#how lockwood literally looks at lucys lips

[thoughts-of-the-unheard]

im so sorry but the tension in the scene where lockwoods cleaning and bandaging lucys arm, shits got me feeling like its hard to breathe

[gwendolynnderolo]

brain has been replaced with locklyle wound bandaging scene in episode 4

[neewtmas]

A Fateful Bus Ride

A/N: I'M BACK! wohoo! Hopefully at least some people are happy about that whoops

I finally somewhat dug myself out of this slump I've been in (writing and otherwise) and this is my reintroduction piece, if you will. It's not my greatest work (when is something ever lol) but I think it's decent and if anyone has any more requests, I'd be happy to write them. This request is from literal months ago (I'm so sorry it took so long, I hope you're still interested) and it's the only one that didn't get deleted with my whole inbox bc I had started writing it already elsewhere. anyways, enjoy <3

pairing: george karim x fem!reader

wordcount: 2.2k

request: Could you make a George Karim x fem or gn reader where they are on their way to a mission and they have to ride a bus and there aren’t enough seats so she sits on his lap and he realizes he likes her and he confesses to her when they get home and he holds her in his arms (sorry if that is very specific It just came to me and it’s so cute) 💜💕 - by @iloveyousomuchhhhhh (it's not 100% exact but I hope you like it anyways :))

taglist: @maraschinomerry @marinalor @oblivious-idiot @lockwood-lover @givemea-dam-break (if you want to be added or removed, just send me an ask)

masterlist

George stood in the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of tea when he heard a commotion in the basement. The door to the staircase was slightly ajar, and he heard the clattering of metal chains against the concrete floor, followed by some curses and then more clattering. After a short silence, in which he contemplated if he should go downstairs to check, he heard the stairs creak as someone stomped upstairs, chains loudly sounding against the metal of the steps. The door got pushed open, and Y/N entered the kitchen, arms full of chains. She was breathing heavily as she unceremoniously dropped them next to the kitchen table on the floor. "What idiot put them into the closet like that? Of course they would just fall out and break my goddamn toes." George cleared his throat. He knew the culprit all too well, but a look at Y/N's face told him it would be wiser to feign ignorance. So he just shrugged. "Maybe Lockwood was feeling lazy last night", he offered and took a sip of tea to hide the small smile that fought its way onto his lips. From the way she glared at him, he was sure that she knew exactly who was responsible for putting the chains away the evening prior.

She left the kitchen and pulled the door closed rather strongly, as she always did when she was irritated. If it had closed, the bang would have probably shaken the pictures on the wall in Lucy's room in the attic, but it didn't. Instead, Lockwood came in, pushing it open again. He seemed to be in a good mood and full of energy, strutting over to the kettle on the stove, lifting the top to check for the tea inside before turning around to George. His gaze fell to the pile of chains. "Why are there chains on the floor?" He didn't even wait for George to answer, instead, he kept talking as he grabbed a cup from the cupboard and poured some tea in. "Just got the confirmation call, the case tonight is still on. Have you had a chance to gather some information?"

George filled him in on the findings the morning in the library had brought. It wasn't anything too special, it seemed to be a routine case. "Couldn't find any deaths related to the house or the ground it was built on. The lady on the phone talked about how the haunting started sometime after her great-aunt died. She wasn't living in the house though, so my bet is on some sort of haunted heirloom." Lockwood nodded contemplatively. "Sounds interesting enough."

An hour later, the four of them stood by the door, all packed and ready to go. Lockwood had the telephone by his ear, listening to what the person on the other side was saying. His expression turned from neutral to irritated quickly. He listened for a few more seconds, then said a curt goodbye before hanging up. "Can you believe it? Not a single cab is available in all of London. That guy must be mad!"

"What do we do now?", Lucy asked and Lockwood let out a long drawn sigh. "We take the bus. As the gentleman on the phone let me know, that is just as fine of transportation as a cab." He huffed, clearly of a different opinion. But complaining wouldn't get them to their destination any quicker, so they begrudgingly grabbed their equipment and left the house. Y/N had the straps of the duffle bag containing the chains thrown over her shoulder, and she quickly realised that carrying the heavy bag down the street would be much harder than simply carrying it a few metres to a waiting cab. She had a slight stumble in her step, the weight of the chains throwing her off balance.

"Do you need help with that?" George slowed down until she was next to him and extended his hand. "No it's fine", said Y/N through gritted teeth and attempted to keep walking. It was clearly not fine. George quickly caught up to her. "Just let me help you, Y/N." She sighed, setting down the bag and rubbing her shoulder with a grimace. "Fine. But let me at least carry your bag." George couldn't help but smile at her defiance. He remembered very well how long it took him to convince her to let him help her when she was struggling with something.

When she had started working for Lockwood & Co, she had been friendly but closed off - nothing that George hadn't experienced with Lockwood already. And after all, he himself wasn't known for being the most sociable person either. But something about her had caught his interest from the very first time she had walked through the door of 35 Portland Row. He handed her the much lighter duffle bag he had been carrying and picked up the one with the chains.

At the bus stop, they didn't have to wait too long, but that made their situation only marginally better. The bus that came to a halt in front of them was full, much fuller than one would expect at this time of day. But that's just how it was in the summer months, their work started when it was still light out, and that always meant that much more people were around. They hauled their bags and themselves into the vehicle and past the passengers already sitting inside. It was very apparent that the sight of their filled duffle bags, dark clothing and especially the rapiers that gleamed at their sides made the people around them somewhat uncomfortable. There were only three unoccupied seats left, and when Y/N, who entered the bus last, reached them, they were of course claimed by her colleagues.

It wasn't very comfortable, they had too much stuff with them and the bus was already overfull. "Do you wanna sit down?" George asked her and was already about to get up to let her have his seat, but she shook her head and motioned him to sit back down. "It's fine. I can just sit on the bags." They had stacked the bags to not take up any more space. But before Y/N could find a way to make herself comfortable on them, the bus driver started the engine back up and the bus lurched forward. She stumbled back, losing her grip on the pole she had held onto and landed on George's knees. She immediately started apologizing profusely, embarrassed by their sudden closeness. "It's fine, don't worry", George interrupted her, feeling a little overwhelmed by how flustered he felt all of a sudden.

She didn't try to get up and away from him immediately, and George surprised himself with his boldness as he pulled her closer so that she was on his lap completely. "Just stay here. If that's fine with you", he added hastily, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. Maybe that was a little too forward. He half expected her to jump up and get as far away from him as possible, but instead, she sheepishly nodded and didn't move. George turned his head to look out of the window, and he could feel the stares of both Lucy and Lockwood almost burning holes in the back of his head.

It was quite a long drive to the house they would be working at tonight, and George was happy to notice that Y/N seemed to get more comfortable with every passing minute. Where she was sat straight at the beginning, she was now leaning back against his chest. And again, with a boldness he didn't know he had he wrapped his arms, which had been by his side until now, around her waist and pulled her even closer to him. For a few seconds, his heart felt like it was about to jump out of his chest as he held his breath and waited for her reaction. But she just crossed her arms, placing them on top of his.

They spent the rest of the drive like this, and it was only when they reached the final stop, that George reluctantly pulled away his arms from her to let her get up. She didn't look at him, but her cheeks were pink as she grabbed her bag and dragged it off the bus. They were to only ones to get off at this stop, and so they stood alone on the sidewalk as the bus drove off. George prayed that no one would say anything about what had just happened. Luckily, neither Lucy nor Lockwood seemed to be in the mood for any teasing, though he could still feel them looking at him curiously. He chose to ignore them.

The case was just about as uneventful as he had predicted, and the source of the ghost - the great-aunt's necklace - had been found and cleared pretty quickly. Still, when they arrived back at the bus stop, it was dark. It was obvious that Lockwood still wasn't happy with this kind of travelling, but at least they didn't have to wait too long. This time, the bus was empty - no one besides agents was still outside now. The bus driver looked even more unhappy than Lockwood, and it was clear that he too would have preferred for them to have taken a cab.

But George was convinced that neither of them - neither the bus driver nor Lockwood - was quite as unhappy as he felt when he realised there was absolutely no reason for him and Y/N to repeat the seating arrangement from before. With them being the only four passengers, there were plenty of free seats available. But what somewhat lessened his disappointment, was the fact that Y/N chose the free seat next to him to sit.

Back home in Portland Row, George put on a kettle on the stove. Lockwood and Lucy had excused themselves to bed even though they came back earlier than usual from their case. Y/N on the other hand stayed with him in the kitchen while they waited for the water to boil. She was telling him about something that happened last time she had gone grocery shopping, but while he usually had no problems paying full attention to whatever she was saying, tonight it was different. He couldn't stop thinking about the bus ride. He had known before that he liked her, and that it was very different from how he liked Lockwood and Lucy - but it hadn't been clear to him just how much he liked her. And the way she had reacted to him - it gave him hope that maybe she felt something similar. He filled two cups with the water from the kettle and added the teabags. "Do you wanna sit in the library for a while?", he asked.

Y/N followed him to the library, where he sat down on the couch. She quickly contemplated if she should sit down next to him or if she should opt for the chair next to the couch. After what had happened on the bus, she was entirely unsure about how to act towards George. He smiled at her and she suddenly felt very nervous. Nonetheless, she decided to sit down on the couch, even though that meant they were now sitting very close next to each other. They were silent for a while, both sipping on their tea. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, it never was with them, but something was different than before.

Y/N finished her tea first and put the empty cup back onto the table. She was suddenly feeling very tired, but she liked the way she was sitting so close to George on the couch, and she didn't want this moment it end, even if she didn't exactly know what was between them right now. So instead, she leaned closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder.

George could feel his heartbeat quicken as Y/N leaned against him, and he had to force himself to finish his tea without choking on it. He quickly leaned forward to put his cup on the table as well, but the sudden movement had Y/N sit up straight again. "No no!", he said hastily, cursing himself silently for being so awkward in this moment. "Don't go away. That was nice." He almost bit his tongue. Was that too forward? But Y/N smiled shyly, in a way she had never smiled at him before. She resumed her position, and with his heart beating out of his chest, he slowly put his arm around her shoulder. A part of him was scared that this was too much, but instead of pulling away, she just cuddled closer to him and closed her eyes. "You are right, this is nice", she said quietly smiled as George leaned forward and pressed a kiss on her forehead.

thanks for reading, feedback is appreciated :)

request something

[frogserotonin]

Hiiii, I badly need more Anthony Lockwood x reader on this app so could you do one where reader joins the agency and there are immediate sparks between her and lockwood (he's always flirting with her, he always does small things for her and he always protects her first in a mission) and one day he gets really injured trying to save her during their missions and at home she's really worried when patching him up and they end up confessing to eachother after they have a mini argument. Then they kiss and make up or makeout 😘

god yeah anon, i get what you mean, the reason im writing is literally bc i need more fanfic 😭 i have read every fucking lockwood x reader on here and ao3 if ya'll want anything written just ask :D - lots of love, mars

everything - anthony lockwood x reader

warnings: violence, ooc, kissing, cursing

You weren’t exactly sure when it had started, this weird tension between you and Anthony Lockwood. It was an odd thing that the both of you left unspoken about, despite the numerous jokes, comments and questions from Lucy and George.

Maybe it had been when you’d first joined the agency. When he’d opened the door to see who was knocking and gone completely slack jawed at the sight of you, before collecting himself and adorning his prize-winning smirk.

“Well hello love, how may we help you?” he’d said, casually resting against the doorframe.

“Are you Lockwood of Lockwood and Co?” your cheeks had reddened from the cold and nothing else. Most definitely not because of the casual pet name he’d thrown in.

“That would indeed be me.” he nodded, easy smirk still resting on his lips. “I assume you’re here for an interview then, come on in and we’ll get you sorted.”

After you’d passed the interview with flying colours, he’d told you how much he looked forward to working with you with a wink and a charming toothy grin. Even now, your heart rate went up a considerable amount every time you saw that fucking smile.

Maybe it had been your first case, when you and Lockwood had had to hide from a very persistent Type Two and you’d dragged Lockwood into the nearest open room and shoved him into the wall. You’d pinned him there with one hand on his arm, pressing it to the wall, and the other over his mouth. Afterwards he’d tried to charm his way out of your teasing his red face.

