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eatmycodbetty · 19 days ago

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{You again?}

part one! . . . two. . three

pairing: anthony lockwood x gn!reader

word count: 5.3k

summary: As a former Fittes agent, you have honed your craft well on your own. You would never expect an old friend to call you, nor would you ever expect to be so curious about this so-called agency he’s in.

notes: it has been a longggg time since i’ve written ff and i understand that this is a dying fandom, but here are the goodies. shout out to my two weird friends for pushing me to do this. tell me any critiques!! i wanna get better :)

One . . .

4:23am. The North Bank, London.

Silence.

Then…ringing?

The void of noise, of air. It swirls around you and suffocates.

You feel nothing other than your heart beating, the wind knocked out of your lungs. The pounding in your ears only resurfacing once the ringing stops. You are running. You can’t remember from what, all that matters is that you get out.

As the pounding starts to subside and the air comes back to you, the shouts from fellow agents bite at your senses. Nothing but “Run!”...and that is what you are doing, so the voices blur back out to focus on your feet. You have a gnawing pain growing there as you keep going, almost numb from your shitty stiff soled shoes.

This has to end soon. You have to stop at some point...right?

Suddenly, a door appears in your rushed view, slightly ajar at the end of a hallway you've hastily turned down. Finally, you think, an end to this bad dream.

As you near the small wooden door, you let your hand fall on the edge of the opening, being able to catch some oxygen and breathe it once more. However, the door turns almost to ice- you freeze.

Just being able to lift your hand off the door, a horrible gelatinous face appears through the handle, pushing you backward in a cold force. You hit the ground with a thud, and the air is yet again gone from your lungs.

Right. Now you remember. You were sent to investigate an old and dilapidated flat by the Thames. Something strange considering the location, the water should have warded off anything too strong.

You were wrong, the whole lot of you were. Something much more sinister resided deep within the floorboards of this rank building.

Your team is dispersed, and you have no knowledge of how they are faring. All you remember right now is that you turned a corner and had to run, nothing else to aid your cause as a Type Two spirit had you in its vicious sights.

Malaise setting in, you found yourself running with anything you had left, being drained as you try and fight your way out of this bloody shitshow.

But...now you’re locked. You can’t move, you can’t look away. The figure melts through the door, like thick, murky water. There appears an apparition of a man, jaw stretched so far down you can't bear to look- but you're forced to. His sunken eyes have you gripped in some horrifying way. It seems that even if you weren't being ghost-locked, you would freeze under the sheer terror that is inflicted upon his gaze.

How idiotic, you think in this moment, assuming you could outrun a Type Two with all of your supplies, everything, out of your reach. Now you are here, laying back on the ground as a Visitor forces you into a ghost-lock. You feel a stone on your chest, like the dreadful ghost itself is standing on your body, forcing your consciousness into submission.

Then...a kind of peace wavers over you. Although, the air leaving your lungs leaves a part of your active brain scrambling to get away from something impossible. Wavering dangerously close to calm, your body is giving up. Weak, you finally quiet the active part of your brain as the lock is settling in nicely- a solemn goodbye. . .

. . . then, a snap.

A flash appears before you.

You feel a hard tug on your body- then you're suddenly sitting up, feeling so dizzy you could faint. Your vision blurs as you get a hard punch of air back in your lungs and start to feel the cold of the hallway. You’re being pulled up on your feet now, being able to hear the familiar ringing in your ears again, followed by the pounding.

As your focus finally settles, you are face to face with Kat, one of your teammates. She gives you a hard smack across the cheek as she's trying to talk to you, but you can only hear mumbling. You wipe your face and as you look at her again, your hearing starts to seep back in.

But, before you have the chance to fully regain your senses, she pulls you away from the hallway. Feeling your feet, you stop stumbling after a few seconds as another wind hits you, and you’re back.

You two eventually find a window, the frame broken and glass crumbling. This has to do. Before Kat can get something to bust it out, you're kicking it out. You do it rather messily, however, as your pantleg is torn up by the glass and new scars are made along your right leg. You can't feel much of the bleeding, but you can see its residual on the moldy window frame through your hasty kicks.

When it is broken enough for you two to slip through it, you gauge what floor you're on- the second. It isn't that far down, and you see a large, open rubbish bin with various bits of bags and a half termite-eaten mattress. You two look at each other, then you jump.

A loud metal pumph sound, then pain. You can feel better now, the air from the outside making you regain more of yourself. Despite that, you landed bad, and you can't be sure that you didn't break something from that fall. You look over, and Kat is starting to leap over the side of the bin, hand clutching her ribcage as she falls over the other side. You find some abominable strength from inside you to push up on a rotting box and climb over the bin, falling on the other side soon after Kat does.

Sitting up in some dingy patch of grass, you find yourself towards the back of the flat, facing the Thames. The sun is starting to rise, but only enough to disturb the deep black of the night sky. You two are on the ground, but by helping each other up you eventually stand. You feel a twinge of pain in your torn up leg as you put your weight on it finally. Something worse must have happened to it in the fall, but you can't focus on that now.

You both rush (hobble) to the front of the flat, and as you turn the corner you see only one other agent back. As your vision settles and you call out, you see it's Bobby, your researcher. You are almost relieved, but by the look on his face at you two and the nervous looks he gives the building, something is desperately wrong. As you catch up to him, you quickly realize that the two other agents in your team are missing.

You take a deep breath in, mostly cognizant again as the malaise seeps out of your body. Instantaneously you take a shaky stride towards the front of the house, ignoring the shouts to stop from the two behind you. As you reach the cracked front step, a tottering figure suddenly stumbles out of the doors, holding something.

You ready yourself, not prepared to go out without a fight. But, this isn't a ghost...you then suddenly relax your fighting stance at seeing your leader, Quill Kipps.

Kipps is holding one of the new recruits, sent with your group by your supervisor, on his shoulder. There's a pause as he takes what seems to be his first breath, and you all realize the event unfolding in front of you.

He then suddenly staggers down the steps and sets the kid down a good ways from the front door in front of the three of you. He stands back up and runs a shaky hand over his neck. He is bleeding, bruised, and looks like he also went through the same kind of hell. The kid, however, is still. His eyes pasty and spread open, staring at the fleeting stars. Kipps finally speaks, but almost in a hush.

“He’s locked.”

Silence fills the night air once again, and you all hang your heads and rush to help the two boys. Whispering curses as you quickly realize the young boy is too far gone. Then, away from the madness, you and Kipps lock eyes. He is terrified.

Placing hands on each other's shoulders as the other two call aid, you stumble to the ground. Whilst the numbness from the adrenaline starts to drain away, the pain in your leg, in your body, and in your mind, is all too much to bear to keep standing. He seems to feel the same, and you two just lie there on the pavement. As the sirens whirl, you both watch the sunrise light up the stars, observing how they fade with the coming light.

Then, exhaustion finally takes you over and all that’s left

is darkness.

2 Years Later. Saturday morning. Your flat.

Working by yourself has its perks. Sure, it could be better with some help, but you don’t ever peck above your grade. Besides, a lot of normal, everyday people have issues with spirits that don’t have the means or time to go through a real agency.

You enjoy these smaller cases anyways, it feels more relevant and actually helpful than the expensive cases you pursued at Fittes. You have also grown your connections by a substantial margin. You know all of London better in these two years than you ever did during your almost 8 years at that blasted organization.

Growing a kind of reputation for closing a plethora of ghost cases by yourself, you are rivaling even Fittes and Rotwell in numbers. Agents like to jeer at you when you make your presence at certain events for higher agents. It could be from jealousy or intimidation, yet either way you don’t tend to care because you suit your occupation just fine. They would be less inclined to detest you if they could get out of their own pretentious skulls and use their Talent to the fullest whilst they still have time. Or at least, that's what you tell yourself.

Your flat could be better, but for someone who doesn’t need much or occupy much space, a one bedroom works out just fine. It is much better than living around snobby arseholes like every other agent. You would rather move the country than have to do that ever again, to have to go back to that place.

As you're thinking about this, you start to stir in your bed. Waking up has always been a bit hard, but you've found a good routine. Before you can even open your eyes, you feel the sunlight from between the curtain shades peeking out and dazzling your bedsheets.

You finally open your eyes, taking in the same room you've seen for the past two years. It is kind of comforting, or claustrophobic, either way- it's home. It's decorated with bits and bobs from your travels and time spent over your almost 17 years of life. You see old family portraits and pictures with old friends- stuff that makes you a bit teary if you think about it for too long.

Which is great, because you are immediately distracted and tuned into a certain buzzing on the other side of the room. As you wake up a bit more quickly, you sit up and find that it's your telephone ringing.

Oh no...what time is it? You quickly check the clock beside your bed, only 10:38am.

You sigh and start to get up, chasing the phone before it hangs up. You cannot miss a call from any potential clients, it's been a bit slow recently as other agencies have caught onto your tactic for gaining clients. Pricks.

You pick up the phone, barely being able to utter a "Hello, this i-" before a boy begins to yell at you on the other side of the line.

“Y/N!! I saw you in a small clipping in the back of the paper, I can’t believe it! A solo agent?? Oh wait.. sorry for the intrusion...and the yelling. It's George by the way.”

You pause for a moment, confused as to which George in your life might know you and nevertheless YELL at you after not speaking for so long. You think for two seconds until it hits you.

It's George Karim, a smart boy you knew from Fitts who got fired on biased and unfair grounds, you were one of the only people to defend him. You two were kind of inseparable at some point, so you reply with haste in a similar overly-friendly manner.

“GEORGE KARIM!! It’s been so long...you startled me.” You tiredly laugh. “Also don’t apologize, you are always welcome to call me whenever. What’s up mate? How have the years been to you?”

You rub your crusty eyes and smile lightly as it settles in that you still do have one friend from Fittes. It’s easy to get lost in everything bad that came from there. On the other end, you hear some yelling and...things being thrown? He gives a small sigh, then a hesitation before continuing.

“I’ll get straight to the point. You should come over for tea. Today, preferably. I’ve been working with a smaller agency that I think you would work well with. I’ll let you know why when you get here, I’m afraid I must go. Does half past one sound alright?”

You snicker a little, missing his awkward tangents, but also a bit uncomfortable with what chaos you hear on the other line. Wait.. “What agency? And tea sounds just fine then, but what cafe should we go to? The same one next to that fountain on Clermont?” You find yourself reminiscing on your younger exploits, you two certainly shared some fond memories before he left.

He pipes back up, now more hurriedly, “No, no. You should come here. Lockwood & Co on 35 Portland Ro-”

You are so surprised you cut the poor boy off in an almost shout, “LOCKWOOD?? George I-”

He cuts you off with a quick, “OKAY BYE SEE YOU THEN!”.

You’re left with the sound of a dead line as he hangs up. Sighing, you put your phone back on the wall and lean against the wall, still weak from waking up so suddenly and pondering the new day that has been spread for you.

There is no way that George left to work for Anthony Lockwood of all people. You didn’t actually know the guy personally, only heard rumors and quips from Kipps.

From what you’ve gathered over the years, he’s an egotistical geezer that fits right in with the rest of those types at Fittes. Yet...his one thing is that he hates them just the same as you. And they hate him, or rather they did when you were there.

As much as you have a kind of disdain for those kinds of men, you trust George. And you also were going to spend this Saturday doing absolutely nothing, so you technically have no excuse.

You check the time. Quarter past 10. You push back on your feet and make your way to your dresser to get ready for the day. He said it was 35 Portland Row right? That's just a little ways down a few blocks.

“...It can’t hurt” you mutter as you pick up a comfortable and clean sweater. You get dressed and make sure you have your errands list ready. Grabbing your rapier as you head out the door, you stop for a second and ponder on the situation. Why did George Karim of all people call you? This can't just be to hang out, he's too weird to be so forward like that normally.

Whatever, you think. You lock up the flat and start to head out for whatever this day may bring. One final thought crosses your mind as you shift out of the building,

"I can't believe I am visiting another fucking agency."

1:25pm. 35 Portland Row. Still Saturday.

You've been staring at this house for about a minute now. It's nicer than expected, but also smaller than you might have thought. For as much as you have heard about Lockwood & Co, you would expect a headquarters that's kind of...well...greater.

You finally give a hearty knock on the door.

...Nothing.

You think for a second, you don't want to disturb a neighbor so you check to make sure you're at the right place- and you are. You take a quick sigh and go to knock on the door again, but your hand hesitates. Is that...yelling?

You hear things being knocked over, running, people shouting. Your heart tenses as you think of the possibilities of either an intruder or some insane ghost mishap occurring on the other side, and you quickly reach for your rapier.

But then suddenly, the door opens with a gust of wind and you welcome the sight of a seemingly safe, slightly older, George Karim. He looks kind of swept up, it seems whatever made him hang up this morning is still going on. Your sigh of relief is met with his welcome.

“Y/N! You’re early.” He smiles meekly and steps aside in the doorway. “Please ignore the mess, we’re not always living in a barn...it’s been a rough day.” Wearing an orange hoodie and some joggers, he really hasn’t changed that much.

He shies away from your curious gaze, which he seems to read as more judgmental. You smile at the boy and take your hand off the rapier to put it on his arm, giving it a soft squeeze. “George, I’ve known you for most of my short life. I could care less about the state of your house.” You stifle a laugh, “I’ve seen your room before, nothing scares me.”

He looks back and meets your eyes now, a smile creeping back onto his face. “I’m glad you’re here, y/n..”, he gestures into the hectic house, “..but please come inside and watch your step, it’s a circus in this place.”

He moves a bit more as you shuffle inside, moving quickly to shut and lock the door behind you. Before he's done, you take in the sight of the house for a few seconds. You spot a shorter girl with medium length brown hair and a blue sweater running down the stairs and into a distant room, yelling about something you can barely make out. Just as she leaves and George comes to lead you away from it, a taller, slender boy in a suit makes the opposite strides from a far room up the stairs, also yelling?

George is on your right now, patting your arm to follow him. "I told you to ignore the circus, y/n, come on through here."

You shudder your head to focus on George, now leading you into a sunny kitchenette, somehow untouched by the storm in the other rooms. It's a quaint area, like people live here quite comfortably. It's nice. Sunlight stretches across the windows and reaches just to the back edge of a small dining table.

You notice the sharpie sketches on the table cloth. Three distinct figures...maybe more...are depicted. You can see the one that is meant to be George, a figure with glasses and notes about being nerdy and complaining. Yup, has to be him. Along with the George stick figure is a boy in a suit, a girl with short hair- maybe the two you just saw?- and then two other names mentioned here and there- Holly and Flo. Must be associates, their names aren't much mentioned.

As you analyze the table cloth, George comes back with two cups. "Please actually sit, y/n, you don't have to stand like you don't know me- do I have to remind you of our preteens? I could blackmail you into anything at this point."

You laugh and act offended, sitting at the table. "I can't believe you would ever use my childlike wonder against me, G." You put a dramatic hand to your forehead, peeking to see him roll his eyes as you two share a chuckle. As you put your hand down you remind him, "Besides...who would you even share it with. You're like my only friend now you tart."

He nods in thinking, setting the two cups down. "I mean you're in my home with my agency sooooo~" You try to grab him as he laughs and narrowly evades a fake punch, "I'm kidding! Just kidding." He laughs and grabs a small pot. "Before you kill me you want only one sugar right."

You sit back in the chair and respond, "Yes! Wait how did you remember that?"

He sits down across from you and dips a cube into your cup. "You really haven't changed that much...I was worried you'd be a bit more annoyingly stoic after you left and started to work on your own." As he sets the sugar back down, you take the tea, starting to stir with growing curiosity to his thinking. "George. Karim. You've known me since I was like 9 years old. Who could ever make you think I'd be that different, huh?" you quip. You inhale the tea and blow just a small bit before taking a sip, perfect.

He takes his own teaspoon and stirs around the cup, thinking, before he looks back up to you with the cup in his hand. "People tend to do that. It happens- I don't know. I mean right now I can think of a person or two that can be rather...neurotic." You snort, "More than you??"

His face drops to his usual sarcastic sneer, jaw kind of dropped to feign shock with a scoff. "As a matter of fact yes, y/n. Oh I am sure you and Lockwood would get along great." He sneers at you, his voice laced with a hidden joke.

That damned guy again. Why does George give the same impression of Lockwood that others have in the past? Isn't that his literal boss? You respond, more withdrawn than the previous jests, "...Well then. Until that happens I am sure you're fine company- with all of your neuroticism." You start to snort but stop, opting to pick up your cup again. You stop for a second as you do this, taking a breath and continuing, "Why did you call me here, George. What's really going on."

As you take your sip he stares, only a small bit hesitant to begin this conversation. “So this is my new agency. I don’t know what you’ve heard about Lockwood & Co. from arseholes at Fittes but I can guarantee I wouldn’t be here if any of those were true.” He takes a short breath, sipping on his tea as if he couldn't wait to get that statement out.

You respond, picking up on his nerves. He really does care, not just about your potential judgement but his team. “I would mind more if Lockwood was someone I knew…but to be very honest I have only heard rumors. I trust your judgement George, you’re one of the few left with a good head on their shoulders- including me of course.”

You go to take a sip. He brightens at this response and goes to speak, but you cut him off. “But! I can still exercise caution. You of anyone should understand the issue with trusting other agents these days. Especially in their expertise.” You take the sip.

He sighs, but an understanding look softens his features. “I get it y/n, but this is why I called you. You told me yourself to get in contact if I ever needed a hand whenever I was thrown out, and now we need a hand more than ever” You nod, and he continues, picking up his face as he explains.

“It’s only a few of us. I do research. Holly Munro is our new assistant, but she’s in and out. Right now she’s out because we don’t have too much to deal with, so it's only 3 of us in the house.” One of the lesser mentioned names on the table cloth. You turn to look at her little stick figure portrait before responding.

Turning your brow, “Right...because not too much still entails turning the house over…” you prod.

He ignores you and continues, “Lucy Carlyle has an incredible Talent for Listening, and she’s strong in the field. You two would get along.” He has a smile attached to the end of this statement.

You turn your nose up inquisitively, “I’d like to meet her,” and just as you finish speaking, the same girl in the blue sweatshirt from earlier comes busting through the other door.

“GEORGE!” She shouts as she almost slips on the way to the table.

He sighs and turns, telling you ‘one sec’ with a roll of his eyes. “What, Luce.”

“We still can’t find th-”

She stops for a second once she reaches the table, realizing the stranger in the room. She straightens her sweater and quickly holds out her hand for you, her movements fastened with hesitance. “Hi. I’m Lucy. George’s friend.” You take it as she leans to George, “…is this the old colleague you-”

He cuts her off with a hushed and agitated, “YES.” This new girl, Lucy, seems to be a bit standoffish or shy. She talks like she's trying to keep you at a distance, but you can notice the fact that she is actively trying to be polite and welcoming for George's sake. They must have spoken about you beforehand, you shy away at the thought.

She smiles out of formality as she waits for your response. “Nice to meet you Ms. Carlyle, my name is Y/n L/n. I've just heard great things from George. What can’t you find..?”

She thinks for less than a second before she’s back in her hurry, turning to George again. “OH! We still can’t find it, we’re going out tonight to see if one of us dropped it.”

He withholds a panic, simply nodding, “Fine, but…do I have to go..” he complains. You notice a new cut on his eyebrow, and a patch on his hand- something you didn't have time to notice beforehand. Remnants from recent battle, you assume from the conversation.

“If you think for a second we’re leaving behind our eyes then you’re better off working the Tesco down the road.” He scoffs and agrees as she is whisked back out the door, yelling a hurried “Nice to meet you Mx. l/n!”. Then with a shaky thud she exits back to the flurry in the other part of the house.

“Sorry about that, we’re all a little stressed right now...obviously." He huffs in annoyance as he ends the sentence, thinking on something distant.

You speak up, “yeah..is this why you called me?” You glance out towards where the girl had left, wanting to know what is happening behind those doors.

He takes his tea again, “Yeah.. I couldn’t think of a more qualified person to help us. We have been getting stronger and stronger cases, and without some sort of saving grace we barely make it out alive each time. I just want us to have the reassurance of a trusted and skilled agent when we go on these higher risk contracts.”

You nod and take a large sip, seemingly startling the boy who ended up staring at his cup. “I’m in. Not in the company or anything, but I could use the money and being hired help isn’t too bad- I'll even stake out if you need it.”

He gleams, standing up and extending his hand, “We only need you on call for certain nights. If you keep those nights free so that I can contact you if anything goes to shite, that would mean the world.”

You shake his hand, “It’s a deal then, do I need to meet your boss or-”

He shuts you off, “oh no, Lockwood doesn’t really know that we’re hiring some peace of mind. He kind of insists that we don’t because of his pompous thick skull, but Luce and I agreed that it would be safer. He knows you’re over and-” then doing his best posh impression, “-a friend of George’s is a friend of mine.”

