bed frame, the one piece of furniture he actually got around to building. Awkwardly, he signed her to join him behind his dresser that was acting as a protective sound barrier. Hopefully, the chest of drawers would keep Kipps and Holly from hearing anything in case they were trying to eavesdrop.

“Is this really necessary?” Lucy asked out loud.

He brought her near and whispered, “You can never be too careful.”

Besides, he would be lying if he said it wasn’t a good opportunity to stand closer to her. His hand didn’t leave her arm while he explained his plan.

“I need you,” he locked eyes with her and closed his hand around her forearm, “to take care of Holly while I distract Kipps.”

“That should be easy enough, how do you want me to proceed?”

“How good are you at making a mess?”

She smirked. “Good enough to drive Holly insane. What about Kipps?”

“Oh, don’t worry… I’ll get him to leave the house.”

He sent her a knowing smile and she looked back at him with a warning stare. He knew she would object to part of his plan, but she wouldn’t get mad over something so insignificant. Besides, she looked adorable when she gave him that look.

During her years at the agency, Lucy had become more than familiar with Lockwood’s tricks. She knew them so well that she could guess which ones he would use before he said it out loud. She even called some of them her own now. This experience also gave her enough hindsight to know that she shouldn’t get her hopes up. Every attempt Lockwood had made at costumes and disguises had failed horribly. The future of the company wasn’t at stake here, which was a relief. But she had already taken to the game, even though it had barely begun, and her competitive side was showing.

“Please, don’t do an accent.”

“Come on Luce! Don’t you have a little faith in me?”

“Only a little…” She mumbled teasingly. She was lying of course. She knew that he would find a way to make it work somehow. He still hadn’t let go of her arm and brought her closer. She felt flustered. She wasn’t used to this proximity yet. His eyes dropped down to the necklace that never left her neck and he smiled softly.

Suddenly, a thud knocked against the door, revealing the anticipated eavesdropping of their competitor. With a grin, Lockwood offered her his arm before heading towards the door and opening it in a dramatic swing. Kipps did his best to discreetly stand up straight and look like he was casually checking out one of the books on the nearby shelf.

“How about some tea to set the start of our bet, Kipps?”

Lucy felt bad for him. Sort of. He was clearly running out of excuses. He mumbled under his breath and led the way down the stairs with a defeated gait.

“I’ll prepare the mugs.” Holly declared, following closely behind him.

Lockwood and Lucy grinned at each other before joining them, ready for the first part of their plan.

They were sipping in silence. Each of them eyed the other over the freshly poured mug she had handed them. Lucy and Lockwood kept throwing side glances in the other’s direction and Holly couldn’t tell if it was just them being them or if she should be on high alert for heist-related shenanigans. She knew the point was to have fun. She knew the rivalry between Kipps and Lockwood wasn’t really relevant anymore. But it did little to prevent her from keeping a professional and watchful attitude. Old habits die hard. After another stare-filled silence, Lockwood put back his mug on the Thinking Cloth with more noise than necessary. He announced that he had some work to do and winked at Lucy in a very unsubtle way before exiting the room. Something was up, that much was clear. But what was he planning? Before she or Kipps could object, Lucy spilled the content of the honey bottle both on Kipps and the floor.

“Oh no Kipps I’m so sorry!” Lucy apologized. She talked loudly and there was an edge to her voice. This was a distraction and Holly knew better than to get caught up in it. She stared at the basement door, sure that Lockwood would try to sneak back upstairs in the commotion. She tried to stay focused but out the corner of her eye she saw Lucy approaching Kipps’s stained sweater with a tissue. She could already picture the bits of white paper sticking to his ruined clothes and the frustration in his brow. He did care a lot about his black turtleneck.

“Lucy, no! Stop! Start by scraping the excess honey then use dish soap.”

The girl took her jam-covered knife, loosely scraped it on the side of her plate and was about to make matters worse.

“No! Forget it, I’ll do it.”

She got up, and before she could attend to the sticky stains George came in with a call for Kipps. The room fell silent when he answered.

“Wait, who is this?”

He seemed perplexed. George went back to the library undisturbed, and Lucy jumped up to reach for the dish soap. Oh no. She wasn’t going to… Before Holly could react, Lucy covered Kipps in dish soap, making him jump up and walk into the pool of honey formed on the floor by the spill. He shrieked as he almost slipped and Holly couldn’t help her high pitched scream at the mess.

“You told me to use dish soap!” Lucy justified.

“Not like this! Is this your first day being alive?”

Kipps gestured them to shush but apparently the caller had hung up. He set the phone on a spared corner of the table, looking down at the mess.

“What did I do to you, Carlyle?”

“I’m… sorry?”

“A very touching apology, thank you! Well, apparently there’s an emergency staff meeting at the restaurant I work at… whatever that means. I guess I should go.”

“Please, don’t make a trail of honey around the house, it’ll take forever to clean up!” Holly said, already dreading the hours of cleaning ahead.

Kipps nodded and exited the room with his shoes in his hand. He gave her a weird look before leaving. “What about the heist?” she thought. She looked back at Lucy’s fake sorry look and before she could scold her, Lockwood came back up.

“What’s all this noise about? Oh, Holly, you’re doing that thing with your face again.” And then he smiled, his usual wide charming smile like he was a perfect angel who had never done anything wrong. Whenever she got stressed out, Holly had this unconscious habit of furrowing only one eyebrow, giving her face an asymmetrical tension that made the two idiots next to her laugh occasionally. A giant, impossible to clean, sticky puddle of honey was more than enough to stress her out. She did not laugh at his remark and he toned down his gigawatt smile.

“I’ll be with George working on our next case, if you need any help.”

No. He wasn’t getting away that easily.

“I know what you’re doing.”

“Working?”

“Who do you think I am, Lockwood? The fact that you thought this would work is seriously offending.”

“You can come watch me work if you want.” He asked with the same grin.

“Yes, Holly, you can go. I’ll clean, it’s my mess after all.”

At least, she was acknowledging it. She turned around to follow Lockwood into the library when a glass hit the floor, breaking into a thousand little shards most likely wedged in honey or hidden in unattainable corners. She shut her eyes tight, annoyed but also impressed at how easily they had played her.

When Kipps arrived back at the house, he already knew what he was going to find. A stressed-out Holly, a proud Lockwood and a missing frame. At least he wasn’t covered in honey anymore. His rival hadn’t been too discreet about his ploy. He had recognized the boy’s voice through his horrible accent when he had picked up the phone. His sudden disappearance and Lucy’s exaggerated efforts to mess with his favorite turtleneck only confirmed his suspicions. He wasn’t too offended by the simple and frankly idiotic way they had used to get rid of him. At least they felt threatened enough to need him gone before attempting anything. 