You didn’t know when it’d started but far out, you knew that it was there and that if nothing happened soon you might just kiss him the next time he speaks.

~~~

“George, Luce, angel, we’ve got a new case.” Lockwood called from the hall, placing the phone down and smiling widely. (Damn that smile, it made your heart weak and your brain fuzzy) “We’re going as soon as possible so it’s best we get ready as fast as we can.”

And that was that. You all packed the necessities, like you always did. You all loaded into a taxi and waited patiently until you were at the clients house, like you always did. Lockwood checked with you to see if you had everything you needed, like he always did.

“George!” Lucy called from her place halfway up the stairs. “Come with me, we need to check out the drawing room you read about.” You almost missed the wink she directed your way.

Great, now you and Lockwood were alone. Fan-fucking-tastic.

“Shall we?” he offered his hand and pulled you towards some of the creepier looking closed doors, not-so-discreetly pulling you behind him. Slowly he opens the furthest door, nothing happens. You open the second door, and suddenly you’re thrown against the wall.

“Y/N!” Lockwood cried, pulling his rapier out and swinging it at the ghost that’d materialised. For a bit he succeeded in pushing it back, allowing you time to reorient yourself, before he too was thrown away from the ghost, his rapier landing near his head. You groaned and hauled yourself up, grabbing your own rapier and stabbing at the ghost. It disappeared, then reappeared behind you, causing you to swing around wildly, accidentally putting yourself in the ghosts close vicinity. You felt your limbs start to lock up as you held eye contact with your doom, hoping and praying that Lucy and George had found the source and were covering it with the silver net. The ghost moved closer and closer to you, and you silently mourned all the things you never got to say.

And then, just as you’d accepted your fate, Anthony fucking Lockwood pushed you out of the way. You didn’t have time to dwell on that though, the both of you rolling in opposite directions so as to avoid the ghost swiping at you, before disappearing. You sat up and looked at Lockwood, catching his eye and sending a wobbly smile his way.

“You okay?” he asked, voice a bit strained. You nodded and asked him the same question.

“Yeah…I’m good.” he said, lying through his teeth.

“The fuck you are.” You forced your sore body to stand up so you could walk towards him and check him for injuries.

“Y/N! Lockwood!” Lucy ran towards you, halting your endeavour. “Are you two okay?”

~~~

The taxi drive home was awkward and tense. You fought a raging battle against the urge to call him out for being injured, to ask him what was wrong.

When you got home you dragged Anthony into the kitchen and sat him down on a chair.

“Tell me where the fuck you’re hurt right now or I swear I will find out what your worst fear is and make it real.” Lockwood chuckled.

“Love, I’m fine, really.”

“Don’t lie to me, Lockwood.”

Then silence and a slight guilt and still, somehow, that damned fucking tension. So you, do what any normal person would do and pull his jacket off, immediately spotting where he was injured due to the blood staining his white shirt. More silence and more guilt, that stays in the air while you wrap his cut.

“I’m sorry-” He starts but you’re quick to cut him off.

“If you were sorry you’d stop throwing yourself at danger at every given opportunity. You’re so fucking reckless, all the damn time!” You didn’t mean to start berating him but now you couldn’t stop, because he did need to hear this. “Do you know how much you worry us? Do you think George and Lucy and I like seeing you get injured? Goddamn it we care so much about you. Why do you pull these stunts?”

You only now realise how close your faces are. You could feel his breath on you face.

“I don’t think you realise how deeply I care for you.” he whispered, voice husky and low. “You are...everything. I can't breathe when you're not around me and I can't think when you're near me. I would set the entire world aflame if you asked me to. You're the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing I think about before I sleep. I love you so much it hurts my heart and my head and my entire being."

You didn't know what to say to respond to that. You were a mess. God maybe-

Fuck it.

His lips were soft against yours. His hair between your fingers, softer. His hands on the sides of your face, gentle. You were kissing him and he was kissing you and you were losing your mind.

"Darling, you drive me insane." he whispered against your lips, matching smiles painting both of your faces.

"I love you too, idiot."

"Of course you do."

[writtenontheport]

Just a Night at Portland Row

(pt.1) (pt.2)

Anthony Lockwood x (gn) Reader

Warnings/Tags: Literal romcom, These people are silly, Everyone’s so sillycore here, teary confessions, someone accidentally confesses, nothing dramatic happens he’s just silly, Childhood friends to lovers, Lockwood is kinda stupid (affectionate), no smut or suggestive content, Lockwood and co and reader friendship, whether or not what Lockwood says at the end actually happens is up to you!!

Notes: I have quite a few issues with this one, and I’m not entirely satisfied with it, but I think it’s one of the better ways I could go about it. I also put all the flowers meanings at the bottom, so if you were curious I did in fact plan the flower meanings (I am a nerd). This finale has gone through about 20 revisions on the first day alone, so if anything seems jarringly out of place, I am so sorry 😭 I was all over the place with my ideas.

Summary: Just before supper time, you and Lockwood have a heart to heart, and it starts as it always has: with flowers, with tears, and a little funny thing called love.

word count: 2.4k+

“George,” Lockwood says seriously. It’s the first time George has ever seen him so serious about something that isn’t Lucy or him dying and it shocks him how quick he is to steel himself for whatever it is. “I need you to get Lucy to bring them down here, if you can, please.”

Now, ‘them’ is obviously referring to you, who’s laughing away upstairs with Lucy so loud they can hear it ring through the vents. If this wasn’t something George has genuinely been excited for, he would have smacked Lockwood upside the head for using that terrifying tone. “Don’t say it like that, prick. Thought someone was dying there.”

Lockwood grins at him from where he’s messing with the bouquet stood up on the table. The paper wrapping hasn’t been removed, courtesy of the empty vase and that water would most likely melt it; ribbon still intact. They stand, not quite fully in bloom (which is the best way to buy flowers, because otherwise they wilt right away) but just on the precipice of it. It’s packed with other, smaller additions, but at the heart of it, well. Maybe Lockwood did know something about the language of flowers.

“How’d you even pick them out?” George asks instead, watching Lockwood’s grin wobble.

“I made friends with the shopkeeper. He wouldn’t tell me what any of them meant, but he said they were good flowers— like the carnations. One of them though… these white ones here, just felt familiar somehow.” He kept messing about with the bouquet, meddling with any loose leaf or bud. “Can you please go get them? I want them to be able to see the flowers before they wilt.”

George does swat Lockwood for that, but he goes upstairs to get you. You and Lucy have moved to her room on George’s urging (he made Lockwood wait outside before coming in to make sure you didn’t know) and were lying in her bed on your stomachs, reading and sharing books. Lucy’s the first to look up at him, raising a brow as she nudges you.

“George? Everything ok?” You ask, propping yourself up to sit criss cross on the mattress. “Has Anthony come back yet?”

“He has,” he says simply, “He says he needs you in the kitchen. Lucy should stay since she must be tired from the case yesterday.”

From behind you, Lucy has a moment of realization that has her tucking her lips to hide a smile. Quietly, she puts a hand up to her forehead in a salute to George.

“You should go check,” she says, “Who knows what kind of trouble he might be in.”

“A lot of trouble,” George adds, nodding slightly along. You narrow your eyes in suspicion, but you get up off the bed.

“I’ll save your place!” She calls just as you’re headed down. George walks 2 steps behind you to hide his expression before he can school it, feeling giddy with nerves that aren’t even his to have. He wonders how Lockwood’s doing, stopping just at his bedroom door.

You turn back, asking “You aren’t coming?”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine.” He rocks gently on his feet and pulls his hands behind his back, reassuring you with a calm nod. “Off you go, Lockwood’s probably burnt himself making tea by now or something.”

“I’d hope not…” you mumble, each step down like a crescendo in the world’s most suspenseful piece of music— every floorboard creak like the lead instrument and your heartbeat acting a steady base. On a sheet you’re sure it looks hideous, but it levels out when you open the door and Lockwood’s waiting there by the counter, looking like he’s straight off a magazine. The silence creeps in, but the piece rises to new heights as the sound of everything— the floorboards, the vents— suddenly dulls out.

You step into the kitchen, and let the door shut behind you.

There is your Anthony, standing there in the middle of the kitchen with a bouquet full of dazzling pink tulips, red roses, and spots of white jasmine flowers. There is Anthony, the boy you’ve known and loved for years— looking at you like he always does: like you’re the whole world and sky and everything he wakes up for.

Neither of you speak for a good minute, but it’s not without trying. Lockwood spends that pregnant pause fumbling for words, before—

“I love you,” He says.

The words come rushing out his lips, hurried and desperate. It shocks you how simply he puts it, like a sudden rest in the notes that takes you by surprise. He looks surprised too; horrified, really, that he’s just blurted that out. He swallows thickly, steeling his expression into something determined.

“I—“ you pause, the words caught in your throat, blood pounding in your ears. You think you tear up, but you can’t really tell when the whole world narrows down to Anthony Lockwood across from you in the kitchen of Portland Row, professing his love in the spur of the moment. You grow warm with affection, taking a step closer to him as the music of your singing heart drowns out everything but his words.

He takes a deep breath, his face pale with fear as he swallows and says quietly,, “Today, when I went down to the shops to get you these flowers, I met the really old man tending to them. Don’t look at me like that, he was really old, alright?”

“Anthony,” you scold quietly, tutting at him as you wrap your hands around his.

He bites the inside of his cheek before he keeps going. “Anyways he isn’t the point— I brought him up because he made me realise that I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I never gave telling you a shot. He lived loving someone else until they died— even after they did, and if… if there was a chance I could have that with you, I wanted to take it. I can’t promise you that I’ll be alive for as long as you will be, but I can promise you that I will love you for everyday I live and breathe if you let me.”

“Anthony,” you start, breathlessly. You take his face in your hands and he puts the bouquet down to cover your hands with his. He looks so scared like this, fragile like glass in your hands and pale with nerves.

“I can’t promise you forever,” He says solemnly, “But I can promise you my heart for as long as it beats.”

You take a deep breath through your nose, and will yourself not to kiss him. Years down to minutes— minutes to seconds. The silence hangs like a winding note. You glance back quickly at the bouquet, picking out one of the jasmine flowers before sliding it behind his ear and resting your hands on his face.

“Do you remember the first flower I gave you?” You ask just as quietly. He shakes his head, cheeks rubbing against the skin of your palms. “We were… quite young at the time, and I must have been mad, because I stole it from the neighbour’s garden. Yes, the grumpy one, you remember her. Well, I ran straight over from all the way from home with this crumpled little thing in hand— stop giggling. I’m telling you an important story— and you lit up like a light. Cheeky little thing you were, finding a way to give it back to me when I got scolded the same day for stealing and I was awful sore about the whole thing.”

“You looked all sad,” He cut in, voice hoarse in a mumble, “It made me happy, so I wanted it to make you happy too.”

You laugh, just as breathless, “And it worked, Anthony. It’s still one of my favourite flowers. Did you know that? They were the first flowers I read up on when I learned flowers could have meanings.”

“What’d you find?” He asks, the nerves fading into a hopefulness that fills his eyes with stars. It’s helplessly endearing where you see them shine, nearly nose to nose with how close you’re holding him.

You hum and close your eyes, pushing your forehead against his. “We gave each other white jasmine flowers, that day. A lot of people say they mean purity or innocence, but the one that stuck out to me was that people say it meant “everlasting love” too. When I look back on it now, it must’ve been fate.”

“Cause I always loved you and you probably realised that with how stupid I get about you?”He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close.

You chuckle quietly, just as helplessly lost, “Not quite. I didn’t even think there was a chance you could love me back, though that does make everything a bit easier… because I’ve always loved you, Anthony.”

Like a child on Christmas day, Lockwood’s eyes grow wide; he’s helpless to the grin that splits his face. “Really?”

“I’m no liar, Anthony, and certainly not about this,” you laugh, unable to help yourself as you tip back and rest your nose lightly against his.

“No like— you mean it?” He asks, voice cracking with hope as he searches your face, “You love me? You love me?”

You’re helplessly endeared, helplessly in love and helplessly lost to it, so you just whisper back with a grin as wide, “Yes, Anthony. I love you.”

What little space between you both is gone in a second when he pushes his lips against yours. It’s a desperate thing, all relief and comfort and love pouring out. At some point, you’re both smiling too wide and too much for it to be anything more than just pushing your lips against each other’s and you pull away with a wet laugh.

He grins wider, and you didn’t think it was possible but he manages it. “I’m so glad, because if I had to go back to the shopkeeper with a terrible story about how I got rejected by the love of my life—“

You giggle and swat at his arm, wrapping your arms around him, “Of course that’s what you worry about. This is all a publicity stunt, yeah? To boost your ego.”