You both chuckle into the table, something tells you that Lockwood is a real treat of a person. A fanciful trio, from what you can gather. You pipe back, “Well it isn’t the first time we’ve done some undercover work. When do you need me first?”

He sinks back into the chair, delighted, “Well, apparently we might need you tonight…if that’s okay. We lost a potential source at a hotspot in the middle of a park. There was a nasty cluster and I guess it just sort of slipped when we were escaping. If you can’t that's okay I-”

You cut the boy off excitedly, “That’s fine! I have nothing to do for the rest of the week. Somehow, I think the higher agencies are trying to steal my cases. They're appealing to lower classes in ways I have never seen, and I get less and less calls as the days drone on. I can never escape those dicks, huh.” You scoff and sit back down, setting a reminder on your phone as you two discuss the details of the reconnaissance mission.

He stops the planning to reply, “If it makes you feel any better, you are still considered a saint for the locals right now. We’ve heard you mentioned a few times in our own contracts. Fittes’ pedestal might be crumbling from your work over the past year or so. Keep making them scared. You've got our support.”

You smile at each other warmly as you set down your teacups in the sink and both go back to the front door. The house seems quieter, and you secretly hope you could have some more time to meet his new colleagues. They don't seem horrible, just interesting characters. You can handle that.

As you are saying your goodbyes, smiles and laughs abound between the old friendly pair, you catch a figure in the staircase. For a moment you smile lightly at the slender boy out of formality, and you seem to think he starts to smile back.

But, just as quickly you’re now out the door and heading back to your own flat. You find one standout emotion whilst walking out the door and back to your place. Excitement.

11:28pm. Your Flat.

Tying the final knot around the stalks, you stand on the edge of your bed to hang a fresh bundle of lavender on your window. You climb back down to check your phone, still no call.

The silver blade from your aunt lies next to your go-bag, and you sit in your room in comfortable underclothes, your work outfit folded next to the supplies and ready for a quick leave.

You do worry for George, whether you would like to admit it or not, but you’ve always been like that. He was one of the only people there for you as a person, not just as an agent.

You used to have shared bracelets, labeled as the “Ghost Siblings”, a snide remark from a former teammate turned point of pride. Somewhere between the two of you leaving you lost touch, but it was nice to see the sentiment never left.

RING RING RING

You almost jump out of your skin as your telephone rings, disrupting your thoughts. You answer it immediately, putting it on a kind of speaker as you hurry away from it, starting to button up your shirt.

George sounds sort of breathless, but hushed on the other end. “Hey y/n, I was right. Be quick!-"

He hangs up, or rather something happens to make him hang up. Your heart starts to race, it doesn’t matter if it is down the block- what if you don’t make it?

You’re out the door as soon as you get your shirt on, barely grabbing your supplies as you lock your door.

What did they get themselves into?

~fin~

I hope you all enjoyed this!! There is MUCH MORE coming, hopefully soon,,, thank u for reading <3

EDIT: This chapter has been edited to clear it of any stupid mistakes and lulls that appeared bc I made this at 3am. toodles! - ives :p

#anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x y/n #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood x reader #lockwood x y/n #lockwood x you #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood and co reader insert #reader insert #lockwood and co x you #lockwood and co fic #love writes #xreader #george karim #lucy carlyle #lockwood and co #lockwood netflix #anthony lockwood

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cameronspecial · 2 years ago

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Masterlist

Welcome to my writing! Hope you find what you are looking for and if you don’t, then requests are closed. 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

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downbadf0rficppl · 7 months ago

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love you

Anthony Lockwood x F!Reader

Summary: Part 2 of let me - Your nights are plagued with nightmares that feel all too real. It's all connected to the Bowers' manor. You need to solve this mystery before it drives you crazy. What will you find?

Word Count: 3.9K

Warnings: umm a lot of gore - it's inspired that one episode of guillermo del toro's cabinet of curiosities, so yeah. also they kiss. and it's slightly sad at the end. lmk if there's anything else.

You twisted in your bed- sheets soaked with sweat, hair sticking to your forehead. Vivid images flew across your mind, confusing you with their content.

There was a woman - tall and beautiful, but angry. She was so, so angry. She gripped your hand tightly, pulling you across the floor and locking you in a room. There was a little boy in there, curled in the corner, clutching a teddy bear.

The teddy bear was familiar - there was a picture of your mother holding an identical one somewhere in the attic of your family home. The boy was covering the teddy bear’s ears. There was screaming outside the door - two voices creating a cacophony, so disruptive that you cowered under its weight.

In the distance, you could hear the lullaby again - the one from the manor. The little boy stood up and ran to the corner of the room, glancing back before disappearing into a secret door behind the wardrobe.

The scene changed - light streamed through the window now, casting shadows of the window pane on the wooden floor. The angry woman was now stood at the base of the stairs, her coat wrapped around her and a hat in her hands.

“Elizabeth!” she called, “Elizabeth, hurry, we can’t be late again!”

A young girl ran down the stairs, her fingers dancing over the railing as she ran. You looked at her closely. She almost looked like you. Same hair, same eyes, same face shape. It was peculiar. A floorboard creaked behind you. You turned back to face the stairs - the little boy was sat there again, hands grasping his teddy bear. He looked woefully at his sister, who was already out the door, chattering away to their mother. You could hear her muffled voice through the shut door. You shivered.

A draft blew through the house. Loud sobbing echoed through the halls and you ran upstairs, following the sound. You turned open the door to the boy’s room, before scrambling back hand clamped over your mouth to stifle your scream.

There, lying in a pool of her own blood, was the sister. The whole family crowded around her - the father cradled her in his arms while the mother cried into her hands nearby. Their clothes were soaked with blood as they sat wailing. A constable ran up the stairs with the maid, and he stumbled back as the scene came into view. You watched as he muttered a prayer to the Lord.

“Come, Timothy.” The maid held out her hand to you. You gasped. She was the same. She was the maid from the Bowers house. What if she had followed you into your dream? Was that even possible? How could that even happen?

The sound of gentle footsteps behind you broke you out of your spiralling. Behind you was the little boy. His eyes were closed, hands tightly gripping the teddy bear. He was covered in blood. From head to toe.

You step aside as he took the maid’s hand. She led him down the stairs towards the maid’s quarters where he sat patiently on the bed waiting for her to return with a wet cloth. She came back with a tub and a pair of clean clothes for him to change into. Slowly and carefully, she wiped away all of the blood, humming her song all the while. Little Timothy cried as she cleaned him, wailing that it was all his fault.

Confusion mounted as he cried - how could it be his fault, you thought, it’s not as if he killed his sister? The maid soothed him, whispering that it wasn’t his fault, there’s no way he could have known.

You felt yourself slipping out of the dream, someone’s hand on your arm, shaking you awake, calling your name. You threw yourself awake, pulling yourself out of bed, and putting distance between whoever was in your room. You stumbled, your legs not ready for the sudden movement. A familiar pair of arms caught you, pulling you back into bed. Lockwood.

“Are you alright?” He asked, once you were settled back into bed, “I heard you screaming from across the hall.”

“I’m fine. Just a bad dream.”

Lockwood didn’t look convinced. “Was it about the last case? The one at the manor?”

“No,” you lied, looking away from his inquiring eyes, “it’s one of those ones where nothing makes sense but it’s just scary.”

“Okay. Try and get back to sleep,” Lockwood pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead, “if you can’t, you can always come and be an insomniac with me.”

You smiled at him as he left before bringing a hand up to brush your hairline. He kissed you? Lockwood wasn’t one to show physical affection, even to Ruby and George. Since moving in here, you’d only seen him be affectionate once, hugging Ruby when he was exceptionally tired. You smiled internally, lying back down and turning over. Maybe there’s a slight possibility that he feels the same.

It had been 3 days and the nightmare was still replaying itself in your head. You and Lucy were getting ready to go into central London for a case - suited up and ready to scope out quite an old townhouse. The owners had been complaining that there was an apparition causing a disturbance in the attic.

The two of you hopped in a cab, exchanging notes on George’s research as you pulled up to 16 Cherry Tree Lane. It was a tall townhouse in a very affluent part of London. The area had a rich history and Lucy knocked on the door just as the sun started setting.

Your footsteps echoed as you entered the empty townhouse - clearly the owners were still in the process of moving in as the home was barren. The case should be easy - one ghost that they could hear in the attic, likely a Type 1. Easy. In and out.

“Let’s just get this over with, then we can get pizza,” Lucy said, harking back to Lockwood’s promise to pick up pizza on his way back from DEPRAC.

The two of you headed up the stairs, both of you using your listening skills to try and locate the ghost. Lucy stayed on the first floor, exploring the bedrooms, while you headed up to the second floor to see if you had any luck there. You could hear faint humming - a man’s voice but still, for a moment you stood, paralysed by fear. There was no way she could have followed you here. You heard footsteps come from behind you, and someone calling your name. Lucy. You tried calling out to her but found yourself unable to yell or run to her. You were stuck.

Lucy comes upstairs to find you standing by the top of the stairs, tears streaming down your face. The ghost wasn’t near you - he seemed oblivious to either of you being there (you were right when you said he was a Type 1). Lucy blocks him from your view, placing her hands on the side of your head, bringing your focus back to her. You soon relaxed, your body releasing its tension and movement returned to your body. Your hands came up to cover hers, reassuring her that you were okay. She didn’t seem convinced.

As you pulled up to 35 Portland Row, you were still shaking from the icy grip of the ghost. The chill seemed to linger in your bones and your body felt heavy as you walked up the steps to the house. Lucy’s worried gaze lingered on you as she opened the door, her arm steady around your shoulders, but she said nothing as you trudged into the house.

"You should rest," Lucy suggested gently, closing the door behind you. "I'll make you some tea."

You nodded gratefully, already feeling the exhaustion creep in. As you settled onto the couch, Lucy disappeared into the kitchen, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

As you dozed off on the couch, you heard the door open and Lockwood announce that he had pizza. Somewhere deep in the back of your mind, you celebrated - it had been months since you guys had been able to treat yourselves to a full pizza meal, so you were excited. But the case had really taken it out of you, so you just remained curled up on the couch.

You vaguely heard Lockwood call your name and walk into the room, but you were too tired to lift your head. You feel his hand brush over your head and a shiver runs down your spine. You hear him ask Lucy what happened, and - with a slight hesitation - she tells him. You can't be mad at her - Lockwood deserved to know the whole truth.

Eventually, he and Lucy slipped away, leaving you to the silence of the room. The scent of pizza wafted from the kitchen and your stomach growled. Mustering up the last ounces of your energy, you rose from the couch and walked over to the kitchen, where the three of them were sat. You gingerly sat in your chair, reaching out for some pepperoni pizza.

The four of you sat in a silence as Lucy and George rushed to finish their pizza and slip away. They knew what was coming.

"You should be resting," Lockwood finally said, as Lucy shut the door behind her. The worry on his face morphed into anger as you took another bite of pizza, "See this is what I mean when I say you're too reckless."

His words stung a little and you felt a flare of defiance. "I'm not a child, Anthony, I can take care of myself."

"Clearly not well enough." He retorted, pushing his plate away. He may be the big boss of Lockwood and Co, but he still left his crusts on the plate. Lockwood's voice kept rising, "You know what, you're benched until I say otherwise. If I can't trust you to keep yourself safe, I'll do it for you."

The finality in his tone makes your blood boil. "You can't just bench me!" You shouted back, standing up to match Lockwood's stance. "I'm also a part of this team, and I deserve to be treated like it."

Lockwood stepped back, his expression a mix of anger and hurt. "I'm doing this because I care about you. Can't you see that?"

But you were too angry to listen. Without another word, you stormed out of the kitchen and off to your room, slamming the door behind you - the picture frames on the wall rattled with force. The silence that followed was deafening, your heart pounding in your ears.

As you sat on the edge of your bed, the anger slowly ebbed away, replaced by a crushing sense of guilt. You knew that Lockwood wasn't doing it to be malicious, but his overprotectiveness felt suffocating. Curling up on your bed, you tried to drift off to sleep but it felt impossible. You were benched off the team and at odds with Lockwood. You didn't need to add another nightmare to that mix.

The next day, Anthony and Lucy disappeared on another mission, while George took a trip to the British Library to put together some information for a case next week. You were supposed to stay behind at the house to clean up and take care of some artifacts, but you had other plans.

While George got a taxi from the house, you slipped out and caught the next bus in that direction. The British Library was a familiar sanctuary, rows of dusty tomes lining the shelves, each one holding secrets waiting to be uncovered. Years before you had worked for Lockwood and Co., you did what George did - extensive research.

You settled at a computer in the far corner of the library, brow furrowed in concentration, as you flicked through some old local newspapers that mentioned the old Bower's Manor.

The pages were filled with tales of hauntings and tragedy, the ghostly echoes of past inhabitants lingering in the crumbling halls, stuff that George had already pulled out in his last case file. You traced your finger along faded photographs of the manor, trying to figure out why you felt so drawn to it.

"There's something here," you murmured to yourself, "There must be."

You slide a worn parchment under the magnifier beside you. The photo caught your eye. It was the little boy you saw. You shifted it towards the text.

May 26th, 1947

News from the Bowers Manor: Ms. Elizabeth Bowers, eldest daughter of Lord and Mrs. Timothy Bowers, has unfortunately passed on at the age of 15, two months after Lord Bower’s brother, Lt. Charles M. Bowers. The passing has been reported as the result of a chronic and fatal condition, but some within the house believe some other forces to be at play.

Constable M. Myers reported the case to be unlike any he had seen before after he was called to the Manor early Saturday morning. He reportedly returned to the station covered in blood and shaking, before retiring home for the weekend. He has not been able to give any other statement.

You stopped reading. This was it. The story from your memory. Vision? Whatever it was. You scanned the rest of the text, looking for the name of the brother, but there was no mention of him.

You took the next newspaper in the pile and placed it under the magnifier. Nothing. And the next. And the next. Still nothing. Finally you find one from 1957. Ten years after the original. In the corner of one of the middle pages is a small photo and an article titled, ‘The Last Bowers’. This could be it.

October 2nd, 1957

Sgt. Timothy Bowers II, son of the late Lord and Mrs. Timothy Bowers, closed the doors to the Bower’s Manor for the last time as the keys pass on to one Mr. Khalil. The 19-year-old made the decision after the passing of his cousin, the late Ms. Sanders. The Sergeant confirmed his decision to sell at last week’s monthly town meeting, and was met with uproar. Nonetheless, it seems whatever bad luck has haunted the house and the Bowers family has finally driven the young Sergeant away.

You examined the photo and your heart dropped to your stomach. You’d seen that photo before. Framed. In your mother’s house. The revelation hit you like a thunderbolt, sending a shiver down your spine as you stared at the crumbling pages before you again. The old Bowers Manor was owned by your ancestors, and the boy from the photo - and your nightmares - was none other than your grandfather.

Images flashed through your mind, fragments of memories long buried resurfacing in vivid detail. You remembered the stories your mother told you as a child, tales of a troubled past and a family history shrouded in darkness. But you never imagined that those secrets lay within the walls of the very manor you had been investigating.

As the realization sank in, you felt your mind race with possibilities. The discovery added a new layer of complexity to the mission, one that you couldn't ignore. But it made sense. Even at Fitte’s, you weren’t supposed to work cases that were close to you - no family relations or people that you were close to. Despite Anthony's orders to stay away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was something you had to do.You may have been benched, but that didn't mean you were out of the game. And if that meant you had to defy Anthony’s instructions, so be it.

You printed a copy of the two newspapers and tucked them carefully into your bag. You then ran to catch the bus home before anyone made it back.

As you stepped through the door of 35 Portland Row, carrying the weight of the newfound revelations about your family's history, you were met with the stern gaze of Anthony Lockwood. His expression was a mix of frustration and concern, his normally calm demeanor replaced by a crackling intensity that sends a chill down your spine.

"Where have you been?" he demanded, his voice sharp with reproach. "I thought we agreed that you were going to stay here.”

“If by agreed, you mean you told me to stay here and just expected me to agree.”

His expression didn’t change. Instead, his eyes caught one of the photocopies that was clenched in your hand. He grabbed while you were distracted and looked over it. His face hardened more if that was possible. “I thought I specifically told you to stay away from that case."

You swallowed hard, knowing that you were about to face the full force of Anthony's wrath. "I know, but I had to—"

"You had to, what?" he interrupted, his tone laced with exasperation. "Risk your life chasing after a ghost that we don’t need to? You almost got ghost-touched! Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?"

You met his gaze head-on, refusing to back down. "I had to find out the truth," you replied, your voice steady despite the turmoil brewing inside you. "About my family, about the manor—about everything."

“Your family?” Anthony's features soften slightly, a flicker of concern crossing his face. “What do you mean?”

You explained the truth. Everything you’d found out in the Library. You watched as Anthony’s shoulder slumped with every word. You knew why you got ghost-locked now, so things should be back to normal.

Anthony didn’t share the sentiment. "You can't keep doing this," he said, his voice gentler now, tinged with worry. "You're important to me, to all of us. I can't stand the thought of you putting yourself in harm's way like this."

His words caught you off guard, a pang of emotion tugging at your heart. You'd always known that Anthony cared about you, but hearing him express it so openly sent a rush of warmth flooding through you.

"Anthony," you began, reaching out to touch his arm, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you."

He met your gaze, his eyes softening as he took in your sincerity. "I know you didn't," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "But please, promise me you'll be more careful. Promise me you'll take care of yourself."

A tense silence envelops the room, broken only by the sound of your racing heart. You can feel the weight of his concern pressing down on you, mingling with your own sense of guilt and determination.

He’d stepped closer to you at some point in your conversation, to the point where his face was inches away from yours. His hand came up to caress the side of your face as he stared into your eyes. “Please take care of yourself. I don’t think I’d survive it if you got hurt. I know…-”

In a moment of impulsive clarity, you leaned forward, closing the distance between you and Anthony in one swift motion. Your lips met his in a tender, desperate kiss, cutting off his tirade mid-sentence.

For a heartbeat, the world fell away, leaving only the sensation of Anthony's lips against yours, the warmth of his embrace pulling you closer. In that fleeting instant, everything else faded into insignificance, overshadowed by the intensity of your connection.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and trembling, you were met with Anthony's wide-eyed gaze, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief. For a heartbeat, neither of you spoke, the weight of the unspoken hanging heavy in the air.

Then, slowly, tentatively, Anthony reached out to cup your cheek, his touch gentle against your skin. "What was that?" he whispered, his voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

You met his gaze, your own eyes filled with a mixture of uncertainty and longing. "I... I don't know," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. "But I couldn't stand to see you upset, and... and I needed you to know."

Anthony's expression softened, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I understand," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "And... and I think I needed to know too."

The tension in the room dissipated, as you met Anthony’s gaze with sincerity shining in your eyes.

"I promise," you said softly, "I'll take better care of myself. And I won't put myself in unnecessary danger again."

Anthony nodded, his expression softening with relief. "And I promise to trust you more," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "I know I can be too controlling at times, but I'll work on letting go and giving you the space you need."

He pulled you back into his arms and you relaxed into them. You rested your cheek on his shoulder as he held you, content to just be.

You and Anthony stood outside the Bowers manor. The building wasn’t any less imposing the second time, and Anthony squeezed your hand in reassurance. We can do this, it said. You took a deep breath.

You pushed open the heavy door and stepped into the decrepit hallway, the air thick and stagnant. This time, the feeling of discomfort didn’t weigh as heavily on your chest as you and Anthony made your way to the maid’s quarters.

Finally, you reached the quarters and you came face-to-face with the ghost that had been haunting your dreams for the past week. It was the maid, her spectral form flickering in and out of existence as she clung to the shadows, her eyes filled with longing and sorrow.

You and Anthony searched the room for anything that could be the source. Eventually, Lockwood found a loose floorboard hiding a silver hair comb and a few photos. He called you over, yelling at you to get a silver box, or some net. Anything that would subdue the maid.

But as you grabbed the net, a voice cut through the silence—a voice you recognised all too well. It was your grandfather, his eyes covered by special goggles that you’d seen somewhere before. They were the same as the one’s Fairfax was wearing before Annabelle killed him. You shuddered at the thought.

Your grandfather’s form materialised beside the maid, his face etched with pain and regret. "Please," he begged, his voice thick with emotion. "Don't do this. She's all I have left."

You hesitated, torn between the desire to end your haunting and listening to your grandfather’s plea. But deep down, you know what needs to be done. With a heavy heart, you threw the net over the source, the energy crackling through the air as the maid's form begins to fade.

