#Anthony Lockwood series

[websterss]

THE BEST PEOPLE IN LIFE (4) — MEMORIES, MEMORIES

SUMMARY: Anthony is fighting for his life trying to further understand your sudden unexplainable ghost locking. In need to try and garner more answers, the four of you head back to the place where the mess all started, only to be stopped by various accounts of old memories.

WARNING(S): mentions of amnesia, death, angst, flashbacks, mentions of domestic violence, an insight on y/n's parents, slight brief mention of murder, quill, and Barnes in a flashback, slight mention of blood.

WORD COUNT: 5,020

PAIRING: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader    

A/N: Hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed! Surprise this series might be longer than 4 parts now. Continue to join me on this journey where I'm trying to navigate this series towards a good ending lmfao

MASTERLIST

You had tried to squeeze his hand. As you sunk into the back of your mind, you found yourself incapable of moving. You tried to scream for him but your mouth felt glued shut. Your body was stiff as a board as your eyes stared past Anthony’s form.

If you could have seen his face. Fear stricken, his eyes widened as he sat up on his knees, vividly shaking you and pressing light taps to your cheeks. Dread and confusion glossed over his eyes seeing a white milky glaze form over your y/e/c eyes again. 

“Y/n? Hey, no, no. Y/n, can you hear me?” He gripped your face. He was shouting at you as your body locked itself out of nowhere. You were fine. You were fine just a second ago. You only closed your eyes for a second then this happened. He was panicking. The confident esteemed leader of Lockwood & Co was nowhere to be found. A scared boy feeling helpless and vulnerable as he screamed for the girl he held feelings for took his place. “L-Lucy!” His voice cracked as he pressed your face into the crook of his neck. His body shook as tears fell harshly down his face. He didn’t know what to do. “Lucy!” He cried. He pulled your face back to look at you. His hands caressed your face, hoping to bring you back from whatever supernatural occurrence this was. “G-George!” 

Footsteps pounded up the staircases. One after the other until the attic door burst open hitting the hall harshly with a bang. “Lockwood?” Lucy and George stopped as they stepped onto the landing. Lucy's heart clenched as she saw the scene before her. Her brows furrowed with confusion as she rushed forward to inspect the situation. Anthony let up his grip on you, letting Lucy hold you this time. He slumped back against the bed frame railing, running his hands through his hair, he was now starting to hyperventilate. George dropped down too, his eyes observing the white milky glaze you adorned during your ghost lock state with questions. 

“Lockwood what happened?!” Lucy's bulging eyes cast onto him. She breathed through her mouth, gently holding your locked state. She only grew more anxious when he didn’t respond. He closed his eyes, clutching at his chest through his dress shirt. “Anthony!” She reached forward gripped onto his tie and shifted. Pulling him into a sitting position. “What happened?” 

“We- We were just talking…only talking, swear!” He cried out. He was a weeping mess. Lucy looked back at you. Scared and curious as to how this could be. 

“Y/n, can you hear me?” Lucy patted your face. “Why’s this happening?!” She looked off to George for an answer. George shrugged, feeling helpless in this matter. He too knew so little about the subject of coming out of being ghost locked…only to go back into ghost lock again? It was very confusing. You were the one and only first person to awaken out of a ghost lock comatose. There was still so much to learn about this temporary state. So many questions he wanted answers. The first was why you fell back into your previous state.

“Please, please!” Anthony’s hands still gripped onto yours.

“Y/n, can you hear me?” 

You could, that’s what scared you even more as the sudden flashes of memories hit you like a truck. 

“We’re hardly making ends meet to keep this bloody roof over our heads, now you want to make matters worse and leave for a job you haven’t even secured yet?” An image of a tall woman shouting at a man with a beard flooded your frontal lobe. 

“I’m in the process of sealing this contract. I just need to leave for the trip and then we’ll be able to stop worrying about missing deadlines, and missing payments on bills. I’m doing this for us!” The man declared. 

“No, you’re doing this for yourself. No one asked this of you. I certainly did not-“

“I thought I was doing the right thing!” 

“You absolute idiot. You of all people would think so blindly especially with this epidemic. Our home is on the verge of being taken from us, do you not understand?!” You hid behind the corner you peeled through. “You stupid son of-“ You peeked around again to find the woman holding one side of her face. The loud smack wasn’t lost on you. You glower in fear, scared of what will happen next. 

“I’m doing this for us…” The man’s voice sighed heavily. “You’re ungrateful you know that?” He shook his head. 

“I’m sorry.” The woman shrinks into herself. Arms folded over her chest as she backed away from the man. 

“Yeah, you will be once I’m done with you.” 

“No, no, no, please, please!” 

“Y/n!” Your child shelf turned her head, finding interest in the new voice that called out for her. You looked back to the couple fighting then turned and ran out the front door. 

“Y/n, can you hear me?” Tears started to form in her eyes. “We-We need to call Barnes. DEPRAC. Somebody!” Lucy shook her head. 

“You have to wake up. Please…” Anthony begged, sitting up on his knees again. Head titled as he hoped for the color to come back to your eyes again. 

“Y/n? Deary, what are you doing out here so late?” The woman looked beyond the threshold, cupping the back of your head as you lunged forward to hug her jean-clad legs. She expected someone, rather your parents, to show up, though she saw no one out on the streets late at night. They were all abiding by the curfew that was set. “Let’s get you inside, yeah.” She ushered your smaller self in. She helped you shrug your coat off. Hanging it high above on the hooks, out of your reach.

“Celia darling, who was at the door?” A nice well kept looking man walked into your line of sight. A cup of tea in his hands, though he paused mid-sip seeing you grace his front entrance. 

“Y/n?” He questioned you, though your expressionless demeanor only further made him curious. “What a pleasant surprise…” He set his mug down and came over, crouching down to your level. “What’s brought you over to visit the Lockwoods, huh?” Your eyes meet his eyes for a brief second, then you say.

“He hit her. He hit mumma, again.” 

Celia and Donald lock eyes before Celia comes to crouch down in front of you too. “Where'd he hit her? You don’t have to show us. You can just tell us.” Though she offered a faint smirk, you already raised your hand. Demonstrating the slap you witnessed happen, to yourself, though much more delicate. Celia closed her eyes. Then braved a smile. Reaching out to grab your tiny hands. “Would you like to bunk with Anthony tonight or Jessica? Take your pick, we won’t judge, Jessica tends to snore though.” Her heart swelled hearing you emit a laugh. “Anthony, right?” You nodded. “Yeah alright, come on, let’s get you settled. Have you eaten at all?” One shake of your head confirmed her worst thoughts. “We made a broth, though if you're anything like Anthony, he’s quite the picky eater. Won't ever touch his vegetables.” 

“I’m not picky.” You smiled up at the woman. Her shoulders slumped, a faint laugh failing past her lips. She felt for you, though as a mother always, she took you in as her own. 

“Alright, my darling. Sit here, yeah.” She pulled out your chair for you. “Donald, would you tell Anthony to come here!” She called out the kitchen door. “Now, would you like the froggy bowl or the cool spider one?” She raised the spider bowl to her lips as if to tell you a secret. “Don’t tell Anthony, but he likes the froggy one.” 

“The spider one.” You point to him. 

“The spider one. I knew you had great taste!” She pointed at you. 

“Y/n?” You both turned toward the source of the sound. A younger Anthony walking into the kitchen appeared. 

“Anthony!” You exclaimed getting up from your seat. You went over and hugged him. His arms embrace you as well. You pulled back with a smile. “You have to wake up.” 

“What?” You flinch, confused. 

“Y/n, you need to wake up. Please wake up- Wake up-“

“Y/n wake up-“ Your sudden gasp startled the three of them. They flinch back as you come to. Your body falling forward. Your muscles were tingling from having not moved for a bit. Though if it hadn’t been for Lucy you would have fallen face first. 