“Of course,” he says, with no weight to the words as he sniffs and blinks away the last of his tears, “Though that just means we should make it a bigger stunt and get married. I’ll even invite Kipps just to rub it in his face.”

You hum, helplessly amused, when the door slams open and George shamelessly walks in with at first his usual deadpan, then a pleased expression. From behind George, Lucy is brimming with happiness, smiling cheek to cheek.

“Gross,” George says, simply and without malice. He steps around you and Lockwood, patting you both on the back sincerely and pulling out pots and pans. It occurs to you a little late that he’s starting on supper. “Took you both a while to actually confess. Mental, the two of you.”

“It was cute,” Lucy says kindly, taking you from Lockwood (he does pout lightly, but she just sticks her tongue out at him) hugging you dear. “George just means that we’re both very happy you two finally got together. He was starting to go bald actually from pulling his hair out too much, look at his hairline—“

“You can’t even pretend like you weren’t too, Lucy.” George sends her a glare as she separates from you. Lockwood quickly fills the space at your side again and all but wraps himself around you. Lucy pats him on the back with a congratulatory smile.

“You can’t go bald before my wedding, George, that’d just ruin it,” you say, clicking your tongue as you reach over (not without struggling over Lockwood) and pat his curls into place. The pot nearly slips out of his hands while Lucy’s eyes grow big as saucers.

“Wedding?!?” They ask simultaneously. Lockwood giggles into your neck, the cheeky bastard.

“This one here,” you gesture at Lockwood with a look, “said we should get married since this whole thing is a publicity stunt or whatnot. Said he might even invite that Kipps bloke he hates.”

“That is the lamest proposal I have ever heard,” Lucy immediately cuts in, the most disappointed scowl pointed at Lockwood’s head.

“I’ve got to agree. You could absolutely do better than that, Lockwood. Also, Quill Kipps? Do you want to have start a fight at your wedding?” George asks, his back turned to everyone. You pull away from Lockwood to pick up the flowers, but not without him frowning as you do. He stops frowning as soon as you smile at him, though, before he turns his attention to Lucy and George when they both pretend to gag.

“I gave them flowers, a really sentimental bunch I think, then I had a good speech,” He says to Lucy first, who raises a brow at him.

He turns to George next. “I need to rub it in his face that he’s probably miserable and forever alone.”

“I thought it was gonna be a publicity stunt, not a revenge plot,” You mutter, clicking your tongue.

“I’m not letting you have a lame wedding, Lockwood, because that means they—“ she points to you “— will have a lame wedding and I will not let that happen.”

“But you’d let me have a lame wedding if it was just mine?” His face is scrunched in offence as he ‘discreetly’ wraps himself around you again.

“Yes,” Lucy and George say simultaneously.

“I’d marry you at a lame wedding.” You play with his hair where you can reach it, pressing a kiss to his forehead where he’s dumped it again on your shoulder. Lucy and George gag, Lockwood beams so bright you’d think he won the lottery that night.

They manage to convince you that it’s too dark out to leave (it was past curfew, the sun had set already) so you spend the night recounting everything you can with them until the stars had gone to sleep and the sun started rising.

The next day, he brings down the bouquet of carnations you’d first given him, and you mix both the bouquets into one. A year later, Portland Row becomes home to not only to the people living in it, but a garden full of flowers blooming with love, laughter, and a lot of hard work. White Jasmine flowers bloom on the veranda and a house of three becomes home to four.

A/N: Finally finished this series!! Whew, that was… hmm!! And just because I couldn’t add it to the story without it getting clunky, have these idk, headcanons? fun facts?:

Reader tells Lockwood all about the flowers after, and informs him about why the Jasmine flowers were so familiar

The grumpy neighbour reader stole the white jasmine flowers from was actually the old man gardener’s wife

Lockwood goes back to tell the old man, and they have a laugh about the whole thing

It is so hard to get one straight meaning for a flower, but if you dig enough you can find flowers that mean so many cute things:

Red carnations mean deep love and affection

Pink tulips mean caring and affection

White Jasmine flowers can mean many things but for this story I went with: Eternal love, persevering love, and new beginnings

Everyone knows red roses, but I also like to think Lockwood’s bouquet had thornless red roses because they mean love at first sight

Yes he one upped the reader even without knowing what all the flowers mean because he’s a competitive little freak (affectionate) and I love him

This series has been very dear to me, and I am especially thankful to @tangledinlove <3 Thank you for your kind reblogs, I hope you know I read them and always look forward to seeing how you find each part in the series even if I don’t respond to them <33333

Also @milesmorals asked me to tag her too!!

[ghostlystyles]

𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐙𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆

anthony lockwood x gn!reader

lockwood is really just a lovesick teenager

request: Could you do a Lockwood X reader where they are getting ready for the gala at Fittes and Lockwood sees reader in the dress for the first time?

tessa’s notes: this was the fic that i didn’t save properly when i was nearly done, but it turned out alright so we vibe

warnings: honestly just pure fluff + lucy and reader are close friends :D, comment if i missed any <3

word count: 0,9k

—“OKAY, LUCE, WHAT do you think of this?” you asked, turning around to face the girl who was reading a book on her bed. “That definitely looks like you’re going to a funeral,” she replied. You turned back around to look in the mirror and sighed frustratedly, “well, considering what we’re about to do, I might be in a few days. I agree, though, it looked fine in the shop but this is terrible.”

“Well, you have one more, don’t you? Try that on,” Lucy suggested, looking up from her book. “Good call, give me a second,” you spoke, walking back to your wardrobe and pulling out the other dress. It was a red silk dress that reached your ankles and the woman in the shop had specifically told you it would look great on you, so you had high hopes.

You slipped into it and turned around to face Lucy again. “What about this?” you questioned as you twirled around. “Oh my god. You look so good!” Lucy gasped, throwing her book to the side and jumping off the bed. You looked in the mirror and tugged on the dress to get it in place. Lucy was right, you looked undeniably beautiful. “Yeah, this is definitely better than the funeral dress.”

“Can I do your makeup now? Please?” Lucy asked, as she held up her basket of makeup products. “As long as you don’t stab out my eyes or make me look like a total idiot, sure, go ahead,” you replied, sitting down at Lucy’s desk chair and she got to work. She put some eyeliner on you, stuck a line of gems alongside it and finished it off with a bit of highlighter and a tinted lip balm. “There. You look so pretty.”

“Wow, Luce! I’m impressed, thank you!” you exclaimed happily, as you tilted your face to look in the mirror from a different angle. “You’re welcome,” Lucy said in a singsong voice, while you grabbed the stuff you needed to do your hair. “Are you nervous?” asked Lucy. “‘Course I am. We’re stealing this extremely rare book from Fittes’s library, which, knowing us, may very well get us killed, and we’re supposed to act ‘casual’ around the other people, of which I’m sure there are going to be lots. Also, those people are going to treat us as a couple, because why else would two people go to a ridiculously fancy gala together? So yes, I am a tad nervous,” you ranted quickly.

“Yeah, all of those are very valid. But why does it bother you so much that people are gonna treat you like a couple on a date?”

“Well, it’s not a date, is it? Do you know how hard it is to act like and be treated like a couple with someone who you have genuine feelings for but aren’t actually dating?”

“I think you’re allowed to treat it like a date. At least a little bit. He asked you to go with him, no? He could’ve asked me or George, but he asked you.”

“Luce, that was literally a 1 out of 3. I was probably the best option for the occasion or whatever.”

“No, N/N, he already called me an asset and I think he still feels guilty for that. He wouldn’t do something like that again.”

“Okay, fair enough, but still. Just because I could hypothetically treat it like a date, doesn’t mean he is. It’s bloody embarrassing if it’s one-sided.”

“Y/N!” Lockwood called from downstairs, “are you almost done? I’m pretty sure our taxi is gonna be here in a few minutes!”

“Yeah, just a second!” you responded, as you took one final glance at yourself in the mirror. “Do I pass as a posh person who genuinely has business being at the Fittes gala?” you questioned. “Definitely. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were rich and probably a part of Penelope Fittes’s inner circle without a doubt,” Lucy reassured you. “Okay, great. Well, wish me luck, then,” Lucy gave you a quick hug and you then walked downstairs.

Lockwood was waiting for you by the front door and he looked star-struck when you descended the stairs. “Wow, Y/N— you look—”

“Stunning? Gorgeous? Charming?” you joked and Lockwood laughed softly. “Dazzling, honestly,” he finished his sentence, making you feel warm and fuzzy inside. “Why, thank you. You look very pretty yourself,” you replied with a smile. “I really wish I could kiss you right now,” Lockwood whispered. Your stomach flipped upside down and you did a double take. “Did you just say what I think you said?” you questioned with your eyes wide open, “because if you did, I really wish the same.”

Lockwood wasted no more time and he grabbed your face between his hands, pulling you close. He placed his lips onto yours into a soft kiss which made your insides completely melt. You pulled apart far too quickly for your liking and you both broke out into a huge grin. “Hey, that’s half your worries gone! Now all you have to do is steal the book, it’s gonna be a breeze!” Lucy yelled from halfway up the stairs. “Okay, Luce, that is enough stalker behaviour for today. We’re leaving,” Lockwood deadpanned, as he entwined his fingers with yours and dashed out the door. “Good luck, lovebirds!” you heard Lucy laugh before pulling the front door shut.

[wordsarelife]

lockwood

enemies to lovers

—treacherous

pairing: anthony lockwood x fem!reader

summary: how can it be that two people who grew up together hate each other so much? for lockwood and y/n that hate was definitely normal. suddenly they find out that love and hate are really close together and there might be something treacherous in the way that they like to scream at each other.

warnings: making out, reader and lockwood hating each other

"it's literally unbearable with you two" Lucy exclaimed outraged after you and Lockwood had just gotten in another fight on the mission.

"you can be glad that Lucy was able to find the source and seal it" George scolded "you'd both be dead if it wasn't for her!"

both you and Lockwood seemed to shrink under the glaring eyes of your friends. you had just gotten home and it seemed that everything that George and Lucy had kept in during the cab ride was unleashing now

"I'm so fed up!" Lucy screamed and even Lockwood winced at her sudden outburst "how can two people that live with each other since they were born, hate one another that much! I don't even get it, what's up with you two?"

"it's not like I like living with him" you muttered through clenched teeth "it's just for safety purposes and it's my home as much as it is his"

the Lockwoods and your parents had been friends for forever, when they decided to move in together. they thought you and Lockwood would like to grow up together and one day eventually get married, so that you all could become a real family. despite your parents wishes, you and the boy never got along. he knew how to push all the right buttons with you, especially because he knew so much about you. at least you could stay out of each others way as much as possible, it was still a huge house. after both your parents death you both decided to stay, you really didn't have the money to buy another house in London, so it was better this way, even if you two hated each other.

"let's just all cool down and get a good nights sleep. you look like you died two weeks ago, y/n"

"says the boy that never sleeps" you shrugged "don't think you can fool me"

"I don't think we are the ones that need to cool down" George exclaimed bitterly

"whatever you say" you rolled your eyes and bumped your shoulder into Lockwood's when you left the library. you went the stairs up to your room and decided to take a quick shower after the awful mission you had just barely survived. not long after you had gotten clothed, someone knocked on your door.

"come in" you called and Lucy stepped into the room

"hi" she smiled "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry about earlier, I shouldn't have screamed at you like that" "oh no, luce" you interrupted "don't be sorry, please. I nearly got us killed"

"that was hardly your fault" Lucy scoffed "if Lockwood hadn't acted like a total dickhead this all wouldn't have happened"

"oh" you said surprised "you really think that?"

"obviously" she pointed behind her "to make it up to you, I cleared the library, so you can finally read the book in your chair, without having to fear that Lockwood will be there"

"you really did?" you got up excitedly, grabbing your favourite book from off your nightstand "you don't know how much that means to me"

"oh believe me" Lucy smiled mischievously "I do"

if you hadn't been so excited about the whole situation, you might've noticed the smirk that planted on her lips just when you walked through the doorframe. you might've also noticed Lockwood's crooked door and the fact that George was telling him the same Lucy had just told you.

but you didn't notice all that

instead you went down into the library, heart fluttering when you noticed that Lockwood really wasn't anywhere in sight. you sat down on your chair, opening the book in your hands and returning to the point at which you had last stopped reading.

you only looked up when you heard footsteps.