In a sudden burst of anger and despair, your grandfather lunged forward, his arms reaching out as he tried to stop you. But before he could reach you, Anthony stepped in, shielding you from the blow.

As the maid's form faded into nothingness, you reached out to your grandfather, pulling him close as he sobbed in your arms. For a moment, there were no words, only the sound of his tears mingling with the echoes of the past.

But then, as the last remnants of the maid faded away, your grandfather lifted his head, his eyes filled with gratitude and sorrow. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the fading echoes of the manor. "For giving me the chance to say goodbye."

fin.

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jesslockwood · 5 months ago

Text

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Non Request / Request

Anonymous: I want to request Anthony Lockwood×fem!reader. Where the reader and Anthony are rivals, but the reader secretly has a crush on him. Anthony and Kipps make a bet on who can make the reader fall in love with them faster. The winner gets 100 pounds. So Anthony tries to befriend her and charm her, but at first, he doesn't succeed because they have hated each other for a long time, and the reader thinks that he is trying to prank her. He starts going to the places she is most often in and talks to her more. Like the reader is sitting in the archives and reading when Anthony just sits at her table and starts talking to her and flirting. At first, the reader finds it annoying, but later, they start becoming very good friends. Anthony starts to fall in love with her himself. He introduces her to George and Lucy and offers her to work at his agency. They slowly start to become more than friends, then one night after a case, she patches him up, he kisses her, and tells her that he loves her. She kisses him back, and they both fall asleep together. The next day, she and Anthony go to the archives. When she goes looking for Anthony because she found what they needed she stumbles upon Anthony and Quill, talking about the bet and Quill handing Anthony money. Even though Anthony doesn't even care about the bet anymore, he takes the money. The reader sees this and immediately confronts him about it, being angry at him for lying to her and everything, Anthony tries to explain, but she doesn't believe him and gives him back the necklace he gave her when he confessed his love to her. Anthony is heartbroken and doesn't see her for a week. When Lucy and George ask him about it, he tells them what happened. Then they get mad at him for being so stupid to agree to such a bet. Two weeks later, he saves the reader from getting ghost touched in some random alley at night. He tries to tell her everything and apologise, but she doesn't want to listen. He starts pleading with her to give him 5 minutes to explain everything, even if he doesn't deserve it, and so she gives in. He explains everything and confesses to her again, telling her how desperate and sorry he is, how these 3 weeks apart have driven him crazy. At the end of his speech, they're both crying. She forgives him, and everything ends happily.

Word Count: 5k

Pairing(s): Anthony Lockwood x Fem Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Fluff, Angst.

A/n: Thank you to @cameronspecial for sending this request my way! this has taken me a while because I wanted to get it right. I did switch a few things around from the request, but I hope you like it!

!!!PLEASE REBLOG!!!

its a free form of payment for hard work authors put into their fics :)

Anthony Lockwood was insufferable at times, such as today, when he and his team rudely interrupted a case your team, from Rotwell was put on. Your team supervisor Leighton, was not happy because every time you’d be on a case, it seemed he would show up, and not far behind would be Quill Kipps, and his team taking over or fighting over it. Leighton was almost so fed up he wanted to suspend you to equipment duty until they stopped causing a ruckus, according to him.

How could this be your fault? You were oblivious of to why. Leighton probably jar wanted someone to blame to make himself look good, per usual.

You personally were so fed up with Leighton and his team you considered quitting a multitude of times, but you’d have no other team to go to if you did.

You also couldn’t believe your teammate Marco freaked out with the equipment and broke your rapier. Lockwood saved Marco’s ass from being ghost touched, but your rapier was mauled in the process.

Stupid rapier and even more stupid; Anthony Lockwood.

Anthony had the biggest heart eyes for you for the longest time. The problem was you always acted like you hated him, and maybe that was apart of the reason he liked you, because all his charm didn’t work, and you only responded when he was sincere.

the only thing he did however hate about you, was how you’d banter with Kipps. There way no way you liked his enemy in that way. Right?

he thought it couldn’t get any worse, until today when he was trying his hardest to flirt with you, as you were getting a new rapier, due to a guy named Marco on your team somehow managed to snap it yesterday.

“Y/n, fancy seeing you needing new equipment.” He smirks, in his most charming way he can.

You sigh, “What do you want?”

“I just wanted to see if you needed help picking out a rapier. Running Lockwood and co, I have a lot of experience.”

You blow out a small laugh, “By all means Lockwood, be more superior than me, like you always have thought you were.”

You try to push past him into the shop, but he stops you with his arm.

“Y/n/n-“

“Don’t even, Lockwood. You may think your charms work on everyone but not on me anymore. You cant trick me into into your pretend version of friendly charm. Don’t even pretend to like me.” You heatedly spew, before ducking under his arm and going into the store.

Not anymore? So it did work. His heart was doing flips. She liked him at one point, who’s the say she wouldn’t like him again? Maybe he had to try another tactic. He knew that no one on her team would help her in the archives, according to George. Maybe that’s the way to get figure out if she has feelings for himself.

You hated the way he made you feel smaller than him, that he was god’s given gift to the world. You hated the way he tried to charm you, and you having to try your best to not let his it work on you, because then you’d be every other girl that’s under his stupid spell. Well at least you had to remind yourself to hate him or else, you’d be even more head over heels for him than you already were.

Damn it you were thinking about him. Again.

You tried to put your mind on the research you were having to do at the archives, since you always seemed to get put on the mundane tasks that the rest of the team didn’t want. You guessed you didn’t mind because George would be there. He was probably the only Lockwood and co member you could stand at this point, only because you hadn’t really had a conversation with Lucy.

He would be around and you’d share conversations which was nice, because he actually had an insightful intellect on subjects. He was cool in your book, and it was nice instead of the latter of Kipps or Lockwood bothering you since this wasn’t really their choice of task for their un-respective agencies.

Kipps once said libraries were for girls and their novels or dorks. You were a girl and probably a dork, so you didn’t really like Kipps for his opinions all that much.

George wasn’t here yet, so he couldn’t help you reach for the book on the top shelf, and your team was on a deadline so you had to try.

Damn these shelves. They were tall, at least too tall for you. You stood on your tip toes to try and reach it, just barely touching the book on a higher self.

An arm wraps around yours, from the outside reaching for the book and pulls it down with you, and you start to thank them gratefully, “Thank-“ you then turn to see who it is, changing your tone to an accusatory one to say, “you.”.

You take an annoyed breath in and turn to walk away towards you table trying to ignore him.

He seemingly follows you like a lost puppy, emphasis on lost, not puppy. You slam the book down a little too hard for your liking, and sit down before you embarrass yourself more. it is a quiet place of solitude after all, but not with not much solitude for yourself you were hoping for today.

Lockwood decides to plop down int he seat next to you, and scoots a bit closer, as if you bite, but close enough that it was making you annoyed.

You sit in silence for awhile as you read or at least, try to read the damn book in front of you on infamous poltergeists cases trying to see if yours matched up.

“Is it getting cold in here?” Lockwood asks you, his low voice giving you goosebumps up your spine.

“What?” You ask looking around. Anything cold put you on high alert even though you knew the archives were overall safe, you could never be too trusting.

“Or are you just giving me the chills?.” He flashes one of his signature smiles and you resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“Or is it just your cold dead heart in your chest?” You try to smile sweetly yet you felt triumphant at that comeback.

“I think you should make sure, just so theres no anomaly, or type two in the room.” He puts your hand on his hand on his chest, with his hand overtop.

You gulp, not sure of what to do with the contact, as you stare right into his eyes, you swear you felt his heart skip a beat.

“Pretty- pretty-“

“I know I am-“ he smirks interrupting your stuttering.

“Icy.” You pat his chest and turn back get out of your chair to grab another book. This time for fun.

He’s on your heels as you walk towards the classics section thats tucked into a tiny corner of the library, thats far out of the way of all the other informational books or newspapers. You wouldn’t tell Lockwood this, but you bet no one could hear you scream this far away from everything else.

You look for something to read, before turning back to see Lockwood giving you a look.

“What? You’re judging me aren’t you-“

“No! I mean no. I just haven’t picked up-“ he pauses and picks up Romeo and Juliet and has a genuine thoughtful smile on his face“-Shakespeare since my sister would read me lines. In another life she would have definitely have wanted to be an actress.”

That melted your insides a bit.

He flips open to a page, and starts to almost perform it.

“O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night. As a rich jewel in an Ethiop’s ear—Beauty too rich for use, for Earth too dear. So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows. As yonder lady o’er her fellows shows. he measure done, I’ll watch her place of stand. And, touching hers, make blessèd my rude hand.”

He pauses and turns to you staring you dead in the eyes

“Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight, For I ne’er saw true beauty till this night.”

You were in such a trance you didn’t even notice he was done preforming, because it felt like what he was saying was real, to you. You start clapping for him and he dramatically bows.

“I think you lied. I think you actually want to be the actor.” You joke.

He laughs and sits down on the floor and you sit next to him.

“In another world maybe. If the world were different in this one, I don’t know what I’d do. I’m pretty fantastic at my job-“

you snort at that comment.

“I don't think any of us would know what we’d want to do if our world here was different. Then again, I don’t even like what I’m doing right now. Leighton is-“

“-An arse.”

You laugh at that comment. Even Lockwood could see it.

“I may be an arse, but hopefully not that big of one.” He half jokes.

“You might not be that big of one but you’re still one.”

He shovers your shoulder playfully, and opens Romeo And Juliet from the start.

“You read Juliet and I’ll read Romeo. We can fill in other characters as we go.”

You nod smiling a genuine smile for once.

Maybe you had been the one with the cold dead heart, because Anthony Lockwood wasn’t that bad of a guy.

He liked a lot of the same things you did, such as the classics, and started to come to the archives more and more to your little corner.

Kipps started to linger around the archives trying to find you, but you knew the archives library too well for him to find you, for the most part.

He did stop you before you could run off to your “Romeo” one time, putting his arm in front of you and was talking at you for ten minutes straight, until Bobby just had to show him something important.

You really started to enjoy your time with him. What in the world was your life now? You actually liked Anthony Lockwood as a person! Oh shit did you just call him your Romeo in your head!?

Everything was going actually going smoothly being friends with Anthony Lockwood and that scared you a bit. You never really had people you were close to and cared about. Obviously you cared about your team and others and humanity you know. But somehow it was different if you were to loose him.

Well thinking everything was going smoothly was the wrong thing to say in your head, Leighton is coming straight in hot towards you right now.

“Y/n!”

“Yes Leighton?”

You tried not to disrespect him right now by rolling your eyes, but he slammed a book on the table.

“I see you’ve been spending you time not researching, and having your head in the clouds!”

You see some sort of modern Harlequin romance book in the pile, which you’ve never touched or read, not that you wouldn’t, but you knew someone had to have set you up.

“You’re fired immediately… after our current case. Ive already got the paperwork, so theres no fighting this as Rotwell signed it himself.”

You now roll your eyes trying to resist the urge to cry in-front of your whole team and make a bigger scene somehow Leighton was almost at the peak of creating.

You muster up the courage to speak.

“Yeah I doubt that Rotwell signed it, its either foraged or a stamp of approval some secretary stamped on. And I've never read that book, but its clear to see you won’t believe me. So lets go, all the information is int he pile figure it out amongst yourselves. I’m heading to the scene with the info-“ you point to you head “Up in here. Anyone joining me and being filled in or are you going to be as stubborn as Leighton and turn bright red like a tomato?”

The group except Leighton and his second hand follows you, as they know you always had things well memorized before you would pitch it to them.

When you get to the scene, a small townhome, you use your talent of listening to sense if anything is off when you walk in the front door. You had filled in the team of what happened in the house, assuming it’s a type two, as a couple who lived here, shot a criminal who came in, and left him to die. He was well known burglar in the area, Frank Calder.

You listen for anything, until you hear a crash in the kitchen and you eyes fly open, you unsheathe your rapier, so shiny and new as Leighton wouldn’t put you on any cases in person until today.

You move closer to the kitchen, as a clock strikes six pm, something comes into the door way of the kitchen, and before you can strike it, an his arm grabs your wrist and pulls you in close to him, so you avoid a murder of the un-beloved in the community’s Anthony Lockwood.

“Lov- Lunge at first fright, didn’t think it was a thing till today” He jokes.

Your breathing heavy for a second as you regather yourself, putting your rapier back. He finally lets go of your wrist almost reluctantly. Not the time Y/n, focus.

“What are you doing here?” You demanded the answer.

“We were hired. Apparently whichever team gets rid of the manifestations first get paid.“ He says.

“Well it’s a good thing I got fired because I would totally beat your team’s arses’”

He almost laughs but is trying not to.

“How’d you get fired?”

“Some jerk told Leighton I wasn’t doing work, reading romance novels instead of working, which isn’t true. I did the work… and then would read.” You smirk saying the last part for only Lockwood to hear.

“You should join my team then, we’re in need of a fourth.”

“Okay.”

“Just like that?” He teases, as he’s been asking you for a month to join.

You turn to the Rotwell team

“You guys have the info I gave you but you’re on your own. I am now the company part of Lockwood and co.”

They look at each other and start to leave.

Lockwood smiles his half smile, before guiding you over to the kitchen.

George and Lucy are there, and George fills you in the research you missed due to Leighton's interruption. The wife was killed in a cover of a “misfire” from the gun. They believe her husband was abusive, and wanted to kill her for planning to leave him and that she’s come back too.

“Brutal.” You shiver, “Lets find out where the wife's death happened and where was the burglar killed.”

You and Lockwood go together toward the living room, while Lucy and George go to the office on the main floor.

You close your eyes and listen. You hear yelling and fighting, and then thuds… up stairs?

“Hear anything?” He asks.

“Lockwood I think it’s up stairs” you mention,” I heard her running up stairs. And big thuds following her.”

Lucy comes out to confirm what you heard. She says she heard a gun being cocked in the office and then running toward the stairs.

“Shall we go up?”

Famous last words.

“Hold still!” You tell Lockwood and you clean him up. He hit his head pretty hard during the case, and quite a bit of blood was coming out of the gash.

You wrap his head in a bandage, making sure the wound wasn’t bleeding badly.

The lady that came back was not such a friendly one, as she closed the doors on the two of you in the room with the burglar poltergeist, which then lead to him slamming a metal filing cabinet towards Lockwood, who jumped out of the way and gashed his head on the corner of a table. He kept going even though he was bleeding badly which was impressive. You eventually were able to get them both contained.

“Shirt, off.” He looks at you smirking before you roll your eyes trying not to blush.

“You just want to see what I’m packing.” He jokes.

“No, I want to see how you’re bleeding out of your shirt. I need to make sure your not bleeding internally.”

“Okay, Dr. Y/n” he goofs off, before gulping at the contact of you unbuttoning his shirt with your hands.

He unbuttons and takes off the remaining of his shirt once it’s halfway down.

You gulp now, trying to play first aider, rather than goggly eyed girl at him.

You try to ignore his stare at you as you work and look around his chest and back, finding the long but not deep cut that made his crisp white button down, red.

Once you’ve treated him, you finally look back at him, to find him staring into your eyes intently.

“Thank you.”

You try to brush it off like it was no big deal, just to get his stare off of yours. You

“Its no big deal, Lockwood”, you start to turn away from his gaze, “I should be thanking you-“

He gently grabs your wrist and pulls you closer, and guides your hip to place you between his legs as he was sitting on the counter and you gulp at how close your face was to his. He then takes your chin between his thumb and finger, to gently get you to look back at him

“I mean it. Thank you.”

He sucks in a breath stating in the most cheesy manner, with a grin, “I must be a poltergeist, because I would do anything to be just reckless enough to move you closer to mine so I can ghost touch your lips.”

You slowly start smile and you move yourself closer to him, looking into his eyes, and then glancing at his lips it feels like everything in slow-motion yet so fast at the same time, as he moves in closer to your lips, and you can feel his breath on your lips, just ghosting them.

“Can I?” He asks so softly, you’re not even sure the best listener could hear him. You confirm by nodding you head an he touches your lips gently to his, and then he moves his hand to caress your cheek and you close your eyes.

The kiss was so sweet, and soft, almost if he made the wrong move you’d break like china, or George’s beloved egg cup.

He gently pulls away, so slowly and then her rests his forehead on yours, as if he’s letting you know he's not rejecting you.

“I… I’m in love with you, Y/n… and you don’t need to say it back I just needed to let you know.”

You heart is racing, and you move to kiss him back, which is more passionate than the last.

You break it to speak while resting your forehead on his.

“I’m in love with you, Anthony Lockwood.” You declare.

He smiles the most bright and genuine smile you’ve ever seen on his face, that was unlike his classic smirk.

He gently slides off the counter as you look into his eyes, not breaking eye contact with one another, with the two of you having the biggest grins, and they’d be brighter than a London storm’s lighting.

He spins you one eighty degrees, to face the door, as he wraps his arms around you, tightly, but enough that he could move.

He rests his head on your shoulder, waddling out with you, towards his bedroom.

He opens the door with one hand, the other still firm grip on you, before lifting you up bridal style, and you squeal and giggle.

“Shhh, Y/n you’ll wake George.” He laughs, “and probably Lucy who’s all the way upstairs.”

He places you gently on his bed, and some of you hair gets in your face, so he brushes it away and it gives you shivers down your spine. He then climbs into bed next to you, and spoons you, and you look up at his face.

You stare at him for what feels like no time, but time must have passes because your eyes start to drift but you fight to stay awake.

“Go to sleep love, I’ll be with you.” He says in a groggy voice.

You then close your eyes and sleep overcomes you.

When you had gotten up that morning, you were tangled with Anthony, forced awake by the sound behind the door, with George and Lucy arguing of who should wake Lockwood up.

“Lockwood.” You nudge him to let go of you o you could get up.

He moans and then mumbles something incoherent.

“No more kisses unless you get up now.” You tease.

Lockwood shoots up, “I’m up.” He says before leaning down to kiss you. You kiss him before covering your mouth after her breaks the kiss.

“Oh my god I need to brush my teeth.” He gets out a loud laugh before you scramble outside of the room, heading towards the bathroom. You pass Lucy and George in the hall, sheepishly you weave past them, going towards the bathroom to deal with your morning breath.

Lucy and George look at Each other, before looking at shirtless Lockwood, standing in the door way, quizzically, wondering what had happened.

“Told you so.” George says to Lucy before Looking back at Lockwood.

“We have a Case. We need to go to the archives now, before Kipps’ team gets on it.”

Lockwood comes of off his dreamy daze and nods, and the to of them head downstairs, and Lockwood lets out a frustrated groan.

Lockwood and you walk side by side, and he admires you secretly, as you admire blatantly the bracelet he had given you. It was the most beautiful and dainty bracelet, the best gift anyone had ever given you. He said it had been his mothers, and then his sisters, which he didn’t touch more on, but you knew how important family was to him, especially because of the one he had made with George and Lucy and now… you.

Lockwood, links hands with yours, and you look and him and smile brighter, and you intertwine you fingers between his.

Lucy kept trying to peak back, unnoticed, while George was stuck into studying the journal where he wrote down the details of the possible case.

You reach the archives in no time, and Lockwood lets go of your hand, so you can run up the stairs.

Once you’re all in the archives, Lucy is on watch duty to make sure the fittes team doesn’t overhear any information they get, and George is deep into a book. Lockwood has gone off somewhere to grab a book.

George speaks up about how long it was taking him to find one book, “Lockwood’s taking way too long. Y/n can you go see where he is.”

You nod, and go after him in the direction he went off in.

Your spot the back of Lockwood’s head, and you start to head towards him, before you see Kipps approach him and you avoid him seeing you by hiding behind a book shelf. You didn’t hate Kipps but usually he’d talk at you for hours unless you hid.

You’re close enough to hear him speak to Lockwood.

“You won fair and square. Here’s your 100 pounds.” Lockwood stalls for a split second then takes it and pockets it quickly. Kipps continues to blab on, “Though I do have to ask, how’d you get Y/n to like you? Just so I know you won the bet fair and square-“

What the hell? You were a bet? You knew you shouldn’t have trusted him, you just knew it.

“What the hell!” You come storming up toward Anthony, zeroing in on him.

“Y/n I-“ Anthony tries to speak.

“Don’t! You’re a lying bastard! All I am to you is a stupid bet and nothing more, I see it all clearly now.” You take off the bracelet and Anthony tries to protest.

“Y/n please I-I didn’t mean it I mean I just-“

“Don’t contact me ever again.” You cut him off walking away with tears streaming down your face, leaving Anthony Lockwood in the dust.

Lockwood walks back towards the group, gripping there bracelet in his hand. He just wanted to bury himself in his bed, and not think about how badly he messed up, and hurt the best thing he's ever had.

