#lockwood and co fluff

[saltwaterburns]

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

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

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

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

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

[downbadf0rficppl]

love you

Anthony Lockwood x F!Reader

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

Word Count: 3.9K

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m fine. Just a bad dream.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

May 26th, 1947

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

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

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

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

October 2nd, 1957

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

fin.

[vi-trying-to-survive]

Don’t Tell

Anthony Lockwood x f!Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What ? Why ?”, his eyes went wide.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Definitely”, he was nodding his head.

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

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

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

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

He frowned, “I-”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[gayandfairycore]

Marmalade and mischievous mornings

Summary: spending a morning in 35 portland row, regular shenanigans ensue between the four of you.

Word count: roughly 800 words(?)

A/n: this is my first time writing for lockwood and co. So I hope I did the characters justice! Feedback is muchly appreciated but please do be kind, This is not proof read.

The smell of toast, and marmalade filled the little kitchen at 35 Portland row, the comforting yellow light of the kitchen casted a warm shadow over the inhabitants of the house. The thinking cloth white, and yet covered in inky black doodles, and words scrawled messily down on the white tablecloth. the biscuit crumbs that seeming always found home on the table had began to make your arms itch as you sat next to your friends around the table, a warm cup of tea in hand.

As an ever drying pen is left uncapped, and discarded. The soft linen curtains blew in the mid morning air a conversation started to arise between the group of four. The conversation went a little something like George rattling on about the case they had just completed, Lucy calling the fact that it was clearly was not a low level type one and was actually very strong type two and that George was getting rusty on his research skills.

you couldn’t help finding it a bit funny that everyone around the table were in their pjs having a slow morning like usual to rejuvenate themselves after exhausting nightly escapades.

you couldn’t help finding it a bit funny that everyone around the table were in their pjs having a slow morning like usual to rejuvenate themselves after exhausting nightly escapades.

you couldn’t help finding it a bit funny that everyone around the table were in their pjs having a slow morning like usual to rejuvenate themselves after exhausting nightly escapades.

you couldn’t help finding it a bit funny that everyone around the table were in their pjs having a slow morning like usual to rejuvenate themselves after exhausting nightly escapades.

you couldn’t help finding it a bit funny that everyone around the table were in their pjs having a slow morning like usual to rejuvenate themselves after exhausting nightly escapades.

you couldn’t help finding it a bit funny that everyone around the table were in their pjs having a slow morning like usual to rejuvenate themselves after exhausting nightly escapades.

George had yet again refused to wear trousers, Lockwood a plain white tshirt on, as opposed to his regular suit and cut tie. Lucy an oversized shirt, and some comfy shorts, you having adorned something quite similar to Lucy. opting for a band shirt, pj shorts and some fluffy socks. It didn’t look like only last night three out of the four had almost died, in fact it looked as if the four of them had just had a slumber party.

Sadly it wasn’t a slumber party, instead they spent majority of last night running for their lives in a panic, away from a powerful ghost that they were unprepared to face. so majority of the group were surely going to be aching for the next few days.

munching down on a piece of toast and sipping your tea, the warmth from the chipped glass radiated to your hands, the steam from your tea momentarily being inhaled. a soft smile graced your features as you sipped your tea, Lucy and George’s bicker had yet to be stifled.

When you joined the agency Lockwood had actually warned you to usually just tune them out, that’s what he did. It made you laugh originally but dwelling on it now you’ve decided tonight you’ll pull him aside an ask him to teach you to tune out the friendly bickering.

“clearly you’re just a bit rubbish of a ghost hunter then!” George yelled, clutching his biscuit as he swung out his hands, shrugging his shoulders.

“Rubbish?!” Lucy exclaimed in faux outrage, a piece of buttered toast hanging from her mouth as she spoke the gravity of her exclamation declining as it came out muffled by the aforementioned toast.

“I am not rubbish, george karim! how many times have I come to your rescue? Hmm. You wouldn’t call me rubbish then!” The brunette persisted pointing her half eaten toast piece at him her eyes glared at the boy.

Knocking the piece of toast away from himself, “that’s different!” He retorted as slumped back in his chair slightly coy smile adorning his features.