"oh no" you muttered when you saw Lockwood walking into the library. you went to get up and retreat back to your room, when Lockwood did something totally unreasonable

"don't worry" he smiled "i'm just grabbing a magazine. you can stay"

"o-okay" you said while you watched him get the magazine from off the counter and walk back to the door. your eyes found your book again and for a few seconds there was complete silence, until you looked up and jumped, because Lockwood was still standing at the door

"it's locked" he said answering your unasked question

you got up from the chair and tried open the door yourself, but it was to no appeal. "shit" you muttered

"let's just ignore each other"

"I thought I could finally spend some time alone down here" you said angrily "Lucy even cleared it for me because you were behaving like a dickhead earlier"

"I wasn't at fault earlier" Lockwood replied, only hearing the last part of what you were saying

"obviously you were" you crossed your arms "If you hadn't acted like one, we wouldn't even have fought"

"like you never start a fight"

"no, I'm the peaceful one between us"

"peaceful, my ass" Lockwood scoffed "you once threw a book at me, because I wouldn't let you have the last doughnut"

"see! you were behaving like a dickhead there too" you said mockingly "you always act like one"

"oh I do?" he asked sarcastically "like you always act so high and mighty"

"then tell me what I act like if you're so much smarter"

"you act like a damn witch"

"like a witch?" you repeated laughing "is that the only insult little Anthony knows?"

"I bet we wouldn't fight as much if you could keep your mouth shut once, you're always talking"

"oh does it bother you when I speak? because I'm always right? you don't like to be wrong, not even when we were children, Anthony, believe me, I know"

"because I hated you since we were children"

"oh, like I ever liked you! you were unbearable from the first second on!"

"just shut up already! you always have to be the one who has to keep talking"

"I can talk as much as I want to"

"not when I tell you to shut up"

"you aren't allowed to tell me anything, you dick!" you exclaimed angrily

"just shut up already!" he screamed

"make me" you muttered and watched while Anthony stepped forward until you were only a few inches apart

"I don't think you would want me to" he whispered. he was so close to you, that you could feel his hot breath on your skin

"just shut up already" you said, repeating his words from earlier

"make me" he smiled

and you did just that. your hand went down to his tie and you pulled him towards you, until your lips connected. you had never been kissed this passionately before, and Anthony seemed to think the same.

he walked you backwards, until your back hit the wall. his hands found your waist and your fingers gripped his hair, to pull him even closer

"fuck" the boy you had always hated muttered, when you turned you both around, so his back was at the wall. you bent down your head so you had access to his neck

he breathed in hurriedly, every time your lips made connection with his skin

you had just gotten back to kissing, when your heard the door unlock. George and Lucy walked inside and were speaking to you, until they were silenced by the uncommon sight in front of them

Lucy cleared her throat and Lockwood and you jumped away from each other caught.

"well" said George "this is- unexpected to say the least"

"very" Lucy nodded

Lockwood and you looked at each other and for the first time in.. well, forever, the both of you were honestly smiling at each other, each one wearing a big and toothy grin

"freaky world" George shrugged his shoulders and left the room. closely followed by Lucy

"I don't really think I've ever hated you" Lockwood muttered, connecting your hands

"me neither" you smiled, sending the boy a lopsided grin "I think I could get used to this"

"oh yeah" Lockwood pulled you closer by the small of your back "yeah, definitely" then he connected your lips again

it seemed that everything your parents had planned was finally coming true. like a final rest after a treacherous hike. and your relationship with Anthony Lockwood had always been one thing above all else: treacherous.

[saltwaterburns]

VERY EXPLICIT DETAILS AND DESCRIPTIONS OF MY FEELINGS AFTER FINISHING "THE EMPTY GRAVE"

I tabbed 5 pages: blue for 347, red for 354, green for 385, orange for 415 and yellow for the very last one

i. Lockwood tells Lucy about the blue sapphire necklace his dad got for his mum as a "symbol of his undying devotion".

I was listening to Radiohead for most of the book, and this scene in particular was very dear to me because "Weird Fishes/ Arpeggi" is almost most definitely Lockwood's song. Like. Everybody leaves when they get the chance to, but Lucy won't. Lucy is back here and he's with him and they're standing side by side and he nearly can't get the words out of his mouth that's gone incredibly dry but somehow he's telling her about the necklace in his palm and his mind is racing while thinking about how pretty it'd look against her supple skin. He's almost about to give it to her, his mouth is open but the words die in his throat because Kipps is leaning over the doorway and telling them that Winkman is here and now he might die and she might never really know about his feelings for her but it's okay, because she'll live. He'll make sure she'll live.

ii. "But, if anything, I had my eye on someone else."

"Good God, you don't mean George?"

"You must know there are other possibilities in this world."

Sweet, darling girl Holly and her unrecruited wlw crush. Sweet, darling Holly who was squealing on the inside whenever she caught a glance of Lucy, her glowing skin and twinkling eyes and bright hair. Sweet, darling girl Holly who couldn't help the mean words that sometimes spilled from her lips because God forbid anyone realised what actually might hide under those longing glances.

iii. Lucy and her pet Skully but Skully is being TAKEN AWAY and they're having an angsty goodbye.

I'm pretty sure I actually cried during this scene. As much as she hates to admit it, she's so fond of Skull and his company and she's so used to his vile, unannounced jokes and comments that when he's being taken away from her, her heart literally stops, even though she isn't in the living world anymore. We only realise what we have until we've lost it, and this quote fits here perfectly. Sure, she hates him and his comments are unneeded and he never helps her, but they can't just take him away, can they?

iv. "Marissa came by?" Lockwood asked. "Was she alone?"

"Hey, Lucy asks the questions around here," the youth said. "You can't just barge in and take over like you're the leader or something? Where's your respect?"

Bonus - Skull telling the Clapham Butcher Boy to "find his own human"

I GIGGLED SO LOUD. He's so emotionally dependent on her. Find your own goddamn human, fish face!! That's right!! He's my favourite character. Nothing intellectual to talk about here, it just made me smile really big.

v. She hung the symbol of Lockwood's father's undying devotion to his mother around. Her. Neck. Cause. Locky. Gave. It. To. Her.

CAN YOU HEAR MY SCREAMS AND SOBS? Oh my God, where do I even start? During the entirety of those 5 books, they've always ran and someone's been hunting them down and Penelope was always breathing over their shoulder but not anymore. They'll still take on dangerous jobs and get into little quarrels with Barnes but now Kipps and Flo are also part of their little 35 Portland Row agency. They'll still be in danger every day because that's just what their job requires but it's different because Lucy's got that little gemstone around her neck and it might not mean anything to simple onlookers but all the love and light that's ever been gathered in it is now shining upon her. It's casting a little golden halo around her head and it's all okay because even when death is looking them in the eye, they'll look at each other and nod and everything will be okay.

This is it! Thank you for reading my little rambles. I don't know how I'll ever recover, because 35 Portland Row will eternally be etched to my heart. As my favourite singer once sung, there'll always be a chamber in my heart dedicated to those three and all their little hooligan friends and the shenanigans they got into.

[purplebass]

I was giffing scenes of Lockwood smiling at Lucy and I've noticed that most of the moments where he is vulnerable and confesses stuff about himself or we see what he really thinks/feels even if he doesn't openly says it, happen outside. One example is ep. 5 when Lucy tells him that he was begging the guy to kill him and adds that he can talk to her if he needed to and he gives her that rueful smile because he wants to tell her but... how do you tell someone that you have a death-wish and open yourself up after years of manufacturing a perfect mask for yourself? I think Lucy probably started suspecting by then. Lockwood is only able to take off his careful constructed mask when he's risking his life in the literal sense, and he's not in his house. His house represents his inner world and is one of his most intimate and also his most bittersweet possession because it reminds him of his dead family and their past together and the person he was before they died. On the contrary, the scenes where Lucy is most vulnerable and confesses things of her past to Lockwood happen in her bedroom which is, not casually, Lockwood's old bedroom if I don't remember wrong. In Lucy's room they also have these cute slow burn moments where they smile to each other like in ep. 4 when we see how Lockwood's eyes look at Lucy's lips but he doesn't dare to lean in and kiss her because it would mean crossing a line. Same in ep. 6 when Lucy is preparing for the Fittes ball and Lockwood gives her his sister's necklace. This gesture takes Lockwood a step further towards Lucy. The culmination of this dynamic peaks in the last episode when Lockwood has the panic attack because shit is getting real and he doesn't know how to handle that and he goes into survival mode and Lucy tries to take him back to reality. And the circle of this season closes with Lockwood finally deciding to reveal to Lucy and George what's in the room on the first floor. This moment represents Lockwood finally making himself vulnerable in his house (symbol of his most intimate world) and letting the people he cares about the most in or a little in.

[monsterbananatv]

Things from Lockwood & co because I can part 2:

Episode 3

Lockwood planting a bomb in his stuff as a decoy and hiding one on the premise to use

Lockwood pausing at the top of the staircase. Why did he do that?

I just want it throw this in here, but the lighting in this show is amazing. It’s so dark but everything can be seen really well and I just really appreciate that. It’s dark enough to be spooky but not dark enough that you miss anything. The flashlights and the way things are lit is just really cool to me

The red room scene. It’s so freaky and cool watching the blood drip into the room and the panic of the of them all trying to get the hidden door open to escape and the way the camera angle spin as the blood continues to drip, and the noise it makes and oh It’s just so cool, and as someone who’s always wanted to make a scene like that it’s just cool watching it idk

The chanting of the monks is so creepy and the way their shadows appear and how the chanting gets loud, it just gives me shivers

Lucy slapping George awake then literally crawling over to Lockwood as he calls for her, holding his hand as he comes to, and the way they look at each other (We always talk about how in love Lockwood is by the way he looks at her, but Lucy looks at him just the same (except when he’s being an idiot that is))

“Oh where’s his slap?”

Lockwood and his death wish

Even though he has a death wish he still looks scared when he thinks Fairfax might kill him

Lucy saving Lockwood (and probably all of them) by stepping in and letting Annabel get her revenge

“I’m working with maniacs” (You sure are George)

George stealing the googles (George and his stealing stuff)

Lockwood getting Lucy her fourth grade and George smiling big behind them

“You belong here” (The found family troupe has my heart)

The fact that George is looking out for Lucy because “She’s finally starting to get me” and I love them (he’s so happy about it and it makes me happy)

“Luce?”

This episode was so creepy and cool and I just love it

Episode 4

Lockwood being pissed about being rescued by Kipp’s crew (the scene’s just funny)

“And you just want to watch him… die” (just the way he says it and their faces lmao)

I feel robbed that we didn’t get to see George and Lockwood find and carry Lucy upstairs (it either would have been a cute Locklyle moment or a funny one trying to watch them struggle to figure out how to do it without dropping Lucy lol)

Lockwood being the showman he is and charming the crowd (love him)

The slowly spinning camera transition to them walking to the grave

The buzzing sounds and Lucy’s unease and panic and the loudness of it all

George looking into the mirror

Lucy’s throw

The talking skull

“DEATH IS COMING!”

“Is it talking to you now?” (Same energy as ‘is *insert thing here* in the room with us now?’ yk?)

“You gave her a free pass just because you like the way she looks at you”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” (Suuuure Locky)

Lockwood pausing at the door (What is in there???)

The bandage scene. It’s probably one of my favourites honestly. How close they are sitting, how awkward Lockwood is about it, the rain on the roof, Lockwood being honest about the fact that we doesn’t want to talk about his past, Lucy understanding that, him helping Lucy with her wound, how she’s looking at him, how gentle he is placing the bandage on her arm…

“You believe me?” “I do. About everything”

How he looks at her, Lucy bringing back up being called an asset, the tears reflecting in her eyes, Lockwood telling her he’ll never make that mistake again, they way his eyes flick to her lips, their hands, they way they just look at each other, Lockwood’s eyes flicking to Lucy’s lips again, how close they are to each other, and then how abruptly they break apart, like they didn’t even realize until that point and the bit of awkwardness that follows. I just love it. All of it

George showing Kipp’s team up by just being better (get it my guy)

Lockwood looking proud of George

Lockwood’s stupid bet with Kipps (That idiot’s ego is too big sometimes)

[bella-rose29]

once again, if I could leave a million little ❤️s on this I would

It wasn't uncommon for you to humble Lockwood. George had turned it into his favorite pass time. omg George I love you

"But not now! Not at a time like this, Lockwood. Paying for it is more of a burden-" "Not when it comes to you." screaming crying throwing up omggggggg

"What I mean to say is," his other hands drifts to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. After that, his hand stops under your ear, resting against your jaw. "Getting you that dress is a heartfelt favor if the worst comes to pass. I still want to be a part of an important day of your life." His voice quivers ever so slightly. Lockwood tried to mask it was a cough but you had already heard, and you weren't blind, you know that look. "This is my way of taking care of you." lizzie wtf you can't do this to me??? him tucking the hair back??? the hand placement??? him being all soft and emotional and vulnerable???