“Where’s Y/n?” Lucy asks, looking around.

“Yeah I haven’t seen her for about a half hour?” George agrees.

“Wasn’t she with you Lockwood?” Lucy asks.

“I’m so stupid.” Lockwood says before slumping into the nearest chair holding his head in his hand, while he rubs it, almost like he had a headache.

“What did you do?” George and Lucy say in almost unison.

“It was a bet all a stupid fucking… bet.” Lockwood tries not to cry, “It’s all my fault I made a bet wth Kipps of who Y/n would… fall for first. The winner takes 100 pounds. I didn’t… I didn’t know… or think that I’d actually fall in love with her. And then I took the money even though I wanted to say to say screw the bet to Kipps, and then Y/n… she saw me take it and she was so angry and hurt, and I did that to her…” he gulps, “God she was so hurt. And I tried to explain to her, but she wouldn’t listen. And I tried to give the money to Kipps back, but he wouldn’t take it. I can’t fix anything I just… I broke it all.”

“You’re an idiot Lockwood.” Lucy says.

“A big one at that.” George adds on.

“Just go and try and fix it because she was the best thing to happen to you. I don’t care if you have to grovel for a month, or throw pebbles at her window, or send her letters for a year. Just fix it.” Lucy tries to angrily reason with him.

Lucy may have been right, but he knew you needed space right now, but Lucy had the right idea though. He needed a gesture even if it wasn’t grand.

It was killing them both not seeing each other for so long, and it had been three weeks since they last spoke.

Feelings don’t disappear, they linger like the manifestations they deal with on a daily bases.

Y/n thought Anthony waiting at her front door, so you decided to take the long alley way back to the back door. It was getting closer to dawn, and you just wanted to avoid him for hopefully forever.

What you didn’t expect however was to find was a manifestation on the way through the alleyway. The type two decided to smush you in between a pallet and the wall.

It was coming close to you, and was reaching out to touch you, and you closed your eyes accepting your fate, until you’re freed from being stuck, and Lockwood being your hero.

“C’mon. Before it comes back.” He extends his hand and you take it.

You’re shake off the shock, and start storming towards your front door.

“Wait, y/n please just give me five minutes of your time.” He pleads, “I’ ll leave you alone after if you want me to, please just hear me out.”

This peaks your interest, as maybe he’ll finally take off out of your life.

“Fine, five minutes.” You say.

“Thank you. It was a stupid bet I'm sure you know by now, but I only took the bet because… because then maybe I would finally have the courage to talk to you. And once I started talking to you, I didn’t ever want to stop. You’re truly the best thing thats ever happened to me, and I fucked up. Horribly. I know its unforgivable what I did, and I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but you’re all that I think about, going to the archives was the only thing that gave me hope in life that there are good things in this world and it's you.”

Lockwood pulls out a necklace out out go his pocket, a locket to be specific.

“I got you this.”

You take it into your hand, and open it.

It was a locket with a photo of you and the team in it.

“You can do whatever you like with it after you know this, but I used the money on you since Kipps wouldn’t take it back, because he thought he might still have a chance with you. “ he pauses before declaring, “The money wasn’t worth anything to me. You, however, are worth everything to me.”

Lockwood starts crying before turning to make his leave. He had used the money to buy you locket. Wow.

You stop him with your words.

“You’re not perfect Lockwood, but neither am I… but were good for each other… and I forgive you.” You say. He turns around, smiling with tears streaming down his face. And he reaches up to touch your cheek to wipe off the tears you didn’t notice running down your face.

You smile and you both lean in to kiss each other.

You both take each others hand and walk home shining your arms heading back to 35 Portland row.

Something you had come to realize in this moment is that there was no perfect situation, person, or deal dealt in life. The only thing is that there’s something to bet on when you find your good in life.

Taglist:

@waitingforthesunrise @sleep-i-ness

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wordsarelife · 1 year ago

Text

lockwood & co masterlist

fluff (f), angst (a), suggestive (s), platonic (p), injury/ blood (w)

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❛ 𝐢’𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 ❜

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𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝 (34.9k)

blank space (0.7k) — normally lockwood can hide his feelings quite well. that talent seems to fade every time someone tries to flirt with his y/n (f,s)

peace (0.5k) — y/n is all that Lockwood needs, especially in the quiet moments (f,a)

sweet nothing (0.8k) — eating breakfast in bed (f)

stay, stay, stay (1.3k) — you never leave a fight unresolved (f,a)

delicate (0.5k) — some flirty banter in a near death situation (f,s)

king of my heart (1.8k) — there was always this flirty banter between you, without anything ever happening. one day you grow tired of it and leave lockwood to make a choice (f,a,s)

treacherous (1.3k) — How can it be that two people who grew up together hate each other so much? lockwood and you find out that love and hate are closer together than you had thought (f,a,s)

cruel summer (1.3k) — there’s just one bed, luckily you are the most brilliant person lockwood knows… or are you? (f,s)

you belong with me (1.6k) — you have to flirt to finish a mission. much to the dismay of lockwood you are far too good at it (f,s)

the way I loved you (pt 2 of ybwm) (1.2k) — lockwood is protective of what is his and in his own definition, you belong to him (f,a,s)

london boy (1.0k) — lockwood and you finish a study about what defines the greatness of a kiss (f,s)

it's nice to have a friend (0.3k) — you pass out after a dangerous encounter with a ghost (a,f,w)

enchanted (1.0k) — lockwood and you have been in love ever since you first met and it's been quite obvious for anyone else, but you two (f)

seven (sibling!reader) (0.5k) — a mission went badly and you and your brother console each other (f, a, p)

i did something bad (1.2k) — gathering information from a tied up and horny teenage boy should be easy enough, right? (s)

i think he knows (1.3k) — you have to admit your feelings for lockwood after your heartbeat goes through the roof at his touch (f)

change (1.4k) — lockwood realizes how much he missed of his sisters, the reader, life (a,f,p,w)

back to december (1.4k) — you had left lockwood in a night filled with regret and there was nothing you wanted more than to apologise to him (a,f,p)

the best day (0.4k) — domestic fluff with anthony lockwood (f)

the last time (1.1k) — you always try to save your friends life at the expanse of your own. this time you might've gone too far (a,p)

my tears ricochet (1.4k) — you save lockwoods life on a job but he can't save you.. but with a twist (a,w,f)

it's beginning to look a lot like christmas (0.5k) — lockwood is as cooky as usual, luckily you are used to it by now (f,s)

driving home for christmas (0.4k) — in which you come home for christmas surprisingly and lockwood can proof that his girlfriend is real (f)

the very first night (0.7k) — you celebrate your birthday for your friends only, lockwood celebrates your birthday for you (f,a,p)

lavender haze (1.2k) — despite kipps best efforts to keep you away from each other, lockwood won't stop flirting with you (f)

all american bitch (3.4k) — everbody knew that there was something wrong in the way your brother talked to you and lockwood wouldn't let you accept it any longer (f,a,s)

pretty isn’t pretty (0.8k) — he was showering you in compliments all while you felt like you weren’t pretty enough (f,a)

i forgot that you existed (0.6k) — lockwoods sibling had a bad day at school (f,p)

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𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞 𝐤𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐦 (8.2k)

daylight (0.6k) — early morning cuddles with your boyfriend (f)

mastermind (2.3k) — the team has to work together with kipps, for george that means being stuck with the best friend of the blonde leader, y/n. the only person in the whole world that seemed to be smarter than him, that's why he hated her. (a,f)

love story (0.8k) — hiding a relationship becomes a challenge when your bosses are lockwood and kipps, but y/n and george always seem to manage anyway… (f)

i knew you were trouble (0.7k) — you expressed your likeness for george all the time.. seems like he finally gets it (f)

ours (0.3k) — george tries to make reader go to bed (f)

mirrorball (0.7k) — george has been struggling and you help him (a,f)

fearless (1.7k) — george admires you deeply. not only because you're his girlfriend, but because you have an extraordinary gift (f/a)

snowman (1k) — a situation in which you are trapped, causes george and you to confess (f)

teenage dream () — one part of you loved fighting ghosts and doing your jobs, the other isn’t so sure if that’s really the right thing for you (a)

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𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐤𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐬 (7.8k)

i know places (1.6k) — all hell breaks loose when your brother finds out about you and quill (f,s)

paper rings (1.5k) — you & quill are basically married, but when will he finally ask? (f)

today was a fairytale (1k) — you and quill go on your first date (f,s)

gold rush (0.8k) — loving quill kipps feels like a gold rush (f,a)

santa tell me (1.2k) — you and quill had been the parents of the group for years, but nothing ever happened between the two of you. now it’s finally time to change that, or atleast your friends think it is (f)

santa clause is coming to town (0.2k) — you and quill know each other so well, you could almost finish each others sentences (f)

under the mistletoe (0.5k) — you and your boyfriend get caught under the mistletoe (f)

you need to calm down (0.4k) — you and quill wind down after a long day (f,w)

shake it off (1k) — quill and you play a prank on your brother and friends (f)

the moment i knew () — quill and you were a lot closer once, before everything suddenly changed and he was not there when you needed him most (a,f,w)

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𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 (5.5k)

anthony lockwood, illicit affairs series (5.5k) — your secret relationship might not be enough for the future you have ahead of you (a,s,f) one, two, three part four (ending: afterglow) part four (ending: closure)

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𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩 (0.6k)

deck the halls (0.6k) — decorating cookies at portland row (f,p)

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53 works

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ukulelevillainwrites · 10 months ago

Text

who follows the rules anyway?

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9

complete

pairing : anthony lockwood x reader

word count : 10k

warnings : drinking, drunken state

taglist : @demigoddess-of-ghosts ; @oblivious-idiot ; @neewtmas ; @bobbys-not-that-small ; @bella-rose29 ; @maraschinomerry ; @novelizt ; @fudosl ; @archiveoftara ; @cassiopeiia24 (i think i didn't forget anyone but i could be wrong)

content : I couldn’t resist some callbacks to the attic scene before fittes’ party, George wears a bowtie for all the fans of ali in a bowtie out there know that it was my frame of reference, I tried to not make it look like a direct copy of the fittes party but there are a lot of similarities

note : life got so out of hand, I sincerely apologize that it took so long but to make up for it it’s quite long and I really really like this part it’s THE part I’ve fantasized about since I started writing and I really like how the main scenes came out

Also sorry I know it’s been a long time but pt8 picks up right after the last scene of pt7

She realized what she just said as she walked past him entering the kitchen. She turned around suddenly, bumping into him as he followed her inside.

“I’m so sorry Lockwood I’m being so rude.”

“Well, you’re not wrong but you could tell me this without stepping on my toes.”

She looked down and fair enough she was. She took a few steps back, apologizing again and she bumped into the cupboards behind her.

“Ow!”

“Am I gonna have to stitch you up again?” Lockwood asked, amused.

“I’m so sorry.” She said again sitting down in the chair closest to her.

“You keep saying that.”

“Well, I am. I’m sorry I talked to you that way in front of Lucy, and I’m sorry I talked to you like that in the hall, and I’m sorry I came into your life yelling at you and making you angry-”

“I’m not angry.” He interrupted. “Just… frustrated.” They stayed in silence for a while staring at each other.

“I can’t figure you out.” He admitted in a lower voice.

She could have told him the same thing.

“You hate me, then you warm up to me, then you give me the cold shoulder and hate me again… what am I supposed to think?”

“I don’t hate you. I just… I can’t figure you out either. I never know what you’re thinking.”

“Well, I hired you because I think you’re good, I hate fighting, I genuinely want to help you with this whole thing, and I think it’s pretty nice when we get along. Is that clear enough?”

Not quite, she thought. What were they supposed to be? Did he consider them actual friends now or were they far from it? Did he mean it when he said that he had always been honest with her? His charming act did look awfully familiar every time he used it with clients. She didn’t know what she was supposed to think. All the questions that clouded her mind when she thought about him came rushing in.

“We’re strictly colleagues then? Or am I allowed to say that we’re friends.” She managed.

“I think friends is more fitting. I mean what kind of employer would I be sleeping in the same couch as my underling?”

She blushed furiously at the memory of his arms around her.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Did I go too far that night? I never meant to-”

“Lockwood it’s alright. It was sweet really… I didn’t expect you to watch over me like that.”

They both looked anywhere else but each other, embarrassed at the thought of that night. She didn’t regret it, quite the contrary. She still thought about it fondly.

“It was nice… I felt safe.” She added in a tone barely above a whisper.

“I know you’d do the same for me…”

She looked up at him in surprise.

“Wouldn’t you?” he asked, his frown deepening as he looked into her eyes, almost begging.

“I… I just don’t see what I did to make you so sure of it. Was it the insults or the yelling?”

He laughed.

“You saved my life twice. I didn’t think I’d have to remind you that, I rather thought you’d gloat and annoy me with it every single day.”

“You’re right I should.”

They exchanged another look, warmer and more knowing.

She got up to prepare some tea. She made his cup the way he liked it and handed to him. He smiled at her with the familiarity she liked so much. She turned around before he could notice the blush on her cheeks. She then prepared two more cups, George’s with slightly more sugar than hers and placed them on an unused corner of the Thinking Cloth. She called on George and handed him his tea. When she looked up at Lockwood his smile wasn’t as wide. The three of them settled around the table.

“Alright, let’s plan a heist.”

“Why can’t we just push it back one week? It’d give us the extra time we need to prepare.”

“The event for the launch of their new rapier line will be more crowded and it lasts an entire day. Showing up there will never be enough to keep us out of suspicion. It has to be the fundraiser tomorrow.”

Lockwood hadn’t looked up from the plans of the building. They were trying to figure out the safest route for Lucy and Norrie to reach the documents they needed while staying as far from the party as possible and they were running out of time. Lockwood had had a hard time getting them in the fundraiser. For starter he had tried reaching out to different contacts to get in. The only result he got was a newfound rage against the Organization for not inviting them in the first place. She could have guessed a million things that could have motivated Lockwood to get them into this party at all costs. She didn’t think Bunchurch would be the one. Apparently the less than prestigious agency had some agents attending the event. In fact, all agencies had some representatives attending, or almost all of them. Something about showing the growing bonds between agencies and the Silverpoint Organization. Lockwood’s renewed determination led him to go all the way down to their headquarters to demand an invite using a mix of his usual charms and some threats of bad press. He had been convincing enough to get the three of them in. He had just put the envelopes down on the Thinking Cloth with a triumphant smile when someone knocked on the door. George led Lucy in the kitchen and they all smiled widely when she told them she and Norrie would join them. All the pieces were finally coming together. Then they studied the plans of the house and realized that it wasn’t as easy as it seemed.

First of all because it was a mansion and not a house. The surface was significantly larger and the number of rooms they had to cover seemed impossible to search in just a few hours. Second of all because it was a city mansion, just north of Hyde Park, with other buildings right next to it, no garden and the front door accessible from the street. No other point of entry and neighbours on both sides. It had been fairly easy to determine which rooms to search first, compared to figuring out how the girls were supposed to get inside and out while remaining unseen.

“Wait what’s this?” Norrie asked picking up some of the research y/n had done on the party. She had spent so much time looking at those papers she couldn’t bear to look at them again.

“It’s details about the party, the agencies and companies that will be represented, the staff I managed to get information about, that kind of thing.”

“Well, if we know which catering company they’ll be hiring why don’t we use that?”

“How?”

“I don’t know… Maybe get hired, be a waitress during the event and use that to slip out?”

They all stared at her, in disbelief that they didn’t make the connection sooner.

“That’s a good idea but I’m not sure we’ll have enough time to get hired.” Lucy raised a good point.

“They’re always looking for extra people at the last minute for this kind of event. They get to hire desperate people who need a job so they can pay them less. It could be worth a try.”

“Norrie, that’s brilliant.” Lockwood exclaimed, his enthusiasm renewed. “Okay, you and Lucy will get in by waitressing at the event.” He got up and started pacing around the room. “You discreetly slip out and search the rooms in that order. I’ll need you to find a folder to put the documents in. Next, one of you go up on the second floor in that room.” He pointed at what seemed to be a bedroom drawn on the top left corner of the map. “You’ll let the folder fall from that window into the alley next to the mansion. When it’s done, give us a discreet sign. One of us will fake going out to take some fresh air and retrieve the documents.”

Relief filled the room as Lockwood finished explaining the last details of his plan. He was so sure of himself, so confident and convinced that they would succeed that it was hard to be pessimistic. He made it sound so easy.

“Lucy, Norrie, you should go and see if you can get hired today. George, now that we have a plan, I’m ordering you to find something decent to wear to the event.”

George sighed, clearly not happy about having to leave his research and take on an activity he had no interest in.

“Do you have something to wear, y/n?”

“I’ll probably figure something out.” She answered, rubbing her eyes. The long days of research, planning and cases had drained all energy from her, and like George she wasn’t too eager to spend time on her feet looking for something to wear at a party she wasn’t going to have fun at. Her bed sounded more appealing than anything else.

“Am I going to have to lead you both out with the point of my rapier in your back to get you moving?”

“Are you threatening us so we go shopping?”

“Well, locking you out of the house isn’t an option because of a certain someone,” Lockwood said as his stare lingered on her a few seconds more than she thought necessary, “so I have to resort to extreme measures.” He concluded with a wink.

They looked at him in disbelief. Since when did he care so much about what they were wearing?

“We need to be camera ready, this could be Lockwood and Co.’s first very public night we need to look our best!”

She was so exhausted she hadn’t realized they now had to endure fame-struck Lockwood craving the attention of the public. He was not going to let this go. She reluctantly stood up, mouthing “fine” at him with a thin smile. She dragged George out of the kitchen before he could protest and start an argument he would lose anyway. When public image was at stake, Lockwood always had the last word.

They got home three hours later, arms tired from carrying heavy bags. George’s suit weighed a ton, so did her shoes. She thought then that the platforms might have been overkill. Especially since she still didn’t know what she was going to wear. Finding something appropriate had taken longer than expected. Not for George, who bought the first cheapest suit he could find to get this over with. He complained louder each time she tried on a dress she didn’t buy. She was as frustrated as he was, really. The weather was getting colder and for some reason all she could find were backless or sleeveless dresses in which she was already too cold just by trying them on. Between George’s complaints and her feet growing tired y/n thought about giving up more than once. They started to walk back, discussing the plan for their very busy evening the following night when George interrupted himself.

“Look!”

“What? What is it?”

“In the window across the street. That could fit you for tomorrow night, right?”

She looked across to see a long-sleeved black jumpsuit on the mannequin in the shop in front of them. It was simple but very elegant, with a square neckline, a tight body giving the illusion of a corset, and wider pants long enough to touch the floor. The platforms would come in handy here. Since it was George’s idea, she told him he wasn’t allowed to complain if it didn’t fit. She went inside and came back out fifteen minutes later with another heavy bag to carry home.

---

She couldn’t help the tremor in her hand while she applied mascara on her eyelashes. As the hours went on, y/n could feel the knot in her stomach tighten. The idea of spending the night at such a sophisticated event made her nervous. She was incredibly intimidated, especially considering the type of crowd she would have to face. Being surrounded by rich and elegant people was not something she was used to, and tonight she would have to talk to them to make sure they saw her there. It added a stinging salt to her already oozing wound. She fixed her hair for the tenth time in the past fifteen minutes, checking her reflection under every angle. She jumped and dropped her hairbrush when someone knocked on the door to the attic.

“y/n, are you alright?”

She recognized Lockwood’s voice and told him to come in. She bent down to retrieve her hairbrush and when she looked back up she saw him standing next to the mirror, wide-eyed and silent.

“Do I look this bad?”

“You… No! No, no on the contrary you look…” He blushed as he looked into her eyes.

“You look great.” He said shyly.

She didn’t think she had ever seen him so flustered. Had she not been so nervous, she might have read into his reaction. But her nerves were so unsettled that she simply smiled back at him before putting on her lipstick. She had picked a dark red to complete her elegant look for the night. She focused on the reflection of her lips. When she looked back up Lockwood was gone. She wondered if she had imagined his eyes following her every movement in the mirror. He was acting strange, but it was a very stressful night. She couldn’t even stop her hands from shaking. It was surprising coming from him, but they had never been in that situation before. Confused, she went to sit on her bed to put on her shoes. Another knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.

“Yes?”

Lockwood was back, the same bewildered expression on his face.

“I’ve never seen you with lipstick.”

“Well, it’s not really my priority when going out to fight visitors all night.” She joked.

He kept staring insistently at her.

“What is it? Did I get some on my teeth?” She stood back up to look in the mirror again. Everything had to be perfect. She inspected every inch of her face, every tooth, every hair. Movement behind her made her look up to see Lockwood stepping closer in the reflection, reaching for something in his pocket.

“Here, I thought it would make you look even more elegant than you already are.”

