#anthony Lockwood fic

[saltwaterburns]

Lockwood and reader slow dancing in the kitchen and the reader doesnt have any abilities so shes just ":(( locky pls be safe"

Your face is smushed against his chest, your lungs burning with the smell of him. His shirt is soft, slightly worn down from all the times it's been washed, but your eyes are shut in domestic bliss nevertheless. His lips are pressed against the top of your head, the corners of his mouth curled. Your hands are clasped together as you sway alongside him to the music, trying to grasp the last before his inevitable departure.

Your eyes prickle and your throat starts to close up, so you only press yourself closer to him, desperate to (hopefully) drown yourself and your thoughts. He senses your surfacing emotions and only holds onto you tighter, his own eyes tearing up too.

"Promise me you'll be careful. And that you'll come back. I can't be alone during Christmas. Don't you dare leave me here all alone." You whisper, your voice breaking. You turn your head so this time it's your ear that's atop his chest, his steady heartbeat rhythmically echoing inside you.

He chuckles softly, and nods. "I promise," he whispers into your hair, pressing another kiss there.

[downbadf0rficppl]

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.

[jesslockwood]

Risk

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

[why-what-no]

Always Have Me

Pairing: Anthony Lockwood x Reader

Warnings: Slight depictions of violence. Me being obsessed with this show. Might be idiots in love, idk

Notes: Felt a little odd writing this about teenagers, but the actors are like a lot older than I am (why am i so in love with Lockwood’s actor?? He’s so pretty boy) and it’s totally PG, so I figured it was fine

Summary: When Lockwood’s friend and associate, aka the person he might even love, got injured during a case, he was more scared than he had been in a very long time. Leading to him dealing with his feelings in a less than productive way until the “friend” finally confronts him

Honestly, (Y/N) didn’t even feel it. But they could blame that on the shock.

Later on, when they’d ask George about it, he’d tell him quietly and morosely (like even the memory caused him pain), how dodging a ghost’s outstretched hand had led to the young operative tripping down a flight of stairs and slamming down onto splintered wood.

Wood that had pierced them right in the side. Which admittedly was gruesome, but (Y/N) just counted themself lucky that they had escaped being ghost touched. Lucy had told them about what happened to her old friends, and the thought of leaving behind their housemates terrified them.

All they could hear was the ghost’s shriek as their team neutralized it and…

And Lockwood’s voice - muffled, terrified. “No, no! (Y/N), stay with us. It’ll be okay! George! Call for help!”

***

Lockwood could barely stay focused in his fear. The moment he saw (Y/N) disappear down the stairs, his attention fully left the ghost that they were trying to contain. Bolting after his friend, not even thinking of the possibility of getting touched by the ghost. It didn’t even matter in his mind, if something happened to (Y/N) then it didn’t matter what happened to him.

The horrific sight of his friend - although honestly at that point ‘friend’ sounded like too weak of a word for their attachment - bleeding out send a coldness through his body. Kneeling over them, not knowing what to do, he could only attempt to comfort them as he yelled for George to get help.

Lockwood always felt a bit out of his element around (Y/N). A good kind of awkward, but awkward nonetheless. He’d read the books they’d like so he’d have something to talk about with them, and he’d try to be suave and charming but they’d always tease him about it. A little grin on their face that made it all worth it.

But in this moment. There was no awkwardness, just the knowledge that he completely forget what he was supposed to do. The imagined image of him lowering their casket into the ground imprinted in his mind as he begged (Y/N) to stay awake.

***

(Y/N) woke up in a hospital bed, obviously DEPRAC from the document on the clipboard that the nurse was holding. They let the woman fuss over them for a second, before beginning to push her to let them see their friends.

As Lockwood, George, & Lucy burst into the room, (Y/N) could only grin at how glad they were to see them. Only a few months ago, nobody cared if they were dead or alive. Now, they had a family who cared about them with all their hearts and souls.

“Are you okay?” Lucy asked, her sweet face wide with worry.

“We thought you were gonna die…”

“You were bleeding like mad…”

As George and Lucy talked over each other in their concern, Lockwood finally spoke. “Okay, you lot. Let them take a breath, it’s been a rough go.” He stood back, not getting close to take their hand or pat them on the shoulder. Which wasn’t a good feeling for (Y/N), but he never stopped looking at them, making them feel a little better. “Are you alright?” His brow was knitted in concern, as well as another emotion that (Y/N) couldn’t quite read on his face.

(Y/N) was close to all their housemates, but ever since they met Lockwood there was this pull that they felt for the handsome young operative. He seems to make every room he entered brighter, every joke he told lifted their spirits. They’d never felt so happy to be alive until they moved to 35 Portland Row.

“I’ll live.” They mustered up a smile, not wanting to make their friends more worried than the three of them clearly already were. “Just get me back home as soon as possible.”

They missed the comfort and familiarity already. The old knickknacks and books lining most surfaces, the smell of wood, paper, coffee, and whatever delicious thing George was cooking.

Lockwood smiled back. “I promise.”

And as usual, he kept his promise. It took a couple of days, but soon (Y/N) was healed enough to return to the agency and start getting back to normal. Helping George out around the house and researching new cases.

There was one problem, however. Ever since they had returned, Lockwood was… distant. Never alone in a room with (Y/N), never making excuses to speak to them and spend time with them like he did before they were injured. No, he just acted like they were just some acquaintance.

It broke their heart more than they cared to admit. Having got so used to Lockwood being so important in their life, that the loss of it felt like something had been stolen from (Y/N).

Lucy noticed the disquiet that (Y/N) was feeling. “Go talk to him, yeah? I’m sure it’s fine and you two can sort this out.” She told them comfortingly. “He was so worried about you when you were hurt. Nearly wore a hole in his shoes with his pacing.”

So they did. It took a bit to work up the courage, but eventually they managed to find him in the library.

He looked elegant in the dim light, although he was always beautiful looking. Entirely focused on the book in front of him, his hand on his chin with the curves of his face accentuated by shadows.

It almost felt sacrilegious to ruin this moment, but (Y/N) needed his attention. “Is everything alright?” They asked.

Lockwood jumped a bit as the words broke through the silence. He looked nervous for a second, before masking that emotion behind one of his calm, superiority complex-ridden expressions. “Of course.” He said, putting the book down and standing up. “Why wouldn’t it be? Did something happen?”

“You tell me. You’ve barely spoken to me in days, Lockwood.” Judging by the slight guilt on his face, he knew exactly that they were talking about. “What happened. What did I do?”

That immediately got through to him. “Nothing.” He said quickly. “You didn’t do anything, you’re wonderful.”

“Then why…”

“I was so useless.” He them her off, eyes glancing anywhere but at (Y/N). “You were hurt and I wanted to help and I just… I completely forgot my training.”

They’d rarely seen him this vulnerable before, a strange sort of desperation in his eyes that made them want to pull him close and never let go of him. “I’m fine, I’m going to be fine. You were there, that’s all that matters.” (Y/N) tried to consol him. He always had this need to be the defender, the one to look after everybody. It broke (Y/N)‘s heart sometimes how ragged he’d run himself trying to make that a reality.

“No it’s not all that matters. I’m supposed to protect you, and I couldn’t even do that!”

“That’s not your job, Lockwood.” They reached up to cup his cheek, trying to give him some sort of comfort. Almost immediately he leaned into their touch, raising his hand to lay in on top of theirs and wrap his fingers through theirs.

“It is. I…” He tried to decide best how to say what he needed to. To get across the emotions that he felt whenever he was around (Y/N). “I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you here with me.” He finally said, looking down at his feet to avoid seeing their eyes.

But they took matters into their own hands, tilting his face up so that he was looking at them once again. Their eyes slightly watering, but a small smile was playing on their lips.

“You don’t have to do anything.” They told him. “You’ll always have me.”

There was a relief in his eyes as they told him that. “Promise?” He was deathly serious, needing to hear them say it.

And they just leaned forward to kiss him, surprising him at first but thrilling him at the same time. He quickly reciprocated, taking their face in his hands to keep them close to him, never wanting to let go of them now that he finally had them in his arms.

“I promise.” They told him when they finally leaned away to breath. And fully intended to keep that promise. They needed him as much as he needed them

[vi-trying-to-survive]

Don’t Tell

Anthony Lockwood x f!Reader

Warnings: None this is just fluff only ;) 💖💖💖

Summary: Y/N and Lockwood have been together for a while now, but they’d rather have the first few moments of their relationship to themselves. Still, that doesn’t stop them from having a few mishaps before they finally decide to let George and Lucy in on the secret.

A/N: I really really hope you guys like this one :) 💖💖💖 It took a while cause it is slightly longer :’) 💖💖💖 but I just wanna say I love the fake dating trope, I legit live for it :) 💖💖💖 and I hope you do too ;) 💖💖💖 Other than that I hope you have a great day :) 💖💖💖

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He pulled away, leaving her breathless. She laced her fingers through his hair, pulling herself to be closer to him. It looked desperate and it was desperate, she could admit that. It had been a long day. Somehow they had ended up entangled, on his bed, it was sinking in under the weight of them. He hovered over her, chewing his lip slightly, “So maybe we shouldn’t tell George and Lucy yet ?”.

“I- Why ?”, her forehead was crinkled. There didn’t seem to be any proper reason to withhold them from this fact.

He frowned, collapsing over her. She gasped, her lips parted in shock. He didn’t seem to notice, resting his head on her chest, “It’ll ruin the whole group dynamic”.

“Plus George is not the best with change”, his voice vibrated on her skin, sending chills down her spine.

She adjusted herself to face him, a brow raised, “That is true, but still are you sure it’s not cause you don’t want people to know we’re together ?”. It was teasing, but a small voice in the back of her head taunted her. What if he was embarrassed of her ? What if this was all for the sake of his reputation ? She hurriedly shook the thoughts from her mind. He would never do that to her.

“I am most definitely sure”, he leaned back, gaze fixed on hers. Her heart pounded in her chest. She turned away, feeling vulnerable.

He tilted her head back to his with a finger, “Why would anyone ever want to hide you ?”. His voice was quiet, like he was asking himself a question. His eyes flickered to her lips before coming back to meet hers.

She suddenly felt self conscious. Whining she covered her face with a hand, “Lockwood”.

“I’m being serious, I promise”, he laughed, pulling her arm away.

His palm remained on her cheek, gently running his thumb back and forth. She leaned into his touch. Gently he pressed his lips onto hers. His taste of bergamot and honey never got old. She smiled into the kiss. They parted for air and he gave her a lopsided grin, “Just for a few months, until we finish our current jobs and then we’ll tell them”.

“I promise”, he linked their pinkies, curling them together.

“Fine, but if anyone asks, this was your idea”, she rolled her eyes. Somehow, he could always convince her to do anything, and he was all to aware of that. He was lucky she loved him. Still, what was a few months right ? They could pull this off, they have done worse before.

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“Morning”, he whispered, tugging her closer to him.

She yawned, “Mmhm, good morning”. She pressed her lips against his cheek, before snuggling her face deeper into his neck.

“This is nice”, he smiled, running his fingers through her hair.

Her eyes fluttered shut and she pulled the covers up to her nose, “Yes it is, but now you have to get out”.

“What ? Why ?”, his eyes went wide.

She patted him on the chest, “You were the one who wanted to hide our relationship”. Was it a little mean ? Maybe, still it was his idea and so he had to suffer the consequences. Plus, she wasn’t going to be out of bed at 6 am if she didn’t have to. If she had to sacrifice his heat and comfort for that, so be it.

“No one’s awake right now”, he groaned into her hair.

She pressed her lips together, trying hard not to giggle, “George is an early riser”.

“Darling, don’t make me”, he was annoyed, but his legs were already hanging of the edge of the bed.

The springs of the mattress creaked at the loss of his weight. He was mumbling under his breath, but she just laughed, “Bye-bye”.

The door clicked open, and he padded out, but just as it was about to swing closed it just didn’t. She opened an eye at the offensive lack of noise. The room was dark except for a sliver of light shining through the hallway. She winced at the sudden bright light, hissing at the cold air as she got out of bed, but stopped when she heard another door.

A part of her longed to tuck herself back to sleep, but her other half won, as she peered out the crack in the door. His back was to her, hair still ruffled, “I- George”. She could only imagine the look on his face.

“Lockwood what are you doing awake at this time ?”, his brows were furrowed inquisitively.

“I- I uh- Actually I wanted to talk to you”, she wondered if George could hear the unsteadiness in his voice.

“About what ?”, he sounded even more confused.

She held her breath, silently reassuring herself that he would be able to think of a believable lie, though his track-record said otherwise. This was it, a whole 2 weeks in and they were about to be caught. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, “About- You know I think we need to reevaluate the effectiveness our organisation system”.

“You really think so ?”, he grinned. What ? How had that worked ? She figured she should just be thankful that it did, and that he hadn’t gotten suspicious.

“Definitely”, he was nodding his head.

She watched as George’s shadow descended the stairs, “So was I, I had a few ideas that I wanted to run by you”.

She clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter, sneaking a glance at him as he threw his head back, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He caught her eye and glared, but again, this was his plan she thought. She could only give him a sympathetic smile and shrug her shoulders.

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“Has anyone seen the forms that we needed to send to DEPRAC”, his fingers ran through his hair. She chewed her bottom lip. He was worried, and she couldn’t blame him. As an agency they haven’t exactly had a great relationship with the government, which could be a problem at times. Let’s be honest, most of the time.

Lucy sat across from her, forehead creased, “No, can you remember where you last saw them ?”.

He frowned, “I-”.

She felt her chest tighten at his expression and thought hard. “You put them into that book, I can’t remember what it was called, but then you put it into the second drawer of your desk”, she snapped her fingers, putting her mug down.

He was beaming, “Right, thanks”. She grinned back. Sending her a wink, he bounded out of the room, presumably to fetch the papers. She looked away, her stomach doing a flip. How is it that this still happened, despite them being together for a month.

“Great memory ?”, Lucy took a sip from her cup, eyeing her suspiciously. The smile fell from her face, she blew over her cup, the steam flying up. She could think of a believable, convincing response.

She bit her lip, “I uh- Yeah”. Right, so maybe it wasn’t one of her best moments, but in her defence, it was hard to think of a good enough answer under Lucy’s piercing gaze. She was only glad he was not here to catch it, knowing she would never hear the end of it.

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“Is that- Is that a hickey ?”, her eyes went wide, a heat rising to her face. She hastily put away the groceries in their cupboards. Shit shit shit. Tilting her head to the left, she could see that his mouth was gaping just a little.

She spun around, with tight-lipped smile, “I- No, no of course not, I actually”. George and Lucy shared a glance, and she took the opportunity to send him a pointed look. She had specifically told him not to make it visible, but he was persistent and stubborn. It’s not like she wasn’t enjoying it in the moment, but now she was beginning to regret it. She cursed under her breath. Think of something, she mouthed at him.