"Like you were seeing a dream come true." Kind of like how he looked at you, if you had taken the time to acknowledge it. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

They stick to his lashes, on the edge of falling and staining his cheeks, but he's Lockwood, so he blinks to keep it in. It breaks your heart even more. omgggg I just wanna give him a big hug 😭 very lockwood of him to blink the tears away and not let them fall 💔

"Everything in this house is old and outdated and covered in dust! You have suitors that own pristine, marble houses without a speck or memories that make you cry. One day, you could live there instead of here, and you'd be happier because you've always wanted a big, bright house." i- i need a minute please (*turns and sobs into my pillow*)

"And yes, maybe I'd be happy in those houses I talked about when I was seven but I've grown older, just as you have, and I know what really matters to me now. something about lockwood hearing her say that she wanted to live in a castle when they were literally children and he took that to mean she would always want that (and not him) 😭

He smiles for real and you can't help but copy. "I'm supposed to do that," he complains. proof that lockwood was meant to be a gentleman in the regency era

"Well, I'll attend your wedding and we get it changed." "Changed to what?" You tilt your head and laugh when he angles his to chase you. "Mine, of course," he proclaims proudly. His smile is so wide you notice the blush on his cheeks now, it makes you weak in the knees. happily you can change my last name to yours any day, Anthony Lockwood, I don't mind at all

He steals a yelp from you as he dips you, enjoying how you cling to his shoulders before he lowers his head and finally catches your lips. more proof!!

George points his wooden spoon at Lucy. "If the pair or them pining was bad enough, we have to see them–" he gulps, like the idea was scarier than the Red Room. "–be in love." Both shuddered. pffft they have no idea what's coming omg (we would be an insufferable couple fr)

basically i love you and your writing lizzie <333

THE COMPLICATIONS OF A FAKE ENGAGEMENT 2 ☁︎ ANTHONY LOCKWOOD

⚜ PART ONE

GENRE ➺ fluff

SYNOPSIS ➺ lockwood buys a wedding dress for you and he doesn't explain why.

WARNINGS ➺ verbal fighting and an angry confession

DISCLAIMER ➺ i haven't read the books so the characterization/alignment with the canonical story may not line up, and there's so much cheese i might as well become a fromager.

NOTES ➺ this isn't really a series but i felt like giving them a happy ending at least. shoutout to @simrah1012 who asked for a sequel! thank you for your support!

He reserved the dress. After all that talk of cutting down expenses this month, he had it reserved. That was a check every month you (read: he) couldn't pay for it full-price. There was no room for negotiation when he wore his thinking face. So, you refrained from chewing him out in the presence of Kelly.

Your silence meant a storm was brewing. He knew better than to poke the bear. Honestly, you were just thinking of how to go about it. How to ask him why he chose to reserve the dress rather than discard it.

The reason you were there had been dealt with. You had the evidence linking the boutique to the investigation. Why the expenditure? It was like an itch that wouldn't go away. It bugged you. Guilted you. Kept you up at night for a week straight.

Even now when your eyes are burning into the back of his head, you couldn't put yourself into his headspace and understand why.

"You should consider getting a camera, pictures last longer."

You straighten in your seat, ears burning. The same boyish smile he used to get out of trouble flashes in your direction and that confirms to you that he knows what you're thinking.

"Idiot," you say.

His fingers loosen around his book. "Pardon?"

"Yeah, I'd like to know why Lockwood is an idiot as well," George says, breaking into the conversation, cozying into his chair with a tight-lipped smile.

It wasn't uncommon for you to humble Lockwood. George had turned it into his favorite pass time. Considering the two-person mission last week, he wanted to know what exactly warranted the blistering insult.

Sensing his anticipation, Lucy grew curious. She lays her magazine on her lap and fixes her sit. "I'd like to know, too."

"Bit unfair, isn't it?" Lockwood says dryly.

"It's private," you say. The defining tilt of your head and the scrunch of your brows made George and Lucy attentive enough. "You two mind? We'll see you for dinner."

"'Course," George chirps. He shoved his papers under his armpit and headed for the door. Lucy followed begrudgingly. George waves over his shoulder before closing it. "Don't kill him, y/n. Or do. Whichever you feel."

"See you at dinner!" Lucy adds before the click of the lock confirms that you had gotten the privacy you asked for.

You round on Lockwood to find that he was setting up to leave too.

"Client asked–"

"You can respond later," you dismiss.

He presses his lips together, likely coming up with another bollucks excuse to make an exit. But he also knows you, and he knows there is no leaving. So, he comes up with an alternate route;

"y/n," he says, tone on the brink of scolding you.

It doesn't work. Evidently.

You scoff, folding your arms. "You don't get to talk to me like that. Why did you reserve the dress? That was completely unnecessary-"

"No, it wasn't."

"Yes, it was!" You pinch your jacket to keep your tone from escalating any further. You wanted to fight. You wanted to fight with him, not against him, but your confusion had boiled to anger and frustration. "We're neck deep in debt and that dress will cost a fortune to pay for and- and-" you lost your voice for a moment. "And it's not like I'll be marrying anyone."

"You will," he says with certainty. "And you'll make someone very happy, y/n."

"But not now! Not at a time like this, Lockwood. Paying for it is more of a burden-"

"Not when it comes to you."

You lunge forward, fisting the his shirt with an intensity that turns your knuckles white. "Will you listen to yourself? Why would you even think of doing that?"

His hand lands on top of yours, gentle and kind. He was warmer than you, always has been. But there's something new in the way he squeezes your hands. He doesn't take your hands off him, simply letting his rest on top of yours. "We take care of each other." He says it like you don't know it already.

"We always do," you agree, lapsing into a calmer tone. It doesn't take away from the guilt eating at you. "But we could have used that money for the house. Or George. Or Lucy." For family, in essence.

His lips tip up, very slight and with a feel of melancholy. "But we don't always know what's going to happen. I could disappear tomorrow–"

"I won't allow that."

He chuckles, brightening at your defiance. "What I mean to say is," his other hands drifts to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. After that, his hand stops under your ear, resting against your jaw. "Getting you that dress is a heartfelt favor if the worst comes to pass. I still want to be a part of an important day of your life." His voice quivers ever so slightly. Lockwood tried to mask it was a cough but you had already heard, and you weren't blind, you know that look. "This is my way of taking care of you."

Your grip on his shirt loosens, grasping the wrist of the hand touching your face. "I'd rather have you than that overpriced dress."

He offers a lazy smile. "Don't lie. I saw how you were looking at your reflection."

Your hold on his wrist tightens, your frown grows deeper. "How was I looking at my reflection?"

"Like you were seeing a dream come true." Kind of like how he looked at you, if you had taken the time to acknowledge it.

You scoff. "And you were thinking about my wedding day, without you in it?"

"I think of you first. I promised." He knew that wasn't the right answer.

"Unbelievable." You shove him away. Hugging yourself and backing away until your leg hits the edge of a couch. "You talk and take risks as if no one will miss you. If you want to be there for me, take care of yourself so you can actually show up!"

"It's not that easy," he responds, empty hands falling to his side. He even turns away, and his refusal to even face you fans the flames once more. "You..."

"I what?" you take a step closer, daring him to finish what he was saying.

He faces you and you're taken aback by the glint of tears edging his brown eyes. They stick to his lashes, on the edge of falling and staining his cheeks, but he's Lockwood, so he blinks to keep it in. It breaks your heart even more.

"You deserve better," he whispers. Some part wishes you didn't hear, but he knows you did.

He's quiet as your mouth falls open and tears appear in your eyes. His nails dig into his palm to keep himself from sweeping you into his arms; Invisible shackles chain him to his spot, leaving him to watch as you cover your mouth and cry.

Even then, your eyes shine with anger. Your wipe at your cheeks furiously, turning your skin red. "How could you say that?"

"Because it's true." He regains the feeling in his limbs but they feel like jelly as he drunkenly motions the world around you. "Everything in this house is old and outdated and covered in dust! You have suitors that own pristine, marble houses without a speck or memories that make you cry. One day, you could live there instead of here, and you'd be happier because you've always wanted a big, bright house."

Your nails dig into your arms, jaw tight with tension. "This is home, Lockwood! I wouldn't change Portland Row for the biggest castle in England. You would know that if you just asked me." You took a shuddering breath. "And yes, maybe I'd be happy in those houses I talked about when I was seven but I've grown older, just as you have, and I know what really matters to me now. If I wanted those fantasies you expect of me, I would have accepted some richman's proposal. But I didn't, because you scare them away and I know you know I wouldn't have left even if they had asked me. But for the sake of it, I need to ask; If you wanted to send me away so badly, why haven't you?"

"Are you blind?" He shakes his head in disbelief. After all that, he has to spell it out for you. "Because I love you!"

For ten seconds, all you can hear is your breathing. The climb of emotions coming to a crescendo as you walk to him. He meets you in the middle and your arms come around him; his come around you, and finally, you kiss.

When you break for air, he holds fast to you. His forehead on yours like parting would hurt. "I don't want to lose you," he confesses, his eyes staying closed. "And I thought it would be easier for you if I wasn't in the picture–"

"I want you there," you say pointedly. Like your statement could beat away the rest of the doubt swirling in his head. "I want you. I want you and me, together. I don't want to lose you just as much as you don't want to lose me."

He pulls you closer, until you can feel his heart beat in sync with yours. "I love you." He says, and it sets him free. "You're my best friend."

"Always have been, always will be." That's a promise you press onto his lips. You bring his hand to your lips and place a kiss on his bruised knuckle.

He smiles for real and you can't help but copy. "I'm supposed to do that," he complains.

"Too slow," you laugh. You brush your nose against his and feel his hand settle on the small of your back. "I love you."

He laughs and it tickles your lips.

"Pinch me, I'm dreaming." You oblige and he yelps. "Not literally, y/n."

"No pet name?"

"No. I like your name."

"Yeah?"

He ghosts his lips over yours, unable to stop smiling. "Yeah. However," he switches to that tone that makes you want to strangle him sometimes. "We have got to tackle the issue of your last name. It doesn't go that well with your first."

"How do you propose we fix that?" Both your arms drape over his shoulder, playing with the overgrown hair at his nape.

"Well, I'll attend your wedding and we get it changed."

"Changed to what?" You tilt your head and laugh when he angles his to chase you.

"Mine, of course," he proclaims proudly. His smile is so wide you notice the blush on his cheeks now, it makes you weak in the knees.

Still, you can't help but tease. "That would be confusing for Lucy and George though. We'd both be turning our heads when they say 'Lockwood'."

"Now that problem is one I dream of coming true."

He steals a yelp from you as he dips you, enjoying how you cling to his shoulders before he lowers his head and finally catches your lips.

—

"Cheesy," George shudders. He and Lucy had heard the loudest parts of the argument from the kitchen, including Lockwood's long awaited confession.

"I find it sweet," Lucy shrugs, turning a page of her magazine. "But then I remember it's Lockwood and y/n and cringe as well."

"Oh, Luce, I haven't even considered that they'd get even worse."

"What do you mean?"

George points his wooden spoon at Lucy. "If the pair or them pining was bad enough, we have to see them–" he gulps, like the idea was scarier than the Red Room. "–be in love."

Both shuddered.

🦋 ⌠ @novelizt 2023 ⌡

[askullinajar]

Fifty Shades Ghostlier

The sequel to Fifty Shades of Ectoplasm that literally no one asked for!

Yet again, the people of discord are all heathens and bad influences, namely @ironsilversaltandtea and @skull-in-a-jar this time.

Warning: Any accuracies, historically, scientifically, or to canon, are completely accidental. This is pure crack. No actual hanky-panky - as I am but a totally innocent asexual - but a whole lot of inappropriate jokes. You have been warned.

Fic info: Post teg. Rating: Mature, clearly. Pairings: Implied locklyle. Word count: 2284

Summary: Contrary to what canon might suggest, the main trio of Lockwood & Co are all teenagers and, like many teenagers, they can sometimes be rather immature. Especially when given a pack of condoms.

Fifty Shades Ghostlier

On that midsummer evening, Lockwood & Co sat in the cool kitchen of 35 Portland Row. Holly bustled around making homemade lemonade, while Lockwood, George and I sat around the table, acting, for once, like normal teenagers as we were currently in a competition over who could doodle the most phallic images on the thinking cloth. I was winning, though I was helped by my talent at drawing as well as the skull’s ghost at my shoulder making increasingly obscene suggestions.