“Oh my god!” Lucy cried as you were still trying to grasp for air. You kicked your feet, as a panic started to rise within you. You look around as your once sudden blurry vision clears over. The dim orange light from your lights lighting up the room and the face in front of you. You clutch onto Lucy as your eyes dart across every surface, every spot in the room, then to Anthony and George, then up to Lucy. You raise your right arm to cup one side of her face. Your eyes gloss over with tears. 

Anthony reached forward, culling the back of your head and pressing his head against yours, both of you breathless. 

“Oh thank god!” His face pinches. He pulls back, a light gasped laugh emits from his lips. Your eyes return to their original shade. “Your eyes!” However, the happiness and relief did not last long as you let out a faint whimper. You hold onto Lucy and Anthony, needing to feel a human touch. The memory was still very prominent in your mind, but you didn’t want to elaborate on it just now. You were still trying to process what the fuck just happened to you. 

“I could hear you…I could hear you.” Your face scrunched as tears spilled down your face. “But I couldn’t move.” 

“You’re okay now. You're okay now. I promise.” Anthony pressed a kiss to your temple. “It's over. It’s over...” 

“This is way above our pay grade…” George held onto your ankle. 

“What’s happening to me?” You slump back into Lucy’s arms. 

“I don’t know…but we’re gonna figure it out.” He looks at Lucy and George, nodding. 

-

You hadn’t thought much about following Anthony, Lucy, and George into a random house blindly. Anthony had claimed it was a necessary means to hopefully trigger some of your lost memories. But in other terms, he also said, he was hoping for answers about what may be causing you to have survived being ghost-locked. You had strolled up alongside him as the four of you walked down the pavement. Your furrowed brows and tense shoulders weren’t lost on him when he looked over at you, trying to read you.  "What is it?" You look over at him, brows raised. Your mouth opened and closed as he waited patiently, expectedly. It had barely been a full day and it amazed you how well he saw right through you. 

"When I froze up again earlier...I saw a memory of some sort." You frowned. "I don't know what to make of it truly."

Anthony listened intently as you spoke, his hands shoved into the pockets of his coat, as he followed the sidewalk alongside you. He kept his stride to match yours as you walked, his eyes focused on your face, taking in every detail. When you mentioned the memory you had seen, his expression shifted to one of concern and confusion. Anthony paused for a moment, his steps slowing.

"A memory? What did you see?" He asked quietly.

"You, me...this older couple. Though seeing the resemblance it's not hard to assume as such..." You paused then looked over at him. "I think I saw your parents. The memory unsettled me, there was this other couple there two...my parents I think. I ran off to your house. Your mother opened the door to find me crying. They let me spend the night with you..." 

Anthony's expression softened even further, his eyebrows furrowing as you described the details of the memory. He listened intently, his focus entirely on your words. His heart aching at the memory you were suddenly recalling…remembering but still unsure of it. He went to say something but you spoke up again.

“I can’t remember them, my parents. I felt safe when your parents popped up in my mind, but the other two…” You shook your head. “It was like I couldn’t breathe.”

He reached forward to grasp your hand. “As insensitive as it may sound. I’m glad you didn’t because they were the worst people, but selfishly, I don’t hold everything against them…they gave me you.” He grinned wholeheartedly, raising your hand to kiss the back of your hand. “It’s alright if you don’t remember them. I’d prefer it, and as for the memory alone. You were vulnerable and scared, I think you conjured up the memory for it to bring you comfort from what it sounds like…You were in search of the comfort that was given to you willingly and openly.”

“Your parents.” You breathed out a laugh, tears brimming your waterline.

“My parents…” Anthony laughed softly with you. Anthony noticed your absence, frowning. He reached forward once again, raising a hand to wipe a tear cascading down your cheek. He leaned down, trying to look at your face. “Hey…look at me.” You had been looking down at your shoes, when he gripped the hand that he held. “I’m gonna fix this.” He promised.

You looked into his eyes as he spoke, the emotions swirling in his own eyes as he offered a comforting smile. He wanted nothing more than to see the frown on your lips disappear, but he knew the memories weren't as easy to recall as he had hoped.

"I'm terrified." You nodded as you looked over to Lucy and George stood by, watching you and Anthony talk. "What if I never gain my memories back? Would you be able to live with it, having to restart anew with me? I can see it on you, it's eating you alive. It bothers you that you don't have your best friend back. What if that girl never truly comes back-" 

“Don’t.” He cut you off, his voice firm and determined. He wasn't going to let you go down the rabbit hole of doubt and what-ifs. Anthony reached forward with both hands to cup your face, holding your gaze with his own. “Don’t you dare question that for a second? Of course, I’ll be able to live with it. You’re in front of me now.” He took a sharp breath. “I don’t care if you can’t remember a single bloody memory. You’re here, now. That's all that matters.”

"You may be able to, but I don't think I would. I can't do that to you, to Lucy, and George. You all lost me and I can't bring her back to you-" You shook your head trying to get out of Anthony's grasp. You had pulled away and hadn't realized you had stepped out onto the road. 

"That’s what you’re worried about?!" He exclaimed, stepping forward off the curb to follow you. "We didn’t lose you. You’re still here! Right in front of me!" Anthony exclaimed, his voice laced with frustration and concern. "Just because you can’t remember, that doesn’t change you." He reached forward, grabbed your wrist, and pulled you back onto the sidewalk, away from the road. You wouldn’t give in to him though. You stepped back again. 

"You're not getting it!" You exclaim.

Anthony clenched his jaw, his emotions building up inside him. "What am I not getting, huh? That you're doubting yourself because you don't remember? That you feel guilt about something you have no control over? That you're trying to distance yourself from us because you think you're doing us a favor?!" He huffed. "You're right, I don't get it." 

Anthony had looked away. It had been a mere moment, but it suddenly had tackled you straight into the chest when you gasped out loud for air. Your arms fall at your sides right as your body stiffens and your irises glaze over. 

“You’re right, I don't get it.” A young Anthony huffs out in annoyance as you curl in on yourself. “You cannot go back there. Are you mad?”

You pout as you look down at your shoes. “I need my inhaler and more clothes.” 

“My parents can get you all new stuff.”

“I don’t want new stuff, I want my stuff. I want my bear and my trinkets. They’re all in my chest under my bed. I’d be in and out, they won’t notice or hear me.” You plead.

“No, I won’t let you. I don’t want them to hurt you-”

“Anthony!” Lucy screamed seeing a speeding car grow closer. 

"Y/n?" He repeated your name, louder this time. His tone was a bit panicky as he moved closer to you, his hands extended. One look at your eyes told him everything he needed to know. “Oh god…” He gasped as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you back safely onto the pavement. He tripped over his feet in the process bringing you down with him. Your face was buried into his chest. He sat up quickly as George and Lucy rushed over. 

Lucy hit the ground without a second thought. Helping Anthony sit you upright. “Y/n can you hear us?” Lucy pleaded as he held your face. She gasped feeling the temperature of your skin. “She’s freezing.” 

George had knelt too, keeping his eye on Anthony who looked like he was about to throw up. "Lockwood?" Lucy stopped looking at you and looked at Anthony. 

"Lockwood, you alright?" Lucy frowned seeing his dazed look.

“I’m here.” He mumbled. His hands shook, feeling your body tremble in his arms. He gently placed his hand across the back of your head. Pressing against his chest, he could feel your heart thump rapidly, as tears filled his eyes.

George had noticed the look in Anthony's eyes and placed a hand on his shoulder. Anthony looked up at him with wide panicked eyes, and his bottom lip quivered. "That’s two!" His words sounded raspy and choked. "Why is this happening to her?” 

"What do we know so far?" Lucy chimed in, keeping her hand on you. 

Anthony breathed out shakily, taking a deep breath to compose himself. He closed his eyes, trying to recall all the information he had gathered to help piece your memories together. 

"T-The first time this happened we were here, at the house." Anthony nodded off to the house on the corner they had yet to reach. "She sacrificed herself for me."