He grinned, “She fell down yesterday”. He nodded at her. Another one of his brilliant ideas, she thought she could cry right there.

George raised a brow, “She fell down, on her neck ?”. He didn’t sound like he believed them. Hell, she didn’t even believe them. Still, he looked so confident, she wanted to laugh. Hopefully it would just blow over their heads.

“Yes, while we were doing the shopping, she just missed a step and there she was on the ground”, he gestured plaintively. Please give up she thought. Thankfully they shrugged their shoulders and continued their breakfast. She sighed, relieved that their interrogation was over, but she still punched his arm as she took a seat at the table.

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It had been 3 months of sneaking around and lying, of stolen kisses and secret dates. They never went a week without a single slip up or mistake, and despite it all they had somehow pulled it off, George and Lucy both did not have an inkling of an idea that they were in a relationship. Still, they had had enough of it. Everything was becoming a bit overwhelming and they would much rather let their friends in on the secret.

They stood on the stairs out of view, she on the step above him, making her slightly taller. He had his arms around her waist and hers were around his neck. She tilted her head to the side, watching him closely, “Are you sure ?”.

He only nodded his head, giving her a kiss on the forehead. This was hard for him, change, it had always been the four of them, friends. He was worried that this, them, would change all that, and a part of her worried that too, but the greater part of her was sure that their friends would be welcoming to the idea. She pressed her lips together to stop the wide grin from forming. Gently he entangled himself from her, except for their hands still interlocked, leading her to the living room.

The room was dimly lit, their heads immediately turned as they entered. Their gaze shifted down to their intertwined hands for a second before coming back to their faces. He squeezed her palm, “Right so, I um- We have something to tell you guys”.

“That you guys are dating ?”, George didn’t even look up from his book.

She was puzzled, pursing her lips, “I- How did you know ?”. They were so subtle, so discreet. Just a few minutes ago they were giving each other pats on the back for their acting abilities. Clearly it was starting to look like the exact opposite.

“We both knew for the longest time, it was quite obvious”, Lucy gave her an apologetic look.

“And you never said anything ?”, he ran a palm across his face. Well now she just felt embarrassed. They shared a sheepish smile.

She shrugged her shoulders, “I mean we just wanted to see how long you too would manage”.

She rolled her eyes plopping down onto the sofa. He was not far behind her, an arm was instinctively at her side, and she leaned into him. At least now they didn’t have to second guess every choice they made. George grinned, finally peeking up from behind the papers, “That and it was extremely entertaining, for us at least”. They both laughed. He groaned, chucking a cushion at their friend, which he easily dodged. She couldn’t help but laugh too as he buried his face in her hair.

[fleetingvow]

‘ DEAD WEIGHT .

Anthony Lockwood x Female Reader

SYNOPSIS. the reader’s skills got rusty and with anthony breathing down her neck all the time, well, things that were better off unsaid were spoken. that’s when four became three. ( 6.87k words )

CATEGORY. angst. slight enemies to lovers ( not completely lovers because i write and stick to slowburn. )

WARNINGS. anthony being a total dickwad. usage of profanities. off the timeline. netflix series based. usage of “y/n”. lots of parallelism in statement structures.

NOTE. characters are aged up. written in third person’s omniscient point of view. room add-up for plot purposes.

REMINDER. this fic is written and copyrighted by ©fleetingvow on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other platforms without my permission.

TAGS. @superpositvecloudshipper

𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗦𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 𝗪𝗔𝗦 shrouded in a misty veil. The room had turned bleary as soon as she stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in her bathrobes. She closed her eyes and opened them again in a desperate attempt to regain her composure. When her feet led her to her room, she felt the pull stronger than what she had been feeling when she was washing up. Y/N gripped the doorknob and opened the door with a groan, and then there was a voice. A mere whisper to her ears.

“Help me!” She turned around, only to see no one but the pen she picked up from a previous home many months ago, mistaking it for the one Lockwood handed. It was surely just her imagination. They already contained the source from the previous mission, destroyed it even. George had done his research and there was only one soul that haunted the home. She was sure no other soul was left behind. Besides, Y/N made sure to set up a schedule to return the object to its rightful place.

However, just now . . . she felt as though it wasn’t just her presence that graced the room. Her eyes scanned her surroundings. There was no one, nothing. Why was it getting harder to breathe? The ringing, they were back again, but this time, it was higher in pitch and volume. She put both palms on her ears in order to block the noises, but it was too loud!

That was until she heard the knock on the door followed by the voice of someone more human, natural in his voice, “Prepare quickly, Y/N. We’re moving swiftly tonight, we have two missions!”

She didn’t respond. It didn’t seem like it mattered when his footsteps were already fading. The girl slowly ran her fingers through her damp hair, taking a deep breath to calm herself down. It was just her imagination — that ringing. But there was a protruding thought that maybe, there was something wrong with her, and she couldn’t place whatever it was.

Although, there was something far more important than that. She needed to be present for this other case. Y/N had been lacking for the past few days, and she was under the pressure of redeeming herself to prove something to Lockwood.

And she was going to prove it well.

THAT HURT! God, it hurt so much! There was no other thing in her mind than how much it felt, causing electric shock through her body, wanting to rip her ears out to just. get it. to stop!

“Fuck!” Y/N exclaimed, losing her grip on her rapier therefore also failing to protect Lucy from the ghost that hovered before them. The clang of the blade on the floor only triggered a louder sound in her ears, putting her mind into shambles as she scrambled to the floor to regain possession of her weapon.

Before she could, however, Lockwood had already slain the ghost himself, buying them more time to pull themselves together. “Lucy!” Lockwood hurriedly rushed to her aid as she panted, refusing the help Anthony was offering.

“Y/N?” Lucy called, her voice combined with worry over the girl’s well-being. “Are you okay?”

It didn’t look like she was, but it was certainly better than before. The ringing had stopped, and what was left was an overcoming fear of when it will occur again. Her forehead was covere din beads of sweat, her mouth gasping for air, and clammy hands clutching the handle of her sword.

She had, in fact, once again failed to redeem herself. And what had she done? Make a complete fool out of herself to Lockwood who only looked at her with disappointment painted oh-so-vibrantly all over his face.

“I covered the source with the net!” George excitedly announced as he made his way into the bedroom where everyone was. It had been a rare occurence before that Lockwood allowed George to do this type of work, but since he’s proven himself to be the hero in most scenarios, he trusted him.

Y/N glanced up at George. She wasn’t mad at him. As a matter of fact, she was grateful for him, not just for containing the source, but also putting an end to the tension in the room. “Are you guys okay?” he proceeded to question.

She stood up from the floor and lowered her head before mumbling, “We’re fine.” She then walked past him swiftly and out of the room with shame as her feet led her to the gardens of the home.

“She’s definitely not fine,” George breathed out. Both of his companions looked at him in a questioning manner. He shrugged, “She’s been acting odd for the past few weeks - months, even. Am I the only one who noticed?”

“You’re always the one to notice something, George.” Lucy commented with a smile. Anthony did not appreciate the conversation, no matter how little. He’d much rather they didn’t talk at all.

“Stay here. I’ll talk to her,” Lockwood ordered. George and Lucy nodded followed by exchanged glances with subtle wide eyes. They knew it was not a good idea Lockwood would follow her, but what could be done? They just hoped he wouldn’t make an arrogant fool of himself again.

“WHAT WAS that?” Y/N’s ears suddenly perked up from the voice. She plastered a sarcastic smile as she replied, “You found me, then.”

“This is no time for foolish remarks, Y/N. What was that all about? You had it. Lucy could have been hurt! You could have gotten hurt! Do you realise what you’ve just done?” Anthony exclaimed. The leaves crunched from under his feet as he marched his way forward to the girl.

“You’re saying that as if I’ve done it intentionally. Is that what you think I do? Sabotage the team?”

“I’m not saying that,” he frustratedly protested, facepalming before placing his hands on his hips, his coat pushed back. “What I’m saying is for you to pull yourself together. Where are you, really? This, this state of yours is going to get us all killed!”

“Lucy’s fine! I’m fine!”

“You both wouldn’t be if I hadn’t stepped in and you had made an absolute mockery of yourself in the situation! You were flailing! Can I even trust you with simple tasks?”

“You call fighting off a type two, simple?” She fired back, trying her best to hold back her anger when she knew she had fucked up.

“We’ve done it before! We’ve dealt with harder cases. What’s going so wrong now?”

“Of course you’d say that! Everything’s easy for you, right?” Lockwood was taken aback by her words, yet instead of processing her words and taking it as a reminder of his past conflicts, he took offence of it, triggering his sense of authority and anger. “If it’s so easy, why don’t you just work with yourself? If you’re so obsessed with perfection, why don’t you eliminate mistakes and put down the team? Because that’s you, right? You’re the one who’s always so bloody perfect at everything!”

His eyebrow twitched as he blinked at her, his face getting softer, yet still inconsiderate as he lifted his head to the side and clenched his jaw. Anthony momentarily fixed his gaze on the floor before placing it back to her. His voice had become monotonous. Cold.

“If you hate me so much, why don’t you just leave the team?”

There was a moment of silence. If the rapier didn’t pierce her heart before, it definitely has now, but it wasn’t the steel sword that did its damage. It was those exact words he had uttered so confidently in her face. There was no hint of regret there when she searched his eyes. There was absolute nothingness.

Suddenly, the coldness of the wind got into her eyes — did it really? Or was she just finding an excuse to mask the reason behind her slightly blurry eyes. Y/N blinked and swallowed her spit in order to remove the lump in her throat. It was useless. She nodded slightly, her face stiff as she tried to muster up her thoughts to create a better expression.

But there was no better reaction.

“What?” she asked for confirmation. Lockwood slightly shifted in his position, standing upright. He looked at her eyes and down to her shoes slightly, taking the sight of the disappointed girl. He swallowed his spit, licking his lips.

“You heard me.”

“So, that’s it then?” she mumbled, trying her best to disguise the betrayal in her voice.

“That’s it.” Anthony replied in a stern tone, not leaving her eyes. “Don’t be so surprised now, Y/N. If it helps you feel any better, maybe you could still start somewhere — just not here.”

“You’re a fucking dickwad, do you know that?!” She yelled.

“I’m doing this for the team.”

“Like shit you are!” She exasperatedly gesticulated her hands in the open air and continued, “You think George and Lucy would fucking applaud you after they find out? I thought we were family! What now? I fuck up, and suddenly I’m gone for good?”

“You could just say n—”

“No, because that’s not it, isn’t it?” She bitterly interjected and combed her fingers through her hair irately. “You’ve hated me from the start! You ignore me every chance you get, but when you’re not, you berate me! You look at me as if I’m about to fail, and you undermine me every single time!”

“I don’t undermine you. I look at you, and I see transitions of how things start and how things end,” he started, chest heaving up and down from his bottled feelings of anguish and rage, not to her but to himself. “I don’t know what it is about you that makes me doubt whatever it is I doubt. You were good at what you do, but you’ve been lost for the past few months. We don’t have a hold of you now, and you’re not telling us anything. To be completely blunt and forward, Y/N: Whenever you’re present in a case, something goes wrong.”

Even to herself, she could admit that he had a point. Every mission that she had with her friends, everything ends up a little bit too complicated than it should. She did feel like she was the cause for the performance of the agency lately. That information itself made her heart sink at the bottom of the pit, pushing her to another depth as he spoke once again.

“You’re a dead weight.”

That statement felt a little hypnotic that it proceeded to ring in her head. Now that was it, why did she feel defeated now? She felt as if he just called her useless. Huh, maybe that’s what she was. Completely and utterly useless for the best agency London has ever seen. She was the dead weight in their group, the failure.

“I just haven’t been myself. I—” Then, there was a silver streak of water that cascaded down her face. She cleared her throat and looked away, wiping the tear with the back of her hand as she sniffled and blinked away the glinting waterfall threatening to spill. “I’m sorry.”

Anthony’s chest felt different with that statement. His eyes that showed no remorse softened at this current sight of her, but there was something at that moment that told him to resist it. He had to stand firm, and he knew to himself he’d do just about anything for the sake of the team, even if it had to be removing Y/N from it.

The thought of questioning whether this decision was right began to rebuke him.

“Y/N, I’m only doing this for the best of everyone’s well-being.”

“You already said that,” she replied and took a deep breath, avoiding eye contact with him. Then, she shrugged her shoulders and laughed to herself in bitter humour. She unsheathed the rapier from her side and took a few steps forward to the boy who gave her a puzzled look.

She took his hand and offered the handle of her blade, closing his palm with hers. Y/N forced a smile on her lips, looking up to meet his eyes. They were close.

Just. This. Close.

Y/N had seen his eyes numerous times before, but under whatever spell, she never got tired of it even despite the sharp daggers it threw at her. Her heart shattered once more, this soft gaze she’d sometimes thought was an illusion made the broken shards leap hopelessly that it left her dizzy for another minute or so.

The wind in the garden gently whispered.

Anthony felt this feeling before, but he dismissed it just like he’d always done. It was something that he believed to be unworthy of his attention. If he looked the other way, what of the path that he worked so hard for?

“Y/N, I—”

“I’ll be gone by morning. Don’t tell the others . . . for me please, would you, Lockwood?” She whispered. Goddamn it, she was going to go! Anthony couldn’t do anything. His body and soul were both locked in the position of looking at her, paralysed as he tried his best to catch his breath. His eyes quickly paid a glance to her lips before switching back to her eyes.

He hummed in response.

There was a palpable tension in such an open space. The girl decided to have had enough of it, leisurely stepped away without breaking eye contact, and walked off with his head turned to watch her figure fade away with the distance.

SHE SAID SHE’D be gone by morning. It was 3 AM, and he wasn’t sure what morning she was referring to, but surely she’d use more time for rest and packing her things. It wouldn’t be so early. He paced back and forth, almost creating a six feet deep grave of his own in front of her door, his hands secured in his pockets. His furrowed eyebrows almost reached each other to knit a whole line on his face, but he soon stopped with a sharp exhale.

Anthony realised how wrong he might have been. The fact that both Lucy and George don't know anything made him feel even more guilty knowing damn well they would have his head and ego once they learn of what he did. Not only that, he felt incessantly bad for being cruel with his choice of words without consideration to what Y/N’s explanation could offer. To be completely honest, he wasn’t even thinking straight! He had no clue where the idea of eliminating her from the team came from.

His mind hadn't been at peace nor was it sober in his library when they got back home. Y/N shut herself in her room after an awkward dinner in which they both pretended everything went well. Lucy and George, bless their poor naive innocent souls, seemed to buy it with Lucy feeling a little bit hesitant.

It was 3 AM, and he was at her door.

At her door.

