Locklyle One-Shots

❝𝕷𝖆𝖘𝖙 𝕮𝖍𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖒𝖆𝖘..❞

𝕾𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: Lucy has conflicting feelings about Christmas, that coupled with her secret feelings towards Lockwood make for a bit of a torturous second Christmas at 35 Portland Row...

𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: None!

𝕬/𝕹: So I've decided to try and do a Christmas special for each of my One-Shot books and this is the one I did for my Locklyle book! I love the idea of Lucy and Lockwood bonding over their shared sad pasts and likely sad Christmases so I threw it into this bit of writing! Enjoy!

𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖉𝖘: 4276

☞ *❆⁂ ❆*☜

𝕷𝖆𝖘𝖙 𝕮𝖍𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖒𝖆𝖘 𝖜𝖆𝖘 𝕷𝖚𝖈𝖞'𝖘 𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙 𝕮𝖍𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖒𝖆𝖘 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝕷𝖔𝖈𝖐𝖜𝖔𝖔𝖉 & 𝕮𝖔. 𝖆𝖙 35 𝕻𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕽𝖔𝖜, and it was...nice. Unlike the holidays at her childhood home, where they were spread too thin to afford any proper gifts, the salary Lucy received from working with Lockwood allowed her enough to buy something nice for her coworkers. It felt good, having coins in her pockets and presents in her hands as she took a stroll around the shops. Cheery music carried across the snow, tingling with the chime of sleigh bells and the rich voices of carolers. Lucy remembered the Christmas well. As well as all her bleak childhood ones, with a harty, stale Christmas dinner and a sparse tree whose blanket was threadbare and lacking the vivid colors of wrapping paper. It was always such a sad sight to end the year...

But that was long ago.

Now, Lucy could look at a pleasant heap of colorful presents crammed under a great big tree, uncomfortably squished into the corner of the sitting room. Lockwood had found it in a park, laden with snow and far too tall for their ceiling, and yet he coaxed Lucy into chopping it down with him and dragging it back to Portland Row. At first, George was delighted. Ever since December struck, he'd inhaled the Spirit of Christmas and it possessed him to turn the whole house into a snow globe. Decorations hung from every available space; railings, bedposts, you name it. The kitchen was in a constant state of disarray. Cookie sheets traded between snickerdoodles and sugar cookies. The sweets were stacking up. Well...until George took a break and devoured half of them.

Between all the cooking and decorating; present buying and caroling, Lucy was overwhelmed.

It's the season of Joy! Everyone said.

Be happy.

But Lucy couldn't quite mean all her smiles.

It's the season of Hope!

Hope, she reflected. From the kitchen, something clattered and George's humming of Let it Snow crescendoed into a belting of the lyrics, off key and so loud Lucy clutched her ears. The season of 'I hope George stops shrieking or I'll punch his nose in,' Lucy retorted.

Worse than 'joy' and 'hope' were those who said -

It's the season of Love!

Love.

Lucy shivered.

That stupid, stupid word. It left a pit in her stomach and made her head ache with a throbbing pulse. Love. It usually led an entourage of hearts and pink confetti and chocolates but for Lucy, whenever someone - even herself - dared utter the dreaded word, she saw a person. She saw a swishing dark coat and the skilled twirl of a rapier and a dazzling smirk and her heart simply stopped. Even now, tossing her head back against the couch, the word runs circles around her head and conjures him. Dark curls, dark eyes, broad shoulders...and of course, that enchanting smile that makes Lucy's guts turn to mush. Like grossly colored icing that she could hear George whipping up in the kitchen. The distant churning sound makes her sick. To fight it, Lucy focused on the first thing she saw.