"Second time?" George questioned.

"We were talking, talking about her getting her memories back. She was scared, she said it felt like she was replacing someone else. That nothing felt familiar to her." Anthony looked down at your stiff form. "She recalled a memory though that's what we were talking about just a while ago."

"About?" George raised his brow. "What?" When he noticed the shift and uneasiness in Lockwood's demeanor. 

"It's not pleasant."

"Out with it, it'll be alright." Lucy caressed your hand slowly. 

"Y/n's father used to beat down on her mother some nights. Y/n would run to ours after curfew was set. She knew the risks but anywhere else was safer for her than in her own home. My parents would always answer the door to her crying and my mother would send my dad to try and calm hers. She's continued staying with us since that night. Her father ended up kil-"

"You don't need to tell us..." Lucy placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a grim smile. 

"She recalled bits and pieces...so I don't think she truly remembers anything of them."

"What triggered this ghost lock then?" George tilted his head in time to catch a tear spill down your eye. He reached forward, hesitating at first before wiping it. 

"It was probably the arguing." Anthony's guilt began eating at him. “I’m not too sure anymore.”

"In theory…all of this could be the leading cause of words or traces she’s said or heard in the past..."

"Perhaps George, but that still doesn't explain why it's happening in the first place-"

Your sudden gasp had startled them.

"She’s back!" George asked, noticing that your eyes seemed to have returned to normal. 

Lucy quickly moved her attention to your face, her hands gently cupping your face, tilting it toward hers, searching your eyes. They were still a little distant but at least they weren't glazing over as before. Your body still trembled against Anthony's chest crying. Anthony's hands wrapped more firmly around your form, his eyes fixed on your face as you regained consciousness. 

"Oh thank god." He exhaled, his heart hammering in his chest as he tried to catch his breath. "You're alright. You're right here." His voice was shaky, relief and worry lacing his every word. “We’ve got you.” 

Lucy and George exchanged looks, each silently sharing the same worried expression.

"Don't let me go back under. Don't let me go back under." You cried, shaking your head. You were tired, your breathing labored.

Anthony's heart ached as he heard your words, his arms tightening around you, pulling you closer to his chest. He ran his hand over your hair, attempting to soothe your distress.

"We won't, we won't. You're right here with us; it's over now." He whispered in your ear, his voice shaking as he spoke. "Just breathe," He whispered, his voice gentle and calming. "Listen to my heartbeat. You're safe now. You're safe with us." He continued to run his hand through your hair, the other hand held you tightly against him, his grip not loosening.

“Y/n what memory did you see?” George rubbed your shoulder softly. “What did you hear?”

“George, not right now!” Anthony pressed as he comforted your cries.

“It’ll answer the theory.”

“Not now!”

“But it’s better if she tells us-”

“George-”

“You’re right, I don't get it. You cannot go back there. Are you mad? I need my inhaler and more clothes. My parents can get you all new stuff. I don’t want new stuff, I want my stuff. I want my bear and my trinkets. They’re all in my chest under my bed. I’d be in and out, they won’t notice or hear me. No, I won’t let you. I don’t want them to hurt you-” You recited the memory. Your voice all leveled out in one unsettling monotone tone.

“Y/n you don’t need to tell us-” Anthony protested.

“-It was like a dream, but the memory doesn’t feel like it's a part of me.”

The silence that followed your sudden recitation was deafening. Anthony’s grip on you tightened, his chest now rising and falling heavily under you as he breathed. 

Lucy and George exchanged solemn glances, both of them appearing shocked by the sudden change in your demeanor. 

"Y/n..." Lucy whispered your name, as Anthony’s hand gently cupped the side of your face, attempting to pull you back to the present. “You don’t have to do this. We can turn around right now and head home.” 

“No, no we’ve made it this far already. What good would turning around now do us?”

“We don’t want to force anything on you.” George knelt to be at eye level with you.

“Too late Georgie…” You muster a sad grimace.

“You haven’t called me that in a while.” George releases a happy breath.

“Y/n…” Anthony calls out your name to gather your attention. You turn to meet his weary gaze. “You say the word and we’ll head back home.”

“We already made the trip here. What more harm can going inside do to me? Maybe we’ll get the answers we’ve been looking for. Maybe then you can fix me.” You look at your teammates, at your small family who stuck with you through and through. 

Anthony's heart was torn between wanting to shield you from further pain and believing that pushing forward might lead to the revelations you had all been searching for.

“We don’t have to do this right now.” Anthony protested, his voice quivering slightly. "We can wait. We-” But before he could continue, George interrupted him. 

"Lockwood...we've got to try something."

Anthony's eyes locked on yours, his mind grappling with the weight of the decision. The memories that lay dormant within those walls threatened to break free and consume him, to take him back to the place he dreaded most. You were waiting on his final say, his final word of approval to venture forward into the house where he believed he truly lost everything that meant the world to him. Where he thought he truly lost the will to live. But he knew that George was right. They needed answers. Taking a deep breath, he clenched his jaw, his expression stoic and resolute. “Alright, but if it’s too much for you, I’m rushing you out of there.” You nodded at him, pushing off the pavement with the help of Lucy. Lockwood had half a mind now, gaining flashes of the past. Faint whispers of how insanely distraught he was that night. 

You held onto his hand as you four approached the door. It was only a matter of minutes before you made the courageous act of turning the knob and pushing past the threshold. The dark cold house welcomes your arrival. You shivered at the shift of temperatures. 

-

“Lockwood, Lockwood. Tony.”  Anthony blinked back his tears as he came back too. “We’ve got to take her now Tony.” Lockwood had only curled your frozen frame further into his chest. Lucy stepped in to be the mediator. 

“Anthony it’s alright. Quill gots her now.” Lucy placed her hand on his shoulder bringing him to the present again. Anthony only blinked as he looked down at your milky glazed eyes.

“How long has he been like this?” Quill’s voice felt distant, muffled. Like water surfaced over his sunken form. 

“Since eight. We got here around six…” 

“It’s two in the morning now…God, I’m sorry we couldn’t get here quicker. You made the right move to call us. I’m just glad you got rid of the visitor in time. Otherwise, who knows what we could have found when we got here.” Quill looked over at the approaching footsteps at the threshold. Barnes sighed as he took in the sight of Lockwood and you. He closed his eyes at the sight and then went to say.

“Any luck?”

“Give him a minute…” Lucy pleaded sadly. 

“Tony, I’ll be as gentle with her down the stairs, swear on it.” Quill dipped his head to try and meet his eyes. Anthony was barely present to muster the energy to speak. “We’re here now…we can help her.”

“You can’t…” Anthony mumbled. He reflected that of a broken child. 

“Lockwood they got her now…we can help-” Lucy was cut off by Barnes's approach.

“Kid…hey look at me.” Barnes' voice was hard, but there was a hint of softness. Anthony slowly lifted his gaze to meet Barnes's, his eyes weary and heavy with anguish. He looked small, broken, and exhausted, like a lost child. Barnes knelt before him, placing a steady hand on his shoulder. Anthony's hand was still wrapped around you, holding onto you as if his life depended on it. "Lockwood," Barnes spoke gently, his voice firm yet sympathetic. "You did the right thing calling us. We're here now, and we can help her. You can't help her if she stays here."

Barnes gestured towards your limp form, still clutched in Anthony's tight embrace. Anthony's eyes followed his motion, his expression one of pain and resignation. "We got her kid…we got her.”

"She sacrificed herself for me..."

Barnes sighed, his expression softening as he met Anthony's tired gaze. 

"I know, kid. I know." He patted Anthony's shoulder comfortingly. "But you can't help her if you don't let go of her."

“She sacrificed herself, it should’ve been me.” Anthony's grip on you tightened instinctively as if he couldn't bear to let you go. Barnes could see the internal struggle he was enduring, the pain etched on his face. 