His hand slightly lifted to knock her door, but it stopped mid-air. Lockwood sighed, pulling his hand back in his pocket with a shake of the head. He’d been horrible, and disturbing Y/N’s peace no matter how fleeting, would be more displeasing.

Anthony’s footsteps faded with Y/N listening intently behind the door, wiping her silent tears. He was outside her door for half an hour during her moment where she wrote her letters individually to the members of the team. She didn’t want to open the door, but her desire to speak to him drove her to a decision that if he knocked, she would let him in. If he asked that she returned, she would.

But alas, he didn’t do any of those, leaving her to conclude that his decision was final, and his words were deeply meant and intended. It was her fault, after all.

And maybe the agency would be better off without a dead weight.

WHEN MORNING CAME, Anthony was jolted awake when George shook him back to consciousness in the library lit with the sunshine pouring through the window. As soon as he fluttered his eyes open and saw the light with George’s frantic silhouette, it had been a clear indication that he was too late.

“Y/N’s gone!”

There was an unpleasant sensation in his stomach, bad butterflies taking control over his system. He quickly sat up and ignored the pounding headache he gained overnight. Anthony turned to George, “Since when?”

“I don’t know. Lucy called her for breakfast but she didn’t answer. She never didn’t answer! So we went up there to check, but all her things were gone.”

He got to his feet and went straight to Y/N’s provided room where all traces of her existence were never found, except for the envelopes clutched in Lucy’s trembling hands. Her face wasn’t warm and welcoming at all as she furiously questioned, “What did you do?!”

“She’s left the agency!” Lucy exclaimed.

“Why?” George asked in response.

“Ask Lockwood. Apparently, he’s the one who talked to her last night after the mission.”

“What are those?” Karim gestured towards the envelopes Lucy had. She raised the letters with their names engraved in jet black ink.

“See for yourself,” she answered and shoved each of the letters to the designated receivers. The girl then furiously marched out of the room, leaving behind both George and Anthony to themselves. Karim opened the correspondence and trailed his eyes along the letters scribbled on the tear stained paper, his face growing bitter word for word as he finished.

The boy turned to his companion, “You’re unbelievable.”

Lockwood wore the same frown he wore in front of her door a couple of hours ago. George left him in the room to self-reflect between the four walls of nothingness but the lingering memories of who used to occupy it.

He looked at the letter, opening it as he scanned the wirds carefully written yet stained with tears that dried on the ink that spread on the fibres of the paper.

“Anthony,

I didn’t tell them, if that’s what you’re worried about, but I’m not sure if my explanations will suffice. I know Lucy and George are smarter than you give them credit for. Whatever happens, I want you to continue the agency with them. They’re your only family left.

I loved the memories with you and the others and I will continue to treasure them until it’s my prized possession that you will have to seek one day. I hated you for a while, and maybe I hate you now, but there’s nothing but the truth that you make a great leader, and I hope your passion will lead them to the path they want, and their loyalty will not banish even after eternity.

For a while, Lockwood, your home had been my home. Our home, but after tonight, it seems as though you gave the key to the wrong person. I hope you will find a better one worthy of the team.

Do not look for me. I will find a good place to find myself and start again and recover. And once I recover, I swear to George and Lucy, I will write. Take care of them.

I’m sorry,

Y/N.”

He wanted to crumple that letter, but that’s all he had of her. Each passing second that he stared at the empty room made him feel guiltier and guiltier. The blood in his veins rushed as he turned crimson with rage. Anthony had never been one to lose composure of himself, especially when he was angry, but it was different this time.

He knew to himself that he blew it. He had fucked up and now he was not the only one that was paying. Because of his arrogance, the house lacked Y/N’s annoying laughter, her awkward morning small talks and idle chatter, the familiar creaks on the wooden stairs because of how loud her feet become when she’s excited for a new case.

Her seat remained empty, devoid of the girl's presence. Her favourite cup had been set before the chair without any mark or stain of the hues she usually wore on her lips. The smell of coffee George brewed earlier for her wafted in a room, serving as an object to rub it in their nose of the bitter tension she’d left behind in that very room.

Lockwood cleared his throat, “Our next mission, er.”

Lucy’s scoff caught his eye, “Give us a break, Lockwood.” She put her mug down, her eyes piercing through his, speaking, “When will you ever learn to not only care about yourself?”

“Lucy, not now.”

“Yes, now.” George intervened. “No one knows why Y/N left, except you. Her family wouldn’t want her back even if she writes that on her Christmas list. You know it to yourself too, that’s a dumb excuse.”

“She left the agency because she made her choice,” Anthony monotonously replied, and quickly regretted it as he sighed and spoke again in a much gentler, more emotion-filled voice, “It was the best for us all.”

“Did she make that choice, or did you? No wonder she left.” Lucy mumbled as she was not having any of it. She slammed her feet on the floor and stood up to leave the kitchen with George leisurely following behind.

Y/N TOOK IN THE rotten interior of the home. Everything was mouldy and abandoned. It was an odd thing, for sure. The house was supposed to be sold months ago! Why was it deprived of human presence? Something was not right, especially with that voice slowly creeping in her ears again.

She wasn’t alone in that place.

“Help me,” she heard. There was a guess there. A guess she’d been doubting for weeks but knew to be believed by her subconsciousness. The girl grabbed the pen from her pocket and sighed, closing her eyes to allow itself to commune with her.

“What do you want me to do?” She questioned.

It was a bad idea, but it was daylight. The power of this type of entity, whatever it is, should be weak by now. Y/N felt herself being pulled in a deep void, forcing all her energy to go down with the force. It was her mind that felt lightweight and then her body with static. All sounds from her surroundings started to become collectively like the sound of electric waves until it was an absolute nothingness.

Just then, an ornate box appeared among the fog, its gold embellishments covered in crimson hues, dripping on the now visible desk. The event happened so fast, and what was once a flurry of foggy mess was now a warm room lit with glinting candle lights from above the ceiling before it turned into a ghost of the olden times. The doors were being pounded from the other side, followed by voices who furiously shouted a name.The girl looked around to see a cadaver on the floor, severely tortured and bloodied. Then, she looked at herself, taking note of how her hands were covered in the same liquid as on the floor.

“What happened here?” she whispered to herself in a frantic tremble.

“Give us the box!”

She looked at the object now in her hands. Every inch of her appearance had changed into someone else, feeling their sense of determination to hide and clutch the treasure in her possession. She turned frantically to look for a way out, but just as she was about to run for it, the door burst open and there came three men, one with a pen in his hand.

“You’ve signed the agreement my father’s given you!” She didn’t know why or how, but it must have been the ghost that kept haunting her that said it.

“Will it matter any longer?”

Just as she screamed, the world had turned into a fading vision. Y/N woke up with a gasp, finding herself on the floor with the piles of stones and rubbles, debris from the structure of what once was a home of an aristocrat. There it was again, that ringing. The girl groaned from the consistent hearing disturbance.

She stood up, only to find herself in an entirely different room. Her eyes made a quick scan of the structure. That was when she found an unusual glint inside the crack on the floor. “So that’s why.”

The death glows would have been seen by Lockwood before, but he didn’t, only because the home had been renovated long before it got destroyed again. The floor had been covered by another layer of floor.

Then, a glint caught her eye, the moonshine had reflected its light where she saw the intricate box. Quickly, she crawled over to it and pulled it out of the crack with force. The box was the same as before, only old and rusty. The surface was covered in dust and old traces of blood.

The ringing stopped, replaced by a series of the hushed voices of a woman. Y/N flailed side by side, falling on her knees as she crawled to grab ahold of the intricate box covered in dust and other filthy muck. “What is this for? What should I do?”

That’s when she realised the sun had finally set and she was in deeper trouble than she was. A glowing light appeared behind the door frame as it continued to hide. Her breath hitched, grabbing ahold of the rapier she managed to steal from Anthony’s library.

“I will help you! You’ve tormented me enough,” she mumbled, holding the rapier up as a barricade between her and the ghost.

The ghost let out a deafening shriek as it frowned at her, hovering through the air before her eyes.

“I promise!” Y/N exclaimed. “Just let me help you!”

However, it was not easy making deals with a dead-undead visitor made up of ectoplasm and substantial despair and anger toward the living. The ghost charged forward, making her lucky enough to move out of the way. She yielded the sword, and the luck of the draw struck again when she managed to hit the visitor with her iron blade, buying her more time.

The girl opened the box, revealing a pile of papers and an old silver pocket watch eaten away by old age and exposure to oxygen and insects that created their own home within the chest. The cobwebs were occupied by several tiny eight-legged creatures causing her to cringe as she dropped the box and shook the spiders off.

Upon the contact of the crate with the floor, a glowing spot appeared.

She looked at the ghost of the woman that haunted her. It stopped mid-air for a while before continuing with her new entertainment of tormenting the girl more. Y/N’s eyes widened at a sudden realisation.

That was it!

For the first time in a long time, she finally felt like she wasn’t being an absolutely bloody idiot. “I have to destroy it, don’t I? For you to find your peace, is that it?”

That was when she frowned and muttered under her breath, “But that’s not your source.”

Then, her ego was kicked off the curb with her guts. A hand reached out from the glowing spot on the floor. “That’s someone else’s source!” She raised her rapier and quickly wielded it to hit the box, preventing the ghost from coming out of it.

The first visitor shrieked again and charged forward as Y/N fumbled on the floor, miserably looking for the pen. Her breathing was audibly fast, waving her sword desperately through the air to ward off the ghost that had been restless in chasing after her.

She scanned the cracks, there was nothing. Then, under the desk, nothing. That’s when she noticed the object she sought right next to an empty cobwebbed shelf on the floor next to a book.

Y/N removed her sword out of the way, darting towards the pen to grab ahold of it, quickly swerving to get rid of the visitor. After that, she hit the box again and once the glow disappeared, her fingers found themselves holding onto the chest for dear life. She put the smaller object in it, and placed it between her side and arm, her other lifting the rapier up.

Dumb! Literally dumb!

Her foot got caught in a lifted crack on the floor, causing her to plant herself on the floor. A groan emitted from her lips as she tried to ease the pain on her chest. Upon realisation, she swiftly turned and held her sword up, fighting the phantom.

“My ears hurt from your constant shrieking!” she yelled.

Due to the movement of her arms, the box had slightly drifted away from her clutch as she busied herself warding away her enemy. “I even wonder why it isn’t Lockwood that you could have bothered! You would have been at peace by now, but no. You chose the weakest link! I’m practically useless, and I might possibly be losing my talent! Now you’re the one who’s mad? I didn’t choose me! You’re the one who screwed up!”

Maybe she was the mad one, in different terms. She was talking to a ghost, for Chrysler’s sake! Even worse, having a verbal feud with it!

If only Lockwood could see her now.

That was until the ghost disappeared after a swift, almost invisible lightning speed strike. She gasped for air and turned around to see what the cause of it was, but no. What’s better is to destroy the sources and get peace once and for all. She sat up and crawled over to the object, grabbing a nearby rock and destroying it for good. The pained wailing finally died down as she loudly caught her breath, exhaustedly falling on her back with her sword clattering on the ground.

“L/N!”

That voice. That god-awful voice. She closed her eyes shut, unable to open them for a second due to her strong will to rest and recover. Look, now she was even hallucinating Lockwood calling her by her last name. It was impossible that he was there, and even if he was — she laughed slightly. He couldn’t be. If he was, she would tear the world apart just to get away from him. She wanted to be millions of miles away from him, avoiding his gaze, getting rid of his smell, and that stupid voice with that arrogant tone of his. He had crushed her dreams and hope like it was nothing, even with just a brief conversation, everything that she clung to in that agency faded in one statement that she wished she never heard from him.

But good riddance, right? At least now she knew it was the wrong agency for her. She wasn’t cut out for this kind of work.

“L/N.”

“Can voices just stop — ” she angrily mumbled, almost in a slur of words, “ — pestering me all the time? Can I just have peace for once? Is that too much to ask for?”

“If they stopped now, you wouldn’t hear what I have to say now, would you?” Now that was it. The girl’s peace had been completely shattered once and for all with that single question built in a rhetorical structure. Her eyebrows now knitted together — an exaggeration, but they almost did. Just a little smidge and they’d be meeting. It couldn’t possibly be him, could it? Her heart fluttered both bitterly and in a way that she hoped that there was hope, but knowing Anthony, he was only here as a figment of her hostile imagination. He wasn’t truly here. That would be asking for too much — only she didn’t ask anything to send him here.

“I’m sleep-deprived,” she muttered under her breath.

It took Lockwood his whole body and soul to stop himself from smiling. He thought he wouldn’t see her here, that she would be off somewhere else, and not the usual destination she would go to whenever she was upset.

A hallucination: that’s what he was to her as of this moment. She still had her eyes closed, refusing to open her eyes, and what was worse was the constant question whether she refused to see the disappointment of a world with Lockwood there or the opposite.

Then, that’s when she felt a gentle contact at the back of her neck, slowly lifting her from the ground. Panic covered her bones and took over the nerves to her brain as she mentally screamed repetitively.

She quickly opened her eyes to see him kneeling just before her, holding her as if she was a fragile glass compared to all that he's seen in his entire life in his basement.

He was there.

He was real.

He was touching her.

And he was — "Your hands are cold."

"I don't care, L/N."

There was something different. All the passionate hatred she had for him was slowly starting to well up in her chest, but being swallowed by a big flurry of adrenaline that made her blood flush in her veins faster.

It was his gaze. They'd changed into something atypical. Too . . . soft, and upon realisation, the double volume of her disdain started knocking her off again.

"No," she mumbled and quickly sat up, pushing him away from her as she scrambled to get her rapier and stand up. "You can't just come here and play the hero, and look at me like that! No!"

Confusion changed his expression, "I just helped you."

"Why do you do this to me?" Her voice has all but given up standing sturdy. She trembled both in excessive fatigue and strong emotions. "You can't just — just look at me like that after you made me feel like shit! And then what? You pity me, and you say sorry and things will go back to being shit again and the cycle continues? What do you think I am?"

"I—"

"You what? You're sorry? Why did you come here? To tell me worse things, that I'm hopeless or that maybe you're so noble that you just felt the need to help me get started with my life?"

Lockwood understood every bit of what she was saying. Her absence in that home has made him realise just how much of a cowardly bastard he was. How undeniably much of an asshole he had been to her and how much hell he'd pay. Her wrath was just the start of it.

But his understanding was growing weary. He knew in a way that Y/N had her wrongs too, "You never told us about the voices."

She halted. She really didn't have any other reason than she didn't want to appear weak and bother anyone. Besides, she doubted the existence of the voice. But there was no excuse.

"I wanted to figure things out on my own," she stated before turning to leave. Before she did though, he spoke.

"I look at you," he started as she stopped and slightly turned to her side but not completely enough to meet his eyes, "like this, not because I pity you, Y/N."