He took out a red velvet pouch and revealed a pearl necklace.

“Lockwood… that’s… very thoughtful. Thank you.” She hoped the warm lights of her bedroom were enough to hide the red that had spread across her cheeks. He detached the clasp and went to stand behind her. She looked back into the mirror as he placed the necklace around her neck. She pushed her hair away, her hand softly brushing against his for a second. His gaze remained fixed on her reflection, the dark brown of his irises looking even warmer in the soft dim light. He looked back at her neck.

“They belonged to my mother.” He said as he fastened the clasp.

She looked at him in the mirror with surprise. He was smiling. A soft, delicate smile. He had rendered her speechless. For the briefest moment, the party didn’t matter, the past few months and everything that had led her there tonight weren’t as important. She was here, now, with him and everything was okay.

She blinked and turned around.

“Lockwood I can’t-”

“It’s nothing, really. Plus, you’ll fit right in tonight looking like this.” He winked, his smile back to its usual wolfish grin. “I’ll go get us a cab, George should be about ready too.”

Before she could protest, he was down the stairs, asking George if was ready, leaving her standing there, a hand resting on the necklace. She looked back at her reflection. The pearls did make her look rich and sophisticated, she admitted to herself. Lockwood had never talked to her about his family. She was incredibly flattered by this gift, and most importantly by the fact that he had opened up, even just a little. The softness of his eyes kept flashing back in her mind. She breathed in deeply, more assured than she was. He had quite an effect on her, she thought. The brush of his skin on hers, his soft breathing in her neck… If only he had stood closer, even just for an instant. She stopped her mind from going any further. The butterflies in her stomach were back and her heart was ready to jump out of her chest, but it’d have to wait. They had a party to attend and some documents to steal.

She came down the stairs to join Lockwood and George, ready to leave. George was adjusting his bowtie in the mirror in the living room. She was surprised to see him look quite dashing.

“George, promise me you’ll make an effort to socialize and be as visible as you can tonight.”

“Easy for you to say, it’ll be second nature for you to be at the center of attention!”

Lockwood laughed as he headed for the door and stopped in his tracks when she entered the room.

“Especially if I have the most gorgeous girl at the party on my arm.” He said after a pause.

She blushed furiously at the remark. He had never complimented her so much, or been so kind to her before. She tried to keep a stiff upper lip, but really she was close to falling on her knees. It was like he loved tormenting her.

They stayed staring at each other in silence, their smiles getting wider every second.

“I think I liked it better when you were fighting.” Said George in an exasperated tone.

Lockwood ignored him as he crossed the room to offer her his arm.

“Shall we?”

---

The ride over to the fundraiser was a silent one, though the three of them were agitated. George kept adjusting his bowtie and cleaning his glasses, y/n checked her lipstick in her pocket mirror every five minutes. Lockwood kept fidgeting, but it wasn’t really unusual for him. While they kept glancing anxiously at the road, he alternatively looked through each window like a toddler wondering if they were there yet. y/n did not share his excitement. She gripped the pearls around her neck and took a deep breath. Lockwood nudged his knee against hers to get her attention.

“It’s gonna go just fine.” He said in a low voice.

She smiled but it was rigid, almost fake. Panic was slowly strengthening its grip on her. What was she supposed to talk about with these people all night? She didn’t have Lockwood’s natural talent and ease when it came to socializing. She was terrified of saying something wrong and making a fool of herself. He rested a hand on her knee, bringing her out of her overwhelming thoughts.

“You’ll be great.”

She reached for his hand as she whispered a low ‘thank you’.

Despite his best efforts to reassure her, the crowd on the sidewalk and the animation coming from the mansion brought back her insecurities. Everyone looked so elegant and influential that she instantly felt out of place.

The look on George’s face reassured her a little bit. She wasn’t the only one desperate to go home. They got out of the cab and mingled in the crowd waiting to check their coats. y/n took a first look at the faces she would have to talk to during the night, trying to recognize anyone that would be easier to talk to. None of them looked like she could have seen them around at Fittes, or clients she could have worked with. She did notice the catering van parked in front of an alleyway next to the house, the waiters and waitresses all gathered next to it. She saw Lucy and Norrie with them, acting professional. Before she could try to get their attention and ask them if they were okay, Lockwood grabbed her arm and led her inside.

The elegance of the hall did not prepare her for the spectacular room in which the event took place. An imposing marble staircase was lit with candles, so many she couldn’t count them all, yet it was only half as much as the ones lighting up the crystal chandelier illuminating the room and taking up half the ceiling. If the Silverpoint Organization was a non-profit, they showed none of it during their receptions. The room was full of eloquent people, as she expected, most of them middle aged. Most men wore a lavender pin on their lapel, but some of them had a silver brooch in the shape of a harp instead. Women wore them too. She didn’t know what it stood for and felt foolish, dreading the interactions to come even more now. Every now and then she saw agents in the crowd. Fittes, Rotwell, Tendy’s, Bunchurch too. Unsure what to do, George and y/n looked expectantly at Lockwood.

“Why don’t you two mingle, I’ll go get us some drinks.” He said cheerfully before leaving them to fend for themselves.

They didn’t have time to protest, he was already lost in the crowd. George turned to her, suggesting that they should make a break for it while they still could. As much as she wished they could leave, she couldn’t bail on their plan now.

“I’ll make hot cocoa with extra whipped cream and those mini marshmallows you love so much!” He insisted with a pleading look.

“As much as I want to, we can’t.”

Before he could add anything that was likely to change her mind, the ringing of glasses rose through the air and soon the room fell silent. At the top of the grand staircase stood a man, stoic while he waited for the last conversations to die out.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.” y/n was taken aback by the authority in his voice. She mustn’t have been the only one. The first few guests at the end of the staircase had stood straighter at the words.

“I am Theodor Mullet, chairman of Mullet and Sons and your host for the night,” he continued, “I hope you are all enjoying your evening so far. The music will continue in a moment but first I wanted to thank you all for attending and for your generous donations. As you know, the Silverpoint Organization has been helping our brave agents in the small way it can for over 20 years now.” He went on to describe the actions the Organization had taken over the years, reassuring the attendees that their money would be put to good use. Even though she knew for a fact that the donations in question would be spent on the black market, a part of her couldn’t help but believe he was telling the truth. The way he stood, tall and broad with his dark hair greying on the temples and his black glasses framing his gaze made him look straightforward. He didn’t have the appearance of a lying politician like she expected, instead he looked very matter-of-fact, what you would expect of a businessman at the head of one of the largest companies in the country. As she analyzed his every feature, she noticed that he too wore a silver brooch in the shape of a harp on the lapel of his vest. She wondered what kind of association he shared with the guests she had seen with the same accessory in the crowd.

“It was all the more important to me that all agencies attend this event, as both the Silverpoint Organization and Mullet&Sons want to further our relationship with them and support them all in keeping the nation safe. The courage of those young people is truly worth all our admiration, which is why I invite you all to raise a glass to the bravery of the agents present here with us tonight. May all agencies, big or small, defeat the Problem.” He raised his glass to the audience, and all guests followed suit. Many people were now staring at her and George with a mix of respect and pity.

“I could really use a drink… Where is Lockwood?” She said, turning towards George to avoid looking at the rest of the crowd.

“I don’t know… I think I’ll go try the buffet.”

y/n was too nervous to eat anything, especially with all this unwanted attention directed towards her. It didn’t seem to matter to George who was already gone before she could tell him that. She went her separate way to look for Lockwood in the crowd. It wouldn’t have surprised her if she found him charming some prestigious guests with dazzling stories about one of their cases. He was made for this after all and he had a knack for embellishing random anecdotes, turning them into thrilling quests. She tried to break through the crowd as respectfully as she could, overhearing small talk about what a fantastic man Theodor Mullet was or vivid debates about what the Organization’s next actions should be. She grew desperate the longer she looked. Without Lockwood, she didn’t think she could manage talking about those topics for an entire evening.

Relief flooded her when she spotted him next to the bar, glasses in hand. She got closer and stopped a few feet away, frozen. Her already dreadful evening turned even worse. She watched as El gently but confidently stroked his arm, throwing their head back in an exaggerated laughter that rose above the commotion. They did always have a flare for the dramatic. Lockwood smiled politely, but she couldn’t tell if he was genuinely enjoying talking to them. She dismissed the idea immediately. El was too proud, too flashy and overall, too much and Lockwood couldn’t enjoy the company of someone like this. Or could he? He looked around the room but didn’t notice the small sign she gave him, discreetly asking if he needed help. Before she could try something else, he was drawn back into the conversation, El clinging to his arm more every passing second. The knot in her stomach tightened.

She looked over at the buffet where George was having a better time than she was, enjoying the canapes that Lucy and Norrie or some of their colleagues for the night had brought out. She tried to spot the girls to make sure everything was fine but she couldn’t find them among the waiters. When she looked back over at Lockwood, El had placed a hand on his chest, now stroking his tie. She reached them in two strides, not minding the people previously in her way.

“There you are!” She pressed a kiss on his cheek. “I’ve been looking all over for you! Thank you for getting me a drink!” She said as she reached for the second glass he had in hand, interlocking her arm with his.

She looked up to see the confused look on his face. She ignored it and stared at El with feigned surprise.

“Oh… long time no see.”

El was staring back with barely hidden disgust.

“So you two are-”

“I heard you didn’t make it into Kipps’ team…” She didn’t let them finish. “That’s too bad.”

Their eyes darkened at that mention.

“I’ve moved on to better things.”

y/n huffed as she rolled her eyes.

“I’ve been working closely with Mrs. Dufour actually.” They said with a proud smirk. “It pays really well. And I get to meet a lot of influential people… Very influential. If I were you, I’d watch my back.”

She was barely surprised at that revelation.

“I see your loyalty hasn’t changed. At least it looks like your nose just about recovered, that’s a relief.” She forced a smile. Lockwood was staring at her with confusion, not saying a word.

She started to turn away, dragging Lockwood by the hand with her, when they forcefully grabbed her arm.

“I’m sorry your late-night encounter with Rasler didn’t manage to drive you out of town. Maybe next time I’ll finish the job myself.”

Lockwood untangled his arm and came to stand between them. His features were sharper than usual, his jaw clenched in anger. Even when they had particularly bad fights, he never looked so stern.

“Oh you have your prince charming coming to your rescue now! How adorable.”

They both were about to protest when El continued.

“Please don’t make a scene, this a class A event after all.” They looked back at her. “Not that you should get used to that, y/n.”

El then turned away and headed for the bar.

“Are you okay?” Lockwood asked her, worried.

“I should be the one to ask you that. How long were you stuck talking to them?”

He instinctively offered her his arm as they walked away from the scene.

“They ambushed me right after the speech. You have some very questionable acquaintances.”

“Well, I did punch them in the face, it made the inconvenience more palatable.”

She was about to take a sip of her champagne when Lockwood stopped abruptly, making her almost spill her drink. He looked at his reflection in one of the mirrors adorning the room before turning towards her.

“y/n, have I been walking around with your lipstick on my cheek for the past ten minutes?”

She laughed, louder than she had meant, only now paying attention to the very defined dark red shape of her lips on his pale skin.

“That’s not funny I look ridiculous!”

“It’s a little bit funny.” She said gasping for air. “Admit it!”

He smiled, but the blush on his cheeks betrayed his embarrassment.

“It’ll come off easily I swear!” She said, dragging him out of the ballroom to look for a bathroom.

He kept his hand on his cheek, trying to hide the source of his shame. y/n had stopped laughing, the realization of what she had done only hitting her now. It was her turn to blush. She wasn’t thinking, she acted on instinct. But why did her instinct have to make her do this in particular?

They reached a corridor lit with golden sconces on the wall. The light was softer here, giving the space a more intimate atmosphere.

“Was the kiss really necessary?” Lockwood asked in a lower voice now that they were further from the crowd.

She forced her embarrassment down and used all the courage she could muster to look in his eyes. His smirk betrayed the seriousness of his tone. He was messing with her.

“Next time I’ll let you fend for yourself.” She answered.

“Do you have many more nemeses I should be on the lookout for?”

“No, I don’t. Unless Dufour decides to go for someone half her age.” She joked.

“I should be safe from this kind of situation then.”

She looked through every door, looking for any room that would have a sink or a vanity, anything to help save his case.

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that if I were you.” She said absentmindedly, opening yet another door. “You’re young, attractive, you own your company… How come in a place as big as this one none of these doors are bathrooms?”

“You think I’m-”

“Ah! There we are, finally!” She led him into the powder room. She looked for a tissue or anything that would help him get the lipstick stain off. The room matched the elegance of the mansion, fancy soaps and cloth towels displayed next to the sink for the comfort of the guests. She ran a hand towel under the faucet, added some soap and handed it to Lockwood. He stared at her for a few seconds, before reaching for it. He rubbed the cloth on his face, staining it red. Somehow, he made the mark bigger, spreading it across his whole cheek. She laughed as he helplessly looked up at her in the mirror.

“This is all your fault, need I remind you.”

He tried to look upset, but soon he laughed with her at the scene, mocking his own reflection.

“I look like a clown.”

She took the cloth out of his hand and told him to crouch a little so she could take care of it. He leaned slightly against the sink, enough to meet her at eye level. She gently lifted and turned his chin to clean the rest of her lipstick off. He looked at her softly while she worked. She tried to ignore him or the way the soft bathroom light made his eyes sparkle. His eyelashes looked longer somehow. Maybe it was because she was seeing them from so close.

“There.” She said softly. “It’s gone.”

She looked back into his eyes. He was already staring. He smiled softly but didn’t say anything.

“You could thank me, you know?”

“For cleaning up your mess? Do you want a medal too?” He smiled wider. She laughed.

“You jerk!” She threw the towel at him, without doing much damage as it was thrown from so close. “I could also make it worse.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He said defiantly.

She held his stare, becoming increasingly aware of their proximity. Heat creeped up her cheeks, but she didn’t want to move. Instead, she leaned into it, inching ever so slightly closer to him. She rested her hand on the edge of the sink, her fingers meeting the warmth of the back of his hand instead. He opened his palm and wrapped his fingers around hers. He subtly parted his lips, making her look at them then back into his eyes. He did the same. His other hand came to rest on her waist. His touch was delicate and soft, yet it was enough to send shivers down her back. It reached the small of her back, bringing her slowly closer to him, his eyes still focused on hers.

The door suddenly opened, making them both jump up in surprise.

“This isn’t the bathroom!” He man said loudly in the hallway before shutting the door.

She instinctively checked her hair in the mirror. Lockwood stood straighter, clearing his throat. She looked back at him with a thin smile, hoping the dim light hid her crimson cheeks.

“Thank you… for your help.”

“Oh you’re welcome!” She stammered. “You’re very welcome.”

They stood awkwardly, not sure what to do next.

“y/n… Do you…”

“I- uh we should go.”

She exited the room, flushed and a little disoriented. Lockwood called after her, asking her to wait. She wanted to turn back, desperately so, but a voice inside her head kept her from it. They were colleagues, she reminded herself. The voice of reason that had snuck into her head the morning after they fell asleep on the couch came screaming back, listing everything that was questionable about her behaviour. She never would have dared anything like this when she was at Fittes’. Lockwood’s recklessness was rubbing off on her and her conscience wasn’t having any of it. Her crush was inappropriate and now was certainly not the time to get lost in it. She headed back towards the ballroom to make sure enough guests witnessed her presence, but Lockwood caught up with her, reaching for her hand.

“y/n wait, please. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have…”

She looked back at him, her face still flushed from the moment they had shared.

“No, it’s me. I let my feelings get the best of me. We should really head back before someone notices we’re missing.” She said as she tried to regain composure.

“Your… feelings?” He asked, intrigued. He tried to act casual, but a grin had already formed at the corner of his mouth.

She didn’t think it was possible to be more embarrassed but here she was. She looked at him with wide eyes, realizing what had slipped out of her mouth and hurried back to the reception, hoping that the night wouldn’t get any worse. She heard Lockwood run after her and she instinctively hid among the guests in response. She grabbed a glass of champagne being served by one of the waiters and swallowed it down in full gulps. If anything else didn’t go as expected, at least she would find it funny. She spotted George still standing next to the buffet. He was joined by Lockwood a few minutes later, who still scanned the crowd, she guessed he was looking for her. She turned her back to him to avoid his eyes and knocked into someone. She apologized profusely, silently cursing this night and everything that had led her there in the first place.

“y/n? What are you doing here?”

She looked up to see her old team leader standing there, glass of champagne in hand, wearing a tuxedo that somehow made him look even more intimidating than his grey uniform.

“Kipps! Hi!” She answered.

“I didn’t expect to see you here tonight!”

“Me neither if I’m honest. You’re here to represent Fittes I’m guessing?”

“Officially yes.” He said, but his voice had an edge.

“Officially?”

“I’m actually glad to see you again. I could use your insight on something.” He added in a growingly ominous tone.

“Kipps, what’s going on?” She asked impatiently.

“Yeah Kipps, what’s going on?” said a voice behind her. She didn’t need to turn around to know that Lockwood was looking down at him with the smug look he always had when he fed into that ridiculous rivalry of theirs.

“Not now Tony, I need y/n’s advice on something.”

“Oh really? And what would that be, Kipps? Put your team members in unfathomable danger again? How many children have you traumatized this time?”

“Lockwood, please. This is important.” She had no idea what Kipps wanted her advice on, but she wasn’t ready to face Lockwood yet. She wouldn’t be for a while. She looked up at him to silently tell him to go. He looked back at her and his smile vanished. She didn’t think this would hurt him, but however ridiculous his fight with Kipps was, his pride was taking a hit having to walk away. It didn’t help that Kipps added insult to injury with snobbish remarks, not caring how childish it made him look.

She started to walk towards an empty corner of the room, grabbing another glass on her way. Kipps followed closely.

“What is this all about Kipps?”

“I’m not just here to represent Fittes.” He paused significantly, as if he enjoyed building some kind of suspense around his intentions. “I’m trying to collect more information on Dufour.”

She stayed quiet for a minute as she tried to process what all it implied. On the one hand, they had a potential new ally in this mess. On the other hand, Kipps could make their whole plan fail and this would not end well. She took another sip to calm her nerves and frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“y/n, you never needed to tell me what happened for me to understand that she fired you because you got in the way.”

A new wave of panic washed over her. She hadn’t told him the whole story, she reminded herself. And she hadn’t seen him since that awful article had been published to humiliate her. There was no way he could have come to the same conclusions.

“I mean, you noticed a lot earlier than me how strange she was acting. After that article came out, I kept an eye on her when I could. There was more and more chatter among supervisors about her. Many clients had started complaining and it was reaching higher level executives. It was pretty obvious where all of this was heading.” He said in a sly tone. She finished her glass. Maybe he had.

“She’s getting fired and tries to find a job with the Organization!” He concluded, congratulating his deduction skills. At least he wasn’t onto them. She was about to ask what kind of advice he expected her to give him when he started monologuing again. He visibly hadn’t told anyone about this and was getting too enthusiastic finally sharing his theories.

“I’ve already talked to a few guests about this, subtly mind you. I try to stay discreet on this whole thing. I managed to talk to one of the members of the Organization and left him with plenty to think about.” He said with a grin.

“What do you… I mean, what kind of advice are you looking for exactly?”

“Well let’s just say that the few anecdotes I shared tonight might jeopardize some of Dufour’s opportunities.” He winked at her. “I didn’t really need your advice, I just wanted to tell you that what she did is unforgivable, and she had no right to take you off my team. I’m just making sure she pays her dues.”

Apparently in Dufour’s case karma had a name and it was Quill F. Kipps. She smiled and the alcohol made her laugh much more than anticipated. She held onto him as she threw her head back in a fit of laughter, tears starting to prickle the corner of her eyes.

“That’s really sweet of you Kipps, thank you.” She said when her breathing evened out.

“I was proud to have you on my team y/n.” He said, raising his glass. She grabbed another one on a tray a waiter was passing around to clink a glass with his.

“You know,” She said, taking another sip, “I was always so intimidated by you. I was constantly trying to impress you.”

“Well, you did.”

Even though they hadn’t worked together in months, his recognition still made her feel queasy. Or maybe she was drunker than she realized. She looked away, searching for her reflection to make sure she wasn’t as red as she felt she was. Instead, she saw Lockwood watching the whole scene.

“Would you like to dance, maybe?” Kipps asked behind her.

She looked back at him, unable to refuse after what he had done for her. They headed towards the dancing crowd and when she looked back, Lockwood was gone. She tried to focus on her steps and not let him distract her movements. Her head was dangerously dizzy and if it was not for Kipps’ arm around her waist she would have fallen down twice already.