Barnes nodded, understanding the weight of his words. "I know…but she did it to keep you safe. And now it's our turn to keep her safe." His grip on Anthony's shoulder tightened slightly, a firm, grounding presence as he locked eyes with him. "You can't help her if she's stuck here, Lockwood."

"I can't...I can't let her go."

Barnes' expression softened even further at Anthony's words, the pain in his voice was palpable. He squeezed his shoulder gently, a reassuring gesture. 

“You’re not letting her go, you’re letting us help her,” Barnes stated firmly, his voice strained with concern. “Right now, she needs medical attention and she needs it stat. And she won’t get it if you sit here frozen like a statue. It’s gonna be alright, son.”

"No, it's not. I've lost her." A tear slid down his cheek as he relented and let Quill and the paramedics place you on a stretcher and carry you downstairs and out into the paramedics. He looked down at his hands noticing a faint trace of your blood left behind on his left fingertips. 

“She was bleeding…” Anthony's brows furrowed in thought. 

“What?” Lucy at his hands.

“She was cut…Did you see a wound on her anywhere?” He finally looked up, alert and wary. 

“No. Lockwood?” Lucy cocked her head in question. 

“I didn’t see a cut on her…” Anthony mumbled to himself. 

“It was probably just a scratch.” George shrugged it off. 

Yeah, just a scratch, he thought.

-

Lockwood’s heart clenched as you released a shuddered breath, raised your hand at the very moment, and rubbed at a spot below and behind your earlobe. 

[jesslockwood]

Detecting the Haunted Masterlist 

Chapter Three

Word Count: 3.2k

Pairing(s): Anthony Lockwood x Detective!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Angst

A/n: hello friends! I'm sorry I haven't posted in forever!!! its going to be a busy summer for me as its my last year in my acting program, and I have professional Shakespeare shows coming up (auditions and rehearsals) soon. I really hope to be active but im not sure how active I will be but I hope you enjoy this chapter!

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In all of Anthony’s life, he wanted people to love him. He wasn’t sure why but the praise of others and the showering of adoration towards him just gave him the feeling of being loved. Maybe it was because that’s what his life was missing, love. 

The current problem with wanting to be even just admired, was that you wouldn’t speak to him, unless absolutely necessary or with someone else in the room. He couldn’t pin point what had changed, but it put him in a grouchy mood. 

He had even snapped at George and Lucy at one point, because of it, which he felt bad about.

He just couldn’t understand why you would all of a sudden you just seem to loathe the mere presence of him. 

That was until he saw you having a conversation with none other than Quill Kipps in the library. That made Lockwood want to explode. He did his best to keep his composure, but how could he? Especially when someone he cared for was talking to his rival. 

You had laughed at something he said, before Anthony made his way over. 

“Tony! I see you have a new agent in training on your hands.” Kipps seemingly tries to antagonize him, “I thought you had enough troubles trying to keep your agency afloat, Being such a small and insignificant one.” 

Lockwood grits his teeth, and his fist goes into a ball, clenching it so tightly. 

“Anyway, my offer still stands.” He says directed towards Y/n in a overly confident tone before making his leave.

Anthony tightens his jaw even more if that was even possible to do so.

You shake your head while smiling, as Kipps leaves and Anthony notices. 

“When’d you get so chummy with Kipps?” He asks with an intensity that you can only describe as uncomfortable.

You ignore his prompted stare down, and shift over a book, and open it to start your next reading.

He keeps staring waiting for you answer.

“When did you get so controlling with who I talk to? Last time I checked you were my boss, not my boyfriend.” You say not even meeting his gaze, ignoring the way saying boyfriend made your body tingle.

He looks genuinely shocked, and hurt, when you spew the words with venom at him, wth a fiery anger, but you had to hate him, or else you’d hate everyone else around you. The problem was that hating everyone wasn't an option you wanted to explore, so your anger had to be directed towards Anthony Lockwood. That was or else it would consume you.

George walks towards the two, carefully, as if he could be the detonator to explode one of the two colleges of his on each other.

“I uh, found the paper in the archives we were looking for, Y/n.” He says before carefully setting it down on the table the two of you were working at.

George had noticed the tension in the house between Lockwood and Y/n, he knew Lucy could feel it too, as she kept trying to get Lockwood and Y/n to avoid each other as much as possible as she tried to figure out what triggered all this, for lack of a better term, teenage angst in the house. 

Well it felt like more than just teenage angst. It felt like a rage radiating off of the two directed towards each other, as if they were two old miserable manifestations bickering like an old couple while trying to murder everyone in the way that ticked them off.

Yeah that was more of the level of tension that was going on, especially when Lucy or himself got caught in the crossfire of the two. He actually didn’t hate Y/n, he had gotten to tolerate her during their times in the archives, but he couldn’t get a good reading of why she acted the way she did towards them, but mostly Lockwood. He was so curious of what was making her tick, or ticked off, pun intended.

Even Lockwood was making things feel off. He had been pissed almost every single day these past couple of weeks, and had even bursted with anger towards himself and Lucy.

George started to think of all the ways he could figure out what was wrong, and deiced to let Lucy in on his plot when he got home, to figure out what the hell these two had tasted to be so bitter to everyone.

George had come out of dreamland to find Y/n and Lockwood bickering.

“At least I talked to someone who wasn’t a stuck up prick for once!” Y/n almost yells.

“I think you’ve got it all wrong, love, you did talk to the stuck up prick, he just left with what’s left of his dignity, from the last time he was here!” Lockwood raises her one.

“Guys, Guys!” Lucy comes rushing In to break it up, “Maybe let’s try to not get kicked out of the archives? Y/n let’s uh, go get lunch, there’s this place I've been meaning to take you to.” 

Y/n gives Anthony one last glare before, picking up her jacket and heading out with Lucy.

“Well, that was awkward…” George mumbles faintly, before giving Lockwood a disappointed look before getting back to work.

“Urgh! He such a pompous ass!” You rant to Lucy, in between shoving pizza in your mouth. 

“Lockwood can be… selfish. But it’s really more because he wants the us and the whole agency to benefit… trust me I know it all too well.” She tries to console you, and you can see the genuine hurt in her eyes from it. 

If he could hurt Lucy, and get others hurt, even killed… who knows what the guy could do to you. Maybe the Job Kipps offered you wasn’t such a bad idea. 

It especially felt good to know it would make Lockwood infuriated. Maybe this was a chance to get a back at Lockwood a bit. Not to the degree you wanted, but it was something.

You make small talk with Lucy while eating, coming up with a plan in your head of how to piss him off the most.

To say Lockwood was pissed was a total understatement. He was enraged.

George and Lucy even seemed to tiptoed around Lockwood as of recently, and Lockwood felt nothing but isolated, and that led him to be able to sit and stew in his anger even longer. 

The both of you seemed to avoid each other physically, which made Lockwood all the more furious. The only time you’d see each other was for training, which George and Lucy had taken over most of that, and cases.

Today you had to train with your rapier again, and that was the main thing Lockwood oversaw.

“C’mon again!” He yells, as you missed one of the practice targets. 

You glare daggers into his direction, as he seemly does the same. 

“I would be a lot better if I didn’t have the constant screaming in my ear.” You mumble sarcastically.

“Sorry, I didn’t get that? Maybe you could actually try this time?” He says before smirking and leaning back to where he was sitting seeming satisfied with ticking you off.

“I’d like to see you do better.” You taunt stalking towards him, “The best I’ve seen in action was the Fittes team at a case I was working.”

He clenches his jaw, looking at you with an intense fire behind his eyes. 

“You’re more show than skill.” You smirk as his face turns even more sour. He gets up and moves right into your personal space. 

“Really? If you think I’m all show, then lets put it to the test, Love.” He pulls his rapier out and backs you into the wall.

You visibly gulp, not because of his challenge, but the sheer proximity of how close his face was to yours. 

He stares into your eyes, with his full of an emotion you couldn’t quite pinpoint. He had a anger but there was something else behind it. 