That was her name. Her first name.

"I look at you because I've been. Whenever you were unaware that I was looking. I've always seen you from the start, hence why when I said you reminded me of how things begin and end, it was because you were the first person to make me get up from my bed and the only person I want to see when the day ends. When I'm tired and weary." He then averted his gaze to the ground, "I looked at you like that earlier because I couldn't bear to look at anything else or see you in another state."

"I regret everything that I said, and I wanted you to know how hard it's been to look at your door and think that in the next few days, someone else or no one will occupy that room knowing that there were traces of you — any traces, just anything but physical. It's been torture, not just for me, but for both Lucy and George. So, I thought maybe you'd gone to the place you've been going to peculiarly for the past few months," he continued.

Indeed, he knew her, watched her, examined her.

Possibly even admired her. From afar. But he looked the other way, believed the other way because how could he afford that? How could he afford these feelings knowing he had nothing? He had himself, but he did not have anything stable that he could give her. Will that make her happy? Not at all.

"I'm sorry," he breathed out. "I know it's not enough, but I'm willing to prove to you how sorry I am. Just — I want you to know that I never intended things to be so bad and out of control, and I never meant to hurt you. I thought I was doing the right thing, but this isn't an excuse. I just want you to know that I regret everything."

"You are not a dead weight, Y/N. If anything, you're a breath of fresh air, and you make things easier every time one of us feels down. You make the mornings lighter, the end of every exhausting day a moment of opportunity to think about how thrilling life can be. You make the next days, weeks, months, and years something to look forward to. When you left, thinking about those future moments without you with us, it feels empty and terrible. A few hours without you had turned us into malfunctioning lunatics. We're in shambles — I'm in shambles. What more with days? The truth is, it's not you that's the problem. I keep causing you pain, and I'm trying to be better, because I want to be better for you. When the time comes that I do, I will try to be the best. You deserve that. It will take time, and that is why I'll understand if you don't want to return to the agency with me."

Come to think of it, as she observed his state, his Lockwood hair wasn't in its best today. His eyes looked tired and bloodshot. His always tidy flat clothes were wrinkly and his tie was out of place. He looked like he'd been through hell, and his next elaboration explained why.

"Thinking about you every now and then, especially now, I've always shifted in my seat, trying to decipher just how you affect me this much. When I found the possibility of how, I felt the sense to hide it. Every smile that you caused, I hid it all, because secretly I love bickering with you every chance we get, because I get to see the thrill in your eyes and the fire that you hide. I thought that maybe if I hated you, I would selfishly gain more feelings and learn to embrace the things I might possibly find distasteful if my feelings started the other way. And I did, I managed to admire everything you hated about yourself. You've made me feel things strong enough that whenever I run away, I still end up going back to you."

"Lockwood," she finally spoke and swivelled to face him completely. "Anthony."

"Yes?" He eagerly lifted his head to wait for her response.

She chuckled, "I thought you were about to recite Mr. Knightley when he was confessing to Emma."

That's when he laughed and nodded, accepting the fact that maybe he said too much that all she could reply was Jane Austen’s Emma joke, "Well, I have been told that I have a knack for paraphrasing."

"Do you mean all that?"

"The bickering part, most especially."

"Do you want us to bicker now?"

"I think we're already starting," he commented, which made them snicker.

"I'm sorry," she stated. Lockwood thought that was her way of telling him that it was too late. His heart was pierced by a shard of mirror which he failed to use earlier for self-reflection. That was when she smiled, "I just don't know what to say."

"You can start by accepting our job offer. We, er, have an open position looking for someone with a talent like yours," Anthony cheekily replied with a playful smile. "Our agency is one of the most prestigious agencies in London, and we ensure the safety and warm welcome — new addition, of our team, old and new. Do you accept, Y/N L/N?"

“Didn’t you hear what I said earlier? I think I’m losing my talent.”

“And you still managed to beat a type two with a frenemy in one night with a rapier, a pen, and a box?”

"You're a bloody idiot." She defeatedly let out a breath of joy and relief.

"I'm taking that as a yes. Come on, if you say yes, we'll bicker nonstop and you’ll get endless coffee privileges."

"You're a bloody idiot." She defeatedly let out a breath of joy and relief.

“Just so we could hate each other again, and be able to speak about our fondness more.” offered his hand for her to take. She leisurely took it, trying to ignore the warmth her hand provided to his cold one. He was holding her. Touching her, when a few hours ago, he couldn’t even as much as lay a finger on her.

And when they got back home, the block had been covered with missing posters of Y/N, with additional apology notes and “Lockwood sucks!” extras. That was true.

[d0wnb4df0rf1cm3n]

Let me

Anthony Lockwood x F!Reader

Summary: You got hurt. It was his fault. And he feels absolutely awful.

Word Count: 3.4K

Warnings: Angst, Claustrophobia, Near-death situations, Some lightly mentioned family issues, Arguing, Couples? Quarrels, ANGST.

AN: The summary is awful - I feel like I say this every time. Idk if Reader and Lockwood are a couple, they don't have to be, but they can be if you want to. Love you all! (BTW I have not read the books in years so creative liberties were taken - I'm sorry for any and all book inaccuracies.)

The body of one 'Sergeant M. Bowers' floated precariously towards Lockwood. He backed up against the door of the bedroom, eyes darting between you and Bowers, rapier extended in front of him. You rifled through the bedroom, looking for anything precious or valuable. You had to find the source for Lockwood.

Lockwood had taken the case of this particular house out of pure greed. Mrs. Miller was willing to pay a pretty price to take care of her 'little problem' as she called it. You had warned him against it - the Bowers' manor was about a mile outside of the town you grew up in and you'd heard almost every story there was to hear about the house. About the family that inhabited the house. Lockwood hadn't listened.

He'd convinced you to come, saying the stories were 'probably just stories told to children to scare them away.' He assured you they weren't true. After George had done his research, you were more confident - apparently, reports of apparitions of children predated the problem and were therefore hoaxes.

The Bowers were an affluential aristocratic family before the war - the First World War, that is. "They were known for hosting Gatsby-esque parties to celebrate the most menial of affairs - like their dog turning one." George had rolled his eyes at that pushing the picture of the newspaper your way. April 6th, 1912. A week before the Titanic sank.

The sinking of the Titanic began a series of unfortunate events for the Bowers family, starting with the death of the youngest son, James. James and his to-be wife, Miranda, died aboard the ship, thrusting the family into a long period of mourning. In the following two years, 6 of the 12 members who lived in the house had passed away, forcing the rest to flee the countryside manor, claiming it had been cursed - which brought about the misfortune of the family.

The last of the family to inherit the manor was Sergeant Michael James Bowers, who was the youngest nephew of James. He had lost his life in the second World War; after being shot in the arm and leg, he had been honourably discharged and sent home. He succumbed to sepsis not long after, surrounded by empty halls and unhappy memories. Apparently, he had never left.

You shook your head in discomfort - dispelling the dark feeling that had crept over you since reading about the family's terrible fate. Something seemed off about this case - something seemed to have been omitted from all the research you and George had done.

At first, you disregarded it as nerves. The Bowers manor was big - bigger than any other case you had taken. Plus, it was close to home, which was full of unpleasant memories. Maybe the added pressure was playing on your mind. You tried to explain yourself to Lockwood, who dismissed you. Apparently, Lucy had to help Kipps with some research, and George was working on another case. There was no point in arguing with Lockwood when he had made up his mind, and he was not going to budge on this case.

Which led you to your current predicament.

There were many ghosts haunting the halls of the Bowers manor. It seemed that everyone who had died here didn't want to leave. You had rid the house of most of the ghosts - sealing almost ten sources in different iron boxes. Lockwood had danced his way through the Type Ones that he was dealing with - he was evidently the better agent out of the two of you. You had lucked out - you came face to face with a Type Two. The small girl kept repeating about her teddy which you had found in an upstairs bedroom covered in filth and cobwebs. You threw an iron net over it before leaning against a wall to catch your breath. You were exhausted - and you hadn't even dealt with the real problem.

Sergeant Bowers.

Sergeant M. Bowers was a lot more tortured than you had initially thought. His wife left him when he left for the war, leaving to follow her true love into the country - countless correspondences scattered across the rooms told you as much.

Then came the matter of a child - Timothy. Pictures of him were littered through the halls - toys left to rot in the hallways. Clearly, no one had cleaned it until Mrs. Miller bought it at that country house auction. Except the trace of him ended there. There was nothing in your research to tell you about him, nor any sign of him outside the walls of this home.

It was peculiar.

You had tried to tell Lockwood, but he brushed you off. "The kid must have died - explains the tortured relationship between his parents."

It seemed odd to you. What kind of mother would run off without her child?

A glint caught your eye. A small jewellery box lay on the vanity, dust laid over it as if it hadn't been touched in decades. You dashed towards it, opening it quickly to find a simple silver band inside. A wedding band. A source.

You placed the ring in a small iron box - one of your many engineering feats that made your job safer and easier to do. Bowers disappeared from over Lockwood and you ran over to help him up.

"See? Not too bad, was it?" Lockwood joked, taking the box from your hand and putting it in his bag with the rest of them.

"The only reason I'm glad we don't work with Fittes is the paperwork. We'd be drowning in it after tonight. Can you imagine? With all those Type Ones and the two Type Twos. I'd be crying into my pillow for weeks." You grabbed the rest of your equipment and headed towards the stairs. Lockwood's fingers wrapped around your arm, pulling you back sharply.

He pulled out his rapier and pointed it toward the woman - an apparition of a young woman, dressed in a maid's uniform and carrying a basket, seemingly full of laundry.

"Another Type Two. Great." Lockwood sighed, "You check downstairs and I'll check upstairs. She's a maid. Look for... maid things? I don't know." You nodded before hopping downstairs, armed with your rapier.

You went down to the servants' quarters, which you had seen on the blueprints of the house. The room was small, just off the side of the kitchen - and was perhaps the cleanest room in the house. The maids had been let go long before Sergeant Bowers had inherited the house. Clearly, they had taken the cleanliness with them.

You looked around for anything that could be a source. Why would staff die here, you thought, when the Bowers were known for treating staff well? And why would she choose to stay? You walked around the room, running your fingers over the sparse wooden furniture around the room, leaving trails in the dust in your wake. You tripped by the door to the bathroom, cutting your hand on a small loose nail by the door - probably used for hanging coats or aprons. You winced as you stretched your hand, closing your fist to stop the blood from dripping all over the floor.

You heard footsteps coming down the stairs. "Did you find anything, Lockwood?" No response. "Lockwood?" The door to the servants' quarters slammed shut. You pressed up against the door, trying to force it open. "LOCKWOOD? LOCKWOOD, HELP!" You screamed, trying to push the door hard. "LOCKWOOD, PLEASE! I NEED YOU!"

Lockwood called to you from the landing, telling you he's found something interesting. You tried screaming for him again, but he was too far away to hear you, just like you were too far away to help. Ghostly yelling startled you as you turned around. The maid was here, clearly oblivious to you in the room. She was humming softly as the ghostly yelling continued.

You watched her from a distance as she folded some invisible clothes, her humming still ringing out around the room. She laughed at nothing, before turning towards the door, expectantly. You turned towards the door, expecting to see some other apparition in the doorway but there was nothing. She seemed to get frantically worried by the lack of whatever presence she is expecting, her humming becoming erratic and eerier by the second.

Her eyes grazed over you, and she seemed to relax. She spoke to you gently, reaching her hand out to you, "Come, Elizabeth. There's no need to be scared." You felt the effects of Ghost-lock wash over you, as lethargy numbs your senses. You saw her drifting toward you, but you had no energy to run or even to poise your rapier in front of you. And she seems so nice.

You heard the door fly open and felt someone grab your arm, tightly. You were pulled out of the room and back into the kitchen. "Thanks, Anthony." You whispered, resting on the kitchen counters.

"Anthony? Who's Anthony?" You looked up, unamused by Lockwood's attempt at a joke.

Your jaw dropped. In front of you was a man that you thought you may never see again, "Grandpa? What the hell are you doing here?"

"I heard you screaming. Just wanted to make sure you're okay?" He said, eyes looking you over, searching for injuries. You hid your arm further behind your back, not wanting to worry him more.

He brought his hand up to brush your cheek, staring down at you lovingly. "I'm sorry about this, kiddo."

You felt hands pulling you up off the floor, and a strangely familiar voice whispering soothing words in your ear. You struggled in the grasp of this strange person, trying - unsuccessfully - to flee. They held you firmly, arms tucked neatly beneath you.

Tired from your busy night, you gave up, resting your head against the person's chest. You knew this cologne. It was Anthony's - you teased him for putting on too much and the scent lingers in the hallways some mornings. You settled, seeking his warmth and his comfort.

"Nice to have you back. You worried me for a minute back there."

"Lockwood? Worried? God, are there pigs in the sky?" You bantered back, your voice weak with exhaustion. He laid you down on the stairs, running back to grab your rapier and your flares. You must have dropped them when your Grandpa showed up. Grandpa?

Where did he go? You stood up trying to walk back to the kitchen. Grandpa couldn't see any apparitions - if one came for him, he'd be as good as dead.

"Whoa, slow down, Usain Bolt." Lockwood caught you as your legs folded beneath you. "You took a nasty hit to the head, plus you might have had a bit of ghost-lock as well."

"Lockwood, my grandpa," You said, looking past him, and back at the kitchen door, "He can't see them. We have to help him."

"Your grandpa? Honey, there's no one here." The nickname fell on deaf ears. You tried to scramble back towards the room, but Lockwood held you tightly.

He walked with you back to the kitchen - to prove there was no one there. There was no sign of anyone being there - nothing at all.

"Look - there's no one else here. You must have hit your head while getting away from the maid. Just," He huffed, pulling you closer to him, "let me get you home. Let me check you over - make sure you're alright."

You let Lockwood drag you towards the taxi and push you inside. You let him maneuver your body so that your head is resting on his chest and your legs dangle over his. You let him carry you like a rag doll into the house and set you down in the kitchen.

You shivered slightly - involuntarily - but Lockwood noticed. He draped a large blanket over you, boiling some water for hot tea. He grabbed the first aid kit from under the sink and sat down in front of you.

He held out his hand for yours, "Let me clean it for you." So you do.

He spent the better part of the next hour meticulously cleaning every scratch and scrape he can find - only slowing down when you wince, or to pour you more tea. He makes it how you like it - a spoonful of sugar and a dash of milk

Once he's done, he lifts you again and carries you to bed, tucking you in like a mother would their child. He turns out the lights with a soft goodnight and crosses the landing to his own bedroom. The first floor is plunged into darkness, but you stare up at the ceiling.