The song felt like it was going on forever, her feet were killing her and a headache started to hurt her temples. After another spin, she spotted Norrie’s red hair from afar, tray in hand and a wide smile on her face. She locked eyes with her and winked before heading back towards the buffet. Did Lucy manage to get the documents? She tried to look around to see if George or Lockwood had the folder. There were so many faces to look at. She lost her balance and tripped, saved by her dancing partner’s quick reflexes.

“y/n are you okay? You should drink some water.” He said as he led her towards the bar. He helped her sit down and brought her a glass, checking if she was alright. He never let go of her hand the whole time.

“I’m fine, I think I just had too much champagne.”

She barely had the time to take a sip of water when a familiar voice resonated behind her.

“What the hell did you do to her?”

She felt Lockwood place his arm behind her back, his touch just as warm as it had been a few hours earlier. His other hand reached her chin, making her look up at him with sleepy eyes.

“Did he make you drink too much?” He asked her in a softer tone, worry filling his voice.

“This is ridiculous!” Kipps answered.

“You shut up!”

“Come on Tony, throwing a tantrum because I danced with your girlfriend, seriously?”

“You-”

“Lockwood! I’m okay, I swear.” She intervened. “Kipps you’ve been great tonight. Thank you for everything, but don’t ruin it now.” She squeezed his hand before letting go. She turned back towards Lockwood. “Maybe we should go now? The first guests seem to be leaving too.”

He hadn’t stopped glaring towards Kipps. When he looked back down at her, he sighed before agreeing.

“Why don’t you go look for George? I’ll be with you in a minute.”

He seemed surprised at her words, like he couldn’t conceive letting her alone with Kipps any longer. He pressed his hand against her back before heading towards the hall. She stood back up, struggling with the height of her heals. Kipps helped her up, holding her still as she tried to find her balance.

“Thank you for everything, Kipps. I never thought you would help me get revenge on Dufour and I have to say that I greatly appreciate it.”

“I tried being the bigger person but it didn’t work out too well for me.”

She teased him once more about the childish fight he had with Lockwood, not convinced that he could ever be the bigger person. They laughed, and she felt truly happy at the comradery they shared. She offered to meet him some time for coffee. He agreed and told her she should probably get back to her boss to avoid any trouble at home. She answered that he was annoying as they hugged goodbye and he ruffled her hair in exchange. With a smile, she headed towards the entrance where Lockwood was already waiting with her coat in hand.

As soon as they got in the car, Lockwood pulled a folder out of his jacket. His smile was radiant as he went over the numbers. They were more than enough to put the Organization in trouble, and hopefully Dufour with it too. As enthusiastic as he was, they were too exhausted to be receptive. George swore he would never set foot in this kind of event ever again while y/n struggled to stay awake.

“I’d rather fight thirteen limbless than talk to another member of that stupid organization.” He exclaimed, shuffling in his seat, disturbing her as she rested her head against the window. There was no time for her to fall asleep, as the cab was already slowing down in front of the house.

George practically jumped out of the car, eager to go to bed to “put this horrible night behind him”. She didn’t know what happened that made him so irritable, but she was sure she had missed something while she was talking to Kipps. Lockwood stepped out next, waiting beside the door to help her out. It was out of necessity more than chivalry since her knees buckled when she stood up. Never leaving her side, he helped her up the stairs into the hall. She started walking or rather stumbling towards the stairs when Lockwood stopped her in her tracks.

“You should drink at least two full glasses of water before sleeping.”

She didn’t answer and simply pouted like a child.

“Fine, if you can walk up to the attic on your own, I won’t make you drink water.”

She gave him an exaggerated smile and immediately tripped over the first step. He put his arm around her and led her towards the kitchen.

She rested against the countertop while he poured her a glass from the tap. She drank it all and he filled it up again. She smiled lazily. She couldn’t keep her eyes off him. He stared back, making sure she drank it all. The stood there for a few minutes in a comfortable silence, wordlessly getting lost in each other’s eyes.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” She said while tilting her head to the side.

It was a bad call. She couldn’t even move her head without being a fall risk.

He caught her just in time, as he always had this evening, and held her closer to start the long climb to the attic. She rested her face against his chest, nestling and taking comfort in his reassuring scent.

“Oh no…” She muttered under her breath.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m putting make-up all over your shirt.” Her voice was sad but she made no move to try and stop it.

“It’s not the first time you put your make-up all over me tonight, darling. I think I’ll be alright.”

After the first flight of stairs, she slouched even more against him. Instead of taking the way up to the attic, he led her towards the opposite end of the hallway in his room. She didn’t register until he laid her down on his bed. The blanket she felt underneath her fingertips wasn’t the same texture as the one she had gotten used to.

“Lockwood I can’t sleep in your bed.” She mumbled, her face pressed into a pillow.

“Of course you can. You’re half asleep already.”

“Yeah but-”

“I’ll go sleep in your bed for tonight.”

She muttered an “okay” barely audible, drifting in and out of consciousness.

“I think that’s enough drinking and dancing for a while.” He said as he pressed a soft kiss against her temple.

“Hardly, I didn’t even get to dance with you!” Her eyelids started to close. “You’re the only one I wanted to dance with.”

She closed her eyes and fell asleep instantly, not noticing when Lockwood exited the room quietly.

---

She woke up to the sound of hammers from the construction across the street. The sun burned her eyes and a painful headache pressed her forehead when she tightly closed her eyelids. She reached for the closest pillow and buried her head under it, hoping to draw out the hurtful sound and the blinding light. It didn’t do much, but it had the perk of surrounding her with a familiar comforting scent. She didn’t know how long she stayed like this. She remembered this wasn’t her room and she was surprised that no one had come in yet. She turned on her side and opened her eyes carefully. The first thing she saw was a glass of water resting on the bedside table. The second was Lockwood’s clothes from last night hanging on the back of his chair. She stared at them for a while, wondering if he had been comfortable enough to change in the same room she was passed out in. While she was sleeping in his bed, nonetheless. She tried the best she could to sit up. Drinking on an empty stomach had not done her any favor. There wasn’t much chance she would get anything done today. She drank the glass left for her and rose up with great difficulty.

Everything hurt. She made her way down the stairs, and by the time she reached the kitchen someone had made her a plate with warm toast. It was sitting on the table at the seat she usually took but there was no one around to greet her. She forced herself to eat even though her stomach wasn’t cooperative and drank as much water as she could, hoping it would help getting over her hangover. The house was quiet. It was a nice change from the noises that had woken her up but it was unsettling not hearing any sign of life. Usually when she thought she was alone she would still hear Lockwood training in the basement or George mutter something under his breath while researching a case. It was rare that the both of them left at the same time. She wondered where they could have gone as she made her way back up the stairs. She passed the library and the turning of pages made her turn around. Lockwood was sitting in his armchair, flipping through his magazine the way he usually did in the late hours of the night after a case. He was impeccable as always and she felt acutely self-conscious standing there at the beginning of the afternoon with messy hair and probably runny make-up all over her face. If he looked up from his magazine she didn’t pay him any attention and ran upstairs to try and look more presentable, no matter how awful she felt.

“Are you feeling better?” He asked when she came back down, not looking up from what he was reading. She took the sit next to him.

“As good as I can.” She answered, massaging her temples.

He pushed forward a glass of water on the table between them.

“Where’s George?” She asked between two sips.

“I sent him to deliver the documents to DEPRAC. I thought he was better suited to leave it anonymously with a semblance of discretion. If Barnes ever saw me there, we could never get away with it.”

“Smart.” She had avoided his eyes the entire time. The entire night was blurry, but the alcohol had not erased the specific memories she was trying to ignore. They stayed in an uncomfortable silence until he finished his magazine, eventually closing it and putting it back on the table between them. The ghost-jar was back into the fireplace, covered in ashes with burn marks here and there. She wondered when George had found the time to keep experimenting on it with how busy they had been these past few weeks. Instead of making its usual horrible faces it simply stared at her. It looked over at Lockwood who didn’t seem to pay him no mind, then back at her with that same insistent stare. It made her even more uncomfortable than the heavy silence filling the room. When she got up to get away from it, it smiled. A crude and devilish smile. What a horrid wretched thing. She was too distracted to realize that Lockwood had followed her into the hall.

“y/n, about last night…”

Before she could turn around, the entire chain of events flashed before her eyes. What part did he want to talk about: her drunken state, the night she spent in his bed, the lipstick mark she left on his cheek or the way she almost kissed him? She couldn’t pick which would be more embarrassing. She didn’t want to talk about any of it either. She didn’t even want to think about it, though this part was harder than it looked. Heat rose to her cheeks at the memory of his hand around her waist in that first-floor bathroom. After behaving so recklessly, a conversation like this was bound to happen. They might as well get it over with.

“I just wanted to say…”

When she finally mustered the courage to look him in the eye, the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!” She said, hurrying to open the door.

It was Kipps, coming to see if she was feeling better.

“I’m doing alright! Thanks for checking in.”

“I brought you some chocolate chip cookies from a bakery near my flat. Thought they could help.”

“That’s sweet of you Kipps but we’re a doughnut family here.” Lockwood said before snatching the bag out of his hands, coming behind her to wave Kipps away. Kipps ignored him and turned his attention back to her.

“If you’re feeling okay maybe we could grab that cup of coffee you talked about last night?”

“Thanks but I’m still feeling a bit sick, I’d love to go out when I’m fully recovered though!”

“Sure, give me a call when you’re free. Take care, alright?”

“I will, thank you.”

She waved back at him as he left and slowly closed the door behind her. Lockwood was standing silently at the bottom of the stairs.

“You asked Kipps to get coffee after what happened last night?”

“Yes, he’s been a real friend to me. He’s helping me with Dufour without me asking.”

“What do you mean he’s helping you? Have you been cooperating with him behind our backs?”

“Of course not! I just found out he’s been giving her bad press.”

“So, it wasn’t a date then?”

“Are you jealous of Quill Kipps?” She asked with a laugh.

“How dare you say something like that under my roof!”

They both smiled at the situation, easing the tension that was there a few minutes earlier.

“But seriously, y/n. I wanted to apologize about last night. I never meant to make anything weird or-”

“Can we just say that we both acted dumb?”

He took a few seconds to consider her offer.

“Well, you started it.” He grinned.

She looked at him defiantly. She would not take the fall for this, even though her unrequited crush was definitely to blame.

“Didn’t you call me darling last night?”

He blushed at the mention, only saved by the front door opening and letting George in, followed closely by Inspector Barnes. The intrusion of the DEPRAC representative took them aback. They stared mutely back and forth between George and the inspector, waiting for an explanation. The man stared back at them, a familiar folder in hand. Without saying a word, Lockwood led him to the living room. y/n closed the door before joining them. Barnes stood in the middle of the room, glaring between them, holding up the folder and pointing it accusingly at Lockwood.

“I don’t want to know how you could have gotten your hand on these documents.”

“I’ve never seen that folder before in my life.” Lockwood replied, feigning innocence.

“Shut it! I don’t care how you did it, I know it was you. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have caught Karim here sneaking out of Scotland Yard after an ‘anonymous contribution’ was made for the case you seem to be tied to.” He glared in her direction to punctuate his words. After holding her stare in an anger-fueled silence, he looks down in resignation. “As much as I hate to admit it, this evidence makes our case stronger against the Silverpoint Organization.”

She couldn’t help a thin smile to form on her lips. She looked back at Lockwood, relieved. He was already looking back at her with a soft smile. He winked before looking back at Barnes with a proud smile.

“Don’t even dare congratulate yourselves for this. Next time you step out of line, one mistake and I revoke your license and shut down this agency for good.”

They all looked down, trying to hide their joy at hearing that their plan had worked. After a few more minutes of silent scolding, the inspector aimed for the door.

“An audit of the organization’s finances will start in a few days and we’ll probably put an end to your surveillance.” He turned back. “That does not mean that you should get back to breaking any law-”

“Does that mean that Dufour will be arrested soon?” y/n couldn’t help asking, interrupting Barnes who had an exasperated look on his face. He sighed.

“Unfortunately, like any person involved in relic dealings the only evidence that can guarantee an arrest are catching the perpetrators in the act. I’m afraid Mrs. Dufour will remain free for now.” He didn’t seem as frustrated as she was. Probably because this kind of injustice was commonplace in his line of work. Still, her highest hopes came crashing down. The rollercoaster from the joy of their success to this disillusion made her sick.

“Oh.” She simply said.

“I’ll do my best to get her complaint against you dropped. Don’t get the idea of putting yourself in any more danger to get more evidence yourself. Am I clear?”

“Perfectly clear, inspector.”

The three of them led him back to the front door. When she closed it behind him, George and Lockwood both placed an arm around her.

“We’ll figure something out.” Lockwood said. “I promise.”

“It’s alright.” She said in a flat tone. “I’ll go lie down for a while, I think I’m still sick from the champagne.”

As she went up the stairs, her mind was already reeling. If Barnes couldn’t get the evidence he needed to put Dufour away for good, she’d find a way to do it herself.

#who follows the rules anyway #ukuwrites #lockwood and co fic #lockwood and co #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x y/n #anthony lockwood #lockwood & co #george karim #lucy carlyle #norrie white #quill kipps #montagu barnes #save lockwood and co

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jj-5656 · 2 years ago

Text

Say It Like You Mean It With; Anthony Lockwood

A/N: Hello again! We’ve begun a new obsession, I am absolutely hooked on this show. And if there’s no renewal announcement in the next month, or at all, I’m fighting. @sunshineangel-reads provided some suggestions in the inbox, so I figured I’d tag <3. All right, hope you enjoy!

Summary: The one where you meet the newest addition to the agency, and insomnia strikes again

IMPORTANT: All characters are aged up. I wouldn’t be comfortable doing so if they were played by minors, but that’s not the case here. Just wanted to make that clear before we begin.

“She can’t just go taking two at once like that.”

“the rule is each member of the agency can only take one biscuit at a time in a strict rotation. Keeps things fair.”

“E-each member of the agency?”

“Assuming you are still interested in the position?” The front door opens just as Lockwood’s finished. Three heads snapping toward the mud room as you shuffle in, arms weighed down from grocery bags.

“Of course she’s still interested!” To Lucy’s relief, it’s a female voice that sounds before you appear in font of them. Tufts of hair spilling over your face at the exertion of errands. The two boys are immediately at your side, ridding you of all baggage and heaving it toward what she assumes is the kitchen.

“Lucy,” Lockward calls out behind him as he descends the staircase along George. “Meet y/n y/l/n, another associate.” You scoff, extending a hand with a kind smile. Undoubtedly the most welcoming so far. “She’s most sensitive to sound, much like you. Not bad with a rapier, either.”

“I hope they haven’t irritated you too much so far.” You beckon her to follow the boy’s path with you. “Please tell me you didn’t use the bloody toothbrush cup.”

“Of course not.” Lockwood taps his nose with his finger when your back is to him, a silent beckon for your potential hiree not to snitch.

The kitchen’s just down a flight of stairs, where you get unloading items into their designated spaces as George works on cooking.

“We call this the thinking cloth,” Lockwood taps onto the wooden table after tossing you a box of pasta to put away. “We jot down memos, theories, trains of thought-”

“Cheesy love confessions.”

“Shut up, George.” The redhead misses the inside joke, brows furrowing with confusion as Anthony continues on. “I located the bones of the Fenchurch Street Ghoul by sketching out the street plans here at three in the morning over cheese on toast.”

“When a case goes badly an we’re not talking to one another, it’s good for exchanging insults too.”

“Ah, and how often does that happen?”

“Almost never.” You butt in, giving her your most genuine expression despite the white lie. You’re so eager to finally have another girl around, it’s only fair you promote the job as much as possible.

“Now, basement. Follow me.” Lucy does as asked, sending a quick look of concern your way before she disappears down the stairway.

“She’ll never last.”

“Oh c’mon George, I was more than welcoming when you came along.”

“That’s because my natural talent was evident.”

“Is that why you screamed like a little girl during the test?”

“I wasn’t expecting the gunshots from the knife, alright?”

**********

“This was my bedroom when I was little, and y/n’s for a while. You can use it, if you’d like. Unless you have other sleeping arrangements?”

“Yes...No-I mean-”

“Of course, we’d deduct the rent from your wages. Nothing too steep. Just enough to cover the bills. I’m a very reliable landlord.”

“Jesus, Anthony. Give her a second.” You tear open the blinds, smirking when Lucy takes a moment to admire the view at such height. Something tells you the pair of you will get on just fine. She hesitates, then. Looking Iver to you with confusion.

“Do you sleep elsewhere?” There’s a sudden silence between the three of you. Lockwood clearing his throat as he pulls at a the tuft of hair at the nape of his neck. He studies the newest employee with a twinge of anxiety, presumably understanding how things might seem...Unprofessional. Granted, it’s a business run by an 18 year old, but an official one nonetheless.

“We share the bedroom downstairs.” Is all you manage, blush adorning your features as her jaw slacks in understanding.

“I’d like to make it clear,” Anthony looks over your frame, smiling fondly. Then back to Lucy. Who seems to hold no judgement despite her obvious contemplation. “Y/n and I attended academy together, she was with me when this all began.”

“In other words,” you finish for him. “We were sleeping together before he became my employer.” The closed-off girl huffs a laugh for the first time since you’ve met her, though your boyfriend twinges pink with an abashed smile. Diffidence is awfully rare on him, though it's quite adorable. It’s then Lucy decides she’s fond of you already.

“Please excuse my girlfriend’s lack of filter. I suppose George’s rubbed off on her.” He's only teasing, Lucy knows that when you shove at his shoulder. The pair of you are not overly affectionate, you don’t seem like the types anyway. Of course, she’s only caught a glimpse of your relationship, there’s an undeniable glint in her potential boss’ eyes as he looks at you.

“Like Anthony said-”

“Lockwood, please.” Though he interrupts you, he’s only looking at Lucy. She comes to understand you may be the only one unwilling to refer to him as such. It almost twitches a smile to her lips.

“This used to be my room, before Anthony begged for my hand.”

“Was that before or after you professed your undying love for me?” Said boy backs up toward the stairs, noticing the inklings of a friendship beginning to form between the two girls front him.

“Before then, but definitely after you pleaded to kiss me when you drank the better half of MY whiskey. Which was a gift, by the way. An expensive one.”

“From that muppet at academy?” He scoffs, wiping an invisible stream of dust off the banister. “Horrid flirt.” A grimace sets upon his face. Josh Collins was a right prick, you had to admit. Though it was an obliged graduation gift.

“Don’t speak so poorly of yourself, sweetheart.” Lucy can’t help but really smile this time, features immediately dulling once she realizes she’s been caught. You pretend not to notice.

Lockwood sends a half-assed glare your way, holding his tongue in lieu of the new company. “This has got it’s own bathroom. There’s a bigger one downstairs, but that’s mean sharing with George. And I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.” A beat of silence after you nod in agreement, cringing at the flashbacks. “Right, well, we’ll leave you to unpack. Settle in. That’s assuming-”

“Those newspaper clippings on the wall...”

“Oh. You saw those. Not very modest, is it?”

“But definitely on brand.” You mutter what you think is to yourself, smiling innocently when they look your way.

“Should really take them down.”

“No, it’s more...It’s just. Well you haven’t said anything about...I mean, who are you guys?”

“Plenty of time for that. You should rest. Get some sleep.”

“That’s...If you’ll take the job?” You hope you don’t sound as desperate as you are, voice tilting with anticipation as you wring your hands together.

There’s a couple, agonizing beats of silence that feel like hours. Finally, the girl nods, “yes.”

You all but shout, fighting jumping up and down at the confirmation. Anthony shakes his head at you with a fond roll of his eyes, sending Lucy hopeful smile. “Well then, welcome to Lockwood and Co.” You squeeze her arm gently in congratulation, taking hold of your boyfriend’s chin to press a swift kiss to his cheeks. Unaware of his skin flushing with heat as you descend the stairs in an elated hurry.

“Georgie, she said yes!!”

****************

It’s dark when you wake, rolling over in search of warmth that isn’t there. Unsurprisingly, Anthony’s not beside you. You huff a sigh, cursing your boyfriends’ relentless insomnia before wrapping the quilt folded at the bottom of the bed around your form and stalking down the hall.

He’s in the library, of course. The bright fire pops into the silence of the night, illuminating the room in a tantalizing warmth. Lockwood runs a finger over his bottom lip as his eyes remain trained on the book in hand. Up until a weak floor board gives your presence away with a groaning creak.

His lips curl into a tired, yet no less pleased smile at the sight of you. Shifting the couch so you’ll fit perfectly into his side. “Why are you awake, dove? It’s late.” He pushes a stray strand of hair from your face, brows furrowing when you scoff at the irony.