He shakes his head and scoffs, turning around walking away.

That made your whole body burn with fury. You knew he was one of the best from stories you had heard, but boy did that make you want to try harder to be better. 

“Like I said, all show.” You mumble loud enough for him to hear. 

He stops on the spot, turning around about to say something, and before he can Lucy is running down the stairs with a small stack of letters in her hand. 

“Hey, Y/n You’ve got mail.” 

You give Lockwood a victory smirk, and he gives you a glare saying ‘this isn’t over’.

“Thanks, Lucy.” You take the mail form her, before looking it over, until stopping on one letter in particular. 

“Crap…” you mumble to yourself, opening it quickly. 

Lockwood and Lucy seem intrigued to know what had gotten the rise out of you.

You skim over the letter, or well, the invitation. Your grandparents wanted to see you, and you knew that they rarely did unless it had to do with their agenda. 

You started to feel ill, hoping it was you actually getting sick to get out of it, instead of the idea of visiting them. 

“What is it?” Lockwood asks slightly worried as you lean to grab the wall. 

You want to throw the letter out, but you hand it to Lucy, “You can read it amongst yourselves, if you wish, Especially since I think I’m going to need you to accompany me.”

They give each other a look, as you head upstairs and They both follow you up quickly, if not seconds later. 

George seems intrigued to what is going on, and comes out of the sitting room area, with his usual cleaning gear on, and duster in his hand. 

Lucy starts reading aloud, “Y/n Y/l/n and Lockwood & co, You are formally invited to The Saunders Ball, this Friday. Please wear formal wear and please arrive early to meet and dine with The Saunders.”

“How in the bloody hell do you know the Saunders?!” Lockwood almost yells.

George pipes up, “And why would one of the oldest of richest families in London want dinner with with us?”

“Blood Relation, to me, unfortunately.” You say, wishing this wasn’t their reaction. 

Lucy and Lockwood sit there with their mouths ajar, while George looks like he’s going through every probability in his mind.

“Look, there’s no need to come. I can face my grandparents myself-“

“There’s no way were passing this up. It’s an opportunity for the company to find more clients.” Lockwood pipes up.

Your jaw clenches as try you to smile to pretend to be pleased that he wants to come. 

“Great. does everyone have formal wear? Or do we have to go shopping?”

Lucy shakes her head no, and you give a light smile, before grabbing her hand.

“Let’s go then, my treat.” You say before running out the door with Lucy. 

Lockwood gives one last glance at the door, before standing up.

“C’mon George, Lets go find out all we can about the Saunders.”

Lockwood wouldn’t try to dive into your history if he could help it, but he needed to know anything he could about who’s doors he was about to step into and how to best be prepared to gain new clients. 

Lucy had told you a bit about her past life, how she didn’t come from much, and her old employer, and briefly what happened to her best friend Norrie.

“Hey Lu?” You grab her attention with the nickname you called her in your nightly talks, “Im sorry.”

“What do you mean?” She asks, looking directly at you as you walked down the street of the shops. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about all this. It’s something my Mum left in the past when she left home from my grandparents. I’ve never really lived rich my mother just came from money.” You sigh as you continue to explain, “We really lived off of my Dad’s pay, and my mother worked part time in a flower shop. It- it’s not really important what they did. But my grandparents- well they only ever summon me if they want something.”

Lucy gives a sympathetic look, with almost an understanding. 

“My grandparents hated my dad, because the took their only daughter away, to live a ‘life of poverty’ and my dad, ‘he couldn’t provide’. Ah, it’s so messed up! Then my parents had me, and all they ever wanted was me to become their ‘Perfect grandchild of the Saunders’ but I never was that, or could be that.” You ramble it all out.

“I’m sorry y/n” she replies, “For all that family rubbish. I- I know the struggle of family too well.” She mentions with an understanding you’ve never felt. 

You felt so heard. You felt so seen even though your pasts couldn’t have been more different. It was so touching.

“Thank you. For being my friend.” You blurt out, as she gives you a genuine smile. 

“C’mon let's check out this shop!” You say while dragging her in and you both giggle. 

Lockwood was tapping his fingers against the table. He was getting George to pull article after article about your grandparents. After Fairfax, Lockwood couldn’t just walk into this blindly, especially at the reaction that Y/n had at the mere invitation of dinner with them. 

The archives seemed to have little to no information so far, other than that they were old money for being a huge lavender supply over the years and that they had a similar social circle to Fairfax; rich and socialites. Their only link to each other was Marissa Fittes and Penelope Fittes.

Lockwood sighed, as he hoped this wouldn’t turn into another Fairfax situation. At this point in time, he didn’t think he could really trust y/n anymore. 

But maybe that was the problem between himself and y/n, that she couldn’t trust him. He never had thought about it that way. He had told Lucy and George about his past, but not y/n, so maybe that’s why she didn’t share much about herself. 

Maybe it was time Lockwood let himself go of this rampant disease of the feeling of resentment. At least to a small degree, just so they all could survive dinner and the ball with one of London's most powerful and influential families. 

It was finally the day to head to dinner and the ball with your grandparents, and you were just pretending to have it all together, but underneath you were an earthquake of nerves waiting to start to rumble. 

You were curling Lucy’s hair with an curling iron, trying to distract yourself from the whole situation. 

“That’s a beautiful necklace you have on.” You mention breaking the almost silence as the record player played a soft tune in the back of the room.

She grabs it, fiddling with it, “Thanks, Lockwood gave it to me, for the Fittes ball.” You freeze for a second, trying to hold your face still in the same way it was. 

You were partly shocked she even mentioned it, because that was the night your father had died at the hands of him.  You were Devastated but wasn’t the only emotion you were feeling, you couldn’t help but feel a pang in your chest when she said Lockwood gave it to her. You hated yourself even more for falling into this trap of his charms. 

You were trying to hold a small smile, ads you finished Lucy’s hair. Your eyes started to water slightly, and as you tried to hold your tears in, there was a knock at the door. 

“Luce, Y/n, are you two ready yet?” Lockwood asks from the other side.

“You’re done Lu.” You say before turning around before the tears started to come out and started to go get your dress on. 

“I’m coming out, Y/n just has to put her dress on.” Lucy explains.

“Okay.” He repsonds.

Lucy slips out, and you here her shoes click against the stairs as she walks down. 

You wipe away your tears and start to pull your dress on before hearing your name being called.

 “Y/n?” 

“Yes Lockwood?” You reply.

You start to struggled with he zipper on your dress, as Lockwood starts to speak, “I just wanted to say that I’m- Y/n/n are you okay?” He asks as you made a loud sound as you crashed into the vanity. 

“Uh yeah I just can’t- I can’t get this stupid zipper.” You sigh in defeat, “Can you come in and help me?”

“Yeah, of course.” He says as he opens the door. His breath is taken away as If his lungs were ghost touched. You were leaning against the vanity, with a beautiful red dress on. 

“I know it’s pathetic but that the last case we had this week hurt my shoulder, so you don’t have to say it.” You mention looking away, before meeting his gaze. 

Was he… admiring you? You couldn’t tell for the few seconds he looked at you, before his expression changed as he moved towards you.

“It was my fault, on that case. I should have prepared you more so don’t worry about it. I’m just glad the dresser that hit you in the shoulder didn’t hurt you more.” He said, “That was quick moving, your getting out of the way before it squashed you.“ 

That was almost a compliment and an admittance of fault. What was going on with him? He motions for you to turn around and you do. As he moves your hair out of the way, a shiver runs down your spine, and goose bumps arise on your skin. 

You try to distract yourself at the feeling of his close proximity to you by cracking a joke, “Yeah well, now I can’t zip myself up, or get out of this stupid gown. Thank you Grandma and Grandpa for this choice of attire I truly adore feeling trapped.” 

He laughs a small almost silent laugh, as he grabs the zipper and slowly zips it up. It was agonizingly slow. You couldn’t tell if he was doing this to spite you, or because he was feeling the same weird feelings that you were. 