“Oh is it?” The brunette raised her eyebrows her voice no longer yelling, George gulped quietly slumping impossibly deeper in his chair at the girl, her voice lowered in a warning. The same warning voice she used when they had first met. Watching the scene play out from across the table, toothy grin on your face as you admired your friends, your eyes caught Lockwoods. majority of his face hidden behind a crumpled and tea stained newspaper.

You watched as he shook his head at his friends antics, chuckling into his tea cup. Your eyes meeting in a silent melancholic comforting moment.

your attention only moving when you heard your name called, ”cmon y/n back me up!” Lucy’s expecting gaze told you that you had missed something.

Your eyes darting between the pair nodding unsurely and feigning confidence as you replied with an “oh yeah, absolutely what she said.” Before tilting your head in subtle exasperation taking a large sip of your tea, to mask your embarrassment of admiring Lockwood so much that you had managed to tune out the pair.

“No! Y/n how could you!” George exclaimed mock outraged taking over his expression as he slumped back in defeat, Lucy’s laughter filled the air, a lost expression passed over your face as you glanced between the pair, Lockwood pulling you into his side to answer your unspoken question,

“she just stated she’s the better researcher than him, and that anyone would agree she could do it with her eyes closed.” Lockwood smirked stifling a chuckle as he let go of your arms “and you just agreed with her”

The boy smirked, flicking out his news paper with flourish.

Your mouth formed a ‘o’ at the revelation, before a cocky smirk overtook your face “I mean George may be a the best researcher- No offence, Luce-” you pause, looking at their confused and impatient faces with a coy smile hands in in the air as you point to them.

“But what I want to know is, whose the best ghost hunter?” Leaning back in your chair you watch as chaos ensues clasping your hands tigether like you were an old villain

“I’m sorry?”

“Excuse me?”

Both Lucy and Lockwood exclaim, the latter dropping his news paper onto the table and the force shaking and spilling his tea.

A silence formed over the room, as George watched as his competitive friends began to turn on eachother in friendly competition.

“No offence Lockwood, you may be a prodigy and all that but it’s got to go to Lucy!”

“Y/n!” Lockwood exclaimed his eyes darting wildly as his mouth agape

George reclining in his seat as he stifles a laugh lockwood whirling around to face the boy attempting to look serious and upset.

“George- do you think this is funny?!” The ebony haired boy exclaims, as a chuckle breaks midway through his facade as he speaks.

A mischievous grin adorns George’s face as he replies “I do actually I think this is very funny!”

“Lucy cmon back me up here!?” Lockwood pleads his hands together in a prayer eyebrows raised

“Sorry Lockwood!” Lucy retorts “But y/ns right I’m just the superior ghost hunter.” The girl replies straightening her posture and flipping up imaginary jacket cuffs.

A plan begins to formulate in lockwoods mind “Well if it’s like that then” he states before pulling you into him and tickling you

Between bouts of giggles you exclaim “lockwood! Lockwood! No! Oh cmon!”

His fingers never stopping their assault at your side no matter how much you try to wriggle away, he only stops tickling you to bargain

“Say that I’m the best ghost hunter you’ve ever known!”

Struggling to breathe through your laughter you chuckle out an estranged “No!”

Lockwood smirks “Alright then.”

His fingers moving at your sides painfully fast breathlessness taking over you, as tears well in your eyes loud laughter fills the kitchen.

pouting your lips you exclaim in defeat“okay! Okay! You’re the best ghost hunter I’ve ever known!”

Lockwood stops his assault at your sides smiling and slinging his arm over your shoulder before he taunts the brown eyed girl

“see Luce, there’s only one person here whose the best ghost hunter-“ mischievous looks are shared between you, George, and Lucy. As you move yourself from under the arms of the boy.

Lucy exclaims a “sorry Lockwood! But it’s not you, george get him!” And with her exclamation both you and george begin to ambush the boy flinging your body onto his back watching as he loses his footing. Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck like he was giving you a piggyback.

“Ah- uh oh!” His yells voice high pitched and shrieking laughter fills the room despite the mess that had somehow accumulated over the time you had been in a tickle fight.

The spilled tea over old newspaper clippings a spilled tub Or marmalade staining the thinking cloth

As the sound of a camera flashing momentarily blinds both you and Lockwood as you both come toppling down the wooden floor your body above lockwoods.