“Could say the same for you. Can’t sleep again?” He hums, elaboration not necessary. Hurt tugs at your heart strings as your thumb trails over the dark skin just below his eyes. A hand wrapping around your wrist to kiss your doting ones away.

In the solitude of these hours, you’re both able to find comfort in your gentle affections. It’s much easier alone, sometimes. There’s an unspoken ease in the solitude of it all. In these moments, Lockwood can feed into the delusion it’s just you and him in this house, in the whole world.

“Close your eyes and get some rest.” He wraps an arm around your sternum. Your back to his chest as he continues reading. A pout adorns your features, eyes narrowing.

“But I’m not tired.”

“Yes. You most definitely are,” the corners of us eyes crinkle with his knowing smirk. “You just don’t want to make me feel bad for making you feel obligated to stay awake with me.”

You envy his ability to read you more often than not. Pulling the quilt further over the two of you so as to seem inconspicuous. Failing miserably when a yawn tears through you. Long lashes fluttering over your cheekbones as you blink slow, gazing up at him. Anthony feigns stoicism under your gaze, though you’re just about the only person to make his heart race with just a look. The one you’re giving him right now is particularly cruel. Pleading, soft, all things sweet and alluring. He figures you’ve perfected the craft of drawing him in, unknowingly or otherwise.

“I’m wide awake, actually.” Is all you manage. Voice rasped with sleep as your nails run over the exposed skin of his forearm. Sending chills down his spine. The arm resting over you pulls slightly back, just enough to enable his hand to hold the side of your face. Fingers smoothing over your warm skin to lull you further.

You’ve always been naturally much warmer than him. A personal furnace, he regards you. Seeing as he’s always too cold for his liking.

It makes sense. You’re all things sweet and painstakingly kind. There’s not a soul who’d be able to repay half the debts you deem mere favors. You’d give the shirt off your back to anyone who needed it, especially those you care for.

You’re everything Anthony Lockwood is not. And sometimes, most times, he hates himself for it. Hates he’s too selfish to let you go and award you opportunity to find someone much more worthy of your heart.

“Hey. Where’d you go?” He’s stopped his ministrations, seizing your attention from the cackling fire and back to him. He offers a small smile, one you read right through. Here he is again, pulling away and closing off in the moments you’re both most vulnerable. It’d hurt, at first. The beginnings of your relationship...Friendship, even. Had often been strained by Anthony’s reclusive habits. You’ve shared just about every piece of yourselves to one another, yet he still manages to find more fear in love than fighting the dead.

Over time you’ve developed patience. Reveling in the small moments of softness he’s awarded you in all the chaos. They’re worth it. Knowing him, learning how to love him, has been worth it.

“I’m right here, love. I’m always here.” He presses a gentle kiss to the crown of your head. Pretending to get lost in the pages afront him once more.

“Come to bed.” You’re so quiet he almost misses it, folding the book against his chest to meet your gaze. Doing his best to ward off your obvious puppy eyes. (though he lacks lacks the best track record with this)

“Just one more chapter? Then I’ll take you to bed and pretend to sleep for the next few hours.” You frown at his teasing, swatting away his poke to your sides in search of a smile.

“You’re not funny, Lockwood. All i want is for you to rest. Really rest, for once.” Rapier-calloused fingers card through his hair, eliciting a gracious sigh.

“I’m only joking. I do rest much easier with you around,” a swift kiss to your lips. “Sleep better when you’re beside me,” two more against your cheeks for good measure.

“You’re awful.”

“Awful?”

“Awful!” A hand collides with his chest, chastising. “Being sweet so I’ll stop worrying. It won’t work. I’ll always worry about you.” And there it is again. The agonizing clutch at his heart at your compassion. Unable to resist the notion there are so many others much more worthy of your affections.

“I know.” It’s a whisperer, forehead pressing against yours. “You should probably start saving that for a bloke who deserves it.” There’s no self-pity to it. No trace of malice or fish for reassurance. So succinct and matter of fact you want to tackle him into an embrace in lieu of willing away every deprecating thought that intrudes his conscience.

“Anthony Lockwood.” You’re stern, then. Maneuvering upward so your head can rest on the arm of the love-worn couch and better face him. “If you’re mean to my boyfriend one more time, I’ll ensure my spirit is tied to you. Haunting you with love and affection for the rest of eternity.”

“I feel like that’s supposed to be a threat...” Cold fingers trace over your collar bone, peeking out from under his dress shirt you’ve stolen. “Though it’s almost endearing. I’d quite like to be stuck with you for the rest of time, I think.” A blush flushes your features, worsening when it elicits his cocky smirk at the observation.

“I hate you.” Hands concealing your abashed face with the muffled whine.

“Say it like you mean it, Darling.” He stretches under you, nudging at your forearms with the spine of his book. “Will you uncover yourself now? I’d like to see you again.” You oblige, hands falling atop your thighs and against his stomach. Anthony’s gasp startles you, features taught with confusion. “My God, it’s happened again!”

“What?”

“You’ve gotten prettier! Just now, I swear it!” A groan sounds as you press your face into his chest, shaking along with his rumbles of laughter.

“Just read your book, Lockwood. I like you better when you’re quiet.”

“Just one more chapter. Then we’ll head to bed.” He straightens, getting ahold of himself as he obliges. Eyes meeting yours once you tap his elbow.

“Read to me?”

“I thought you liked me better quiet?”

“I like you best complacent.”

“Noted.” And with that, he begins.

You stretch over him as he begins, his shirt on you rising just enough to expose your mid drift. Greedy fingers take the opportunity to run themselves over your soft skin. Cool rings giving eliciting goosebumps. He does it mindlessly, which makes you heat even more

“Stop blushing, you’re distracting me.”

************

Lockwood squints as the curtains are torn open with a cruel screech. George stands a-front him, hands on his hips. You’d never managed to make it back to bed, both having fallen asleep in the sam positions as the hours before. This particularly apparent when Anthony raises his head from the back of the coach, wincing at the soreness in his neck.

“You know, I may as well take the master bedroom if you’re never gonna use it.”

“Quiet down, George. You’ll wake her.” The curly-haired boy rolls his eyes when his colleague cuffs his hands over your ears, shielding you from the noise.

“Good. We have work to do.”

****

“Our first official case as a team of four.” Your boyfriend beams brightly despite the morbid information in hand. Passing it along so the rest of you can be caught up.

“Mrs. Hope...Looking to rid her house of a Problem following the demise of her late husband.” George adjusts his glasses as he sums the story to you and Lucy.

“Cheeky.” The girl deadpans, taking a sip of her steaming cup of tea groggily.

“Pay grade. That we desperately need.” You shrug, doing your best to make light of each job despite their implications.

“George, you should get a head start on the research while we pack the bags. Lucy we have to learn plans A-F, as well.” The three of you nod along, Lockwood tilting his chin upward to allow you better room to adjust his tie, Pulling away so he can offer the portion of buttered toast and chopped fruit he’s plated for you. You only take a strawberry, a polite shake of your head when he pushes it forward once more.

“Later.” You note, running your fingers under his collar to smooth it out.

“You should eat.” He’s stern, pulling away his steaming mug you reach for with furrowed brows. “Can’t have tea on an empty stomach, you get all shaky.” Your jaw slacks in half-serious offense at the notion, the pair of you turning your heads toward your colleagues sat at the table,

“You’ll have to get used to their old-married-folk tendencies. It’s quite insufferable at first, but becomes increasingly tolerable over time.”

“Oh shut it.” It's in unison, only aiding in your flushed demeanors as their grins grow.

“Told you.” The bastards’ irritatingly smug as he motions toward you. “I’ll be off to the archives, I’ve reached my morning’s capacity of affections.” Anthony’s arms cross with a scoff, eyes trailing over to you and face igniting in a mischievous smirk. Your brows furrow, about to question his sudden change in attitude before he’s on you. Making a show of grabbing the sides of your face and littering kisses all over your face. Pushing so you have to step backward toward a horrified George, hands over his ears as he attempts to escape the treachery.

Lucy can’t help but laugh. Overcome with the realization of all the agencies in London, she’s likely ended up with the best one.

#lockwood x reader #lockwood and co #anthony lockwood #lockwood and lucy #lockwood gifs #anthony bloody lockwood #lockwood x you #lockwood x y/n #imagine #fanfic #lockwood imagine #lockwood fic #cameron chapman #lucy carlyle #george lockwood #request #inbox requests

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saltwaterburns · 1 year ago

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as our worlds move on, in this shirt, i can be you

summary: lockwood reminisces about everything you were and everything you won't be

warnings: just sad rambles & stuff i suppose! 😁

pairing: anthony lockwood x gone!reader

a/n: Did el just?? Write angst?? While being an avid angst hater??? Could it be?? Yes. Yes it was. Whipped this baby up in half an hour while doing my bio homework. Ur welcome!!! This was written with a very specific song in mind. The reader isn't necessarily dead? Ghost touched or ghost locked, whatever your heart desires! Some of this text was taken from a tiktok caption i saw in May 😋

"My calendar's stuck on January, the month that you passed, and I haven't changed the sheets on my bed since. But it seems I still somehow find the strength to water the lilies, your lilies, because I know they were your favourite and I can't handle losing another part of you."

He stops scribbling and lets his pen drop to the table, closing his eyes from exhaustion. The hour is late, the silence around him overbearing, but his mind is amiss. His thoughts are like the wild, untameable sea, roaring out again and again and again, come back. Come back, come back, come back.

But you're not coming back. Not when he asks, not even when he asks nicely. Not when he begs, not when he cries. All he's got left of you are memories of fleeting looks, hushed giggles and gentle brushes of hands and lips against each other.

For a moment he thinks he can still smell and feel you. He thinks he can almost imagine your eyes, the mischievous sparkle in them. It's a fleeting moment if anything but it happens, his mind takes him back to when your eyes locked and that's when he realizes everything that's beautiful in the world started with you and the magic you held, the love you sprinkled like pixie dust on everyone you ever met. Then the moment passes quicker than it occurred, and he's left in a world where your touch still lingers, where your fingerprints still exist in the dust adorning his home and where the flowers beside your bed have just begun to wilt. Where the love that you carried has spread further than you could've ever imagined and made new again so many hearts you never broke.

He's left utterly alone in a world where every thing, every sensation and feeling is a constant reminder of you and who you were, who you aspired but never got to be. His mind is plagued by your essence when he wakes and it continues when he manages to somehow fall into a light sleep, his heart heavy with the knowledge that once again he shall wake with a startled gasp as the clock reaches 2 am, his hand reaching for you, only to be met with cold sheets that have long ago lost your scent and your warmth.

His gaze trails over the kitchen and falls to the umbrella holder next to the front door where your rapier, still untouched, resides. The golden hues of the kitchen light reflect back from the shiny blade, pink gemstones glimmering on the handle, and for a second he feels like as if they reflect the sparkle of his tears.

It's so you. Decorating your rapier, the one thing keeping you safe in a world filled with souls both dead and alive with cheap little gems. It's so irrevocably you that his heart leaps in his chest. This almost primal urge to tease you, ask if you want to stick some butterfly stickers onto the blade too arises in him and he gives in to it, turning to face your chair, but the words die in his throat.

He clenches his jaw, squeezing his hands into fists, letting his nails dig crescent shaped marks into his flesh. The pain sobers him up like a bucket of cold water, pushing arising tears back down his tear duct. He refuses to cry.

He refuses to cry because you aren't here to hold him, kiss away the salty tears pouring down his cheeks and muffle the sobs wrecking his body with your lips anymore. You aren't here and it finally dawns upon him. You aren't here and he's alone, just like it seems he's meant to be.

#anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #george karim #lockwood and co #lockwood and co x reader #lucy carlyle #george karim x reader #lucy carlyle x reader #light angst #or heavy angst?#death mention tw #anthony bloody lockwood #lockwood netflix #lockwood x reader #lockwood x y/n #Spotify

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adhdduckie · 8 months ago

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lockwood and co masterlist !!

full masterlist (multi-fandom)

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

lockwood and co

george karim

nothing

lockwood

i. I hate how much i love you- lockwood x fem!reader or quill kipps x fem!reader

(will have alt endings with kipps and lockwood)

↪ lucy and lockwood through the eyes of you. your best friend of five years prefers lucy carlyle, and no matter how hard you try, you can't find it in yourself to hate her. she's sweet and kind, and you see the way they look at each other. you didn't know the extent of how much he prefers her, though. you find solace in the one person you don't expect, quill kipps.

quill kipps

i. I hate how much i love you- lockwood x fem!reader or quill kipps x fem!reader

(will have alt endings with kipps and lockwood)

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

requests are open!!

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deadsnothere · 2 years ago

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HE WAS AWAKE?!

synopsis - Someone who's to stubborn finally asks for help but also gets a love confession in their "sleep"

Masterlist

request - No

Word Count - 1.1k

Speak Ali! - This was full impulse don't expect anymore out of me- (do expect more out of me) Unless i feel like it. But I might not- Who knows honestly. Please send in request!! I am only accepting Lockwood right now, sorry :(

HE WAS AWAKE?! Pt.2

Lockwood barley asks for help,

And we all know it. He's an idiot who thinks he can do everything alone, no matter what. Me, George, And Lucy are always his anchors, we keep him from doing the stupidest shit, even if that means distracting him in less than ideal ways. Like aggressive flirting, just to let Lucy steal a case file. But we still get it done.

So when Anthony Lockwood himself knocked on my door at 2 in the morning with the most exhausted look on his face, let's just say I was more than concerned.

I was changing out of my ‘work’ shirt to put on an undershirt to fall asleep in. I'd been working on a new flare design all night and the shirt I was originally going to go to bed in had ash and grease all over it. when I heard a knock on the door. There he was my roommate, Employer, and “crush”, Anthony Lockwood. “Ant, what's up?- It's 2:36 in the morning, I was about to get in bed-”

His face screamed tired, his eye bags were deeper than normal and his hands were playing with the seam of his pajama pants pocket, like he does when he's nervous.

“I-” He whispered as if he was hesitant to ask in the first place. ”I can't sleep and I always sleep best when- You're in my room…just-” The way he rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at the ground, told me he was embarrassed. “Can I just sleep in here tonight…?” Anthony looked almost as if he regretted asking, like he should've just walked away instead of knocking on the door; Which he now stood in front of, wide open.

I nodded along with his words, moving away from my door and walking to my bed. “Just close the door after you come in, sleeping with it open-” He finished the sentence with me, already knowing what I was going to say. “-‘gives me anxiety’ I know Ali.”

When he walked into the room slowly, he was looking around at the posters and metal creations that hung from the walls and ceiling. There were things like metal dragons, butterflies with dazzling colors, Firefly's with handcrafted wings and many more insects and mystical creatures. “After we complete big cases I make a little statue and I hang it around the room…It's like reminding myself how far I’ve come.” His eyes landed on me next, I was already sitting on the bed, smiling at him warmly, my eyes closed, head leaned back from exhaustion.

“Come on Ant.” I patted next to me, laying down on my back moving closer to the wall so he had room to lay down to.

His posture says he's confident, like he's not afraid to make a wrong move. But his eyes are different. They look so hesitant, so terrified of how this could look to other people.

After a case went bad yesterday, Barnes called me Anthony's lover. He's been on edge since then, Maybe it hurt a bit when he got so defensive over the fact that I was in fact not his lover. It already hurts when I know he's just a flirty person to get what he wants, that when he flirts with me it doesn't mean I'm special. Now this? At least I know he doesn't like me back, before I went and tried to ask him on a date or something.

I faced towards the wall when he climbed into the bed, pulling the soft blanket over us both. Our routine moved like it did when I went into his room to sleep. His arm hooked under my body and pulled me into his chest, which felt cool with the silk pajama shirt he had on at the moment. Our legs tangled together, his face was pressed into the nape of my neck, and our breathing matched almost perfectly. This felt so normal, so nonchalant. But this is Lockwood we're talking about! He wouldn't do this with just anyone! Would he?

Ok, no he wouldn't- But he just trusts me! We’ve been friends for years, of course he trusts me. It's obvious I’m just a friend to him, and yes maybe it's not a friend thing to cuddle up to your friend while you press your face into their neck…like I said he just trusts me! It's a simple platonic thing to do when you go to a friend you trust for help sleeping!

But it would be so nice if he didn't mean it in a friendly way..For him to hold my hand, and laugh and walk with me to go on a date, Or maybe to cook dinner for our kids or babysitting…That sounds like heaven, an unrealistic heaven. But to be fair I do already basically babysit, but it's always me and George babysitting, not me and lockwood, mainly because we're babysitting him and Lucy during cases but still I can dream.

I turned my head around just enough to see his face, eyes closed, breathing soft, and nose pushed against my neck still. I tried to turn just enough to not wake him up but also be able to see him. I'm really hoping I didn't wake him up, or that he was really asleep, because this next part would be embarrassing if I did.

I placed a hand on his face, kissing the top of his head and running my hand through his hair. “I Love You, Anthony Lockwood. You stupid self-sacrificing idiot.” I turned around all the way and moved up a bit, his face laid on my chest, and my arms wrapped around his head holding him close.

Finally comfortable enough to fall asleep. It's been so long since I got a good sleep in my own bed, maybe the feeling of his hands on my back, pushing me closer to him, really did help me sleep, Maybe it made me feel protected, like I can be vulnerable again, like i'm safe in his ar- “Did you just call me a self-sacrificing idiot?-” SHIT-

thank you for reading to the end of this shit :D i can't promise a part two but hey i'll try.

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hurtcomfortficstilltheend · 2 years ago

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Sometimes it´s just better (not to know).

Chapter one: The beginning of the end.

Lucy Carlyle x gn! Reader

Summary: When you get a gut feeling that something is targeting 35 Portland Row, and therefore your family; how far will you go to protect it?

Reader has Touch and the gift of premonition, and knows something is brewing. Lockwood is their traumatized cousin, Lucy their badass (and slightly confused) girlfriend, the relationship with George is a little rocky; but they would do anything to protect each other, as the family they are.

Warnings: angsty angstt, violence, a lot of nightmares and witchy stuff.

A/N: This will be a multichapter because I'm invested, reader is Anthony's cousin, and has the gift of precognition (and Touch).

Word count: 2.2k

Everything was quiet. Or your ears had stopped working. Maybe both.

There is no light, but you can perceive your surroundings. Ruins of something, a life maybe. It felt like the calm after the... or was it before the storm?

Something had happened. Something important, you guessed. Your body was spent, on the floor; your glazed eyes looking up at the sky. If not for the shallow movement of your chest, one would have thought you were dead.

You noticed that you were outside of your own body, watching from afar. Something had happened; something bad.

You saw when a figure put their knee, and with it their entire weight, onto the body’s chest. You weren’t inside it, but it still belonged to you. You knew how it could feel, but you were numb to the actual sensation.

A gasp was heard when the shadow brought out a dagger from somewhere in its clothing. The body lying on the floor hadn’t opened its mouth. There was a resignation written in its face as the eyes closed.

The blade made contact with the neck’s soft tissue. Grazing the skin, once, twice, three times, almost in a caressing motion. There was something unusual about the blood that oozed out. It seemed to float upwards in thin tendrils-

-the attitude of the aggressor changed. The air tested of ruthless violence when the figure held the weapon above its head.

The knife fell down in the middle of the victim's face. A gut-wrenching scream was heard. The body didn’t move. One would expect blood to appear, but it never did. Pitch black smoke came out of the wound, the eyes, the mouth…

…The murderer turned towards you. Not your body, but your omnipresent conscience, the part of you that wasn’t in the real plane of existence. Behind the black hood there was, once again, impenetrable black smoke.

Inky ghost fog comes out of the body -your body- covers the floor. You can’t see anything anymore.

The screaming continued, you noticed. Different voices, belonging to different people; it never stopped, and perhaps, never will.

“Love, wake up.” A helping hand through the black smoke. “Hey, hey. You’re here, you are safe.” A soft but sturdy grip in your arm, a subtle shake.

You open your eyes at last. There is no dead body, no attacker. Only the ceiling of your room in Portland Row’s attic and a familiar face. Trying to wake you up. You were asleep.

Slowly, you start catching up with reality. You are home. “Lucy?” Your voice comes out hoarse. Your throat is dry, you notice.

“It was just a dream darling, you were screaming.”

Oh. A dream. It was all a nightmare.

You incorporate, sit up and rest your back on the headboard. When you rub your face, you notice teartracks.

You stay like that for a while. Unfocused eyes staring blankly forward, you can feel your girlfriend’s concerned gaze on your side.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You shake your head. You don’t have the energy to talk, or at all. This happens quite often, with the lives that you carry and the horrors you see on a daily basis, it isn't weird to get horrifying nightmares from time to time.