When he crossed the door, he didn’t even go upstairs to look if Lockwood had bothered to replace the frame with a fake. He headed straight for the kitchen to relieve Holly from the work she was certainly still attending to. Lucy and Lockwood were nowhere to be found, probably too busy celebrating to keep an eye on their prized possession.

He found his partner in crime trying to get the honey out of the multiple sponges she had used. The floor was spotless, but now the mess had been moved to the sink. He came to stand next to her and looked out the kitchen window to surveil the garden at the back of the house. She turned and apologized for having been so easily distracted. She was ashamed of how simple it had been to sidetrack her. Kipps said nothing. After a minute or two of pensive silence, Holly asked if he was upset, worried she had messed up his plans for good.

“You did a wonderful job.” He simply offered, the shadow of a smile forming on his stern face. She looked back at him with a frown.

“What do you mean?”

“I knew it was Lockwood’s plan from the start.”

“And you let him get away with it?”

“Are you familiar with the Hungarian fencing term ‘husszú görcs’?”

She sent him a look to let him know how pedantic he was being. He knew that already, he just couldn’t resist.

“It’s a strategy-”

“Of letting your opponent win points early to give them a sense of overconfidence thus exposing a much easier target for you later.” Holly finished.

He stared at her in stunned silence.

“I was an agent at Rotwell remember? And our fencing coach was Hungarian.”

He had trouble hiding the thin smile slowly twisting his lips. Even though she took away his moment, he was incredibly grateful to have her on his team.

“Now the real question is: how do you know where he hid the frame?”

He lifted an eyebrow and looked back at her with a smirk.

“Oh. Right. Lucy.”

They looked back at the garden in unison. There were two things that even a stranger could figure out about Lockwood by just looking at him: he had too much confidence and he was head over heels in love with Lucy Carlyle. This specific girl happened to have done a lot of gardening in the last few weeks, planting flowers in the back garden, which made for a perfect hiding spot in the turned soil.

“How do you know for sure he hid it there?”

“I have eyes everywhere.”

They stepped outside and a small shadow emerged from the apple tree at the end of the garden. Bobby Vernon had stayed loyal to Kipps even after his humiliating demotion by Penelope Fittes. Or should he refer to her as Marissa now? He was grateful for the boy’s admiration and even more grateful for his help.

“Is that where he hid it?”

Bobby nodded. “Just like you said he would.”

The three of them stayed out of view from the windows and approached the new patch of purple and yellow pansies freshly planted last week. Kipps took the lead, crouched down and looked around in the dirt, trying not to disturb Lucy’s recent work. Lockwood wouldn’t have been so careless as to mess up her gardening for the sake of a bet. He must have hidden it somewhere he could disturb without risk. The three of them crawled out of sight to the next empty lot where the soil had been turned recently.

“That’s where I saw him.” Bobby confirmed.

It didn’t take much digging to reach the white plastic bag sticking out of the dirt. Inside sat the frame and its perfect example of bad journalism.

“Thank you for your time, Bobby. That’ll be all.”

He dismissed the boy, hid the frame underneath his sweater and asked Holly if she wanted to keep the bag. It was covered in soil but she had the habit of keeping every plastic bag they used since it could ‘be useful still.’

They were surprised to see George back at the Thinking Cloth, scribbling away something probably regarding the upcoming case.

“I thought you were working in the library?” Holly asked innocently.

Her tone was far too conspicuous to Kipps’s taste. It was obvious they were hiding something. Karim would figure it out instantly. He nonchalantly bent slightly over, hunched over the frame to try to hide its shape under his clothes. A sudden pain in his lower back reminded him of his labor earlier that day. It also made him realize that he must look ridiculous. The bet was messing with his head. But he’d need to stash the article somewhere safe before letting his guard down.

George asked Holly further details on the clients’ rendition of the events, what they had described precisely on the phone to get a better idea of what they should be expecting in the coming days. Her professionalism took over, she sat down at the table and took out a notebook he didn’t realize she had with her this whole time. Kipps used the distraction to slip out as discreetly as possible. He checked on Lockwood through the library door ajar. He could see why Karim had preferred to move back to the kitchen. They were lying down on the couch, sharing one magazine, tangled together under a blanket. Lockwood seemed to be reading the article out loud, Lucy staring at him starry-eyed. He had to admit that it was rather sweet, a bit nauseating if you stayed with them too long perhaps. He didn’t mind though. It provided him the perfect distraction to complete his plan.

He started up the stairs slowly and carefully. They may have redone a lot of the house in the recent months, but the foundations were still old. Those stairs can reveal any attempt at sneaking around. Luckily for Kipps, he had worked on those very steps when fixing the damages. He knew them like the back of his hand by now. Every single one that creaked and where to step to remain invisible. This part would be a piece of cake. He made his way up the first set of stairs without trouble. He smiled to himself. He couldn’t wait to see Lockwood’s face when he would pull out the frame from its cache at 6pm. Right under his nose from under his bed. He began his way up the second flight of stairs confidently. Despite his boots, he could feel where he had worked, where the wood was solid and silent. He was three steps short to the landing when suddenly a loud reverberating creak alerted everyone of his whereabouts. Betrayal. He had worked so long on those stairs, listening, learning their pattern, but most importantly renewing them. He gave them his time and patience to rebuild them and for what? He wondered how it was even possible for him to have missed a stair in such bad shape. He heard shuffling downstairs. The love birds had probably been alerted by the wooden backstabber. He didn’t have time to dwell on treachery, he needed a place to hide. Fast.

He made no effort to conceal his footsteps anymore. He rushed to the landing and into Lockwood’s room but the others were already catching up to him. He didn’t have time to lift the mattress and secure the frame there. Panicked, he looked around for a new hiding place. There were still some cardboard boxes lying around the landing. They would have to do. He picked the one filled to the brim with random items and buried the frame among them. When his rivals reached the floor, they found Kipps leaning in that same falsely casual stance he had when they caught him eavesdropping earlier.

Creak. Something wasn’t right. Lockwood could hear Holly in the kitchen. It must have been Kipps. He had to check what he was up to. But doing so meant getting up. Getting up and giving up on having Lucy in his arms. It was a tough choice. So tough that he considered letting Kipps win the bet for a moment.

“Did you hear that?” Lucy suddenly said, listening intently.

Before he could answer she rose to her feet, determined to see who was making a move on the frame. It didn’t matter much since he had replaced it with a fake. However, it did little to stop her. She would hinder the plan of anyone who dared try to take victory from him. Lockwood couldn’t help but stare for a moment, watching her fondly while she resolvedly climbed the steps to investigate the noise they heard. His heart was beating fast when he caught up to her. He reached for her hand and tangled his fingers with hers.