Bashfulness blooms in your chest “oh uh sorry-“

Lockwoods narrows his eyes in disappointment “No it’s quite alright” he murmurs. Moving to sit up on his elbows a look of surprise takes over his face as you turn to look behind you

Your two friends about to dog pile you both both you and Lockwood exclaim almost at the same time “George, Lucy you don’t have to do this!”

The two share a glance at eachother before flinging their bodies onto you both collectively collapsing your attempts to get up. groans leaving you and Lockwood at the added weight.

[novelizt]

ENDEARMENTS ☁︎ ANTHONY LOCKWOOD

GENRE ➺ fluff, established relationship

WC ➺ 1.4k

SYNOPSIS ➺ lockwood doesn't understand why you bend when he uses terms of endearments on you.

DISCLAIMER ➺ implied non-brit! gender-neutral! reader. + usage of an assortment of pet names (they usually call each other 'bee')

NOTE ➺ to any brits out there—yes, us normies are heavily affected by 'darling' and 'love'. thank you for coming to my tedtalk.

He knew that he shouldn't abuse his power like this but he didn't have much of a choice. You had been ignoring him for the past five hours . . . over serving your morning coffee in the wrong mug.

Lockwood was a brave guy. You, alone, had the ability to make him scared of approaching you. He hoped for the best when he had strut up to you in your reading chair and wrapped his arms around you.

You stiffened in his arms but he persevered, placing his chin on your shoulder. He saw your lips turn taut, ready to frown and shoo him away, until...

"I'm sorry, my darling. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

He wasn't sure whether it was the apology or the overplayed endearment, but you had laxed in his hold. Allowing yourself to lean into his chest and kiss his cheek.

"It's okay, bee. I'm not mad anymore."

He had a hard time believing that, but when you put your book down to give him full body hug? He forgot all about his worries.

—

It wasn't everyday that Lockwood allowed himself a vacation. So, when you won a free trip to Rome, you had to bring him along.

What you didn't expect was for him to be so enthusiastic about living the tourist life. He had even bought a camera for the sole purpose of capturing your moments.

Travi Fountain was something you've been dying to see for ages but a run-in with a scammer had soured your mood. You were cross-armed and pouty-lipped for most of your walk-about.

"Come on, bee, just one picture. You've been telling me about this place for months now," Lockwood reasoned. He took your hand, stubbornly holding on.

"I'm not in the mood, bee," you grumble, shaking your linked hands. He wouldn't let go of you, even if you tried.

"We'll see about that."

"What was that?"

"Nothing," he said sweetly, then raised the camera to his eye; adjusting the focus to capture you, your linked hands, and the opulent fountain. "Smile for me, angel."

The frustration on your face melted, giving way to a timid smile that instantly brightened your face. He wasn't content yet. Lockwood was trying to coax his favorite smile out of you. "My love, I need you to show your pretty teeth, please. Oh— yes, smile just like that. That's exactly what I was looking for."

He mirrored your radiant smile. He couldn't help it. He took a few more shots and basked in your laugh for a few more glowing moments before lowering the camera.

"You got what you wanted now, Mr. Lockwood," you stepped closer, clearly in a higher spirits. You even pressed a chaste kiss on his chin as he viewed the photos.

"That, I did." He grinned, skin golden from the sinking sun. He placed a gratifying kiss on your temple then one on your knuckles. "You're perfect as always, my darling."

He should have taken a photo of you then, all red-cheeked and sun-kissed, but that would have to be a memory just for him. He had no qualms about that.

—

"You should be asleep," he tutted. His voice was low but his tone was reprimanding. Beneath that was a hint of petulance, like a child that didn't get his way.

You worked in the dining room under a lamp you had bought from a yard sale, like you routinely do. Not usually at ungodly hours like this. Judging by his pout, he wasn't pleased.

Lockwood had gone to bed hours ago, expecting you to follow soon after. Now, the hours were closer to the morning and your side of the bed was still cold.

You looked up, giving him a weak smile to try and placate his attitude. He looked so soft with bed-disheveled hair. You could see a sliver of pale skin as he lifted his shirt to scratch his belly. You absolutely melted while he softened at your sunken eyes. Only you could look so cute and sleep-deprived at the same time.