You shook off the second thought, it had to be to make you uncomfortable. You couldn’t have second thoughts on this no matter how warm it made your body feel. 

You swear you heard him take a shaky breath in before he finished and you turned to face him. You were really close to his face, and you could see the way his eyes looked almost puppy dog like. His eyes trailed your whole face for a few seconds before he took a small step back.

“Shall we?” He extended his arm, before you both descended the stairs, heading out to the car to take you to the infamous Saunders ball. You only hoped that your grandparents didn’t pull some bullshit like they usually did with you. 

You had no idea what was in store for you and your team, and that’s what was killing you. The not knowing.

Taglist:

@waitingforthesunrise @sleep-i-ness @rinisfruity14 @uku-lelevillain

[vryfmi]

soft worldbuilding in L&Co is so special to me especially how telling talents are:

Sight is associated with with people who look after others, who are always at the look out for danger, the ones who constantly see death and are tied to it no matter what (kipps (with talent and then with goggles), lockwood, skull (in life))

Listening is the warning sign, the haunting before haunting ever began, it gets into one's head and makes you trapped in there with voices of times long passed (lucy, kat)

Touch, in the world where one touch kills, is the most high risk, a conscious decision to put yourself into one's shoes and feel what they felt, ache with empathy all alone in a world of constant pain (lucy)

and having a bit of every talent makes one less vulnerable to psychic effects, but that means that you are fully submerged into haunting, into the past, once you are confronted by it, and in this profession it's constantly there and around you (george, holly, flo)

[wylansvanhendriks]

the way that jonathan stroud wrote lucy and lockwood as characters that directly parallel each other in everything!!! she Listens and he Sees. he’s the title character and she’s the narrator. she has this great power and he wants to build a great agency. when apart she’s just as reckless as he is. even down to their likes and dislikes: she hates orange juice pulp and he loves it if only to pretend he’s a whale. she leaves to protect him and he comes back to protect her. she wants to communicate with ghosts and he wants to fight them. they have matching white streaks!!!! they are the most alike and the most different and that is why they work. literally no one has ever created such a compelling relationship with such compelling characters!!!!

[poolseason]

locked room

bonus! the background by itself and close up

[biscuitrule]

No because I’m sorry but Lockwood and Co should be Percy Jackson level popular

[krash-and-co]

not to be insane about her on main but you know I never stopped thinking about jessica right. you know I never stopped thinking about jess lockwood

shes like. she's JESS.

shes haunting the narrative. she's haunting lockwood. shes haunting nothing at all, in the literal sense, which is rather strange. shes in Lucy's face and the way she stands at the door. shes got lockwoods eyes, or maybe hes got hers. she's burned into her bedset. she's burned into her house. she's burned into wood. she's a broken pot. she's a clumsy rapier. she's waiting at the apple tree. shes sleeping under her covers. she likes stickers. she's a kid, she's a guardian, she's not going to take off the baby wallpaper in her bedroom. she's clung to youth. she's forced to grow up. she's younger than her baby brother. she's the world. shes important enough to die for. she's important enough to live because of. she's blue and swollen and on the floor and dead. she's pale and smiling and holding her brother in her lap, immortalized, shoved in a dresser drawer because somebody couldnt handle seeing her face.

she's that important. she's that important.

she's a lockwood, she's a mirror, she's lucy joan carlyle and anthony john lockwood and a reminder and a child and doomed, doomed, doomed in such a way that she could save everyone else.

she's the boxes lockwood couldn't open. she's the right time. she's warm feathers and stitches purposefully undone.

in her childishly wallpapered room, she is sitting, watching, cross legged on her bed.

[hanxiaofeifei]

Lockwood every episode:

Me side eyeing Lockwood since episode 2:

[alexiethymia]

Lockwood takes care of her wound for her and patches her up. Lucy helps him through his panic attack and snaps him out of it.

Besides the fact that they heal each other and all of the intimate touches involved (fingers lightly intertwined, him weaving his fingers through her hair while she cradles his neck and face etcetera), I also love the slight subversion of gender roles. It’s Lockwood who nurses Lucy, when usually it’s the other way around. At the same time it’s Lockwood who becomes emotional and suffers a panic attack while Lucy grounds him.

[bookwyrm35]

You know what line is spoken so casually but breaks my heart every. single. freaking. time?

Lucy: She's in pain...

Lockwood: Of course she is, she's dead.

Lockwood believes that any afterlife ghosts (and possibly all people) experience is agony. From this simple line, we see into his mind and find that he thinks his parents, his sister, any agents or friend or anyone else he's lost- he thinks they're suffering.

...as someone who's lost a close relative recently, I can't imagine how hard it would be to grieve properly and healthily if I believed that they were hurting. My grandpa was in a lot of pain before he passed away, but now that he's on the other side (the true other side, not the limbo we see ghosts trapped in), I know he's at peace. I personally believe he's in heaven, the literal best place anyone could ever be, and that thought, that knowledge, brings me so much comfort.

No wonder Lockwood has such a hard time letting go, he must think that holding onto his family's memory is the only way he can make their supposed suffering somehow worth it.

To anyone who's in the same boat as him, I just want you to know it's okay to let them go. They're okay now. Holding onto what they went through in life or right before their life ended is not going to help them, it's only hurting you. It's hard to let yourself grieve and harder to let yourself heal but I promise it's worth it. We saw Lockwood do it with the help of his new friends and family and I know you and I can do it too.

[cameronspecial]

Masterlist

Welcome to my writing! Hope you find what you are looking for and if you don’t, then requests are closed. Also just comment or send me a message if you want to be a part of any of my taglists.

Rafe Cameron | 2

Drew Starkey

Zach MacLaren

Anthony Lockwood

George Karim

Evan Buckley

Tom Holland

Peter Parker

[jesslockwood]

Detecting the Haunted Masterlist

Chapter Two

Word Count: 2.3k

Pairing(s): Anthony Lockwood x Ex-Detective!Reader

Warnings: Angst, a bit of Fluff, Swearing, Talk of Gore, Blood, Mentions of Death, small details of a death/ murder.

A/n: OMGGGG here's the second chapter, and where everything just goes to shit lol. I love causing pain Let me know what y'all think so far!!!

!!! PLEASE REMEMBER TO REBLOG !!!

It's a free form of "payment" for my hard work for the time and effort I put into my works

Thank you and enjoy ❤️

Lockwood opens the door, surprised to see you standing there in the rain, drenched and shivering. It was nearing dusk, and the haze of the rain and light fading from the day, and the street lamps started to turn on, the glow of them lit up your face.

It had only been two days since he last saw you, and even standing there soaked with your converse full of water sloshing when you leaned onto either foot, holding a grey duffle bag, you took his breath away. It was just the same as your badass move in the house during the ghost fight, even when he saw you getting fired up over his endless and harmless flirting. 

Lockwood finally looked into your eyes, and it wasn’t just the rain that was pouring onto your face, there were tears coming out of your eyes. 

He wanted to bring you into his arms to comfort you, and never let go. That is until he's brought out of his thoughts, when Lucy and George shove their way into the small entryway, to see the same sight he saw. 

“Lockwood Let the poor Detective in!” Lucy says, before making a path for you to step inside. 

When you planted your feet into the home, Lucy maneuvers to shut the door behind you. The home wasn’t what you expected three agents under a small agency to have. To be quite frank, It was quite a bit nicer than you expected.

“Uhh, I’m not a detective any longer, actually.” you blurt out. It seemed as the three heads turned right towards you all at once with the same shocked expression.  

They all turned to look at each other like they were having a private conversation with their eyes. 

“Uh, then uh- Y/n What brings you here?” Lockwood asks with his soft puppy-dog-esq eyes.

That was probably the first time you’ve ever seen Lockwood stumble over his words.