Sleep doesn't come to you easily. When you close your eyes, the maid's face is above yours - her hand reaching out to you, beckoning you. You want to take it. You see her holding Elizabeth, cradling her as she cries. Your grandpa's face comes up next to the maid and you see your grandpa die. How he screams for you to help him as the plasm burns through his skin. Your mother blames you - tells you that she should never have let you go to Fittes. The maid shields Elizabeth from the loud arguing coming from upstairs. No, not from upstairs. The arguing is happening below you. You shake yourself awake from your restless night, wincing as you contort your bruised body. You slip on your Fittes hoodie and creep downstairs.

Lucy and Lockwood are facing off in the kitchen. Again. You sit on the step, listening in.

"She told you she didn't want to go! And now, there's a chance she won't be able to go into the field."

"She'll be fine. She's tough, she'll get through it."

"You don't know that, Lockwood! You can't just assume that everything will be fine just because you want it to be." You could hear Lucy's voice breaking as she fought back tears.

"Maybe, she won't want to go on missions anymore," George piped up. Clearly, he'd been forced to sit there through breakfast and listen to the argument, "After all, you didn't listen to her doubts when she said she was scared."

"No, she didn't. She just had nerves."

"No, Lockwood. I was terrified. And you didn't hear me out."

"You're awake!" Lucy threw her arms around you, hugging you tightly. "God, I'm so happy you're okay!" You smiled at her warmly, hugging her back. She moved past you, saying something about needing to meet Kipps to finish their case.

"I'd hug you too, but you should probably shower first. Who knows what kind of bacteria fester in hundred-year-old manors? I'll see you after lunch - heading to the archives." George walked out quickly, almost as if he was being chased out by rats.

Lockwood stood in front of you, straight as a board, "You look like you've been electrocuted. Sit down. I'm not going to bite." Lockwood sent a weak smile in your direction.

You poured yourself a mug of tea and put some bread in the toaster. You made a mental note to send George a shopping list before he came back.

"So..." Lockwood started, and you wanted to laugh. In the almost three years you'd lived with him, you'd never seen him so nervous.

"So?"

"We should probably talk about what happened back there." Ah. He wanted to do this now.

"Yeah. We probably should."

"What happened? I mean, one minute you were fine, the next you were unconscious in the kitchen?" Lockwood said, leaning back in his chair slightly.

You grabbed your mug and sat in the chair opposite him, "Was I, though?" Lockwood raised his eyebrows, "Was I really fine, Lockwood, or did you just want me to be fine?"

"I don't understand?"

"Lockwood, I voiced my doubts to you! I told you to let it go! That this was a case we didn't have to take! That we'd find something better." You were standing now, leaning over the table, staring Lockwood down.

"Worth more than 90 grand? Do you have any concept of how much money that is?"

"YES! YES, LOCKWOOD, I DO! IT'S NOT NEARLY ENOUGH MONEY! We fought how many ghosts? 10? 12? Do you even consider that?"

"14, actually."

"YOU ARE NOT HELPING YOURSELF. YOU MAY BE THE LITTLE PRODIGY OF FITTES, BUT SOME OF US ARE NORMAL. SOME OF US ARE AVERAGE." You sat back down, your legs shaking. You were still too weak to force this argument. Your voice trembled, "I can't keep up with you, Lockwood, none of us can. Lucy, maybe, but even she needs a break. Hell, even you need a break sometimes."

"We're fine, aren't we? We're all alive and kicking, still fighting ghosts another day?"

"Yeah, but for how long? How long do we keep getting to cheat death?" How long until one of us gets buried for the unnecessary risks we keep taking? You didn't say it but the question took root in the back of your mind.

Lockwood sighed, "I don't know where this is even coming from. We survived. We did the job. We got our money. Aren't you happy-"

"HAPPY! HOW CAN I BE HAPPY, LOCKWOOD? I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED IN THAT HOUSE YESTERDAY! One minute, we were sealing up a source, the next I was being lured in by a Type Two, ghost-locked and bleeding. Somehow, my GRANDPA WAS THERE, AND THEN I'M UNCONCIOUS ON THE FLOOR. NONE OF IT MAKES SENSE, nothing - nothing makes sense. I feel - I feel like my brain's been scrambled. It just - I can't - I don't-" Lockwood kneeled next to you, his palm gently cradling your face, and let you cry. You stayed there for a few seconds before you looked up into his face, eyes brimming with tears, "You know what the - what the worst part was?"

"What was the worst part, honey?" There it was again, the nickname. Your heart skipped slightly at the sound of it.

"That you couldn't hear me." Lockwood looked at you, pain sweeping over his expression. "I called for you. In the servants' quarters. I needed you, but you couldn't hear me. I screamed and I cried and I begged and I- I needed you, Lockwood."

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his lap, before stroking your hair. You cried into his shirt, the white fabric turning translucent in the dampness.

"I will always come." He whispered to you, eyes bright with determination. "I may not have always been there before, but I will be now. I promise. No matter where or when, if you call, I will come to you." He cradled your face in his hands again, thumbs gently rubbing away your tears, "I will listen to you - and George, and Lucy. If you tell me you're scared, I'll hear you. I won't take jobs out of greed, we'll make decisions together. We're a team. I'm sorry I haven't been acting like it."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, tucking yourself into his neck, "I like the sound of that."

You felt Lockwood smile against your neck. "I'll take care of you. If you'll let me."

You pulled back, "Taking care of each other goes both ways. You have to let me take care of you too." He scoffed lightly, but you knew that he had agreed. He couldn't ever say no to you. Not even at Fittes.

"As much as I hate to ruin the moment, George was right. I don't want to think about how much bacteria was probably growing in that house." Lockwood helped you up, "You should probably shower." You nodded your head, chuckling lightly. You grabbed Lockwood's phone from the table and before he could steal it back, you sent a text on the group chat.

"We need food. PLS. WE HAVE NOTHING." You threw him his phone as you ran up the stairs. Lockwood laughed at the text.

"They'll know it's you." He said waving his phone as you grabbed your towel.

"Or they'll have a heart attack knowing that Frosty can change his mind."

fin.

[bloodcanbehot]

I Wish You Would

(gotta keep that Taylor Swift theme)

Anthony Lockwood x f!reader

Content: Angst? Fluff? Touched starved Lockwood

Warnings: Mention of blood and wounds, also some curse words (I think)

Characters: Anthony Lockwood and (y/n) Kipps. (Lucy Carlyle and Quill Kipps also appear)

Word count: 1.083

A/N: Exactly two people told me to post it, and that was enough (I'm literally about to enter to an online class while typing this). Chronology speaking, this goes BEFORE their first kiss but I'm a dumbass and forgot to post this one first, hope you like it

(I'll attach their first kiss here)

“Where were you?” Quill asked, seeing both Lockwood and (y/n) walk in with dirt on their faces and hair. As soon as he spoke, his sister’s face told him to not speak, unless he wanted to die.

“We’re fine!” (y/n) said, grabbing Lockwood by the arm and walking to the kitchen.

“You guys don’t look-” Lucy started, but the slamming of the door cut her off.

“Sit”

“I’m not your dog”

“And I don’t care” (y/n) said, pointing at the kitchen chair “sit down”

Lockwood did as she said, even though he didn’t want to. (y/n) started taking out items from the first aid kit, slamming them on the table as she cursed.

“I cannot fucking believe you” she said “seriously, why is it so hard for you to take care of yourself while we’re out on a case?” (y/n) asked, soaking a small piece of cotton with disinfectant. She grabbed Lockwood’s arm, forcefully moving the sleeve of his dress shirt up to see his cut better.

“(y/n) I-” Lockwood started, hissing when the cotton made contact with the cut on his arm.

“This might hurt” (y/n) said, after hearing him hissing, a smirk on her face.

“Okay” Lockwood said “I deserved that”

“You deserve more” (y/n) said “actually, you don’t even deserve me doing this for you, should I just tell my brother to do it, so you suffer a bit more?” she questioned, sarcasm all over her voice.

“(y/n)-”

“You know, when Luce told me you were reckless, I thought 'well, he's certainly not stupid' guess I was wrong!” she grabbed one of the big band aids and covered his cut.

“(y/n) I’m sorry, okay?” he said “this wasn’t reckless, I had a plan, it just didn’t work”

“Wow, what a surprise”

“I didn’t know the golden blade was gonna be there!”

“The what?” (y/n) stood up, forgetting about his other cuts.

“Last year we encountered him” Lockwood explained “we think he somehow works for Penelope Fittes-”

“My boss?”

“Yes” Lockwood nodded “he tried to steal the bone glass from Lucy and I” he explained “he’s also the one who shot me” he grabbed her hand “you have to believe me”

(y/n) looked at his eyes, processing what he had said in silence, enough to make Lockwood panic, the hold on her hand tightening.

“I… I believe you” she said, sitting back down. She wasn’t gonna lie, she always felt a weird vibe from the woman, or the entire agency for that matter. And she didn’t think Lockwood would lie to her.

He sighed in relief “Thank you (y/n)-”

“What I also believe” she started, letting go of his hand and grabbing a new cotton piece “is that your other cuts need to be taken care of” she said “specially this one” she tapped slightly the cut on his forehead, making him hiss again “I thought you were good at fencing?”

“I am” Lockwood shot back “I was just… surprised”

“Your blood says otherwise” (y/n) replied “now, lean closer so I can help”

Lockwood only nodded and whispered a small ‘yes’, letting her do the work and leaning closer as she instructed. As she leaned in, she quickly realized how her back was going to kill her if she did that, so she grabbed her chair and dragged it a bit closer to his, eventually ending up with her thigh in the middle of his thighs.

Lockwood chuckled “you might as well sit on my lap if you-”

“Shut up or I’ll do it” she cut him off with a smile.

He smirked “be my guest”

She ignored him, grabbing the back of his head to steady it as she disinfected the cut across his forehead. She was focused, focused on cleaning the blood and figuring out which bandage to use, but Lockwood’s wandering hands on her knee were distracting her.

It started with his fingers, slowly tapping her knee, barely noticeable, and she wouldn’t have known if he hadn’t kept going at it. His fingers slid across her knee and (y/n) made her best to ignore it, but as she stood up to change the cotton piece, he pushed her leg open, causing her to fall on his lap.

“That’s better” he said, smirk on his lips again.

“Lockwood-”

“Please” he said, voice so quiet she barely heard him.

She looked at his eyes, and for one moment she saw his mask crack. His dark circles and clenched jaw showed her how tired and stressed he was. She couldn’t even imagine how much his muscles ached after the fight, let alone the throbbing of the multiple cuts on his skin.

“Fine” she whispered, not trusting her own voice with the feeling of his hands on her waist.

She kept doing her thing in silence and he just watched her, tracing small circles on her sides with his thumbs. (y/n) just wanted to close her eyes and enjoy it, enjoy his touch on her skin and wish she could feel it for longer, to forget about the case, the fight, everything. She wanted to focus on him and him only.

“There” she said, breaking whatever spell was between them. She grabbed his chin, angling his face to admire the, now taken care of, cut “you’ll live”

He chuckled, smiling truthfully for the first time that night, or since (y/n) knew him, she didn’t care. She liked the small glow on his face.

They locked eyes, the blanket of silence settling on them again. (y/n)’s fingers slid across his chin towards his jaw, making him close his eyes and just enjoy her touch. His hands started moving up her waist, slowly, also making her want to close her eyes and enjoy, but she still leaned forward, closer and closer to him.

He felt it, the weight shift on his lap, some of her curly locks tickling his shoulders.

She could feel their lips almost touching.

The door opened, making her open her eyes wide and snap her neck so hard she wondered if this is how she was going to die. That would be better than the image she saw.

Both Lucy and her brother were standing at the doorstep. (y/n) stumbled off Lockwood’s lap, feeling his hands fly away from her and almost fell. Chair and all.

She gripped the thinking cloth “I was tending his cut” she stupidly said.

She could feel how Quill resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose as she looked at him.

“You sure were”

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

A/N: I feel like this scene and the other one are pretty similar, so if I do write the fanfic I'll change it, but let me know what you think! (Again, be nice)

[ghostlystyles]

𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓 𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆

anthony lockwood x gn!reader

anthony lockwood can definitely be a drama queen

request: Hi, could you do an Anthony Lockwood x reader where the reader is extremely exhausted and ends up passing out during a mission and Anthony gets really worried about the reader? Thanks :D

tessa’s notes: thank you anon for sending in the first request i’ve ever gotten, i hope this is what you had in mind :)

warnings: fluff, swearing, blood, sleep deprivation, fainting, a bit of angst?, canon typical violence, comment if i missed any <3

word count: 1,5k

— YOU OPENED THE door of 35 Portland Row in the middle of the night for what had to be the twentieth time that month and saw a middle-aged couple standing on your doorstep. “Lockwood & Co?” the man asked. “Yeah, that’s us. How can we help you?” you yawned, leaning against the open door. “Our house is haunted and it’s keeping us up at night. We figured you might be able to help us.”

You led the couple towards the kitchen and made them a cup of tea. “Oi, get up! There’s people here!” you called and not long after your three friends joined you at the dining table.

“So, tell us about what’s haunting your house,” Lockwood started, placing his ankle on his thigh. He wore a black, graphic jumper, joggers and his hair was messy. Although liking it, you’d been begging him for months to lose the suit every once in a while and usually midnight was the only time you got to see it, so you couldn’t help but grin.

“Well— we don’t know. We know there’s two but we’ve never seen them, only heard,” the woman explained. “And what did you hear?” you asked, leaning your head onto your hands with your eyelids heavy.

“Just— knocks on the walls and, we constantly have this feeling of crippling anxiety and fear and— we always feel like we’re being followed,” the man answered in detail. “Okay, that sounds like a Type One, so you don’t have to worry. We could get the job done tomorrow evening.”

“We actually don’t have a place to stay, we assumed you could just get it done right away.”

“That— okay. It might be possible, but it will cost significantly more as it’s extremely last minute.”

“That would be great, thank you so much. Money’s not an issue, we’ll pay you any reasonable price.”

“I’ll have to discuss it with my partners, if you’ll excuse us,” Lockwood nodded professionally as the four of you got up and walked into the corridor.

“What do you guys think?” he asked. “I think I could do it, they’re only Type Ones,” Lucy shrugged. “Well, I’d prefer it if I had time to research, but I guess it could work,” George added, rubbing his eyes. “And you, Y/N?”

“I— yeah, sure. I reckon I just need a coffee and then we can get to work,” you yawned, leaning against the wall to support your legs. “You sure? You’re not sleeping well as it is and you’re starting to look like a ghost yourself,” Lucy frowned worriedly. “A friendly ghost, I hope, but it’s fine, it’ll earn us some good money,” you joked. “I really don’t think that’s a good idea, Y/N, we should just tell them no,” George added. “Yeah, are you really sure? We can wait until the morning. We don’t owe those people anything,” Lockwood pitched in. “Yes, Lockwood! I promise it’s fine! It won’t take long anyway.”