Holly set a jug of lemonade on the table and looked over Lockwood’s shoulder at one especially graphic doodle featuring Rupert Graves and his rapier.

“Honestly! I’m going to have to wash this again now,” she scolded, her eyes sweeping the cloth and her lip curling. She frowned at the image I was drawing of Marissa and Ezekiel, as per Skully’s suggestion. “I did always wonder how she managed to conceive. I mean, there was no man ever mentioned, right?”

“Exactly!” said Skully, though she couldn’t hear him.

“Do ghosts have sperm?” George wondered allowed as I poured myself a glass of lemonade.

“What do you think ectoplasm is?” said Skully, right when I’d taken a sip. I started choking.

“Lucy?” said Lockwood, concerned, standing from his seat to round the table and pat me on the back as I continued spluttering. “What did he say?”

“Ectoplasm-” I continued choking. “-ghost-” More coughing. “-jizz,” I finished as Lockwood gave me one last hard pat on the back.

George snorted. “Wait… so the Red Room?”

I went back to choking.

“Didn’t those monks get executed for doing ‘unholy things’?” Lockwood asked, snickering.

George nodded. “I’m calling it now: Monk orgies.”

“Good thing you didn’t take a blacklight in there,” said Skully.

“You are all disgusting,” said Holly, though I could see she was trying hard not to laugh.

Just then, there was a knock on the door. I stood to go and answer, wiping my watering eyes as I went.

“Hey, Quill,” I said, upon seeing the man in question at the door.

“Listen,” he said, looking rather sheepish, “I need a favour.”

“What?” Holly asked, coming into the hall with George and Lockwood following behind. Quill didn’t seem pleased at us all being there.

“Promise you won’t make fun of me,” he said.

“Oh, Quill,” said George. “I can’t promise anything.”

Quill glared at him but sighed. “Look, I’m going away for the weekend with Kat and Bobby. Catching up and stuff. And, uhh…” He shuffled his feet awkwardly. “Look, I forgot I had these on me, and it’ll take too long to go home and drop them off, but I don’t want Bobby to find them… he’s so small and innocent…”

“Get to the point, Quill,” said Lockwood.

Quill shot him a glare, then he huffed and pulled something out of his pocket; a little box by the looks of it. He practically thrust it into my hands and then turned to leave. “Just hold on to them for me, okay. I’ll be back for them in a few days.” And with that, he practically jogged away and down the street.

I stared after him, then looked down at the box in my hands.

Fittes Condoms: For the Perfect Fitte!

Side effects may include: nausea, vomiting, unplanned ghost pregnancy, and death.

Warning: May contain ghost nuts.

Beneath the title, a picture of Penelope Fittes smiled up at us.

“I didn’t know they made condoms,” said Lockwood, matter-of-factly.

“Oh dear,” said Holly. “Do you thing Quill read the small print?”

George removed his glasses to wipe on his shirt. “Well, now we know what Marissa used with Ezekiel.”

I whacked him with the condom box.

Later that night, once Holly had gone home to spend time with her totally platonic roommate, I stood in the kitchen fixing myself a cup of tea, because even in the midst of a heatwave, it’s never a bad time for a cuppa.

“You know,” said Skully, who was hovering nearby, “you should pinch a few.”

“What?”

“Condoms,” he clarified. “Ya know, just in case you and Locky get all heated like you did last night. You’re not exactly quiet, you know. Good thing George is a deep sleeper…”

I flushed scarlet and lobbed a used teabag at him, but it just passed straight through and hit the wall with a wet slap.

“What?” said Skully. “I just want you to be safe, if all…”

I went back to stirring my tea, trying my best to ignore him, though I almost shattered the cup clanking the spoon harshly against the sides to try and drown him out.

“You’re lucky,” he continued. “We didn’t have them in my day. Teenage pregnancies abound. Though, most people died at twenty so that was probably a good thing… But, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. And I hear you can get them ri-”

“Fine!” I interrupted. “You like them so much? Here.” I stormed over to the table where the box sat and ripped it open, tearing right through Penelope’s face and scattering little foil squares everywhere.

“Oi, what are you doing?” he said, as I opened a condom and grabbed the skull.

I ignored him, though he started up a gale and smashed my mug of tea. It didn’t really phase me; I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. So, with difficulty, as the condom seemed to be coated in lube, I tugged it over his stupid, mouldy skull.

“How’d you like that!” I said, dangling it in front of me, triumphant.

No reply.

“Skully?” I said, looking around, but his ghost was gone. I peered at the condom curiously and noticed the ectoplasm swirling within. “GEORGE!”

After a minute, George shuffled into the kitchen, toothbrush still stuffed in his mouth and froth spilling out. He grunted in what might have been a ‘what?’ and I shoved the slimy, skull-filled condom into his hand.

“Happy experimenting,” I told him.

“So, as it turns out, lubricant is far more effective on ghosts than iron or silver,” George informed Flo as he and I sat with her on a wall by the river eating sweets. I’d only joined because George owed me a bag of bonbons after he’d scoffed mine the other day while my back was turned. “In fact, lubricated condoms make very effective containers for Sources.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Flo, through a mouthful of liquorice. “Used ‘em to hold Sources for years.”

“What?” I said, almost swallowing a bonbon whole. “So you just carry around stuff in condoms all the time?”

Flo cackled. “Yeah. Really freaks out the relic-men.”

“We ought to experiment on more things like this,” said George, thoughtfully. “You know, there’s actually a high salt concentration in sem-”

“Please don’t finish that sentence,” I told him.

“I dunno about that stuff,” said Flo, “but I did find something in the mud the other day.”

She went about digging through her sack before pulling out a strange chunk of iron. I stared at it, puzzled for a moment, before realising what shape it was.

“Is that an iron dildo?” said George, bursting into laughter.

“A proper old-timey one,” said Flo. “Reckon this made some Victorian lady - or man - very happy.”

George took it from her.

“George!” I cried. “You can’t just touch it with your bare hands!”

“Why not?” said George. “The river’s probably washed away anything too bad.”

“Still,” I said, disgusted. “You don’t know where that’s been.”

“Or who it’s been in,” Flo added.

“Please stop.”

“Well, this should do nicely for my experiments, in any case,” said George. “We should try using this stuff in the field. Any clients with Type 1s?”

“I think there might be,” I said.

And that was how Lockwood, George and I ended up in a clients house, facing off against a weak Type 1, with a circle of lube in place of an iron chain, condoms rolled onto our rapiers, and a bucket of saltwater to fill condoms with to lob at the ghost.

“You were right George, this is actually quite effective,” said Lockwood, prodding the ghost with his condom-tipped rapier as I squirted bottles of lube at it.

George knelt by the bucket, dunking a condom in to fill it up, but when he pulled it out again, water began spurting out.

“Huh,” I said. “Looks like they’re more effective on ghosts than they are as actual condoms.”

“We’re probably doing Quill a favour by wasting them all,” Lockwood agreed.

George attempted to throw the filled-condom at the ghost anyway, but it sloshed harmlessly in a puddle on the floor.

“So much for that idea,” said George. “Plan B.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” I said as he attempted to tug a condom over his head.

“Hey, if you can get a skull in one, it can fit over my head,” said George.

Lockwood, who seemed to be having the time of his life, helped George tug the thing on, and, I had to agree, he did look hilarious with his face all smushed up inside the latex.

We stood back and let the researcher charge head-first at the ghost.

He made it about two steps before slipping on the circle of lube. As he fell, he grabbed my arm and tugged me down too, and I, in turn, grabbed Lockwood’s tie and dragged him with us. We landed with a thud, and skidded across the hardwood floor that had been drenched thoroughly in saltwater and lube, which, unsurprisingly, is a pretty good lubricant. We shrieked as we slid at breakneck speeds directly towards the ghost, until, at the last minute, I managed to tug the iron dildo from George’s coat pocket it and lob it at the ghost’s face.

We skidded right through the spot the ghost had just been, all the way to the other side of the room, and slammed into the wall before falling back in a tangled heap of slick bodies.

“Okay,” said Lockwood, “no more experimenting on cases. Anyone see where it went?”

“There!” I said, pointing at a floorboard that seemed slightly raised above the others. I shuffled, or more like slid, over to it and fumbled with it to pull it open. The ghost had reformed in the centre of the room now, and maybe it was the fact that we were all thoroughly drenched in ghost-repelling lube, but it didn’t come anywhere near us as I plucked the Source - an old ring - out from under the floorboards and handed it to George, who tucked it into an unused condom. The ghost vanished instantly.

“We should always use these things to contain Sources!” Lockwood said, cheerily. “They work so well!”

“I think I’ll stick to the regular stuff,” I said.

We got home a little past midnight, where Holly was waiting for us. She inhaled deeply as we entered, soaked head to toe in lube, her lips pursed as Skully cackled loudly behind her.

“I see you kids had fun!”

I ignored him and headed upstairs to take a much-needed shower.

The next morning, I came downstairs to the sound of Holly arguing loudly on the phone down in the basement.

“What’s happening?” I asked Lockwood as he poured us both some orange juice and put some crumpets in the toaster.

“I don’t think we’re getting paid,” he replied. “It seems our client wasn’t too happy about coming home to find lube and broken condoms all over his bedroom.”

“Can’t imagine why,” I said, sipping my orange juice.

Holly entered the kitchen, trying her best to retain her ladylike etiquette, though her face was flushed and her hair wild.

“I told you that was a bad idea!”

Lockwood shrugged. “We’ve got cases coming out of our ear nowadays. What’s one Type 1?”

“Unless he goes to the press about it!”

“Ah,” said Lockwood, “didn’t think of that.” Then he perked up. “We’ll go to the press first! ‘Condoms: Effective protection against more than just STDs!’ What do you think?”

Holly rubbed her temples like she was getting a migraine.

There was a knock on the door, and I heard George bustling through the hallway to answer it, but I stood to see who it was anyway.

“Have a nice weekend away, Quill?” George asked, jovially as Quill stood awkwardly in the doorway.

“Yes, yes,” he said, impatiently. “Now, come on. I’m going to need the box back.”

“Ah,” said Lockwood, “about that…”

Quill narrowed his eyes at him.

“We took the liberty of testing them,” said George. “They weren’t very effective. Kind of leaked.”

“Christ,” said Quill, eyes widening. “What did you do?”

“Calm down, we just filled them with saltwater,” I told him. “...And stuffed Sources in them… and rolled them onto our rapiers… and stuffed George’s head in one...”

“And we blew the last few up like balloons and chucked them around last night,” Lockwood added.

Quill pinched the bridge of his nose. “I suppose I should have expected the worst, leaving them with teenagers…”

“Better buy another brand next time you want to see your lady friend,” said Lockwood, grinning at him.

Quill turned a brilliant red. “There’s no… lady.”

“Ooh, a gentleman?” Holly gushed. “What’s he like?”

I put on my best innocent face. “Is he good in bed?”

“That’s it,” said Quill, turning around. “I’m done. Goodbye.”

“No, come back!” Lockwood called after him.

“Tell us about the guy you needed a twelve pack of condoms for!” George yelled, loud enough for the whole neighbourhood to hear as Quill all but sprinted away from us.

No matter. We’d see him again, soon enough. And then the merciless teasing would really begin.

[lucelockwood]

"A holiday", please :) And can it be from Lockwood's perspective? Anything else is up to you pal. I love your blog so much!!!

Hoooboy friends, this is messy and super self-indulgent andalso NOT A DRABBLE because apparently I can’t do that. Super quick and sappyand probably not the most magnificent thing I have ever written, but it is whatit is. Thanks for the prompt and for the kind words, you lovely wonderful person! 

Seriously, read at your own risk, this is MASSIVELY sugary....

When Lucy walks into the recently transformed parlor, takesin the candlelight, flowers, and meal he’s very carefully laid out, and thenpromptly bursts into tears, Lockwood knows he’s ruined Valentine’s Day.

“Lucy?”

“No, I’m s-sorry, it’s not . . . it’s not you, I pr-promise,”she rushes to explain despite her obvious distress, probably reading hisexpression correctly as panic. “This is beautifuland perfect and . . .” her facecrumples.

Alarmed, Lockwood crosses the room in three strides to getto her. She reaching for him before he gets there, crushing him to her and buryingher sobs in his shirt.