“I needed a place to stay for the night? I can crash on a couch or whatever…” you pause swallowing, “I’d be leaving tomorrow by train, out to the countryside where my mother lives… since I’ve got no job, or job prospects.”

You start drawing circles with your feet. Waiting for their answer.

“Of course you can stay, for as long as you like, actually!” she said through gritted teeth, giving a side eye to the other agent you haven't met, with a curly black mop of hair on his head.

“Just don’t go giving her a job now.” he mumbles, pretty loudly, rolling his eyes, before walking off. 

Before she gives him another glare, “Here, follow me, We should get you dried off, and you can sleep in the attic with me.”she says before dragging you up the stairs. 

Lockwood gives you a sympathetic smile, before he's out of sight.

“Ignore George, he was the same way when I was employed here.” she mentions, before opening a door to a bathroom, giving you a towel. You start to squish the water out of your clothes. 

“I’ll give you the Tour later.” she says, “c’mon I'll show you the attic.”

You got upstairs basically being dragged by Lucy.

It had been a couple of hours since you had entered 35 Portland Row, and Lockwood was sitting in the library, trying to distract him from what just happened. He liked you, but he definitely didn't want you to get involved in all the mess that always seemed to trail behind the three who already lived there. 

 However, the real issue was, he didn't want you to go. He’d miss your banter too much, and especially your wit, and how you weren't charmed by his antics.

He could help but smile, just thinking about how fired up you had gotten over the conversations you've had.

He’s pulled from his thoughts, when he sees you entering slowly through the doorway. 

“Hey.” you whisper.

“Hi.” Lockwood greets you, putting his book down, and sitting up straighter. 

You didn't seem to be soaked anymore, and you were wearing an extremely long t-shirt, with some yellow fuzzy socks on your feet.

“I uh…” you pause, “I just wanted to thank you… and to say goodbye.” you say solemnly.

Lockwood was contemplating his next words as you sat down across from him. 

“We’re the reason you got fired… isn't it?” 

your eyes widen like a deer in headlights, as you gulp before choosing your next words. 

“It’s my fault really… I shouldn’t have helped you…” you say with tears starting to form in your eyes, “There were other reasons too… but it doesn't matter now.”

You take a shaky breath before telling him, “Don’t blame yourself.”

He looks at you with sympathy, before, gently and slowly placing his hand on yours.

“I’ll be okay. My mother moved out to the countryside after my father… She probably needs my company anyways…” you say trying to avoid mentioning it.

You get up to your feet, feeling claustrophobic from the weight of talking about it boxing you in.

“Stay safe, Lockwood.” you say before heading out of the room, to bed. 

The next day, you creep out of Lucy’s bed, that you both had an almost sleepover in.

You couldn't remember the last time you had giggled like that in the early hours of the morning, out of your tired mind as she told you so many of her stories such as the ones of the Quill Kipps vs. Lockwood, or the funny mess ups of their agency, or even better, the failings of the Fittes team. You had even told her of some of the pranks you and James had done to Barnes, which he never could pin it on who did it. 

You wished you could somehow stay close by, and become a friend of Lucy’s. You felt if you had the option, the two of you would be inseparable.

You leave a note for Lucy of your mailing address so the two of you could communicate when you had the time to write letters. You really wanted to say goodbye, but you knew it would just make it harder to leave someone you felt already so close too. 

As soon as you headed downstairs, the smell of food filled your senses, and it was delightful. 

 You decided to skip breakfast, and just eat the snack you had stashed in your locker when you were employed instead. You didn’t want any trouble from George for staying around much longer, nor to face Lockwood. You didn’t think you could refuse to linger just to be close to him, which scared you. 

After your father had died, things just shifted. Your mother didn't let people into the house, and rarely went out. She just shut down everything that used to make her eyes light up. For the hope that one day your father would come back. The same had probably happened to yourself. You made a choice to drown yourself in work, but now that was gone, you didn't know what you had anymore to keep you going, and not dwelling. 

You had got your shoes on, that were still damp, before turning to the door staring at it for a good minute. 

You were broken out of your thoughts, when someone spoke up, “You do know Lucy’s right?”

You turned around to see that It was no one other than Anthony Bloody Lockwood. 

“What do you mean?” you ask confused. 

“I mean,” he takes a step forward cautiously like you’d run if he moved too fast, “You could stay for as long as you like.”

You blink a few times, like if you blinked him away, you could maybe have unheard what you just heard.

“I mean, if you want to. You could even work your wage here. You're not an agent so I couldn’t employ you as one without the proper training, but you could do research with George, or even just…something?” 

he pauses, taking a breath, “I just can't let you go home without trying to convince you to stay… even if it's only for a little while?”

You think on it for a moment, with him fidgeting with the silence. Flashes of your fathers warnings come back to you, but you ignore the caution. You had to do it… after that case the fire for being an agent wouldn't snuff itself out.

“I’ll make a deal with you, Lockwood. You train me as an agent, and I’ll stay. I’ll just do research until I get all my grade levels.” you say trying to strike a deal.

He looks conflicted, like there was an angel and devil on his shoulders, shouting at him all at once. 

He must have decided to be the devil's advocate agreeing, “We have a deal. But any seriously dangerous cases are left to myself, Lucy and George, got it?”

You nod pretending to tip a hat to him that wasn't there. 

He laughs, and it warms your heart.

You take off your damp shoes, as he guides you towards the kitchen.

He yells off towards the direction of the kitchen before the two of you enter, “Hey, George, we're going to need another plate for our new colleague, Y/n!”

You had been staying there for a week by now, and you were ignoring the side eye George kept giving you, as you followed him like a lost puppy, to the library every day. He seemed just annoyed with your presence and the more you ignore his ignorance the more of a bad mood he seems to be in. 

You were glad you at least had Lucy on your side completely, with her giving you the tour of the house, minus what was behind the mystery door, which she defended that it should be Lockwood to show you since it was his home. But she shared a lot of things with you, like a sister would, to confide in. It was nice to have that, since you never had any siblings.

Lockwood was iffy. You didn’t know exactly where he stood half the time. He still seemed conflicted and you couldn't pinpoint the whole reason why. You thought it was just his complex feelings on you becoming an agent, but you didn’t think that was the whole truth to it. He was one of the harder people to read. 

During the week, nearing dusk, after Lucy, George and Lockwood had left for a case, you heard a knock at the door, as you were in the kitchen researching the next case they had lined up.

When you opened the door, you saw James, looking slightly stressed, holding a file folder in his hand. 

“James? How did you-”

“-Find you? There was a rumour that started from Kate that you've been hanging around the George Karim kid, and that you were living here.” he smiles trying to be genuine, but you knew something was bothering him.

“Kate may be a gossip monger but she got it right this time…” you mention, before asking, “So why are you here, out of the blue, other than to check up on me?”

“Since you couldn't access your Dad’s file… I may have flirted with the files clerk to get it.” he says looking guilty, since he knew that was a reason why you got fired, for trying to access it. 

“Don't worry it’s a copy, so you can keep it. Edith copied it for me… just now I'm going on a date with her because of you!” he half jokes trying to lighten the mood a bit before handing it to you.

“Do you want me to stay, or-” 

“I think I need to face this myself.” you say, before he nods giving a small smile, taking his leave.

You looked down at the file like it was death itself. 

You gulp, before closing the door, and heading to the library to read it. 

You were in utter shock. You couldn't believe the piece of paper in your hands and what it said. The pain you felt was even worse than before, causing you to choke up, like you couldn't breathe.

You hyper ventilated for a minute, before sobbing your eyes out. 

It was his fault. 

You could barely fathom all the anger you had inside of you, stretching its way out from the pit of your stomach over your heart. 

You hated his guts. He destroyed everything you had hoped and dreamed for. For your father to come home. To even just have a father. But it was taken all away, and the hope was buried with him.

Now he was six feet under because he was slaughtered by a black market seller, trying to protect him because he wouldn't go. Your father had to have warned them. But it says that he insisted on staying, when your fathers death could have been prevented. If only he hadn’t stayed or convinced his colleague to stay.