They arrived on the landing hand in hand to find Kipps looking at the same bookshelf he had earlier. He was visibly panting, his chest rising fast despite his best efforts to seem casual.

“Still can’t find that book, Quill?”

“Erm… I was just uh…”

“Maybe you’ll have more luck in the library. There’s plenty more there. I can help you look for it if you’d like?”

“No need for that.”

“No, please, I insist.” He offered him a gracious smile, internally proud they managed to disrupt his plan.

Lockwood took pleasure in watching his opponent’s defeated face as he slowly turned back towards the stairs. He squeezed Lucy’s hand before letting go and escorted Kipps back downstairs.

While the two of them were busy squabbling on their way to the library, Lucy used the distraction to check on the decoy and on their hiding spot. The fake frame was still hung on the stairs which was a good sign. What worried her was what she might find in the garden. It would be bad if Kipps’s team got the frame, but she would be lying if she said it was her only source of worry. Lockwood had been mindful of the freshly planted flowers but she feared his rival had not made the same effort. She quickly followed downstairs and waited for them to enter the library. Out of the corner of his eye, Lockwood slightly smirked at her to signal her to go check their hiding spot. She made sure Holly wasn’t spying from the living room. The coast was clear. She silently reached for the handle on the kitchen door she overheard George mumbling, probably about that case he had been talking about. It wouldn’t be the first time she heard him talk to himself out loud. She could always ask him to stay quiet. Maybe bribe him by giving him her next biscuit in the rotation. She turned the handle and before she could step into the room, Holly’s familiar voice answered George’s. Lucy froze in place. This was perfect, Holly wouldn’t be watching her every move. But she had to release the handle unnoticed, and more importantly a much more acrobatic mission awaited her. As delicately as she could, she released the handle and stepped back from the door, silently aiming for the entrance. Walking backwards, she passed Lockwood again, who made Kipps carry as many books as he could before the poor man had enough of his nonsense. When he saw her going towards the front door, he dropped yet another book onto the pile Kipps was already carrying, making him drop everything. In the commotion, Lucy quickly opened and shut the door, slipping outside without anyone knowing.

The next part would be harder than anticipated. Without taking the time to think too much about it, she jumped to reach the top of the garden wall and pushed on her arms to pull herself up. It was easier to do when she didn’t have an eleven-pound silver-glass skull on her back commenting on her form and mocking her graceless performance. She let herself drop in the garden and remained low as she made her way to the flower beds. She was relieved to find them untouched. Kipps and Holly had had the good sense of digging into the empty patch of dirt next to it. It was good news for her gardening, but the turned soil also meant that their rivals had the frame in their possession. Luckily for them, they had a grouchy reluctant ally to keep track of the frame’s location.

Getting back upstairs hadn’t been easy. Lucy tried her best to sneak around the landing as silently as she could. Coming through the front door, she hadn’t had the chance to check if Holly was still busy with George. She counted on the researcher’s inability to keep his explanations short to keep her cover safe. She retrieved the ghost-jar from its hiding spot and made her way into Lockwood’s room, their rendezvous point. It still made her queasy to go into that room like it was her own. He had said to make herself at home, even in the middle of half-finished furniture. She hesitated, unsure where to settle the skull before getting answers.

“Just put me anywhere but the bed. Lord knows what you did there.”

She put it down on the floor with a crash, no longer caring about being discreet.

“Looks like I hit a nerve,” the annoying ghost said, “Will lover boy be joining us?”

As if summoned by the nickname, Lockwood entered his room and sat on the bed with giddy anticipation.

“So? What did you find out?”

“Kipps has the frame. He dug it up from the garden.”

“Damn it. Did the skull see where he hid it?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Skull answered with a crooked smile.

“Yes, we would. Now tell us!” Lucy asked not so nicely.

“I’m not sure I was paying attention.”

Oh, how that ghost could push her buttons.

“You were the one begging to participate in the first place! But fine if you won’t tell us maybe I’ll leave you in the oven again so George can get back to his experiments…”

“I was not begging! It’s just nice to be included for once. Fine. I saw the ginger head run upstairs and he hid the frame in a cardboard box on the landing.”

“Perfect!”

She ran back outside.

“What did he say?” Lockwood asked, his eyes following her to the landing.

She came back in disappointed.

“It’s supposed to be hidden in a cardboard box there but I’ve looked through all of them… it’s not here. Looks like Kipps was faster.”

“Damn! That son of a bitch is good…”

Kipps joined her and George after a loud bang was heard from the library. It sounded like books being dropped, another task for her later. Probably seeing the exhaustion on her face, he told her that he had taken care of it.

“Another meagre distraction of Lockwood’s.”

She laughed at his comment before asking George if he still needed her help.

“No worries, Holly. I can finish this by myself, thanks.”

“So, what is our next move?” She asked her partner.

He threw a sideway glance at George who was back to reading his casefile intently. He nodded towards the door and she followed him without a word. She thought he might be taking this whole thing a little too seriously. George said he was too busy with the case to participate, he wasn’t a threat. Still, she followed him in a corner of the library and listened intently as he whispered his misadventure with the steps. She tried as hard as she could not to laugh when he rambled about the steps of the house betraying him. It got especially tricky when he went on about dishonor and treachery.

“Now, I need you to go back upstairs and get the frame from that box I hid it in.”

“On it.”

“I’ll keep an eye on George.”

She refrained from rolling her eyes and went upstairs. When she got on the landing, she heard Lockwood’s muffled voice coming from his room. He must have been elaborating a new plan to steal back the frame with Lucy’s help. Hopefully, that would distract him enough while she looked through the boxes. They really needed to unpack them soon, it clogged the stairs and the access to their rooms. She opened the first one she could find. Inside were items that certainly belonged to Lockwood’s parents. She felt uncomfortable rummaging through them like this, especially for a silly bet. She opened the rest of them and looked but tried not to disturb anything. Her search was not successful. Instead of disrupting the items, she tried to call Kipps discreetly.

“Do you remember which box you put it in?”

“I think it was that one…”

He opened the box and looked delicately through it, just like she had done. One box after the other, his face went from relaxed, to worried, to panicked.

“Where is it, where is it?!”

“Lockwood must have taken it back.”

“Damn! That son of a bitch is good…”

He barely had time to think of a plan when the door to Lockwood’s room opened, letting his rival on the landing with them.

“Kipps! What a surprise…” He said in that smug tone of his. “It’s almost 6.”

“It looks that way yes.”

They stood face to face, each glaring daggers in the other’s eyes. Lockwood might have come back before he could get the frame from where he had hid it, but Bobby was still watching his every move, standing by behind the apple tree. Kipps was still sure of himself and he knew he would best his rival at that game.

“I’m gonna get that frame back!” They both declared at the same time.