As much as she keeps trying to reassure him in betweengasping breaths for air, Lockwood is cold in the face of this sudden meltdown.Tears from Lucy are extremely rare. He can count the number of times she’scried in front of him on one hand, and they’ve been married for a year and halfnow, and friends for far longer than that. Lucy has only ever cried for one oftwo reasons: extreme emotional distress—LaBelle Dame comes to mind—or pure unbridled joy, as on the night he’dproposed.

He’s willing to bet it’s not the second one tonight.

“What is it, Lucy?” he asks, setting his insecurities abouther reaction to his carefully planned evening firmly to the side in the face ofher distress.

Lucy sniffs; he can feel her fingers curling into his shirtat his back as she struggles to calm her breathing. “I’m okay,” she says atlast, her voice shaking.

Seeing as she still hasn’t been able to stop crying, thewords are far from reassuring. “Did . . . did something happen while you wereout?”  

“No,” she says emphatically, but she hesitates. “Well, yes,actually, but not . . .” Lucy shakes her head into his damp shoulder with agroan. “This is not going how Iplanned.”

Those are not the words he’d expected to hear. “What isn’t?”he asks.

“I wasn’t supposed to start crying, and now everything is amess!”

Lockwood takes her gently by the shoulders, pushing her awayuntil she’s forced to look at him. She’s white, but she doesn’t seem hurt orfrightened, just a little irritated at the tears she can’t control. “You’regoing to have to help me understand, Lucy,” he says as he studies her. “Youaren’t one to cry for no reason.”

“I shouldn’t be crying now,”she mutters, wiping furiously at her eyes. “I promise, I’m fine,” she adds. “I’mnot hurt, nothing is even wrong, I’m just . . .” the words bring more of themysterious tears, leaving Lockwood as worried as ever.

“Tell me, love,” he pleads, soft and hesitant. “Why are youcrying?”

Lucy nods as she takes his hand and leads him past the beautifullyset table and it’s forgotten meal to the sofa, where she sits. As he does thesame, Lockwood pulls out a handkerchief and hands it to her, thinking as shetakes it that it’s probably a good sign that she’s so irritated at the tears. “Ipromise, everything is fine,” she says at last. “Or at least I think it is. Ihope it is.” She chews her bottom lip as she does her best to dry her eyes. Thenthe words come tumbling out of her, rushed and nervous. “Only, I’ve beenfeeling a bit unusual lately and it wasn’t alarming or anything,” she promises witha quick glance his direction. “I was just out of sorts, and I figured it wasprobably nothing, but it didn’t go away, so I went to see the doctor—”

“Doctor?” Lockwood interrupts with a sudden surge of concernand distress. Lucy nods, looking almost sheepish. “You are sick enough that youhad to see a doctor and you haven’t told me?”

“I didn’t think it was worth worrying you over,” she saysquietly, making his heart constrict.

“Lucy,” Lockwood protests, incredulous and frightened andgentle, and also a little bit hurt. “That’s my job as your husband, to be therewhen stuff like this happens. To support you and help you carry whatever loadyou’ve got on your shoulders that’s driven you to tears.”

“I know,” Lucy agrees immediately. “I know, you’re right,and I should have told you, I should have brought you with me.”

Lockwood breathes deep in an attempt to calm his suddenlyterrified heart. “Please, Luce, tell me why you went to see the doctor.”

She reaches out to take his hands, her grip fierce. She is watchinghim with an intensity that shakes him to the core, despite the tears that arestill falling. Slower now, but still present. “Like I said, I’m making a messof this. This was going to be my Valentine’s gift to you, but I got emotional andruined it.”

“Your gift to me?” Lockwood can’t take much more of this. “I’mnot following you at all, love, are you sick?”

She takes a deep, shaky breath before continuing. “It’snothing bad, I know why it sounded like that, and I’m sorry. I’m not sick,Anthony, I’m. . . pregnant.”

He hears her, of course he does, but somehow the words aretoo much for him, more than he is able to fully comprehend. “You’re . . . I’m sorry,you’re . . . what?”

“Pregnant,” Lucy repeats, her voice stronger than before. Forthe first time that night she smiles, and he feels the warmth of it even as hestruggles to find the words.

“As in . . .” There’s something fierce and uncontrollablecoming to life inside of him, something incomprehensible and intense and burning.“As in you’re going to have a baby?”

“That is what pregnant typically means, yes,” Lucy says, andLockwood finds himself suddenly fighting back his own tears, even as he’slaughing and pulling her close again.

They pass a moment—several of them, possibly hours—holding eachother, laughing, and crying. Lucy confirms over and over again that he’s heardher correctly, that they are in fact going to have a baby.

“This is . . . the bestgift I’ve ever been given,” Lockwood says at last, his voice hoarse.

Lucy hums softly, the sound so satisfied and content that itsets his heart racing. “I thought you might like it.”

“There aren’t words, love.”

Lucy seems to agree with that, choosing to kiss him ratherthan respond.

“You had me worried, what with the tears and all that talkof doctors,” Lockwood says later, when he’s had a little time to process. “Scaredto death actually.”

His confession makes Lucy wince. “Sorry about that. Nothingwas coming out right. I’m still a bit frazzled, honestly.”

“You’re happy though?” he asks, knowing the answer and yetstill needing to hear it from her lips.

She’s tracing his smile with her fingers, her eyes bright. “Sohappy.”

“That’s what really matters to me, Lucy. You know that,right?” He wants her happiness more than he wants anything else—the desire isso potent that it is physically painful. He owes his complete happiness to herand all he wants is to be that for her, to give her what she has so willinglygiven him.

The smile she gives him is devastating, stealing his breathentirely.

“I can’t remember ever being this happy, but you should knowthat I have absolutely no idea how to be a mother, and that terrifies me. But thenI think that I’ve got you, that this baby is yours, and mine, and that it willprobably be the most loved baby since time began, that it probably already is, because I’m so in love with this babyalready, and it’s incredible, but it’s also frightening, and then I’m swingingback to terrified again, and—”

“Breathe, love,” Lockwood reminds her gently, and she does,taking a few good breaths before continuing.

“I’m a complete mess of nerves and emotions, and I barelymanaged to process everything before making it home and then I walked in hereand saw you and every sweet thing you’ve done for me today, and I love you so much and . . . I couldn’t help it.”He watches two new tears trace their way down her face and reaches to brushthem away. “I’m completely overwhelmed by all of this. But don’t you dare thinkfor a second that I don’t want this baby, just because I’m afraid.”

Lockwood knows exactly what she means. He has felt the same fearand worry himself when thinking about the future and wondering if, should heever be so lucky, he’d actually have what it took to be a good father. But lookingat Lucy now, tear-stained and hopeful and glowing and worried and literallyeverything he has ever wanted, Lockwood knows it’s going to be okay.

“You are absolutely right: we’re going to do this together.”He kisses her softly and Lucy’s arms find their way around him again. “We can do this, together. We’ll figure itout as we go, make mistakes, and love this baby with everything we have.”

As Lucy kisses him again, holding on to him with shaking handsand an open heart, Lockwood is struck again by just how much Lucy has given him. “Youknow all I’ve have ever wanted was afamily,” he says, the words bringing fresh tears to his eyes.

Her eyes are shining. “I know.”

“Thank you, Lucy.”His voice breaks. “My love.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Anthony.”

[writtenontheport]

The Haunted Boy and His Ghostly Girlfriend

Pt. 2 (Prologue) (Pt. 1)

Anthony Lockwood x fem Reader

Warnings/Tags: A bit of angst in that being a ghost is probably lonely LOL, Lockwood’s a bit more levelheaded here, purely just setup, SLOW BURN!!!, How do you write romance with ghosts, Lockwood is in love with you, He’s a bit stupid about it really, OH YEAH WAIT I FORGOT TO ADD: Reader is literally a ghost LMAO

Notes: I’M SO SORRY IF THIS PART IS A BIT,,,, DISAPPOINTING,,, I know this part isn’t fluff heavy, but I was struggling so hard figuring out how to make this fluffy like I usually do,,, but most of my fluff is exploring physical touch as a love language and if Lockwood touches the reader here he will literally DIE. That is not metaphorical it will kill him… she is a literal ghost 😭

Summary: Lockwood introduces you to the library, which, in the future will become your regular haunting. He’s also pretty sure he would do about anything for you to smile, which might not be the best thing to say to someone you just met so he doesn’t say it!

Word Count: 1.3k+

Lockwood presses the clamps of the silver-glass case open, taking out your necklace and gently laying it on the cushion of his chair. It sits there, on a plump throw-pillow, glimmering in the dark of the room before you appear. Miasma seeps into his bones with a cold chill, but his heart beats three times faster and his cheeks warm at the sight of you.

(In the future, Lockwood would have trouble separating those feelings during cases after spending so much time around you. It was a bit troublesome, but he’d never complain about it— it wasn’t your fault, after all, that your mere presence in the living world brought about a form of death.)

Disorienting as it was, Lockwood is quick to adapt as always and shoots you a grin oozing with charm. It takes you a moment to relax at the sight of it, lips falling into a small smile as you settle to the floor. The silence is thick, but not uncomfortable, and Lockwood is glad about that. He hopes the quick beating of his heart isn’t audible from where you are, or it would quickly become a very uncomfortable silence.

“Lucy and George are, um, upstairs for now,” He says to break the silence, resting his hands on his hips. “Lucy said something about changing out of work clothes and… well, George could be doing anything from reading to doing yoga in the nude, so no idea what he’s up to.”

You smile cheekily at that; a blinding thing when you glow so brightly in other-light. Lockwood’s sure that even without it, your smile would still outshine the moonlight that drenched you when you’d first met. It made him wonder for the first (of many times) what it would have been like if you’d met when you were alive. He wills the thought out of his head and instead focuses on you now as you are, ghostly and all. Really, he was lucky to have met you in general.

“I have a question, if you don’t mind me asking.” He shakes off his jacket and moves to rest it on the back of the chair, gesturing for you to sit. “Though it might be hard to answer now that I think about it.”

You look amused at the gesture and pick up the throw pillow and necklace to put aside, sitting down. Your eyes scan about the room, widening as you gesture to a book on a nearby table and mime writing with a pen. He picks up on it quickly and whips a pen out from one of the many nooks and crannies of the messy library, picking up an empty notebook George must have left here.

“Brilliant thinking,” He says, beaming. Sliding it over to you from across a small table, he rests his hand on the wood of it and leans on that arm, resting the other hand on his hip. It’s a mindless thing that makes you watch him for a moment longer than usual, but it’s enough to make him feel a bit coy. Something about your eyes leaves him rather helpless, but he’s not complaining.

The pen seems to lag behind as you drag it across the page; just for a second, just enough to make something about it seem wrong. It only makes Lockwood feel rather curious, not at all put off. You put the notebook down on the small table but keep the pen closer as you slide him the open page.

‘Ask away,’ you’d written. Your ghostly hand draws the notebook back as you smile lightly up at Lockwood from where you’re sat. Something about it is so soft that it has him weak, clearing his throat as he tries to remember the question.

“Do you know how long you were there for, at the Thistlebrows’?” He watches your lips purse into a thin line, before you scribble an answer back that you turn for him to see.

‘Not really,’ you’d written, something so distinctly lovable seeping into the way you write, ‘Only that it felt like an eternity before I met Pepper. It was rather lonely before her; I lost track of time.’

That made sense, with what he knew about type threes. Lonely sort of ghost, Lucy once described; George had backed that up with, They wait forever for someone to be able to notice them, of course they would be. Right now though, he sees the glimmer in your eyes dull and the smile on your face flatten. It must have been a terrible afterlife to live alone for so long; it must have been doubly terrible to have the only person who could hear you taken away. The thought wraps its horrid fingers around his heart as he watches you hover the pen over the page as if frozen in time; your eyes focused on Pepper’s name.

Something lurches in his gut, urging him to say something— anything— that might make this better. This is something that will follow him for every day that he knows you, and every single time it will feel like it will be the death of him as much as your gorgeous eyes.

“Pepper was very upset at being sent away, you know?” He says quietly, watching as you turn up to him in surprise. “Her grandparents told us about it, said you were her best friend.”

You drop your eyes back onto the page, a little smile playing at your lips as you write. Lockwood could live off your smile for the rest of his life (and afterlife) if you’d let him, the beauty of it beyond description. It wasn’t strange to feel so proud of making someone smile, right? Especially if said someone was the most beautiful girl dead or alive.

‘Her parents were deathly protective of her, barely let her outside. I was her only friend.’ Lockwood knew tacitly that she was yours too, but chose not to bring it up.