— THE FOUR OF you slowly entered the house that belonged to the couple. “Lockwood and I will take the upstairs, you take the downstairs?” you whispered as you looked around cautiously. “You two gotta stick together, huh?” Lucy nudged you playfully. “Oh, fuck off,” you rolled your eyes with a smile. You always got the same response, but it just made sense. Lockwood had excellent Sight, and you were a pretty good Listener, George was average on all talents, but Lucy was an outstanding Listener.

“Does everyone have all their stuff?” Lockwood asked, with his hands in his pockets and you all nodded. “Okay, then let’s stop fucking around and get this done.”

Lockwood quickly walked up the stairs and you followed him, frankly a lot less quickly, as your limbs felt heavy on your body. “Y/N! You coming?” Lockwood stopped at the top of the stairs when he noticed you weren’t next to him anymore. “Yes, just give me a moment,” you muttered, stifling back another yawn. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Lockwood asked once more, his face coated in worry. “Yes, Lockwood, how many times? Just, stop worrying about me for a second!” you grumbled as you strolled further onto the first floor.

“I— Jesus, I was just making sure you weren’t gonna faint or something,” Lockwood muttered, slightly taken aback. "Wait, shh—," you whispered as you covered Lockwood's mouth with your hands. "I hear something."

You closed your eyes and focused, so you could hear the sound better. You heard the soft shuffling of bony feet and echoing sighs, but you couldn't quite tell where it came from. "I'm pretty sure it's a Stalker," you concluded. “Where is it?” Lockwood asked. “I don’t know… I can’t tell,” you said, you squeezed your eyes shut, but it felt like your head was stuffed with cotton. Likely because of the sleep deprivation, but you’d never admit that, of course. The two of you started walking in the direction of one of the rooms and warily looked around. You closed your eyes, but you’d lost the sound of footsteps.

“I think we chose the wrong direction,” you muttered and Lockwood nodded in agreement. You walked out of the room and back into the corridor, when you were suddenly overtaken by dizziness and a sick feeling. You halted for a moment and took a deep breath, but the feeling didn’t go away. Instead, black spots started filling your peripheral vision and slowly spread their way to the center of your gaze. “Lockwood… I don’t feel so good,” you trembled, before everything went black.

“Y/N!” Lockwood exclaimed as he heard your body collapse with the ground and he rushed over to you, cradling your face in his hands. “Y/N?” he croaked as he brushed your hair out of your face. After about half a minute, your eyes fluttered open and you saw Lockwood’s face hover over you. “Hi,” he gave you a watery smile and his expression shifted from anxious to relieved.

You slowly sat up and immediately felt like vomiting, as your limbs were aching and your head was pounding from the fall. “Hey, hey, slow down,” Lockwood whispered tenderly, “how are you feeling?”

“Everything hurts,” you said, when you felt something warm dripping down your cheeks. Lockwood’s gaze slightly shifted and he gasped when he saw the huge gash across your nose bridge. “What happened?” you winced, feeling the wound sting. “I don’t— you must’ve hit your head on the banister or something,” Lockwood worried with wide eyes, “we should take you to the hospital, that probably needs stitches.”

“No way! I’m not letting someone sew my skin like it’s a piece of fabric!”

“It’ll be okay, I promise. George, Luce and I wil be there the whole time and besides, it’s gonna leave one badass scar.”

— A TRIP TO the hospital and a fuckton of stitches later, Lockwood was carrying you bridal style down the streets of London. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone get this injured on a Type One mission,” Lucy chuckled. “Be nice to me Luce, I fainted and smacked my head into a banister,” you laughed, hitting her shoulder. “I suggest we all just listen to me next time, because I get really scared when people faint,” George sighed. “Oh, you should've seen Lockwood, Georgie. He looked at me as if I was dying.”

“Look, in my defence, I didn’t know what happened. For all I knew, you could’ve had a knife in your back and were slowly bleeding out,” Lockwood scoffed. “I’m just kidding, it was very sweet of you,” you reassured him as you patted his cheek. “You’re always so dramatic,” Lucy smiled, as she nudged Lockwood with her shoulder and he gave her a side-eye. “Anyway, when we get home, you’re going to bed and you’re not coming out of there until I say so,” Lockwood started, looking down at you, “and I’m going to find those people and try to rake up the price by a lot, so we don’t have to open the door in the middle of the night again.”

“That seems like a good idea, I’ll go with you,” George said and Lockwood nodded approvingly. “Why did it take me nearly perishing at the hands of a fucking banister for us to realise that taking clients in the middle of the night is a terrible idea?” you laughed loudly, throwing your head back. “Aha! So you do admit that you very nearly died and I have the right to be concerned about you and your well-being!” Lockwood exclaimed as he slightly swung you, making you scream and tightly hold onto him.

Lucy caught George’s gaze and shook her head with a smile, “we really should’ve waited until the morning.”

[edmione]

Anyone has a Anthony Lockwood x reader request? I’m at your service if you do so 😌

[saltwaterburns]

Hey! If it’s alright, may I request Lockwood and co x reader (platonic) where they comfort reader after finding out their partner cheated on them with a close friend?

intertwined, sewn together - lockwood & co.

This is so extremely late and I'm so sorry but this whole thing just, clicked today. I also included Holly from the books, I hope that's okay!! You can switch her and Lucy's places, though, it's not relevant to the plot. This one is short, but hopefully enough 🤍

Small sobs are wrecking your body as you hurry down the road, the soft pitter patter sound of raindrops falling down around you echoing throughout the entire street. The weather is gloomy, the entire sky painted almost black with the hues of dark blue clouds, the rumble of oncoming thunder heard in the distance. You suppose it's slightly funny that mother nature is keen upon showing off your inner turmoil to other people like this, because it's almost a picture perfect copy of how you feel.

How could you have been so stupid? You knew it was a bad idea to date someone, taking your current occupation into consideration. It was even worse of an idea when that someone was a bloody Fittes agent. But you decided to make an exception, to finally cave and try something new, something exhilarating. You really thought you could make it work with him, oblivious to the little white lies his mouth was spewing the whole time you were together about how he'd treat you like you were the loveliest girl on the planet. Yet here you are, tears shining on your red and blotchy cheeks after seeing him with his tongue stuck down another agents throat. Its not her fault, of course. At least you hope. You're praying that he hadnt told that girl anything, that she had no idea about your existence. You really dont want to hate her. You've seen her around the archives sometimes when you're tagging along with George to work on some research. She was always the only one to send a kind smile your way, often times making the tips of George's ears turn pink.

You turn around the corner and as Portland Row comes into your line of sight, the tight grip on your heart starts loosening. Home. You quicken your step and just when you reach the threshold to the house, it starts pouring down behind you. The streets quickly become flooded and you smile weakly in victory for making it there before getting soaked, messing around with the doorknob a bit before managing to somehow get it to open.

You let the door slam shut behind you and the gut wrenching feelings return now that you managed to arrive at home. Soft glow is emitting from the kitchen alongside gentle muffled laughter you manage to pick up and the melancholy feeling makes your eyes well up again.

"Y/N? Are you back already?" Someone asks. It snaps you out of your thoughts and you look up, quickly wiping your eyes with the backs of your hands. Holly is standing before you, her head tilted to the side in confusion, then worry. "Have you been crying?"

You shake your head frantically, not trusting yourself with the task of speaking. You're pretty sure nothing but a sob would leave your mouth right now. But Holly knows, Holly always knows. She opens her arms and pulls you into her warm embrace and for a moment you feel like a kid who has scraped her knee and is now crying silently in the arms of her mother. She sits down with her back leant against the wall and pulls you down alongside her, her hands not once leaving yours. You sit beside her and your head rests on her shoulder, her arm wrapped around you. Not a word is spoken, but her presence feels like a snug, homemade blanket smelling of cinnamon buns. Even if they're low carb.

Two presences join you. Its one for all and all for one, after all. George and Lockwood situate themselves down on either side of you and Holly. A moment of silence passes, and then Lockwood breaks. "I knew it. I knew he would end up being a slimy git. What else can you expect from Fittes agents these days. I'll hunt him down, I swear. He will regret the day he messed with an asset of Lockwood & Co."

The sudden outburst makes a small flame of joy spark in your chest and before you know it, you giggle. You cover your mouth in embarrassment, but then Holly also giggles and before you know it, you're a heap of laughing mess on the floor with George and Lockwood snickering beside you as well.

"I could steal something from Fittes again and blame it on him?" George offers, brushing it off as a mere joke when Holly looks up at him bewilderedly. You laugh again, your stomach cramping at the action and thank him, whispering that you'll think about it when Holly is distracted by noticing that Lucy is approaching, waving her over. Lucy sits down in front of you, offering you a doughnut from a big plate. You grab one (chocolate filling, your favourite) and thank her with a little smile. She smiles back and takes your hand in hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"I'm here for you, babe, always. We all are. That prick wouldn't recognise a good thing even if it hit him in the face," she says, rolling her eyes. Everyone is keen to agree, starting to list things wrong with the man. You're glad that they haven't forced you talk about what went down, the ache of it still very real inside your heart. You would tell them, eventually. For the safety of the bloke. He should've thought about having bloodthirsty agents after him before sticking his tongue down her throat.

You lean back into Holly's side, her arm sneaking around you. All of them are laughing and excitedly conversing with each other but you're glad to stay out of it for now, doing your best to memorise this moment so you can revisit it when the feelings become too much. Your friends are the things you hold closest to your heart, you're sure of it now.

[downbadf0rficppl]

let me

Anthony Lockwood x F!Reader

Summary: You got hurt. It was his fault. And he feels absolutely awful.

Word Count: 3.4K

Warnings: Angst, Claustrophobia, Near-death situations, Some lightly mentioned family issues, Arguing, Couples? Quarrels, ANGST.

AN: The summary is awful - I feel like I say this every time. Idk if Reader and Lockwood are a couple, they don't have to be, but they can be if you want to. Love you all! (BTW I have not read the books in years so creative liberties were taken - I'm sorry for any and all book inaccuracies.)

Repost

The body of one 'Sergeant M. Bowers' floated precariously towards Lockwood. He backed up against the door of the bedroom, eyes darting between you and Bowers, rapier extended in front of him. You rifled through the bedroom, looking for anything precious or valuable. You had to find the source for Lockwood.

Lockwood had taken the case of this particular house out of pure greed. Mrs. Miller was willing to pay a pretty price to take care of her 'little problem' as she called it. You had warned him against it - the Bowers' manor was about a mile outside of the town you grew up in and you'd heard almost every story there was to hear about the house. About the family that inhabited the house. Lockwood hadn't listened.

He'd convinced you to come, saying the stories were 'probably just stories told to children to scare them away.' He assured you they weren't true. After George had done his research, you were more confident - apparently, reports of apparitions of children predated the problem and were therefore hoaxes.

The Bowers were an affluential aristocratic family before the war - the First World War, that is. "They were known for hosting Gatsby-esque parties to celebrate the most menial of affairs - like their dog turning one." George had rolled his eyes at that pushing the picture of the newspaper your way. April 6th, 1912. A week before the Titanic sank.

The sinking of the Titanic began a series of unfortunate events for the Bowers family, starting with the death of the youngest son, James. James and his to-be wife, Miranda, died aboard the ship, thrusting the family into a long period of mourning. In the following two years, 6 of the 12 members who lived in the house had passed away, forcing the rest to flee the countryside manor, claiming it had been cursed - which brought about the misfortune of the family.

The last of the family to inherit the manor was Sergeant Michael James Bowers, who was the youngest nephew of James. He had lost his life in the second World War; after being shot in the arm and leg, he had been honourably discharged and sent home. He succumbed to sepsis not long after, surrounded by empty halls and unhappy memories. Apparently, he had never left.

You shook your head in discomfort - dispelling the dark feeling that had crept over you since reading about the family's terrible fate. Something seemed off about this case - something seemed to have been omitted from all the research you and George had done.

At first, you disregarded it as nerves. The Bowers manor was big - bigger than any other case you had taken. Plus, it was close to home, which was full of unpleasant memories. Maybe the added pressure was playing on your mind. You tried to explain yourself to Lockwood, who dismissed you. Apparently, Lucy had to help Kipps with some research, and George was working on another case. There was no point in arguing with Lockwood when he had made up his mind, and he was not going to budge on this case.

Which led you to your current predicament.

There were many ghosts haunting the halls of the Bowers manor. It seemed that everyone who had died here didn't want to leave. You had rid the house of most of the ghosts - sealing almost ten sources in different iron boxes. Lockwood had danced his way through the Type Ones that he was dealing with - he was evidently the better agent out of the two of you. You had lucked out - you came face to face with a Type Two. The small girl kept repeating about her teddy which you had found in an upstairs bedroom covered in filth and cobwebs. You threw an iron net over it before leaning against a wall to catch your breath. You were exhausted - and you hadn't even dealt with the real problem.

Sergeant Bowers.

Sergeant M. Bowers was a lot more tortured than you had initially thought. His wife left him when he left for the war, leaving to follow her true love into the country - countless correspondences scattered across the rooms told you as much.

Then came the matter of a child - Timothy. Pictures of him were littered through the halls - toys left to rot in the hallways. Clearly, no one had cleaned it until Mrs. Miller bought it at that country house auction. Except the trace of him ended there. There was nothing in your research to tell you about him, nor any sign of him outside the walls of this home.

It was peculiar.

You had tried to tell Lockwood, but he brushed you off. "The kid must have died - explains the tortured relationship between his parents."

It seemed odd to you. What kind of mother would run off without her child?

A glint caught your eye. A small jewellery box lay on the vanity, dust laid over it as if it hadn't been touched in decades. You dashed towards it, opening it quickly to find a simple silver band inside. A wedding band. A source.

You placed the ring in a small iron box - one of your many engineering feats that made your job safer and easier to do. Bowers disappeared from over Lockwood and you ran over to help him up.

"See? Not too bad, was it?" Lockwood joked, taking the box from your hand and putting it in his bag with the rest of them.

"The only reason I'm glad we don't work with Fittes is the paperwork. We'd be drowning in it after tonight. Can you imagine? With all those Type Ones and the two Type Twos. I'd be crying into my pillow for weeks." You grabbed the rest of your equipment and headed towards the stairs. Lockwood's fingers wrapped around your arm, pulling you back sharply.

He pulled out his rapier and pointed it toward the woman - an apparition of a young woman, dressed in a maid's uniform and carrying a basket, seemingly full of laundry.

"Another Type Two. Great." Lockwood sighed, "You check downstairs and I'll check upstairs. She's a maid. Look for... maid things? I don't know." You nodded before hopping downstairs, armed with your rapier.