Kipps’s faith in his plan and in himself evaporated before his very eyes. His conviction was shaken. Was Lockwood imitating him poorly? Was he making fun of him? Or was he genuinely convinced that he had the frame in his possession? His rival’s mask slipped too. So Lockwood did not have it. And he didn’t have it. Then who did?

“I’m gonna get that frame back!”

As Kipps exclaimed the same sentence, Lockwood took a step back in surprise. What game was he playing? He stared at him for a few seconds, trying to read whatever ruse he was attempting. The longer he stared and the more obvious his confusion was. How could he look so sincere? Kipps had really worked on his poker face, he thought. Unless he wasn’t acting and the frame was actually out there, out of both their reach when time was running out. Lucy might have an idea. But before he could turn to her to try to read her expression, she bolted down the stairs.

“I’m gonna get that frame back!”

The fact that both boys exclaimed that sentence at the same time threw a gust of cold air through the landing. Everyone stood silently, staring, observing, waiting for someone to stop pretending. The moment never came. One voice broke the silence.

“How strange. It’s almost like that box just disappeared, isn’t it?” Skull asked in that smug know-it-all tone Lucy was so used to. “Didn’t Karim take care of the boxes? No that must have been another day. Unless…?”

Without thinking, Lucy rushed to find George. She didn’t know whether it was the adrenaline, her feelings for Lockwood or her sense of competition, but she had never climbed down the stairs so fast. She called for Lockwood to follow her and heard the hurried footsteps of three eager agents rushing to meet her first. She made a mental note to stick that bloody ghost-jar in the oven for a good forty-eight hours for being so unreliable.

They found George still hunched over his research in the kitchen, so focused that he didn’t seem to register their arrival, no matter how loudly they opened the door.

“Please don’t bother me because of your bet.” He said without looking up from his notes.

Lucy took a tentative step forward.

“Actually… We were just wondering what you might have done with one of those boxes that

are on the landing.”

“You mean the ones I asked you to sort out about a week ago?”

“Better late than never?” she tried to justify.

“I put most of them in the basement.” He answered after a long sigh.

The four of them rushed through the cupboard-like basement door. Lockwood and Kipps tripped each other the whole way down, resulting in loud banging noises against the iron spiral stairs leading the way to their office. Kipps threw himself on the first box he could find, hurriedly but somehow delicately pulling everything out of it and laying all the items on the floor next to him. Lockwood and Holly did the same, and she joined the party a few seconds later without results. Both rivals looked up from their respective boxes visibly panting with matching defeated looks. Apparently neither had prevailed from their thorough search. Where could that frame be?

“Look there’s another one in the storage room!” Holly exclaimed.

With one last race, they all scurried into the room. Before they could turn around, the door slammed behind them, effectively trapping them among magnesium flares and iron chains.

Kipps spun around first to see the iron door sliding shut. He put all his weight to try holding it back but it was no use. Panicked, he tried to go for the back door, rattling the handle vigorously like it would make a difference.

“It won’t budge, Kipps. I made sure of that.” Came a mocking voice from outside.

“Is this your idea of a joke, Karim?”

The gap in the storage door slid open, and mischievous eyes peaked inside.

“Indeed, it is.”

Only his eyes were visible, but it was obvious from his tone that he was smiling in that self-sufficient way of his.

“Cut it out, I’m claustrophobic.”

“You weren’t that claustrophobic when you slept in that broom closet to avoid bunking with me. I think you’ll be fine.”

The humiliation slowly dawned on him. The four of them looked around the room, unsure of their fate. Kipps looked at his feet, defeated. When he looked back up, he saw the three others at different stages of confusion. They didn’t seem to know what was happening either. However, he noticed that Lucy had a small smile on her face, almost satisfied. Did she betray Lockwood to win the bet? Or worse, was Lockwood up to this?

“What is this about, George?” Lockwood asked before Kipps could.

“This,” he paused dramatically, “is how you lose.”

Slightly squinting through the hatch, George reveled in seeing his friends squirm. He wondered if that made him some sort of evil villain, but he liked seeing Lockwood stare at him with that fly-catching gape way too much to care. Even more so when it was joined by Kipps’s despair-filled eyes. He took the general tensed silence as a sign that they had not in fact anticipated this turn of events.

“So you were playing all along?” Lucy asked.

“No. I just saw an opportunity and took it.”

Kipps rolled his eyes and George couldn’t help smiling wider.

“I knew I had to be weary of you Karim.”

“I appreciate the compliment, Kipps. Though, obviously, you weren’t cautious enough.”

“So how did you double-cross us all?” Lockwood asked. If he didn’t know any better, George could almost hear a certain pride in his friend’s voice.

“Well… Since you’re dead set on turning anything into unnecessary races, I had to find a way to teach you a lesson.”

He heard Lockwood scoff.

“I’m with him on that one.” Lucy added in a lower tone.

“So, when you asked me to make you that fake article to use as decoy, I saw an opening.”

“Hold on. Karim was helping you too? How is that fair?”

“I know Bobby’s pocket-sized, Kipps, but since you had him surveil the house I’d still say your teams were pretty equal.” George retorted.

“You knew about this?”

“You had Bobby watching us?” Lockwood asked his rival.

“I mean, we planted Skull too.” Lucy tried to reason him.

“The skull was in on it too?!” Holly exclaimed.

“When Lockwood asked for my help,” George started again, effectively shutting up any other protest emerging from the small room, “he asked me to replace some parts of the article with more modest words like ‘Lockwood is the best agent/genius.’ Instead, I added my own version, almost certain that Lockwood wouldn’t even bother to check. Turns out I was right.”

“Lockwood! You couldn’t even look through it?” Lucy said.

Kipps let out a self-sufficient laugh.

“Yeah, well, you didn’t check either!”

Before any other fight could erupt, George carried on with his explanations.

“Even though Lockwood kept his hideout secret, it wasn’t hard to figure out that it had something to do with Lucy. I mean… even Kipps thought of it.” Through the hatch, he saw Kipps’s eyes throwing daggers his way. “Which left either the attic or the garden and given the number of times I caught you all coming back inside, it was obvious it was the latter. I didn’t need to bother getting it myself though, Kipps did an excellent job retrieving it, as I knew he would. What I needed was to mess up his plans instead.”

Silence had returned inside the storage room. They all had their eyes focused on his, waiting to hear more about their defeat.

“While Kipps and Holly were outside, and Lucy and Lockwood weren’t paying attention to anything besides themselves, I slipped into the hall to mess with the stairs. I made sure enough of them creaked to make sure Kipps would panic-hide the article. I have to say, you avoided a lot more creaky steps than I thought you would, I was impressed.”

Kipps stared back expectantly, clearly curious to know how he had managed the rest of his plan.