Still, this one felt different. Apart from your Touch; you inherited from your mother -and your ancestors way back, centuries before The Problem- the gift of precognition. Just like this dream, all the messages you get are sketchy and heavily symbolic. You would ask the Tarot cards in the morning.

If you could be honest with yourself, most of the time it doesn’t feel like a gift at all, knowing certain things takes a toll on you. It’s something heavy to carry.

Lucy reaches out to stroke your shoulder. You flinch and choke on air, jumping away from her. You didn’t mean to. Her hand retreats as if she’d touched a burning kettle, and the confused hurt in her face is evident.

“Sorry.” You take her hand in between yours and place it on your chest for a bit. “Can we just sleep?” Your voice cracks. You know she can tell, she always does.

“Okay.” She whispers. She seems to understand.

When you wake up again, at quarter to nine in the morning, you decide to make breakfast for the team.

The house is quiet, your footsteps make the old wooden floor squeak.

Having brushed your teeth and checked Lucy’s still asleep, you go downstairs as is, barefoot and on your pajamas. You check the fridge and decide on pancakes for you and a mix of savory stuff and biscuits for the rest. You don’t get how anyone could possibly eat lunch for breakfast, but who cares.

A ticking noise catches your attention. You stop stirring the eggs in the bowl, turn around. The house doesn’t have a clock, does it? You get a wave of deja vu. The dream you had last night comes rushing back to your mind. You should really dig a little into it…

The kitchen door opens loudly. You let out a shriek, the whisk that previously had been in your hand is now striking the wall, right next to-

-oh. Anthony.

“Good morning to you too, cuz.” He looks like he’s still asleep, his survival mode seems to not have been activated by the flying, egg covered, utensil.

You have a tendency to throw projectiles when threatened. Most agents do. Salt-bomb throwing training does that to people. “Sorry Ant. Shitty sleep.” He nods, as if saying it be like that sometimes and lets it go. “Eggs?” He nods once again.

You walk to the threshold with a rag, clean up the wall and retrieve the whisk, in one fell swoop. With your other hand you squeeze his shoulder as you pass by.

The others arrive not long later, and soon enough you’re all gathered around the table. You start scribbling on the thinking cloth with a random pen, alternating between munching on dry cereal and eating a pancake with milk caramel as a taco. “There isn’t a ticking clock in the house, right?”

Three pairs of half asleep eyes look at you, puzzled. “Nevermind.” Your loud cereal-eating ritual resumes. You gulp in one go what is left of your tea cup. “Remember that case we have scheduled for tonight?”

“The Geralds’ House?” George chips in, more alert, while stealing a pancake from your plate.

“Yeah, that one. I don’t think we should go.”

A moment of shock. A clatter of a fork hitting a plate.

“Why would we-?”

“We can’t cancel-!”

Lucy and George speak at the same time. The former rather confused, the latter downright defensive. Lockwood just stares at you. He lets out a breath, knows a quarrel is coming.

“I know we were all so excited about this one, but we can’t go. Not today at least, we have to postpone.” The back of your head starts to hurt, just like every time you are forced to change the company’s plans because of a gut feeling.

Anthony knows you very well, and knows not to doubt your judgment. He knows from experience your intuition never fails.

“You can’t just decide that for all of us!” George seems about ready to launch the table or something. If you didn’t know him as well as you do, you’d start running.

“If this is about last night’s nightmare-”

Your eyes lock on Lucy. Your cousin’s eyes lock on you. George is just fuming, and your girlfriend doesn’t know what she just unleashed.

“You had a nightmare?” Lockwood asks, you’re a deer caught in headlights. “Like a nightmare nightmare?” He sits straight up, suddenly very awake. You stare at your hands and start to fidget with your rings, leting out a quiet ‘yeah.’

“It’s settled, then. We do as they say. George, call John Gerald and inform him we have to delay the service by-” He looks at you expectantly.

“Two days, until I figure it out." Comes out of your lips.

“-two days. Lucy, you can go and check if your pet skull wants a cookie or something.” He seems energized -eager, even- but you can see right through him. He must be reliving the last time you had one of these nightmares, and the one before that; you knew you were. It never went well. For one reason or another, the times you had not been heard or taken seriously when stating things like this, it had always ended badly.

When everyone stands up, deeming the meal finished, Anthony takes you by the elbow and almost drags you to the library, you don’t even have time to explain yourself to your girlfriend. He closes the door behind him.

You settle into your designed armchair, and so does he. You stay quiet for a while, looking at each other's eyes, letting the news sink in. “I’ll bring the Tarot.”

You both know what happened last time you read the cards about a nightmare. You do general readings quite often, but at times like this, it feels like stepping into the coffin. This type of reading always seems to be much more explicit and terminal than any other. Sometimes you just wish you were ignorant.

A sudden vulnerability crosses Anthony’s face when he answers. “Yeah, we should… do that. Do you need me to light some incense?” You nod. It isn’t a necessity for divination, but you find that the smell helps to calm the energy somehow.

The library’s door is locked from the inside. With your deck on one hand, and the coffee table already set in front of you, you take a deep breath. You are sitting cross legged on the carpet, Anthony is right in front of you. Connecting with the cards is similar to using your Talent, but you get a sense of loneliness much greater. Even though visitors are not good company, they are there , and you find comfort in the knowledge that they were once human; with your readings it’s just you, and fate.

You start shuffling. Alternate between riffle and overhand shuffle, a few minutes pass until you feel that they are in the correct order. You leave the deck on the table, cut it three times, place the cards face down in a V shape. You turn them around.

The Tower.

The Chariot, upside down.

And Death .

Lockwood gasps. You try to keep your cool. This could mean anything, you know it. The meaning is not on the cards themselves -even less on their names- but their interaction and placement. You conjure your intuition. Against your will, your eyes blurry with tears, your head starts to pound.

A sudden change, a chaotic outcome; no way out, no direction or possibility of escape; a deep and irreparable loss.

No, it’s not going to go like that, I won’t let it.

A change in point of view, a new direction with an inimaginable outcome, a new beginning.

Too sugarcoated. Try again.

Something terrible, there’s no way to change it or make it better-

No.

“Anthony. Please shuffle.” You hand him the deck. He takes it, stares at you as he would a ghost. His hands start the movement as if in auto-pilot. “Take any card and put it wherever you see fit, don’t try to rationalize it.”

His hands seem clumsy, but he finally takes one and places it over The Chariot, he turns it: Six of Swords, upside down. It serves as clarification for the Major Arcana under it, the message sounds the same, no place to go, no way to run…

In the same motion, a card from the bottom falls into his lap. He goes to place it back to where it came from, but you gesture to the table. He leaves it right in the middle, above the new card. He doesn’t turn it.

You get a feeling of finality. That is the last piece of the reading. No more trying to change things or ask for clarification. Your hand is trembling, a shiver runs down your spine. A second before seeing it, you know you are not going to like it.

A lifeless body stares at you from the illustration, on the floor, impaled by Ten Swords.

That's you.

No, no, it can’t be so literal, it never is-

A sudden, awful turn of events; no way to run, it’s coming towards you, even if you try to stop it; an impending doom, deep and permanent loss; you are already dead .

You don’t let it sink in, don’t let it fester in your mind. In one swift motion, you place every card back in the deck, and the deck back into its linen drawstring bag.

You look up. Lockwood’s eyes are brimmed with tears. “What does it mean?”

“We can’t stop it.” You croak out, you are already crying.

“What was your nightmare about? Maybe we can figure it out together, or find a way…” He trails off when you shake your head repeatedly.

“It’s not even about the Geralds case- Hell, if George still wants to, we can get it done tonight!! This is much bigger and it can’t be stopped.” High pitched, strangled words come out. You let out a sob.

He starts crying too, scrambles to get around the coffee table and hug you. You are both trying to hold onto one another, crying for everything that has ever happened to you, your family, and whatever seems to be coming your way. You can’t help but feel a bitter guilt, sharing this with him, he shouldn’t have to carry the burden of knowing if he is able to just not .

“Why does this keep happening to us?” A broken whisper, followed by an honest:

“I don’t know.” Spoken just as softly.

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! Tell me if you want to be added to the Lockwood and Co or Sometimes it's just better (not to know) taglist, feedback is welcome :D

I do Tarot readings and this might or might not be slightly based on personal experience.

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eatmycodbetty · 18 days ago

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{You again?} ~ 2

part two. . . one

pairing: anthony lockwood x gn!reader

word count: 2.7k

summary: Your first time helping the trio goes well, but some resistance at your attempted aid spurs a personal challenge.

DISCLAIMER: I headcanoned mobile phones. Not smartphones, but an old nokia basically. still in the same vintage ish vibes it just makes it easier for what i want to achieve in the first few chapters. there are personal phones that imma make suck so they aren’t OP, and then professional calls go through a house phone. lmk if it’s too distracting and ill write it out lolol

notes: dialogue is hard. :pp ALSO this is the end of the INTRODUCTION phase of the story- there is soooooo much more to come.

Two . . .

11:47. Middle of London

Running down the street, you see the park sign. You recall what George had told you earlier that day, and you enter from the east of the entrance, a hidden path that kind of slopes from use over the years.

At first, there’s nothing. It is dark, obviously no ghost-lamps around, and terraced with trees. This is practically a jungle at night, no wonder they lost a source here. You could lose your own two feet if you weren’t so careful.

As your panic finds a fake lull, you hear a yelp from across the park, over an old cobbled half-wall. You sprint to the area, seeing a streak of orange and hearing George’s calls for mercy.

When you leap up over the wall, rapier in hand, a scared George is running at you. He sees you and trips, grabbing you on the way. You two stumble but you get up swiftly in time for the onslaught that was behind him. Two smaller ghosts coming out of a thick fog followed him, but you make quick work with a few jabs into their figures, them quickly dissipating with horrible screams.

You turn and help the poor boy up from behind you, his fingers still grabbing your jacket. “Oh my BLOODY god y/n thank you thank you THANK YOU. You came just in time” He stutters, out of breath, and takes a second to gulp down some air and stand back up. “We were so close…but that damned cluster almost ruined it for us. We ran up this hill with the…wait.”

He stops to search and pat his orange hoodie quickly, coming to a disheartening realization as he looks back up at you. “We lost it again. I might just leave it if I am being honest- it’s too fucking much.”

As he rambles you take a breath, shushing him with a hurried question. “Where are the others, G. We need to make sure you are all safe before worrying about this stupid trinket.”

He quickly realizes that he left the other two, looking to the left of your current spot. He points as you two begin to run, rapiers in hands. You toss him a salt bomb and with a nervous nod he takes it and readies as you two approach the scene.

You almost stumble over a bush to see the same girl from earlier- Lucy, was it?- and the slender boy you can only assume is Lockwood. They are caught in the middle of a whirlwind of activity, fighting well- but not quick enough- as spirits reach out at their blind spots.

You take a jump into the action, yelling for them to duck as you fight from Lucy’s side first. George throws the salt bomb whilst you dissipate the area around Lucy. She sits back up and you acknowledge each other with a quick smile and nod, fending off the near liquid-like fog on Lockwood.

As you do this, the salt bomb goes off right above you, nice shot George, and the whirlwind you’re in starts to falter. You three run out, shouting at George to run as well.

Running up the back of the group, you jump back through the brush and into the area where you found George earlier. As you make a b-line towards the rest of the group, a thick ghost-fog starts to fizzle in front of you, but you throw another salt bomb hastily and dive back over the cobbled half-wall.

As you steady yourself, a shimmer catches your eye. Without thinking, you dislodge the item from the stones and keep running, narrowly missing the foggy spirits that linger above you.

The four of you keep running until you’re out of the park, back through the small passageway and into the street, where you find a resting area under some ghost-lamps. Perfect. Lucy and George immediately sit on a bench, laying out and catching their breath.

You catch up to the group, deciding to lean on the lamp pole behind them to catch your breath as well. The tall and slender boy stands in front of the two sitting agents, rubbing his hands which eventually land on his hips. You see his jacket open a little at this, is he wearing a suit? In the field?? Yeesh, you think. The rumors around this guy might just be right. For now he just loiters and thinks, gaze wandering between the group and you.

George speaks up first, eyes locked on the pavement guiltily, “hey so..I might have dropped the eyeglass when I had to run.” He looks back up at the two others, “BUT we can come back in the day- I never want to come back here at night ever again. Even if the ghosts can help us find it, they can all go to the shitter.”

You think as he’s rambling, and absent mindedly take out the object you picked up out of your pocket. You twist it around in your fingers, focusing when you realize the smooth texture- it’s a brass eyeglass. Before he can keep going you speak up, “Uh hey G…is this what you lost?”

He looks at you for a second and leans over, confused…until his eyes widen and he snatches the trinket from your palm. “Y/N you are a saint! How did you even find this in between fighting?!” He is obviously relieved, holding the eyeglass with his forefingers in the light for the group to see.

You smile and lean your back on the pole, “I just saw it lodged in that old wall when we were getting away, I didn’t even think about it really.” And you didn’t, you just thought it was a big coin or something.

“Well it doesn’t matter if you thought about it or not-you saved our arses.” He gives you a friendly jab on the arm and hands the trinket to Lucy, who stuck it in a small silver sack to prevent a longer night.

He jests as he’s handing it to Lucy, “Seeeee..safe and sound. Can we leave the house alone now when something goes missing…”

She quips back, “Well it seems y/n was the one to actually get it, but next time I will be sure to leave your precious books on the lounge table alone.” She smiles sarcastically and puts the silver pouch in her bag as he huffs.

“I guess that’s fine..I might as well just bring them back up to my room if they’re only going to be destroyed in the lounge…you are all animals.”

As he complains, Lucy looks back to you, ignoring him, “Hi y/n! You were surprisingly fast, thanks for the help back there- George was right about you.”

You smile at her and cross your arms with a reply. “You didn’t do half bad, we should train together sometime. We need to stay sharp…literally.” She smiles this time, a silent agreement between you two.

Then, a cough.

Lucy’s gaze is disrupted from you and you all shift to the tall and silent boy standing with his hands in his pockets. You honestly forgot he existed for a moment, what is up with him? George huffs quietly, “oh yeah..”

The boy shifts on his feet before turning to you, standing at full attention and extending a hand. “Hi there. I’m Anthony Lockwood, and this is my agency Lockwood & Co. Although, I can boldly assume you know these two already.” He squints at the two on the bench, of which Lucy shrugs and the two meekly feign ignorance.

You quietly snort at their remarks towards the boy, but then turn to him in the same manner- you feign your own confidence. He is, after all, the boss of another agency, and you feel the need to show your resilience in your lonesome.

As you take his hand and shake it once firmly, you reply, “Hello, Mr. Lockwood. I am Y/n L/n. I run my own ship…and I know George. Nice to finally meet, I’ve heard wonders.” You make a little explosion expression with your hands as you say this.

He has an inquisitive look to that last bit, underlying charm in his face, but he just nods and looks at you, analyzing your gear. “Nice to meet you too, Mx. L/n.” He smiles thinly, “I’ve seen your work in the back of the papers, and, well, word gets around when you challenge the higher agencies…dicks.” You sniffle to restrain a laugh at that. He hesitates as you start to rifle through your bag, continuing only as you hand him a business card. “You’re George’s old mate, right? We are on the same team it seems, you know if you ever-”

George cuts him off, “Y/n is one of my friends from Fitts, or rather one of my only old friends outside of you lot. You can trust them, we’d probably be another sob story if it weren’t for their saving the day anyways.” He looks to you and you wink in an obviously heroic manner, you both chuckle. Lockwood smiles a bit more genuinely at this, stopping only at Lucy interrupting.

“I don’t know them that well if it makes you feel better, Lockwood.” Lucy explains as she stands up now, between the bench and Lockwood. “But from what I’ve seen, we could learn a thing or two.” She looks to you again, “…or maybe we need the help- you did a great job playing the hero after all.”

You rub the back of your neck, but before you can reply to her sudden advertising, Lockwood intercepts: “I don’t think we need help. Having connections is nice but we work just fine- I mean we would have been fine back there with or without them- no offense.”

You roll your eyes from the obviously beaten boy over to George and Lucy, who have a kind of disdain on their faces at this remark. Lucy scoffs at Lockwood. “I think you just can’t accept anything. If you get out of your neurotic thick skull for one minute to see that we were in the trenches back there then maybe you’d be a bit more accepting.”

He is, surprisingly, not much wavering by this. Must happen often. You speak up on your behalf, as it seems Lockwood doesn’t have much to say to the girl. “Well, I don’t want to join you lot or anything, if that makes it better. I work well on my own, I don’t want to do the agency thing again. I just like helping, especially for an old friend and for a couple pounds.”

Lucy and George hear you and immediately make a “see?” face at Lockwood, who eventually butts in. “Well…only if we really need to. Agent L/n is an exceptional fighter, thank you for your help tonight.”

You nod at this with a small smile whilst the other two celebrate a silent victory, yet he continues. “Just as long as I’m let in on it, okay? No going behind my back- we’re a team. Got it?” They nod and quietly fist bump- he notices but ignores them once more, a kind of compassion wavering behind his eyes. What is even going on with them?

You pipe up again, “Well...I am glad that is handled. I will be making my leave, you all have a good night. George has my contact if there’s any night you want me to be on call or whatever, just let me know.” You want to go to bed and leave the awkward circumstance, but someone persists as you start to pick yourself up and head off.

“Y/n wait- before you go.” A hand on your shoulder turns you, just as you had tried to leave. Lucy is there, holding about 30 quid, taking your hand and placing it in your palm for you. You like her confidence, it's a wonder how she puts up with the other two. “Remember, we’re still paying you.”

You take a second to look at the money, before gripping it and patting her shoulder, “thank you Lucy.” You then peek over her shoulder at George, who is now getting off the bench, and Lockwood, who is somewhat still lost in thought. Weirdo.

You call out to them as well, “Thanks everyone, keep in touch. Goodnight!” You start to bound off as everyone is exchanging goodbyes and you split from the party, them going off in another direction back to their home.

1:23am. Closer to home

You breathe a full breath for the first time since leaving your flat earlier in the night. You're almost home, but you stopped in a busier part of the city to take a look at the stars. Barely visible. You sigh and keep going, eventually landing back at your flat.

Taking off your dirty clothes and settling your supplies in their usual spot, you go to take a well deserved shower. After, you swiftly lie back on your bed, letting your legs dangle in your fuzzy slippers.

You stare at your walls, your pictures and bundles of dried lavender to help protect (and refresh) the dingy flat. All these memories of when things went wrong, but more importantly, when things went right. Memories that morphed you into the person you are today.

Tonight was different, but it was kind of...fun. You were already used to being deemed a "hero" in your endeavors for as long as you can remember, but this felt different. You wanted to show them that you could be great- but why?

You already knew you were great, you didn't have to prove it to anyone. It had been clear for the many years working your way through countless different people and places that you excelled independently.

You decide to turn in for the night, to actually rest. It's almost 2 am, so it's easy to spiral into these kinds of mindless thought bubbles. You turn off the lamps and tuck into your sheets, with only the subtle glow of the moon dimly lighting the one room flat you occupy.

Then, another glow joins it. You look over, your phone is lit up. Who could even be texting you this late? You turn the phone over, seeing a new message from an unknown number. You pick up the phone and open the message.

Unknown Sender: Hello Mx. L/n. George gave me your number. Could you be on call the night of this coming Wednesday? The other two were persistent about it on the walk home. You'll be paid 30 quid if you're called, and 15 if we end up not needing you. Unknown Sender: Oh, and Luce wants to meet up sometime. Something about your rapiers. She might text you about it, but she is already asleep. Just wanted to let you know. Unknown Sender: Goodnight. - LW

You sit there in a kind of standstill at what had just occurred. Why did he sign off like it's a letter? Everything about this boy screams strange, but he's not your boss so you aren't going to pay it too much mind. It's nice that Lucy remembered, you smile at the thought of training with someone else. You reply quickly, just in case you forget in the morning.

You: Hey! I told G that I have nothing this week, so it's all good. Thank you for letting me know! You: Also...go to bed. It's almost 2:30

Here is where you see him start to type, then stop. You get a message about a full minute later.

A.Lockwood: You too. Looking forward to working again. Have a good night, y/n.

You give a tired chuckle and set your phone on your chest. He stopped the formalities? He must be tired. Whatever. You take your phone once more to turn it off, no more interruptions tonight.

As you go in and out of consciousness, you can only think of a few things. You're happy that George is doing well for himself, you enjoy the presence of another strong individual in Lucy, and most notably you're wondering what you even got yourself into.

Whatever the week brings, you have a feeling that it will be just fine. And maybe even...fun.

~fin~

thanks for reading pt 2 guys :)))) this is the end of the introduction part, we're gonna get into the juicy bits later. I'll be gone for two-ish days but I'll be back in no time- don't forget about me!!

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