You lifted your notes to show him how much research you'd covered. "I can figure this out. I feel it. Just a bit more."

"Angel, baby," he started towards you. The terms had caught your attention. Your body faced his and your hands fell away from the case files you sprawled all over the place. "you need rest."

"I still have energy," you replied. You tried to resist his charms but you ended up giving in as he held his hands out.

He helped you to your feet, keeping one hand entangled with yours and the other drifting to your waist. With a sleepy smile, he requested: "Dance with me, my heart."

Lockwood claimed he didn't have much of a voice but, that night, he carried a tune like he was made to. The melody of 'Once Upon A Dream' drifts about you as he waltzed you across the kitchen, seducing you into a state of calm.

Your heart soared, you hummed along and you found yourself falling into the abyss that was Anthony Lockwood. As time danced on, you stepped closer and closer; your feet began to slow, and you finally set your head on his shoulder. Slowly but surely, he lulled you to sleep.

When your eyes fluttered shut and your weight shifted, he brought a careful hand under your knees and picked you up. With the litheness of a feather, Lockwood took you to bed and blessed your head with a kiss before he turned out the lights. He wished you a wonderful dream then drifted off himself. Content to be resting with you in close proximity; Your hands curled into his shirt to keep him close while his slipped under yours to feel the warmth of your skin beneath his fingertips.

When the sun broke through the curtains, he made sure to cover you with his frame and uncharacteristically asked George and Lucy to take the morning off so you could catch a few extra hours of sleep.

In his groggy haze, his hands drifted higher beneath your shirt, resting on your upper back to pull you even closer. You tucked your head under his chin, and, in that moment, all was well in the world.

—

It became clear to him how weak you were to his endearments.

You nearly dropped your morning coffee when he called you 'my darling'. You tripped on air when he asked you to pass him a note after he called you 'my love'. Your face did an endearing sort of pout when he called you 'my heart'. But he found that you're weakest when he calls you, "dearest."

Your attention was snapped away from your favorite book. Your eyes swirled with question and also elation—like a child on Christmas day. A smile was on your lips for no apparent reason and he couldn't help but smile back.

"Yes, bee?" you inquired innocently, your rapt attention on him. You looked every bit like a fantasy come to life, and you hadn't even brushed your hair. It's was a blessing that he could capture your heart with a simple term.

"Nothing," he said, smile growing. "You just look beautiful, heart."

He took the space beside you. You leaned into his side like it was second nature. His arm draped over your waist and his chin propped on your shoulder, ready to read along with you.

"Thank you," you replied. After a moment of contemplation, you add, "dearest."

It felt like an arrow was shot through his heart. His vain attempt to back a kiddy giggle was the least of his worries. It striked him then, why smiling seemed to be your first reaction to an endearment. When they came from you, it made his heart do ludicrous things. He was weak for you, and by the looks of it, he was too far gone to turn back.

Not that he would turn back. He'd like you to call him 'dearest' again. Preferably, for the rest of his life.

NOTE ➺ He's been haunting me lately. I've already have another fic in the works—he won't leave my mind!!

Any who, feel free to leave feedback and don't feel shy to reblog!! Bless the world with more thoughts of Anthony Lockwood ✨

⌠ @novelizt 2023 ⌡

[g1rld1ary]

hope your requests r open! lockwood x reader where lockwood think reader likes george (but she doesnt) and reader thinks lockwood likes lucy (he doesnt). basically just a whole bunch of misunderstandings with angst and a happy ending please <3

miscommunications - anthony lockwood x fem!reader

wc: 6316

cw: swearing, angstish, series typical injuries

i am SO sorry this took so long lovie i had the biggest writers block but i loved loved loved this request so thank u for sending it in i hope i did it justice!!!! love u xoxo

Lockwood and Co was absolutely the weirdest psychical detective agency you’d ever been a part of. Not only were the actual case methods… unusual, but you were a bunch of kids. You didn’t know anything about running a company; the logistics of managing four teenagers and trying to be responsible whilst also experiencing hormones and teen dramas, all while living in the same house with no adult supervision. But it was great, most of the time at least.