“When you hid it on the landing, I had a much easier target to disrupt all future strategies. Now the last part was harder. I had to move the box one step at a time very quickly to make sure you wouldn’t see me. First, while Lockwood and Kipps were in the library, I kept Holly busy with the case, pretended to go to the bathroom, saw Lucy sneaking out the front door and I ran to put the box in my room. Then, Kipps’s paranoia dragged his team in the library while Lockwood and Lucy where in his bedroom, so I took the box back into the kitchen. Finally, while you were realizing the box was missing, I was busy placing it inside the storage room, like a piece of cheese on a mouse trap. A trap in which you all fell being none the wiser.”

He paused for a minute to savor their reactions. Lucy accepted defeat and laughed at the situation. Holly looked stunned. But the most priceless reactions were the two rivals going through different stages of grief. He wished he could record this moment to look back at it a hundred more times.

“I bet with this whole getting-locked-in-the-storage-room thing you didn’t even see the frame I placed inside the box, right?”

Lockwood and Kipps exchanged a glance and jumped on the box. They battled to get hold of the frame first. Lockwood prevailed, holding the prize up high before looking at it more intently. He scoffed and looked back at him through the hatch.

“Well, what does it say?”

“George Casper Karim is a genius hidden two, no three times-”

“It’s actually four times.” George said with a smile.

“Lockwood is a loser” he continued, “Kipps must incline in front of George and so does Lockwood, Kipps still managed to lose spectacularly to George Karim.” He concluded.

They all looked back at him, Kipps’s murderous eyes contrasting with Lucy’s barely contained laughter.

“Are you proud of this?”

“Very yes, thank you for asking.”

“But where is the actual article?” Lockwood asked, almost too certain he found a chink in his armor.

“Oh, you mean this?” He said as he pulled the piece of paper from his back pocket and unfolded it through the hatch.

There was another stunned silence. Lockwood shook his head, slowly admitting defeat. 

“So, what now?” Lockwood asked.

“I believe you both need to say something.”

They exchanged a look, Lockwood now amused.

“George Karim is the best agent/genius.” They said in unison.

General relief flooded the storage room now that the bet was over. George certainly hoped it would deter them both from making more bets any time soon.

“Well, maybe we can celebrate with a cup of tea?” Holly offered.

“That’s a sweet sentiment Holly but I’m not opening this door.”

“What?!” They all exclaimed, louder than necessary.

“You see, I’ve worked all day on our next case and you’re all way behind. I’m gonna need you to catch up. You’ll find the materials on the shelf next to Holly.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Don’t worry, I left some water and a box of doughnuts for you, I’m not a monster.”

Lockwood tried to force the door, like Kipps had earlier. They all shouted a mix of indignation and insults his way. It all sounded like incomprehensible gibberish.

“You can keep screaming if there’s more, but I’ve got a date with Flo!” And with that he left them there, the protests and the clattering of the metal door fading as he went up the stairs.

Note: I’m guessing that, just like Lockwood, you didn’t check the article hanged at the top of this post. You might want to check it out. *wink* (you have to zoom in because it blends in)

[desos-records]

I have so many questions for the set designers of Lockwood & Co and all of them are: why are there so many mirrors

Once I started noticing them, I couldn’t stop. There’s a mirror over the mantle in the living room of Portland Row through which Lockwood sees Lucy for the first time and another one in the library. There’s two mirrors in the front hall and two on the landing between Lockwood and George’s rooms. There’s three in Lucy’s attic room and one in her room back home. Another two in George’s room, two more in Joplin’s flat. There’s two in Lockwood’s room, one on his dresser and another hanging on the wall (placed so you can see down the hall from the bed). There’s a big one in the Red Room and above the trapdoor in Bickerstaff’s house. Another in DEPRAC’s interrogation room. There are reflections in windows and water

and of course, the bone glass

Shooting with mirrors is tricky, especially in enclosed spaces. They didn’t have to put mirrors anywhere; it would’ve made filming easier if they hadn’t

Instead, this show loves shooting through mirrors. Why?

Lucy and Norrie are shown through a mirror together, planning their future, framed by pictures of the past

Lucy talks to Norrie while sitting in her attic room at Portland Row. Directly opposite Lucy is her reflection in her nightstand mirror, making it look like she’s talking to herself

George and Lucy are reflected together in the hall mirror two different times, when Lucy walks into Portland Row for the first time and again when she returns from the hospital

Lockwood is facing a mirror when he first meets Lucy and must’ve seen her reflection before he turned around

Lockwood’s ear is reflected in the tiny hall mirror when he talks to Barnes on the phone

Twice when Lucy and Lockwood walk into George’s room they’re reflected in his full length mirror, always Lockwood first then Lucy

George and Joplin are reflected in mirrors while talking in her apartment, but only when they start talking about the bone glass

George sees a reflection of himself and Bickerstaff in the Portland Row kitchen windows

We first see Winkman through the reflection of his magnifying glass

When Lucy eavesdrops on Lockwood and Flo, she’s reflected in the hallway mirror

Before the Fittes party, Lucy stands in front of her full-length mirror looking at herself and the photos of her and Norrie. The mirror is specifically placed so that it reflects the stairs up to the room when Lockwood walks in, an echo of when they first met

After the party, when she takes off the necklace, she’s reflected in the bathroom mirror

It might just be because it makes for some amazing shots, but mirrors are everywhere

why?

[genieofthebooks]

Chaos of 35 Portland Row

Pairing: Platonic!George Karim x Fem!Reader, Platonic!Lucy Carlyle x Fem!Reader, Romantic!Anthony Lockwood x Fem!Reader

A/n: This is an Incorrect Quotes fic. They all belong to the sources that they came from, I got them from an Incorrect quotes generator.

Warnings: Swearing, Chaos.

Lucy, spraying a melted cutting board with a tiny water gun: We gotta cool this bitch down. Cool it down.

Lockwood: I actually just put the cutting board in the oven...

George, visibly confused: Okay, so they decided to put the cutting board in the oven?

Lucy, spraying Lockwood: You FUCKING DUMBASS!

Lockwood: Dude, I forgot-

Lucy: OH MY FUCKING GOD! We're trying to make Chicken Alfredo right now, and you fucking MELT the cutting board in the oven at 400 DEGREES FAHRENHEIT!?

Y/n: *Watching in complete confusion while trying to process this whole situation.*

-

Lockwood: Guess what I'm about to get!

Y/n: On my nerves.

-

Y/n: Is this a good idea?

Y/n: Probably not.

Y/n: Do I care?

Y/n: No

-

Lockwood: What is love?

George: An emotional minefield.

Y/n: A neurochemical reaction.

Lucy: Baby don't hurt me.