You went down to the servants' quarters, which you had seen on the blueprints of the house. The room was small, just off the side of the kitchen - and was perhaps the cleanest room in the house. The maids had been let go long before Sergeant Bowers had inherited the house. Clearly, they had taken the cleanliness with them.

You looked around for anything that could be a source. Why would staff die here, you thought, when the Bowers were known for treating staff well? And why would she choose to stay? You walked around the room, running your fingers over the sparse wooden furniture around the room, leaving trails in the dust in your wake. You tripped by the door to the bathroom, cutting your hand on a small loose nail by the door - probably used for hanging coats or aprons. You winced as you stretched your hand, closing your fist to stop the blood from dripping all over the floor.

You heard footsteps coming down the stairs. "Did you find anything, Lockwood?" No response. "Lockwood?" The door to the servants' quarters slammed shut. You pressed up against the door, trying to force it open. "LOCKWOOD? LOCKWOOD, HELP!" You screamed, trying to push the door hard. "LOCKWOOD, PLEASE! I NEED YOU!"

Lockwood called to you from the landing, telling you he's found something interesting. You tried screaming for him again, but he was too far away to hear you, just like you were too far away to help. Ghostly yelling startled you as you turned around. The maid was here, clearly oblivious to you in the room. She was humming softly as the ghostly yelling continued.

You watched her from a distance as she folded some invisible clothes, her humming still ringing out around the room. She laughed at nothing, before turning towards the door, expectantly. You turned towards the door, expecting to see some other apparition in the doorway but there was nothing. She seemed to get frantically worried by the lack of whatever presence she is expecting, her humming becoming erratic and eerier by the second.

Her eyes grazed over you, and she seemed to relax. She spoke to you gently, reaching her hand out to you, "Come, Elizabeth. There's no need to be scared." You felt the effects of Ghost-lock wash over you, as lethargy numbs your senses. You saw her drifting toward you, but you had no energy to run or even to poise your rapier in front of you. And she seems so nice.

You heard the door fly open and felt someone grab your arm, tightly. You were pulled out of the room and back into the kitchen. "Thanks, Anthony." You whispered, resting on the kitchen counters.

"Anthony? Who's Anthony?" You looked up, unamused by Lockwood's attempt at a joke.

Your jaw dropped. In front of you was a man that you thought you may never see again, "Grandpa? What the hell are you doing here?"

"I heard you screaming. Just wanted to make sure you're okay?" He said, eyes looking you over, searching for injuries. You hid your arm further behind your back, not wanting to worry him more.

He brought his hand up to brush your cheek, staring down at you lovingly. "I'm sorry about this, kiddo."

You felt hands pulling you up off the floor, and a strangely familiar voice whispering soothing words in your ear. You struggled in the grasp of this strange person, trying - unsuccessfully - to flee. They held you firmly, arms tucked neatly beneath you.

Tired from your busy night, you gave up, resting your head against the person's chest. You knew this cologne. It was Anthony's - you teased him for putting on too much and the scent lingers in the hallways some mornings. You settled, seeking his warmth and his comfort.

"Nice to have you back. You worried me for a minute back there."

"Lockwood? Worried? God, are there pigs in the sky?" You bantered back, your voice weak with exhaustion. He laid you down on the stairs, running back to grab your rapier and your flares. You must have dropped them when your Grandpa showed up. Grandpa?

Where did he go? You stood up trying to walk back to the kitchen. Grandpa couldn't see any apparitions - if one came for him, he'd be as good as dead.

"Whoa, slow down, Usain Bolt." Lockwood caught you as your legs folded beneath you. "You took a nasty hit to the head, plus you might have had a bit of ghost-lock as well."

"Lockwood, my grandpa," You said, looking past him, and back at the kitchen door, "He can't see them. We have to help him."

"Your grandpa? Honey, there's no one here." The nickname fell on deaf ears. You tried to scramble back towards the room, but Lockwood held you tightly.

He walked with you back to the kitchen - to prove there was no one there. There was no sign of anyone being there - nothing at all.

"Look - there's no one else here. You must have hit your head while getting away from the maid. Just," He huffed, pulling you closer to him, "let me get you home. Let me check you over - make sure you're alright."

You let Lockwood drag you towards the taxi and push you inside. You let him maneuver your body so that your head is resting on his chest and your legs dangle over his. You let him carry you like a rag doll into the house and set you down in the kitchen.

You shivered slightly - involuntarily - but Lockwood noticed. He draped a large blanket over you, boiling some water for hot tea. He grabbed the first aid kit from under the sink and sat down in front of you.

He held out his hand for yours, "Let me clean it for you." So you do.

He spent the better part of the next hour meticulously cleaning every scratch and scrape he can find - only slowing down when you wince, or to pour you more tea. He makes it how you like it - a spoonful of sugar and a dash of milk

Once he's done, he lifts you again and carries you to bed, tucking you in like a mother would their child. He turns out the lights with a soft goodnight and crosses the landing to his own bedroom. The first floor is plunged into darkness, but you stare up at the ceiling.

Sleep doesn't come to you easily. When you close your eyes, the maid's face is above yours - her hand reaching out to you, beckoning you. You want to take it. You see her holding Elizabeth, cradling her as she cries. Your grandpa's face comes up next to the maid and you see your grandpa die. How he screams for you to help him as the plasm burns through his skin. Your mother blames you - tells you that she should never have let you go to Fittes. The maid shields Elizabeth from the loud arguing coming from upstairs. No, not from upstairs. The arguing is happening below you. You shake yourself awake from your restless night, wincing as you contort your bruised body. You slip on your Fittes hoodie and creep downstairs.

Lucy and Lockwood are facing off in the kitchen. Again. You sit on the step, listening in.

"She told you she didn't want to go! And now, there's a chance she won't be able to go into the field."

"She'll be fine. She's tough, she'll get through it."

"You don't know that, Lockwood! You can't just assume that everything will be fine just because you want it to be." You could hear Lucy's voice breaking as she fought back tears.

"Maybe, she won't want to go on missions anymore," George piped up. Clearly, he'd been forced to sit there through breakfast and listen to the argument, "After all, you didn't listen to her doubts when she said she was scared."

"No, she didn't. She just had nerves."

"No, Lockwood. I was terrified. And you didn't hear me out."

"You're awake!" Lucy threw her arms around you, hugging you tightly. "God, I'm so happy you're okay!" You smiled at her warmly, hugging her back. She moved past you, saying something about needing to meet Kipps to finish their case.

"I'd hug you too, but you should probably shower first. Who knows what kind of bacteria fester in hundred-year-old manors? I'll see you after lunch - heading to the archives." George walked out quickly, almost as if he was being chased out by rats.

Lockwood stood in front of you, straight as a board, "You look like you've been electrocuted. Sit down. I'm not going to bite." Lockwood sent a weak smile in your direction.

You poured yourself a mug of tea and put some bread in the toaster. You made a mental note to send George a shopping list before he came back.

"So..." Lockwood started, and you wanted to laugh. In the almost three years you'd lived with him, you'd never seen him so nervous.

"So?"

"We should probably talk about what happened back there." Ah. He wanted to do this now.

"Yeah. We probably should."

"What happened? I mean, one minute you were fine, the next you were unconscious in the kitchen?" Lockwood said, leaning back in his chair slightly.

You grabbed your mug and sat in the chair opposite him, "Was I, though?" Lockwood raised his eyebrows, "Was I really fine, Lockwood, or did you just want me to be fine?"

"I don't understand?"

"Lockwood, I voiced my doubts to you! I told you to let it go! That this was a case we didn't have to take! That we'd find something better." You were standing now, leaning over the table, staring Lockwood down.

"Worth more than 90 grand? Do you have any concept of how much money that is?"

"YES! YES, LOCKWOOD, I DO! IT'S NOT NEARLY ENOUGH MONEY! We fought how many ghosts? 10? 12? Do you even consider that?"

"14, actually."

"YOU ARE NOT HELPING YOURSELF. YOU MAY BE THE LITTLE PRODIGY OF FITTES, BUT SOME OF US ARE NORMAL. SOME OF US ARE AVERAGE." You sat back down, your legs shaking. You were still too weak to force this argument. Your voice trembled, "I can't keep up with you, Lockwood, none of us can. Lucy, maybe, but even she needs a break. Hell, even you need a break sometimes."

"We're fine, aren't we? We're all alive and kicking, still fighting ghosts another day?"

"Yeah, but for how long? How long do we keep getting to cheat death?" How long until one of us gets buried for the unnecessary risks we keep taking? You didn't say it but the question took root in the back of your mind.

Lockwood sighed, "I don't know where this is even coming from. We survived. We did the job. We got our money. Aren't you happy-"

"HAPPY! HOW CAN I BE HAPPY, LOCKWOOD? I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED IN THAT HOUSE YESTERDAY! One minute, we were sealing up a source, the next I was being lured in by a Type Two, ghost-locked and bleeding. Somehow, my GRANDPA WAS THERE, AND THEN I'M UNCONCIOUS ON THE FLOOR. NONE OF IT MAKES SENSE, nothing - nothing makes sense. I feel - I feel like my brain's been scrambled. It just - I can't - I don't-" Lockwood kneeled next to you, his palm gently cradling your face, and let you cry. You stayed there for a few seconds before you looked up into his face, eyes brimming with tears, "You know what the - what the worst part was?"

"What was the worst part, honey?" There it was again, the nickname. Your heart skipped slightly at the sound of it.

"That you couldn't hear me." Lockwood looked at you, pain sweeping over his expression. "I called for you. In the servants' quarters. I needed you, but you couldn't hear me. I screamed and I cried and I begged and I- I needed you, Lockwood."

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his lap, before stroking your hair. You cried into his shirt, the white fabric turning translucent in the dampness.

"I will always come." He whispered to you, eyes bright with determination. "I may not have always been there before, but I will be now. I promise. No matter where or when, if you call, I will come to you." He cradled your face in his hands again, thumbs gently rubbing away your tears, "I will listen to you - and George, and Lucy. If you tell me you're scared, I'll hear you. I won't take jobs out of greed, we'll make decisions together. We're a team. I'm sorry I haven't been acting like it."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, tucking yourself into his neck, "I like the sound of that."

You felt Lockwood smile against your neck. "I'll take care of you. If you'll let me."

You pulled back, "Taking care of each other goes both ways. You have to let me take care of you too." He scoffed lightly, but you knew that he had agreed. He couldn't ever say no to you. Not even at Fittes.

"As much as I hate to ruin the moment, George was right. I don't want to think about how much bacteria was probably growing in that house." Lockwood helped you up, "You should probably shower." You nodded your head, chuckling lightly. You grabbed Lockwood's phone from the table and before he could steal it back, you sent a text on the group chat.

"We need food. PLS. WE HAVE NOTHING." You threw him his phone as you ran up the stairs. Lockwood laughed at the text.

"They'll know it's you." He said waving his phone as you grabbed your towel.

"Or they'll have a heart attack knowing that Frosty can change his mind."

fin.

buy me a coffee

[jesslockwood]

Detecting the Haunted Masterlist 

Chapter Three

Word Count: 3.2k

Pairing(s): Anthony Lockwood x Detective!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Angst

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

Add yourself to the Taglist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He keeps staring waiting for you answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Y/n You’ve got mail.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lucy gives a sympathetic look, with almost an understanding. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.” He repsonds.

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

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

 “Y/n?” 

“Yes Lockwood?” You reply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taglist:

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

[icarusignite]

I love you forever (I'm not a dreamer)

Pairing: Lucy Carlyle x Anthony Lockwood @locklyle-week

Prompt: Day 1: Firsts

Summary: Lucy and Lockwood’s first date and first kiss 

A/N: So I was going to write all the fics for locklyle week in advance but stuff got busy so we’re gonna do this day by day lol. Would love to hear your thoughts so do share <3

AO3

The ghost on Drury Lane had been a particularly brutal one, but they were Lockwood and Co, equipped with Lockwood's dazzling charm and George's extraordinary research skills. And then there was her, Lucy Carlyle, with her eerily sensitive Listening ability. Nonetheless, they had survived another night and were trudging back to 35 Portland Row filled with the satisfaction of another job well done. Well, at least they had managed not to set the house on fire so in Lucy's book, that counted as a success. George marched on ahead of her, his strides filled with purpose as he muttered something about hot tea and biscuits. Lockwood though, she noticed, trailed behind them, unusually quiet and seemingly lost in his thoughts. Usually, he would be talking up a storm, praising them for their quick thinking as a team and beginning to discuss the next mission. Lucy watched him for a while, fingers itching to brush away the stray strand of hair that fell over his forehead and then berating herself for the desire. That is not how one ought to feel about a colleague, for that was all Lockwood was to her. A generous colleague, her partner, her boss perhaps, but nothing more. Eventually, when they reached their home on Portland Row, George hurried up the stairs, turning his head to tell them that he was going to go put the kettle on. That left Lockwood standing below the steps to his house, still in deep contemplation. Lucy waited a moment before clearing her throat.

"Are you not coming inside?"

Lockwood's eyes flickered to the open door that George had just disappeared through, and then to Lucys's eyes, "Erm... yes, of course."

"Well," Lucy raised an eyebrow, "what are you waiting for?"

Lockwood cleared his throat nervously.

"Go on then, you clearly have something to say."

"Right, yea. I was thinking, if...would you like to go out with me for coffee?"

"Coffee?" Lucy was surprised, and her heart gave a hiccup.

"You know, like what normal people do. Hanging out."

Lucy felt her lips raise in a slight smile, remembering what she had said to Lockwood back when Kipps had asked her out, "Oh is that right then?"

"Yes," Lockwood shifted from one foot to the other and smiled at her. This was unlike his usual smiles, the ones that were blinding in their confidence and charisma. This smile was tentative and hopeful and Lucy had to admit that it had a more profound effect on her.

"Lockwood you do realize it is like 2 am and we are covered in dust right now?"

"It doesn't have to be right now. Whenever...tomorrow or the day after maybe? After you've rested of course."

"Alright yeah, tomorrow it is then," Lucy confirmed, trying to tamp down the feeling of hope that rose up within her. This was nothing, just a casual hangout between colleagues. Lockwood was just trying to be polite no doubt, wanting to make her feel like a normal person who went out on normal outings in the daytime.

Lockwood's eyes lit up, "Great, it's a date then."

"A date?!"

"Oh...if you want it to be. I mean if that's alright with you?"

"Yeah...yeah, I'd like that."

Lockwood's anxious smile morphed into that brilliant grin that showed his teeth and made Lucy's breath catch in her throat.

"Ahem, the tea was brewed several minutes ago, it's about time you lot came inside now," George grumbled from the doorway and the two teenagers rushed through, avoiding each other's gaze.

_________________

The very next morning, Lockwood and Lucy arrived at a cozy little café in the heart of London, with nervous hearts and voracious appetites. Lockwood had chosen the location himself, hoping to impress Lucy with his knowledge of the city's hidden treasures. Lucy picked out a table for two in the corner and Lockwood, ever the chivalrous boy that he was, pulled out her chair for her.