“We could send her letters, if you want?” He suggests, taking long steps over to the chair across. You eye him cautiously, and he finds it a bit (correction: quite a bit) endearing. “We’d give them to her grandparents to send for us, of course. If her parents are that dour, I’d doubt they’d let her read a letter from some random agency housing ghosts.”

With your brows raised and the impression of a smile, you write to him ‘Maybe you aren’t that dull after all.’

He huffs out a laugh and rolls his eyes, leaning deeply into the chair. “I think you’ll find I’m actually quite brilliant.”

He can’t hear it, but your shoulders ruffle in a bit of laughter and he’s struck frozen by your beaming face. Maybe it was simply the effect of a type three, but Lockwood was feeling the exact opposite of ghost-lock; a heart threatening to beat out of his rib cage, and a warmth filling his lungs despite the cold air. Miasma and thick quiet be damned, your presence brought him something warm and comforting in all the ways he could never explain.

Before you could write back whatever clever reply you wanted to, footsteps heavy and full ran down the stairs (echoing through the walls, they were so loud) and startled you both. Lockwood sends you a smile as he raises from the chair.

“Get ready; if that’s George you’re about to be questioned for the next hour at least,” He grimaces playfully. Your smile blooms as the warmth in his chest does, unfurling like other-light and a warm haze in his heart.

(George, who actually can hear you when he holds your source, does proceed to ask you questions for at least an hour that day alone. Lucy, who can hear you just fine, told him off if he said anything a bit too insensitive. Lockwood? Well, he asked so many questions too that Lucy begged him to just learn sign language with you so he could ask them himself. The way his whole face brightened— you were sure it made your dead heart beat.)

A/N: IM SORRYYY,, I know I know,,, I said this part would be more… MORE…. BUT I JUST… UGH… I LOVE writing plot important scenes 🤞🤞🤞🤞 My ass just keeps wanting to establish shit before I head into the next interesting part (LIKE IK,,, ITS KINDA BORING BECAUSE THEYRE JUST HAVING A SMALL CONVERSATION,,,, BUT HEAR ME OUT,,,) I’m all out of lies… I just love writing soft fluff I’m sorry…

Taglist 🏷️: (Please reach out if you want to be added or removed from the taglist)

@tangledinlove

@naive-daydreamer (sorry I didn’t know if you wanted to be tagged or not so I kept you tagged!! Please tell me if otherwise!!)

@daydreamingabthar

@wordsarelife

@brain-has-left

@superiorjam

[wordsarelife]

could i get a george x reader where the reader is an agent from like texas or smth, and is rlly bold and brash and straightforward

—i knew you were trouble

pairing: george karim x fem!reader

summary: reader expressed her likeness for george all the time.. seems like he finally gets it

warnings: a bit flirting but nothing suggestive, fluff

note: hope you like it! couldn't really add anything texas related, not really an expert!

"there she comes, Georgie" you could hear Anthony Lockwood mock the moment he laid eyes upon you. ever since he had found out that you had expressed interest in his researcher, George wasn't safe from being the victim of Lockwoods relentless jokes.

"hey, Georgie" you said smiling and Lockwood send George a knowing look, like he was trying to say that he had predicted it.

"h-hi y/n" George always stumbled over his words when you were around. Lockwood found it embarrassing, you would find it endearing

"Lockwood" you greeted, nodding in the boys direction.

"hey, y/n" Lockwood smiled and watched while George tried to find his coolness. wherever it had gone this time

"so what do we have here?" you asked, looking around the old house in which Lockwood and co had just finished another case. you were the primary supervision ever since they had burned down a house. Lockwood and Barnes had agreed upon a DEPRAC agent closing and overseeing the missions for atleast a year.

Lockwood was totally against that at the beginning, but since he met you, he didn't really mind. you were young and nice, not stuck up like most of DEPRAC's agents, and he loved that you were quite possible the only person George got startled by.

"Lockwood knows the most about-"

"I'd like to hear it from you, sweetheart" you smiled at George. the boy grew red as a tomato and Lockwood giggled.

"can't wait to tell Lucy about this" he called in your direction

"maybe you could also ask her to sit down George and teach him how to flirt. he's not doing very well at the moment" Lockwood raised his finger and pointed at you, fully agreeing to what you were saying, but laughing too hard to actually say anything

George gulped "eh, returning back to the case"

"yes" you nodded eagerly "returning back to the case" you interlocked your arms and walked him inside the house, listening intensively to what he was telling you, or more trying to tell you. it was a bit hard to tell through his stutter and the little moments in which his eyes would just linger on your lips

Lockwood was absolutely sure that George was utterly in love with you. not that you would mind, you had been trying to score a date ever since you had met the boy. you had to agree that George was quiet hard to crack. not because he was particularly good at masking how he felt, but more because he would turn red and break into a stutter at literally everything you said, even in the moments you really didn't intend to flirt.

but that made you like him even more. you knew that he wasn't a douchebag that would just play with your feelings, like the many boys you had dated before stumbling upon this very endearing one.

"so, y/n" George clamped his hands together, while you both made your way outside, after discussing the case and you formally declaring it as closed.

"yes, George?" you asked smiling

"maybe, I-" he stopped himself before he could stumble over his words again "do you mind going out with me some time this week?"

"really?" you beamed surprised. he was never that straightforward normally, you had probably rubbed off on him

the boy nodded his head, unsure if your reaction meant something positive

"of course" you answered quickly, as you noticed George's growing insecurity

"great, maybe I could get some flirting lessons from Lucy before"

"I mean if you want to" you agreed "but that was just a little joke, I like how flustered you always are. and I don't think you need to flirt, its not even possible for me to like you more than I already do"

"really?" now he was the one that wad surprised

"of course" you giggled "you haven't picked up on that?"

"no, not really" he shrugged his shoulders "I thought Lockwood was just messing with me"

"well, I liked you very much and nothing that you do or don't do would change anything on that matter" you assured "let me know if Lockwood is mean to you again, then I might sit him down and teach him how to behave"

"I don't think he would like that" George grinned happily, he seemed relaxed as he reached out for your hand and interlaced your fingers

"even better" you giggled

[lucelockwood]

(Part One: set between TCS and TEG)

When Lockwood looks up from his reading, he finds Lucy soundly asleep next to him.

He is overwhelmingly relieved. As far as long weeks go, Lucy has had maybe the worst one in recorded history. They’ve had several back-to-back, emotionally grueling cases that they’d needed to rely heavily on her for, and possibly as a result, she hasn’t been sleeping well at all. Twice this week he’d found her dozing in the library late into the morning, only to have her jump up the minute he arrived, insisting she was fine and running head-first into whatever new case had presented itself.

That may have been the most telling bit of evidence that she was exhausted—Lucy Carlyle slept like the dead and had to drag herself back to the land of the living most mornings. For her to jump so immediately to alertness and activity was not only out-of-character, it was a little alarming.

He’d sought her out tonight in an effort to keep her company, knowing all too well the demons she faced and the horrors of trying to face them alone. Lucy had seemed torn between admitting that she wanted him to stay and admitting that there was a reason she needed him to, so Lockwood had simply sat himself on the sofa next to her and picked up his book. If she wanted to talk, he would listen. If she wanted silence, that was fine too. But he was going to be there for her either way.

It hadn’t taken long. Lucy, curled up on the other side of the sofa, hadn’t even bothered trying to sketch. As far as Lockwood could tell, she’d merely watched him read until her eyes had drifted closed and her breathing grew deep.

She’s not nearly as careworn asleep, he thinks, and the thought is accompanied by a fierce surge of fondness. She’s powerful. Incredible. Shouldering the weight of the world on a daily basis. She’s been back with the company for a few months now, and Lockwood is thankful for that every single day. Lucy is the most talented operative in London—she’d scoff at that, but he knows without a doubt that it’s true—and the company has only benefited from having her back, but for Lockwood, his regard goes quite a bit deeper than mere professional interest.

He is happiest when he’s with Lucy. He cares about her a great deal more than he’s willing to admit, and he’s fairly certain that he’d do just about anything if it meant her greater happiness and comfort.

She just doesn’t know it yet.

Lockwood stands, setting his book aside and very carefully gathering Lucy into his arms. She doesn’t wake like he fears she will, but she does set his heart racing when she curls into him, resting her head in the crook of his shoulder so that he can feel her breath on his neck. Once she’s settled and secure, Lockwood makes his way out of the library.

It’s a good thing his feet know the route as well as they do, because his mind is so fully occupied with thoughts of Lucy that there’s no room for much else. It’s hard not to dwell on how he feels for her in general, let alone when he’s got her in his arms like this.

Lockwood moves slowly so as not to wake her, but still the journey up two flights of stairs is over far too soon. He lays Lucy down on her unmade bed before collecting her blankets from the floor, where they’d been strewn the last time she’d had to drag herself awake. Still just a little overwhelmed by the sheer force of how much he cares about this girl, Lockwood tucks her in carefully.

Then, almost without thinking, he brushes lightly at Lucy’s hair, smoothing it away from her face before leaning in close and kissing her forehead. “Sleep well,” he whispers, wishing she could hear him, wishing he knew what she wanted from him so he could be that for her, wishing he could linger and knowing he shouldn’t. Resigned, Lockwood straightens.

As he turns to leave, Lucy’s fingers grip his in the dark. Startled, Lockwood finds her looking up at him with an expression he can’t quite read. Slowly, he settles down on the edge of her bed, suddenly nervous. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” he says quietly.

She simply holds his gaze at first, her eyes wide and dark. Then Lucy pushes herself up, reaching for Lockwood with her free hand. Her fingers curl around the back of his neck, threading through his hair, and then, inexplicably, Lucy is drawing him in.

Lockwood doesn’t resist as Lucy pulls his lips to hers.

It’s barely a kiss at all, so painfully soft that he almost can’t feel it, but Lockwood’s still stunned by it. He is no stranger to confidence, or to the effect he sometimes has on those around him, but this is something he knows next to nothing about. He’d never really had the time to spend thinking about relationships, or kissing, or any of it. He’d never even been inclined to try.

Until Lucy, that is. And that’s the problem now. Not only does he want this, he wants it more than he’s ever wanted anything. He’s been so in love with this girl for so long that messing things up now isn’t an option, and he has no idea what he’s doing.

Lucy doesn’t seem to share his inhibitions. Before Lockwood has recovered enough to decide on his next move, she is shifting closer, taking his face in both hands and exchanging the first, tentative kiss for a second, much more confident one. She’s warm and soft and strong and he’s literally been dreaming about kissing Lucy for months now, and still he sits, frozen, on the edge of her bed.

The shock wears off and something else flares to life in its place, warming his frozen muscles and foggy brain. He’s not going to be the coward, or the imbecile who missed his opportunity. And the absolute last thing he is going to do is let Lucy think he somehow doesn’t want to be kissing her.

He’s just about to reach for her when she abruptly pulls away from him, settling back down onto her bed with a quiet sigh. “It’s my dream,” she mutters. “The least you could do is kiss me back.”

That shocks him fully back to his senses. “You’re . . . still asleep?”

“Yeah.” Lucy’s eyes drift shut and Lockwood is left feeling like the ground has fallen out from under him.

“Oh. Oh.”

Lockwood sits in stunned silence as Lucy drifts off again, desperately trying to make sense of what just happened. Lucy had kissed him. She’d been asleep, but she’d kissed him. But she’d also been asleep. He hadn’t gotten to kiss her back. Would she remember this tomorrow at all? Would he be okay if she didn’t? Would she be okay if she did? Why had Lucy thought she was dreaming? Does she dream about kissing him often?

If Lucy dreams about kissing him, then isn’t it possible that she likes him at least a little? The hope that comes with this thought is what calms the storm at last. Maybe, just maybe, they’re on the same page after all.

Lockwood leans in close again, reaching out to caress her cheek. “Lucy?” he whispers.

She’s breathing deeply again, her eyes fluttering beneath closed lids. “Mmh?”

“Let’s finish this tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

It happens as naturally the second time as it had the first—Lockwood presses another slow kiss to her forehead. “Good night, Love.”

Lucy’s reply is almost impossible to hear, but it manages to stop his heart all the same.

“Love you, too.”

~

He watches Lucy carefully the next morning, looking for any sign that she remembers. But she doesn’t act any differently around him, doesn’t blush, doesn’t bring up the fact that she’d kissed him stupid the night before. By the end of breakfast, he’s convinced that Lucy either doesn’t remember, or she doesn’t want to.

Fighting a sinking heart, Lockwood follows her lead.