-

George: I am convinced Y/n and Lockwood share a brain cell.

Lucy: And it's not in use very often, it seems.

-

Lockwood: That's ridiculous, Y/n doesn't have a crush on me.

Lucy: Yes she does.

George: Yes she does.

Y/n: Yes I do.

-

Lucy: How do Lockwood and Y/n usually get out of these messes?

George: They don't. They just make a bigger mess that cancels the first one out.

-

George: So, Y/n is no longer allowed to take the rubbish out at night.

Lucy: Why?

George: Because I've caught her trying to train raccoons to fight five times in a row.

Y/n, arms crossed and pouting: You'll be thanking me when the third raccoon battalion saves your arse.

-

Lucy: We’re about to do the taser challenge. You want in?

George: What's the taser challenge?

Y/n: We tase eachother, then drink.

George: How do you win?

Lucy: What are you, a lawyer? You want in or not?

-

Lockwood: If you want my advice-

George: No offense but you’re the last person I want relationship advice from. You tried to kill your girlfriend. Multiple times.

Lockwood: First off, that was before we started dating. Secondly, she's also tried to kill me.

Y/n: It’s true. It was mutually attempted murder.

-

Y/n: There's no way he would like me back.

George: Lockwood would throw himself in front of a moving car for you.

Y/n: Lockwood would throw himself in front of a moving car for fun.

-

*George drunkenly wanders around the house and Lockwood is drunkenly giggling*

Lucy, completely sober: *sighs* Well, looks like it's just me and you against the wold, Y/n.

Y/n, going to her and Lockwood's room: Nope, just you. *shuts door*

-

*Lockwood and Y/n are planning to break in somewhere*

Lockwood: We need to distract the guards.

Y/n: Right.

Lockwood: What are we gonna do?

Y/n: I'm gonna break their elbows while you poke their eyes.

Lockwood:

Y/n:

Lockwood: Deal

-

Lockwood: I WOULD DESTROY THE WORLD FOR YOU!

Y/n: Okay, can you do the dishes?

Lockwood: No!

-

Y/n: I wish I was a cat, but not in a furry kinda way, more like a “I can sleep all day and hit people with no consequences” kinda way.

-

Y/n: You don't think I can fight because of my gender!

Kipps: I don't think you can fight because you're in a wedding dress. For what it's worth, I don't think Lockwood can fight in that dress either.

Lockwood: Perhaps not. But I would make a radiant bride.

I hope you all like this, sorry it was not what I normally post

[indigo-a-creeping]

So I've been thinking about moving a lot lately, but in a slightly more concrete way. I'm still planning on waiting until Peri dies (and he's going strong at 14 years old). In a pinch he could do it, but he's rather elderly for such a big move. I will probably downsize a whole lot and ship a moving pod while I drive, but we'll see.

I'm thinking Oregon or Washington will be my first choice. It'll be expensive, but I think I can manage it - if I transfer with my job, I'll get a cost of living pay increase, and I'll sell my house so I'll have a good chunk of money to start out with. I know a couple people in the Portland/Vancouver area, one in Centralia, WA, some family in Olympia, WA, one in Seattle, one up in Vancouver, BC, and another friend who's about to move to Eugene, OR, so I wouldn't be completely alone the way I was here. I like the idea of living in a more urban environment, and my weird would work up there, I think. The lack of sunlight worries me a little, but I think I could adapt. I'm going out there for a wedding in the spring, and I'll do some looking around while I'm there.

That brings me to think about the cats. They don't like car rides, as most cats don't. That would be over 40 hours, probably around 8 days if I take it easy and don't push too far each day, stuck in the car and motels. Once I get there, I'd likely be in a very small apartment for at least a year. And they are not the best of friends even with plenty of space to get away. I do think I could find them both good homes if it came to that. ...And I'd rather not, because I love them both very much, but it's something I will need to think about as the time gets closer. Quality of life is always on my mind, and while we could push through the temporary stress of moving, the ongoing stress of a tiny living space when they already don't really like each other might not be worth forcing on them.

We'll see.

Anybody want to move to the PNW with me?

[starstruckodysseys]

incorrect quotes 3: the thirdening

(ft cassie from @angelwiththeblue-box as always <3)

russell: so what are your goals in life?

cassie: we’ve been banned from every major city transportation system except portland

russell:

lanie: we don’t know what their limit is but we will fucking find it

— —

sibling alert (sorry i had to)

josh: the recipe says to beat three eggs?

lanie: it means in hand to hand combat

josh: ohhhhh

jenna: both of you get the fuck out of the kitchen

— —

liv: lanie’s cute. i think i’m gonna ask her out

cassie, thinking about the night before when a slightly drunk lanie was standing on a table screaming that worms are just tiny, harmless snakes: good, because i’m positive no one else will

— —

[ full of BPA ]

sky’s the limit

did you guys pick up eggs?

wendell thee morris

we’ll do you one better

sky’s the limit

wh

laniebug

[ IMG.079 ]

> image desc: chicken :]

her name is ms. fluffy

— —

lanie, frantically searching through a first aid kit: WHY DID YOU FILL IT WITH CHEETOS?!

cassie, bleeding out: i don’t know, i thought it was funny at the time

— —

wendell: i can never tell if you’re flirting with me or trying to insult me

lanie: if it makes you feel any better neither can i

— —

cassie: fitness tip: never stop pushing yourself

cassie: some say eight hours of sleep is enough. why stop there? why not nine? why not ten? strive for greatness

lanie: next time you’re working out do 15 push-ups instead of 10. run 3 miles instead of 2. eat a whole cake instead of just a slice. burn your ex’s house down

liv: ...are you two doing okay

— —

cassie: why call it adhd when you can call it bees in my head there are bees in my head whenever i try to focus there are bees in my fucking head

— —

lanie: if there’s going to be a big dramatic scene, wait until i get back

cassie: of course. i can’t flip this table by myself

— —

[ very serious work chat ]

laniebug

remembering the time i ate an entire loaf of pumpkin bread on a shift and paula got so enraged she called me a “little loaf eating freak”

— —

[ sappho’s legacies ]

laniebug

i extend my hand like a mob boss and allow you to kiss my ring but when you lean closer you see it’s one of those glow in the dark spider rings you win at arcades

cheddar cheese

*pretends to kiss it but i eat the spider very discreetly but you notice anyway because my mouth is glowing from the inside*

laniebug

*godfather voice* you disrespec me… and eat my spooky spida ring, which cost me 50 tickets at funtime arcade and pizzeria… vinny, hit her with da sticky hand

— —

lanie: well, if you’re not at least a little bit gay for your friends, what kind of friend are you?