"Thanks for bringing me here, Lockwood."

Lockwood grinned back at her, "Anything for you, Luce."

Lucy couldn't help but feel a sense of nervousness. She had never been on a date with anyone before and didn't know what to expect. She had especially never been out with Lockwood in a context that wasn't for work. As they perused the menu, she couldn't help but steal glances at him, fingers still desperate to brush away that blasted stray lock of hair. The waiter arrived just then to take their order, and both of them ordered full English breakfasts for themselves. As they waited for their food, they chatted about the ghost on Drury Lane and reminisced about their adventures together. Lucy had been worried that the date would be full of awkward silences but the conversation flowed effortlessly between them and Lockwood made it easy for her to become comfortable. Lucy felt a warmth spread through her body, and she relaxed, her heart swelling with an unexpected bout of affection for him. She watched as he sipped his tea, his lips curling into a contented smile. She had always admired his sharp features and confident demeanour, but in this moment, she saw a new side of him. He seemed relaxed, and at ease. His features seemed softer, more vulnerable in the early morning light that streamed in through the large windows of the café, and his dark eyes sparkled with something she could not name every time they met hers. She then chided herself for noticing other things, the way his typical white button-up clung to his shoulders, and the way his slender hands moved gracefully as he talked.

When their food arrived, Lucy distracted herself by taking several bites of her eggs, hoping to ease the burning in her cheeks.

"Wow, this is delicious. You have great taste," Lucy sighed, her hunger finally having been satiated.

"Oh, it was actually my..." Lockwood hesitated a moment. "Someone I was very close to, it was their favourite place, so I can't take full credit for the find."

"They have my eternal gratitude, dare I say that this breakfast might even be better than George's."

Lockwood chuckled, "Lucy Carlyle? How dare you. I am going to tell George you said that."

"Anthony Lockwood, don't you dare," Lucy mimicked in his mock outraged tone.

Then Lockwood was staring at her and Lucy fidgeted under his gaze.

"Is there something on my face?" Lucy reached up to dab at her lips self-consciously with her napkin.

"Not at all."

"Why're you looking at me like that then?"

"Didn't know it was a crime to look at the pretty girl I'm out on a date with."

Lucy's cheeks flamed, as she ducked her head and shoved a piece of toast into her mouth so she didn't have to respond. Lockwood smirked at her response, but despite his flirtatious bravado, the skin of his ears was flushed pink.

"Would you like to take a walk after this? You know, see the city a bit?" Lockwood ventured, wanting the date to last as long as he could make it.

"Yeah, that would be lovely."

After they had finished their breakfast, they strolled through the streets of London, admiring the architecture and the hustle and bustle of the city. They talked and laughed, enjoying each other's company and the warmth of the sun on their skin. As they walked side by side, Lockwood's fingers brushed against Lucy's making her instinctively flinch. Lockwood immediately pulled away looking embarrassed.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to... I mean I did but..."

"Oh, no you don't have to apologize. I was just surprised that's all."

Lockwood looked relieved but his hand remained at his own side, hesitant and unsure. Lucy, sensing this, decided to take matters into her own hands. She reached out and grabbed Lockwood's hand, lacing their fingers together, trying to ignore the way her entire being tingled and the way her heart raced at the contact. Lockwood brought her to the banks of the River Thames. It looked tranquil in the daytime, the sounds of the city fading into the background, but Lucy could still remember its frigid temperature the last time she had jumped into it with Lockwood. Lockwood led her to a quiet spot by the river, where they sat down on a bench and admired the scenery.

"It is a lovely view, you know when we're not about to leap in from several feet above," Lucy laughed, her eyes trained on the horizon.

Lockwood's eyes never strayed from her face as he responded, his voice low and mesmerized, "Yes, quite lovely indeed."

Lucy turned her head and was met with his startlingly sincere gaze, a question on his lips that he could not seem to utter. It was surprising to see this side of him, so vastly different from his usual confident, charming self.

"Yes?" she prompted.

Lockwood took a deep breath, his hand shaking slightly as he reached out to tuck a strand of her hair tenderly behind her ear, "I've been wanting to ask...can I-ahem, can I kiss you?"

Lucy's heart skipped a beat at his request. She would have been lying if she said that she never dreamed of moments like this, but the way Lockwood asked still caught her off guard.

"Of course," she said softly, smiling at him.

Lockwood leaned in slowly, his lips stopping a hairsbreadth from hers, pausing to give her a chance to push him away, to rescind her consent, before brushing them against hers in a soft, gentle kiss. Lucy closed her eyes, savouring the sensation of Lockwood's lips on hers. The kiss was brief and delicate, and when they pulled away, Lockwood's eyes twinkled with adoration.

"That was... erm... nice," Lucy said shyly.

Lockwood laughed before leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead, "I'd say it was better than nice Luce. It was wonderful. You're wonderful."

[vi-trying-to-survive]

Public Displays

Anthony Lockwood x f!Reader

Warnings: None, this is pretty much fluff and only fluff :) 💖💖💖

Summary: Lockwood and Y/N have to pretend to be a couple for a case, which is hard for her, but things are more complicated than they seem, as usual 💖💖💖

A/N: I hope you guys like this one :) 💖💖💖 It's a little longer, but also I love the fake dating trope a little too much :') 💖💖💖 Also so sorry if updates are unpredictable and slow :’) 💖💖💖 Hope you have a great day 💖💖💖

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"Lockwood are you really sure this is necessary ?", she frowned, sinking deeper into her seat.

Why did they need to pretend to be couple for this ? He was known to love elaborate plans, but this seemed a little much and slightly unnecessary. Alright, maybe the problem was partly because she really liked him, but how could she not. He always had her tea ready, just the way she liked it. He made her laugh, not cute little giggles, the ugly one that had her in tears on the ground, snorting. He cared about everyone in the team, more than he cared about himself sometimes, and definitely more than he let on. So, it was hard to not like him. She did hide it though, buried so deep, as to be sure that no one would ever know. Someone smarter and braver than her would have told her to just tell him how she felt, but it was easier this way, the pain of rejection would be agonising. Not just because she'd lose him, it may as well be like losing Lucy and George as well. She would rather live in denial all her life, than give up her only actual family. What could she say, she was a pessimist.

"I'm positive", he grinned.

George put down his book, nodding his head, "Public displays of affection do make people uncomfortable"

"Not helping", she groaned, letting her head drop into her hands.

"What ?! I'm just stating the obvious", he frowned, looking around the room for an air of support. The room was silent except for Lucy, giggling in her seat. Clearly this was amusing to her. She shot her a wary look, a silent plea for help. She only shrugged her shoulder, popping another biscuit into her mouth. She cursed under her breath.

He took a seat next to her, a hand on her shoulder, "Don't you trust me Y/N". She did trust him, that wasn't the problem. She didn't trust herself.

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"Lockwood, slow down", she gasped, unable to keep up with him. He was practically dragging her behind him. Their hands were interlocked, and she was only too aware of how her hand slotted into his, like pieces of a jigsaw. She was terrified. Her palms were sweaty. What if he could notice how sweaty her palms were. She muttered an apology as she bumped into another passerby, looking down on the ground.

He didn't slow down, only shook his head with a smile, "Sorry sweetheart, you are just going to have to walk faster".

She was taken aback, but kept walking. "I- Don't call me that", she sighed.

He squeezed her hand little, "What? It's part of the act, we are playing a couple".

"You are so annoying", she rolled her eyes. She hoped that he wouldn't look back and see the blush that coloured her face.

"But you love it sweetheart", he laughed and she couldn't help but laugh too.

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"You know we need this to be believable right ?", he sent her a pointed look.

"This is completely believable", she raised a brow, gesturing to the couch that they were both seated on. She was playing dumb, well aware of the distance between them. It was supposed to be a reality check of sorts, that she was hoping he wouldn't notice, but he was being sharper about this than she thought.

He chuckled, bringing a hand to her waist, pulling her towards him, "You could come a little closer ?". She pressed her lips together, as her contingency plan fell to pieces. Well shit. "You're so stiff", he repositioned her arms around him, allowing her head to rest on his shoulder, before replacing his arm around her.

"There this isn't so bad is it", he sighed, sounding a little too pleased with himself. He was warm and comfortable, with the faintest scent of lavender and bergamot. She let herself relax, as much as she could at least, settling in next to him. He was all to aware, a smug smirk plastered on his face. This was bad.

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She found herself in a predicament. She had to create a distraction. The best way would be to act like a couple, but that would only make it worse for her at the end of the night. Chancing a glimpse at the shadowy figure in the corner of her eye, she groaned internally. She knew what she had to do.

"Hey", she turned towards him,

His eyes met hers, "Yes ?'.

"How is that you always manage to look so good ?", she giggled, pulling him closer by his tie. She brought her palm to his cheek, he leaned into her touch. That was weird, but she kept going. She wasn't risking her sanity the whole day just for the case to end up in failure. She moved in closer, their lips only meeting, separated by a few millimetres. She could feel his hot breath on hers. Her heart pounded faster. How had this become a part of her job ?

His face turned red, "I um- I-".

The figure moved past them, and she thanked every higher power in existence. She pushed away from him, taking a step back. His tie dropped from her hold, "Okay they're gone".

Only then could she truly appreciate how flustered he had actually gotten. He looked like he had run a kilometre. She laughed, "Are you blushing ?". It was rare, which is why it was such a treat. At least if anything, at the end of this day she could say that she made the Anthony Lockwood speechless.

He fixed his gaze on the ground, running a hand through his hair, "I- I um- No".

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"They're coming out, we gotta go", she hissed, tugging at his arm. How had she not come to the realisation that this would end up with them in a sketchy alley, that was lit up by a sinister glow and wet with something she hoped was just rain water. This was disgusting, but the stakes of their lives was a bigger priority than hygiene, and still everything she endured today would all be for nothing if they were dead at the end of this.

He ran a palm across his face, "No there's not enough time".

"They're gonna know we were eavesdropping", she chewed her bottom lip. Her eyes flitted back and forth, searching for an escape, but all she could see were walls, nothing to climb, no hole to squeeze threw. Nothing. How could there be nothing ? They always made it out ? He always had a plan.

She looked at him, a sinking feeling burning a hole in the bottom of her stomach. "I- I know what to do", he sounded unsure.

At least he had a plan, and a plan was better than nothing. She winced, shrugging her shoulders, "Well whatever it is you're gonna have to do it quick".

In one swift movement, he had shoved her against the wall, his body pressed up against hers. She was breathing heavily, trying and failing to look anywhere else. It was probably not a great look, but when he put his lips on hers, her mind went blank. He tasted sweet, like honey. He was gentle, not like that she had imagined. It was soft and hesitant, messy and awkward. Still through all that it felt different, less like a daydream, more real.

He pulled away, she gasped, "That was-".

"I'm sorry, they’re gone now- I didn't mean to-", he began, hands up in surrender. Cutting him off she grabbed the collar of his shirt, connecting their lips again. He was taken aback, but he caught on soon enough, his hands moving to her waist, tugging her closer against him, almost suffocating her. It would be a lie to say she didn’t enjoy it though. Her fingers were tangled in his hair, leaving it sticking out in different ends. She felt warm all over and desperate, clinging onto him, but in the moment she didn’t care.

She pulled away breathless. He looked out-of-breath, yet he still seemed to be watching her closely. She turned her gaze to his, searching his eyes for a sign, something to tell her that he felt the same. He gave her a soft smile, “Can- Can we do that again ?”. She laughed.

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The door swung open. Her eyes travelled to their interlocked hands. He scratched the back if his head sheepishly and she looked to the ground.

"So, how was your date ?", she took a step back, letting them in, with a teasing grin.

Her eyes were still trailed on the floor, letting him lead her in, "We um-". How would she be able to describe it ? Where would she even begin ?

"I knew it", she shook her head knowingly, arms crossed.

She was confused. "What ?", he wondered, tracing patterns on the back of her palm.

“You two kissed”, she pointed out, but before he could respond she was already marching up that stairs, “George you owe me 10 quid”.

Maybe she wasn’t as great at hiding her feelings as she thought ? She tilted her head to look at him. His hairs was ruffled with a tired smile on his face, her hand still secured in his. Turning to her, he raised a brow, probably feeling her stare. She just smiled back.

"You two kissed", she pointed out, like it was written on their foreheads, but before he could think of a response, she was already marching up the stairs, “George you owe me 10 quid”.

They were silent. Maybe she wasn’t as good as hiding her feelings as she though she was. She tilted her head to look at him, a ruffled with a tired smile on his face, she felt a sense of comfort. He turned over to her, probably sending her stare, she just smiled, content.

They were silent. She felt her face heat up. Was it that obvious to everyone else ? Maybe she wasn’t as incognito as she had thought ? And maybe that wasn’t so bad she thought, as she looked at him, ruffled with a tired smile on his face. She felt a a strange sense of comfort and couldn’t help but smile too.

[fleetingvow]

ANTHONY LOCKWOOD X FEMALE READER

DICLAIMER. This is only a teaser for my new upcoming Anthony Lockwood fic. As usual, it’s under the angsty fluff category with the jealous will-they-won’t-they trope. It will be released either tomorrow or the day after that. While waiting, if you wish, you can check out my other Anthony Lockwood fics by visiting my masterlist. It’s all angsty for those who live off angst!

SYNOPSIS. You and Anthony have settled it before. You couldn’t allow whatever it was that had been going on between the two of you to continue. So, that resulted to consistent longing looks and stolen glances, until you met someone new. Lockwood didn’t like that, especially with the way this bloke flirted using the very language he used to communicate with you from far away.

TEASER. “I don’t like the way he looks at you,” he mumbled quietly, eyes glued to yours as you scanned his face for a sign whether he was cracking a joke. There wasn’t any readable hint at all, and you knew just how to handle a situation like that.

Play dumb. You painted a face of confusion, slowy settling your hands to your side after they went numb from clutching your hips. You replied, dragging the emphasis of the question along, “Looks at me like what?”

He took a deep breath and averted his gaze, buying his merry time as he appeared to be lost in thought, mesmerised by how utterly stupid he was starting to feel. This time, it was him that placed his hand on his hip, his other firmly placed on the table next to the chair he warmed with his presence earlier but completely ghosted as he stood. He lifted that hand and rubbed the nape of his neck. He shouldn’t be saying it. He shouldn’t even think it!

But by God, you were driving him mad!

“Like how I’m supposed to look at you.” He could have sworn his hand twitched in response to the urge to slap himself, but he had to keep his composure, especially in front of you. He had to appear better than the guy who had been the object of your attention this past week. Anthony mentally cringed — Why did he say that? He messed up, didn’t he? Ridiculously so!