However, even teen psychical detectives weren’t immune to the trap of cliques and you often ended up spending much more time with some members than others. For example, it often ended up being Lockwood and Lucy, and you and George.

It wasn’t necessarily a conscious decision or something that happened because you didn’t like the other two members of the agency, it just tended to be the easiest decision. Lockwood and Lucy were undeniably in perfect sync on the field, and you and George worked better in the research department, so it only made sense that those pairs spent more time together.

The only problem? You were totally in love with Lockwood. And you were pretty sure he was basically fucking married to Lucy Carlyle. They were the dream team on and off the field, you were half convinced they could actually read each other's minds. Plus, they were both genuinely amazing people. Lucy was your best friend and roommate at Portland Row, and you loved her with all your heart. And Lockwood? Well, there were a million and one good things to say about Anthony Lockwood. So who could blame you if you spent more time with George? It hurt less than watching the love story unfolding in front of you, and George was good company anyhow.

You couldn’t avoid them though, nor did you really want to, so life was testing your limits as to how much Locklyle you could handle at once.

You and George had been cooped up in the library most of the day looking through archives and research for the agency’s next case, so you’d been glad to get home and have a long warm shower in the evening. Lockwood and Lucy were off on a smaller case together so you’d had the bathroom all to yourself while George was cooking; a small luxury when living with three other teenagers.

Your hair was still wet as you sat down at the dining table in the kitchen, droplets sinking into the paper of the thinking cloth. It was a lovely dinner with George, he’d made your favourite meal upon request, the most glorious dish of butter chicken you thought might’ve ever been made. Everything should have been perfect, except that it was just the two of you. Again. It seemed like you never had family dinners as a four anymore, you and George stuck eating across from each other amongst empty chairs and untouched plates.

“So, anything new?” You made conversation in decent humour, picking at the chicken you weren’t quite as pleased to be eating anymore.

“Anything new in the twenty minutes we’ve been apart all day?” George replied in his characteristic dry tone. You rolled your eyes, trying to stay playful.

“Just checking.”

You took the cleanup after George did all the cooking, switching on the radio as you stood in front of the sink and washing the dishes in peaceful quiet. It was past midnight when the door jingled and creaked open and you could hear Lockwood and Lucy’s tired chatter floating through the old house. Even their damn voices belonged together, making the perfect cadence. You calculated whether you could get away with running up the stairs and pretending to be asleep before they really made it inside, however, agents are known for their speed, and you could hear boots hitting the floor before you could move.

“You’re still up?” Lucy asked as a greeting, stretching out her arms with a sigh. You smiled, shrugging as you began pouring hot water into the mugs you’d prepared earlier, making you all tea how you liked it. Lucy took hers gratefully, adding in the sugar as she pleased, but you were still yet to see Lockwood, taking the initiative to prepare it for him.

He came in a few minutes later, smiling softly as he looked at you.

“You’re a godsend.” He took the mug gratefully, visibly relaxing as the heat penetrated his body. You just smiled, turning back to the dishes.

“Thanks for the tea, I’ll head up to the shower,” Lucy said, patting you gratefully on the arm as she passed. That left you and Lockwood in the kitchen in careful silence.

You talked about nothing for a while, Lockwood filling you in on the tabloids he’d read the night before, and you told him all about the music and news you’d been listening to on the radio.

“How was the research, how’s George?” Lockwood was beside you now, taking a few of the plates you’d finished drying. His tone sounded almost bitter, but you figured it was his exhaustion taking hold.

“It was fine, I think we’re pretty much good to go for this weekend. Oh, you should have seen it! George absolutely stacked it on the steps of the library earlier. He’s fine, of course, but I nearly pissed my pants laughing, it was so funny.” Lockwood managed an unenthused chuckle, turning away to put the cutlery away in the drawer. “How was the case?” Lockwood made a noise of affirmation, coming back next to you, your shoulders brushing lightly.

“As well as cases can go,” He said, smile back on his face. You listened to him tell the bloody details of the case, illustrating his own heroic moves with a full production of actions and impressions, drawing giggles from you as he fought around the room. “And of course, Luce was brilliant as always, saved my arse for the millionth time.”