— —

[ very serious work chat ]

wendell thee morris

wait

if baby oil dissolves condoms then what the fuck does it do to babies??

rust

Believe it or not, babies and condoms aren’t made out of the same materials

cheddar cheese

it’s like rock paper scissors!

baby oil defeats condom, baby defeats baby oil, condom defeats baby!

laniebug

rock also defeats baby

— —

russell: i hope you guys have a good enough explanation for this

lanie: we have three, actually

cassie: pick your favorite

— —

lanie: did you eat my gummy bears?

cassie: *visibly shoves 14 gummy bears into her mouth, chews for seven minutes, finally swallows* first of all, i don’t appreciate your accusations

[tinydigshotel]

Tiny Digs Hotel offers a tiny house for rent in Portland with all the amenities you need for an unforgettable city stay. Tiny Digs is the perfect home away from home for your next getaway, Book your stay today!

[the-hinky-panda]

The Drowning Kind: Part II

Title: The Drowning Kind

Pairing: Captain Sean Renard x OFC (written as a reader)

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You heard of the Portland Grimm and leave your fundamentalist group of naiads in Vancouver. You just wanted a safe fresh start; you didn't expect to fall in love with a royal hybrid police captain.

There are two things that naiads are experts in: swimming and secrets. 

When you first met Sean Renard, you immediately recognized a fellow secret keeper. Words were used sparsely and with the craft of saying enough but providing no actual information. It was a language that you spoke fluently and his presence soon became the closest thing you ever felt to being home. You didn’t think he felt the same way until you saw the red kayak on the river at ten o’clock at night two days after the close of the case you had offered assistance. 

The late night rendezvous continued for the next two weeks, you floating alongside the boat while conversation flowed, still guarded but slowly unfurling tiny bits of information. You moved from Vancouver for a fresh start. His ancestry was old, traced back hundreds of years from Europe. You were living in a broken down house along the river because that was all you could afford. He was living in a penthouse in Portland. You had taught yourself how to read and write, your village not strong believers in their women being educated. He spoke five languages and had the best education money could buy. 

Slowly, more valuable pieces started to become revealed. His hybrid heritage. Your disfigured hands and feet. His tiring game of playing both ends against the middle to protect the Portland Grimm. Your deep scars of a betrayal from someone you had trusted. He was searching for balance between the two worlds he represented. You were searching for the girl who had dreams and once believed that love was real. 

So you found each other. 

Due to the situation he found himself in, along with a diabolical brother who searched for leverage in every aspect of his life, you understood why this needed to stay a secret. For your protection and everyone else around you, no one could know that you had regained that tiny spark of hope that maybe love wasn’t a myth. You still weren’t convinced of what this was between you two but it was precious enough to protect. And you did, for the first time in a long time, feel truly protected. So you kept the secret. 

“Where are we going?” 

You glance over your shoulder. “What’s the matter, Sean? Don’t you trust me?” 

The smile he gives you is sly, a subtle twist to the side of his mouth. “All I asked is what did you do today. Now you have me on one of the uninhabited islands in the middle of the river. I’m sure you can understand my unease.” 

“I do,” you respond. Trust is hard for both of you after the lives you’ve lived. “It’s worth it, I promise.” 

You found the abandoned fishing shack the same way you find everything, by accident. Growing up along riverbanks and on the edges of lakes in Vancouver, you had more of a need to know the flow of the water and the islands that got in the way of it. You were spending much of your free time learning the same thing here in Portland. That knowledge is what crossed your path with Detectives Burkhart and Griffin. 

A group of college kids who had too much to drink had gone missing after an afternoon of tubing on the river. They unknowingly became prey for some rowdy wendigo and needed to be found ASAP. Burkhart had reached out to the naiad community in the harbor and you had wanted to show your worth to your new community. You didn’t expect to be the one to find them but you did, only one out of the group of seven fell victim to the wendigo. Now, you were the riverway consultant for the Portland PD. 

After your maiming, you were still able to be useful. 

The shack was falling down, abandoned for years. It didn’t take much to patch the small roof or replace the broken board walls. It was meant to be a shelter from the elements, nothing longstanding. There’s no electricity that runs into it so you have to get creative in how to fix it up. Abel and his daughters helped you out by using their fishing boat to bring a futon, small armchair, and a desk. You brought some of your books and candles. You pitched it to them as your retreat but your true intention is to share it with only one other person. 

He takes in the ramshackle little hut with cautious curiosity. “Did you build this?” 

“No, I’m not that talented.” 

You push the door open hesitantly. You had already lit some of the candles, the soft glow flickering off the wooden walls and furniture. It actually looked more inviting than you thought it would. But then you remember the one time you visited his apartment in Portland. The large windows overlooking the city and river. The polished granite counters in the kitchen, the artwork that hung on the walls, and the bottle of wine he was there to pick up. All of it was worth more than anything you had ever seen before in your life. What were you thinking trying to pass this off as something special? 

“I think it’s lovely.” 

You feel heat rise to your cheeks. He’s patronizing you. Making the simple, little naiad believe she had done something magnificent when really he was laughing at you. Words are failing you and you silently stare at your feet until he nudges your shoulder playfully. 

“You going to let me in? Because I really want to investigate something in there.” 

You look around the space wondering what he could be talking about when he picks you up, your arms looping around his neck and your legs wrapping around his waist. You start to ask what it was he wanted to investigate when he takes the opportunity to kiss you. After a long day of not seeing each other, you easily give in to the familiar press of his lips against yours. You hear the door being kicked shut and feel yourself in freefall, stopped when you land on the futon. 

“So,” you ask him from your sprawled position on the blankets, “what exactly did you want to investigate?” 

He pulls his shirt over his head and drops it on the floor. “I want to see if that futon can hold the both of us.” 

You reach behind your back and untie the crocheted bikini top, tossing it on top of his discarded shirt. His eyes darken at the sight of your bare breasts and suddenly this rehabbed fishing hut doesn’t seem like such a silly secret after all. 

[archiveoftara]

Magic is not real

Hello locknation, I'm back with another series. The reader doesn't possess any talent, has anxiety and isn't fond of the agent life or the industry. Lockwood falls for her first. Hope you like it!!

Warning: mention of anxiety

Part 2

It's chaotic at 35 Portland Row. The agents were occupied preparing for their latest case. Lucy was checking the inventory. George was surrounded by papers, plans, notes and whatnot to gain more knowledge about the visitor they're supposed to encounter. Lockwood was brushing up his rapier skills in the basement.

Lucy plops on the chair beside George and takes a deep sigh. 

"I'm exhausted." said lucy.

"Nice to meet you exhausted, I'm George." George said. 

"Very funny." Lucy glared.

Lockwood entered the room sweating, said "I'm starving, George." 

"Have patience, kids. I've already called Arif's." George said while burying his face inside the books.