Your father was dead, because of Anthony Lockwood. 

You would never forgive him for this. You didn’t think you ever could.

He was the leader and he led someone into their death. An innocent man who had a family waiting for him to come home and to be reunited with. 

The only thing you were given was an empty coffin to represent his body and all it symbolized was the complete emptiness you had from that day on. 

There was no question, once you became a full fledged agent you had to get out of here.

Far away as possible to Lockwood and co, and Anthony Lockwood himself who destroyed everything you had held dear. 

Taglist: @waitingforthesunrise

[wellgoslowly]

child of aphrodite!lucy has been on my mind for the past few days i cannot stop thinking about her. like???? she’s so special to me???? i had a moment of weakness where i contemplated changing her godly parent but i’m just so attached to cabin 10 lucy i could never abandon her.

some of my ideas:

- lucy believes that “pretty isn’t her profession” which would cause a lot of confusion and disbelief when she gets claimed by aphrodite.

- she feels like an outsider in her own cabin bc she doesn’t feel like she truly belongs there, and that idea is kind of confirmed when she sees everyone’s disbelief at her being claimed by aphrodite

- something is like extra special fucked up about her specifically. children of aphrodite are normally some of the safest demigods so everyone is really confused when lucy starts becoming a consistent target for monster attacks

- lockwood sees her for the first time and immediately decides that she must be a child of aphrodite before she’s even claimed bc he is just taken away by how gorgeous she is

-ALSO because of Aphrodite’s ties to gossip, children of aphrodite have enhanced hearing abilities which works perfectly for lucy

[slimyshield]

lockwood & co is great bc you have a group of teenagers who are all at this point in their lives highly trained individuals and capable and experienced and it shows in how they operate. but they are also teenagers and chaotic and disorganized and struggling with altogether too much pressure on their shoulders and it shows too. they're marching around London acting like they know what they're doing and they do but at the same time they don't, because they hunt ghosts and have for years but they're only sixteen and that is so young. you don't know anything when you're sixteen. and they have the health and safety of a nation resting on their shoulders, and they squabble over who gets the last cookie.

[i-was-a-well-kid-once]

Percabeth 🤝 Locklyle

having matching grey streaks in their hair

[eeechooo]

Sweet Victory

Fandom : Lockwood and co Gn x George Karim Request by : @happygoosebird "You’re struggling with studying for a test and George offers to help. There are cookies involved."

__

You banged your head on the table, making it shake once before it stilled completely. The library was quiet, or would be, if it weren’t for the way you were scribbling in your notebook, full of doodles and messy handwriting. There was no way you’d be able to learn everything for tomorrow, and time was ticking, leaving you only a few hours before dinner.

Great. You could do it.

One glance at your notes was all it took to make you groan, resisting the temptation to bang your head on the wall this time. Why didn’t you study earlier? Maybe because the goddamn agency needed you. Working here part-time was extremely odd, but you didn’t mind one bit; your colleagues were lovely (most of the time, when tea was ready). However, most of them did not know how to study properly.

One was reckless, never thinking twice before doing something that could lead to an awful, atrocious death. Or maybe he thought twice and was just THAT crazy. I guess we’ll never know. The second one would follow him with a groan followed by heart eyes—mixed signals, if you ask me. That left the last one, who knew best how to work like you had to do right now.

Except he was always busy nowadays. Working on a new case, you all had to be prepared. If one guy HAD to be prepared enough, it was him. One wrong piece of information, and you were all screwed. Mind you, that never happened—knock on wood.

How could you even focus with the smell of cookies, warm and— you knew it—so, so sweet? Your stomach growled, reminding you that you hadn’t eaten for hours. You suddenly stopped doodling mindlessly.

That was NOT Lockwood; he could burn water. That was NOT Lucy, and you could tell from a mile away that those weren’t store-bought. The realization hit you like a cold splash of water—it had to be George.

You stood up immediately and ran to the kitchen, notebook and pen in hand. George was standing by the counter, meticulously arranging a tray of freshly baked cookies. The aroma was heavenly, a perfect blend of chocolate and something else—possibly a hint of caramel.

“You know, staring at your notes like that won’t magically transfer the information into your brain,” George said, his tone laced with his usual sarcasm. He didn’t look up as he continued arranging the cookies, his fingers deftly moving each one into a perfect row.

You sighed. “I know, George. I’m just… overwhelmed. There’s so much to cover and so little time.”

George finally looked up, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Then you’re in luck. I’ve decided to bestow my infinite wisdom upon you. Plus, I’ve got cookies. One for every chapter we review together.”

Your eyes lit up at the mention of cookies. “Really? You’d help me?”

“Don’t look so surprised,” George smirked, handing you a cookie. “I can be quite the Good Samaritan when I want to be. Now, let’s see what you’ve got.”

You handed over your notes, watching as George’s eyes scanned the messy handwriting and doodles. He raised an eyebrow. “Interesting approach to note-taking. Ever considered actually writing down useful information instead of… whatever this is?”

You shrugged, feeling a bit defensive. “For someone who hates hypocrisy, just look at the Thinking Cloth! It helps me think...”

George chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, we’ll work with what you’ve got. First, let’s tackle this chapter on medieval history. Did you know that if you break down the timeline into smaller chunks and associate each with a specific event, it’s easier to remember?”

You nodded, trying to keep up. George’s way of thinking was always so methodical, so precise. It was intimidating at times, but right now, it was exactly what you needed.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small notebook, flipping through it quickly. “We’ll use these cookies as mnemonic devices. For example, this cookie shaped like a castle can represent the year the Normans invaded England.”

You took the castle-shaped cookie, turning it over in your hands. “That… actually makes sense. What about the Battle of Hastings?”

George handed you a cookie with a little sword drawn on it with icing. “This one. Every time you think of the Battle of Hastings, think of this cookie. Easy, right?”

You couldn’t help but smile. George’s unconventional methods were starting to make studying seem less daunting. “You know, you’re pretty good at this.”

George shrugged, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Just don’t let it get around. I have a reputation to maintain.”

The two of you settled into a rhythm, reviewing each chapter, associating key events with different cookies. The study session became a game, and with each correct answer, you felt more confident, more prepared.

Hours passed, and you realized you’d covered more ground than you ever thought possible. George’s sarcastic remarks and acerbic sense of humor kept the mood light, making the information easier to digest. By the time you reached the last chapter, the tray of cookies was nearly empty, and you felt a sense of accomplishment.

“See?” George said, handing you the last cookie. “I told you we’d get through it. You just needed the right motivation.”

You took the cookie, feeling a wave of gratitude. “Thanks, George. I really appreciate this.”

He shrugged, looking almost embarrassed. “Don’t mention it. Just make sure you ace that test. I don’t want my efforts to go to waste.”

You laughed, feeling a renewed sense of determination. With George’s help, you knew you could do it. As you packed up your notes, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, studying wasn’t so bad after all—especially when there were cookies involved.

__

Days later, after the test results were posted, you rushed to the bulletin board, heart pounding. There it was—your name, right next to a high score you could scarcely believe.

Feeling a mix of relief and elation, you immediately thought of George. You found him in the library, nose deep in an old, dusty tome about the Problem, George being George.

“George,” you called, a wide grin spreading across your face. “I did it! I aced the test!”

George looked up from his book, his expression as neutral as ever, though you noticed a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. “Of course you did,” he said with a smirk slowly appearing. “Those cookies weren't for nothing.”

You laughed, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Suddenly, an idea came to mind. “Do you know what we should do to celebrate?”

He stared at you for at least ten seconds, his features still.

“Cookies?”

“Cookies.”

--

I lowkey hate it, but I think it was a nice excercise, thank you for your request! I actually thought about some ideas during an exam, not sure if it was the best thing to do but what's done is DONE.

@neewtmas

(if you want/don't want to be tagged in the future, just tell me!)