The bell rang and Lockwood rushed to the door to get it, only to be hit by the cupid's arrow.

Y/N's POV

The weather is nice in London today. I was at the back, baking some cakes when Arif asked me to deliver an order urgently as we're running short on staff. 

I quickly got changed and left to make the delivery. I looked at the slip to make sure I'm at the right address. I rang the bell and waited patiently. 

The door opened revealing a boy my age (probably), in white shirt and black trousers. Beautiful brown eyes, dishevelled hair, sweat dripping from his forehead. 

"Um.. your delivery, sir." I said while handing him the donuts. 

"Ah yes." He said while taking the package from me. The atmosphere turned awkward. 

"Sir?" 

"Yes?" He whispered. 

"That will be 15 pounds, sir." I said awkwardly, fixing my glasses. 

"Oh yes, sorry. I'm so sorry. Let me fetch my wallet real quick." He disappeared inside the house. 

I bid goodbye and left for my job. Little did I know my life was about to change.

It's been two months since the fellow agent met Arif's new Baker. He's been making his visit to Arif's more often than usual. Y/n couldn't help but notice the sudden change in the atmosphere. At first she paid no mind to it but Lockwood made it a tad bit obvious about his growing affection towards her. For instance, he would personally go to the shop to fetch the donuts, try to make small conversations and get to know her more, would order tea and have it there while waiting for his order. One day y/n had enough and asked Lockwood to meet her after the shift ended. 

"What are you doing Mr. Lockwood?" She asked. 

"Um.. having tea?" He replied.

"I want to make one thing clear to you. Our paths are different. We can't be together, Mr. Lockwood. I would really appreciate it if you just leave me alone and carry on with your life." With that, y/n left the shop. 

Y/n got off late. The streets were empty and she still had a couple of blocks left till she reached home. 

"There's no taxi. I have to reach home quickly." Y/n said while moving her feet faster. 

Couple minutes later she felt a cold breeze. A chill ran down her spine. She hoped it's a cat but she knew it's something else. A visitor. 

Y/n gulped and rummaged through her bag for a lavender or smoke bomb. She didn't wait and ran. She ran as fast as she could. She didn't care where she was going, she's looking for a place to hide. She suddenly stumbled upon a pavement which caused her glasses to fly away from her face. 

"Shit. I'm blind without my glasses." Y/n frantically looked for her glasses but it was too late. The visitor was near her. She froze. 

"Guess I'm gonna be joining you guys soon." She muttered to herself. Suddenly a rapier slashed through the air. 

"Y/n are you alright?" Lockwood asked. 

She was frozen. She was profusely sweating. She couldn't speak.

"The visitor will come again shortly. I can't hold him for too long. We have to leave. Y/n please, hold on." Lockwood picked her up on her feet. Lockwood safely took y/n to her flat.

Y/n invites Lockwood inside her tiny flat. She offered him tea as a token of gratitude. For some reason y/n couldn't meet his eyes. Maybe because of the nerves, maybe she's still shaken up by the previous incident. 

Lockwood cleared his throat and said "it's a nice flat." 

"Thank you. That's all I have." She said while looking around. 

"I'm sorry." Lockwood regrets making the previous statement. 

"No, it's fine. My parents, they were agents just like you, Mr. Lockwood. After their talent faded they started a small business. Everything was good till that night. They got ghost touched...You know how life in London is expensive, so I had to sell our shop. The rest is history." Y/n opened up her heart. 

Lockwood didn't know what to say.

"That's why I stay away from agents. Mr. Lockwood. I'm not the ideal person for you. You deserve someone... someone who's brave.. like you." Y/n said. 

"You think I'm brave?" Locked gave her his iconic smile. 

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully. 

"Ms. Y/l/n, I can understand what you're going through. I respect your decision but please, i request you to respect mine too." Lockwood said looking deep into her eyes. 

"Have you seen fireflies Mr. Lockwood?" Y/n asked. 

Lockwood raised his eyebrows. "Yes?" 

"When we see fireflies, we think it's magic but when we hold it in our palms; we realise there's nothing magical here. Magic is not real." Y/n tried to explain him. 

After a moment of silence, Lockwood said something which froze y/n. 

"I don't want to hold the firefly. I want to live in its light. I want to feel its warmth because it makes me feel alive." 

"Please, y/n. I've lost everything just like you but I can't afford to lose anymore. I want to be your friend. That's all I ask of you. Give me one chance." Lockwood pleaded. 

One chance? Every human deserves at least one chance right? 

Y/n couldn't help but ponder about the thought. 

"You can take as much time as you need. I'm always here for you, waiting." Lockwood left her flat leaving a conflicted y/n. 

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[ratsoh-writes]

Some more towns in ebott cause why not?

Newtsmead: located in waterfall underground, it’s a small town housing five Grimm covens and a few various individual residents. It’s surrounded mostly by farmland and doesn’t see much tourism. It is only a 10 minute train ride to vanity falls, the main city in waterfall! It is also the hometown of thistle and yarrow.

Vanity falls: a bustling underground city located in waterfall! While not as big of a tourist trap as hotland, it’s still quite popular as part of the underground tours that most humans go to ebott for when visiting the country for the first time. Vanity falls plays a lot into the history of the AUs and is littered with museums and shows.

Coral coast: a small village to the west of seashore. Coral coast is too little for big docks and boat trade, but it’s beautiful and a great residential area. It’s rumored that the royal king owns his residential house there

Wheatilly: located in Goldenvalley, wheatilly, named for the vast wheat fields of several farmers is a small village made mainly of tiny cabins and trailer homes. Many farmhands live here. It’s not a place known for having anyone well off

West rails: a town between Portland and rails way, it’s another train stop with many monsters and humans working there. A factory making train parts was recently built there and it’s a hot spot for many younger families to move as jobs are readily available

[theehorsepusssy]

The Horsepussy's Portland

Yellow.. The Ringside. some old, expensive steak restaurant Robert parked cars at. I would stop by on Monday nights and smoke him out. Then we eventually started fucking and then he got fired when boss lady was like " why is this guy always in the parking lot?" They had some really cheap Happy Hour and it was kinda a bummer when we couldnt eat there anymore

Green ... The Ooze!!! It was a tiny record store with really, really good music. Soleilmoon record label was based out of here. I bought a lot of Coil and shit like that here. I think it moved down near Burnside and Broadway at one point. And then that Burnside space was like some Beastie Boy clothing place but im really fuzzy on if thats correct.

Red.. the place where my mom bought some fancy Saab or BMW or some shit and drove it down to my house on 16th but didnt tell me she was coming and friends randomly stopped by and we were smoking crank out of a lightbulb in the kitchen and i tried to hide them but they were found crouching and giggling in a darkened bathroom. oops. weird moment