Fuck. Of course Lockwood was singing Lucy’s praises again, right in front of you! You couldn’t catch a break. You finally got a moment alone with the boy you had a massive embarrassing crush on and he was talking about your best friend! You could feel your smile fading fast, jealousy bubbling in your chest as you imagined them out on a case together, all quick banter and soft touches while you were at home. With George.

You tried to stay obliging, giving him a small smile and finishing up the drying quickly.

“Well, I should be off to bed. Goodnight, Lockwood.”

“You’re not gonna read with me?” You could have sworn that Lockwood had disappeared and been replaced with a kicked puppy the way his eyes were making your insides twist with guilt. You often sat up in the library with Lockwood; he could never sleep and you often made up for the late nights in the mornings, starting your days hours after everyone else. You held eye contact for a moment, willing yourself to be strong.

It didn’t work, and you found yourself back in your familiar spot in front of the fire, digging into your novel as he flipped through a magazine. When your eyes began to strain in the low lamplight you closed it softly, chancing a glance over at Lockwood. He looked almost perfect in the moment, yellow light illuminating the highlights in his face, his eyes glinting as he found humour in the dramatised tabloids.

He looked up suddenly, his senses evidently alerting him to your staring. His head tilted almost imperceptibly, curiosity seeping from his features. You smiled softly, unable to give him any explanation, so you were glad when he returned it in a way that made his whole face light up. You looked away first, studying your hands intently as you heard Lockwood breathe a subtle laugh.

Another case later, you were going crazy. You’d hit an obstacle (of course) and the case had started going awry. A few relicmen interfering with the site threw you all off your game, the original case put aside in favour of your lives. You and Lucy had been together when the ambush happened, both fighting as a team to protect yourselves. Admittedly you weren’t as fluid as her and Lockwood, but you blamed that on the lack of opportunity. You were doing pretty well for yourselves, all things considered. Still, you were grateful for the two boys to come bursting in like heroes, rapiers at the ready. What you didn’t appreciate was the way Lockwood immediately leapt to Lucy’s side, falling into their familiar rhythm. That left George to help you, the both of you sharing the quickest of looks, your eye roll lost to the fight.

You’d all made it out alive but were severely battered and disheartened. You’d all sustained a few cuts and bruises, you knew you were bleeding from somewhere in your midsection, but the adrenaline hadn’t worn off yet so you pushed through.

You also weren’t particularly glad to see Lockwood looking at Lucy like she’d hung all the stars in the sky in the cab on the way back. He hadn’t spared you a glance.

“I know this wasn’t exactly what we planned,” He said, still not making eye contact with you, “But we’re all okay so I think that’s a win. Luce, good job on the defence and keeping the relicmen at bay. George, brilliant catch with the source, mate, you saved us all. And, uh, good work.” He looked over briefly, but you thought he was looking slightly above you still. He didn’t even care enough to look at you on the case! It was absolutely maddening.

Sometimes, like now, you wondered why you even liked him. He was obsessed with another girl, barely paid you attention and had you begging for crumbs of affection. And yet, sometimes you were sure he liked you back. The soft smiles, the time together in the dead of night, the moments he showed you such gentle care. Lockwood was a puzzle you just couldn’t solve, but you were really, really trying.

You weren’t in the best mood when you all arrived home. Your case had been compromised, you were injured, and Lockwood was basically ignoring you. The night was not looking good. And, on top of all that, George called the first shower so it was unlikely there’d be any hot water left by the time you got in. Silently, you peeled off your overcoat, hanging it on your designated hook before discarding your rapier in the umbrella bin. The cut on your side was beginning to sting, the adrenaline having worn off in the cab, but you powered through, figuring you’d take care of it when you had privacy in the bathroom. Instead, you followed Lucy into the kitchen, chatting away as she made some toast.

She’d already left when you got up from the dining table, motivating yourself to make some tea and something to eat. Your body was starting to ache though, and you really didn’t want to be moving much longer. It was all mostly fine, though uncomfortable, until you were reaching up for the sugar for the tea. It was a little out of your reach up on one of the higher cupboards which usually wasn’t so much of an issue — you were a high jumper — but raising your arm above your head was making it feel like your cut was splitting open, pulling a strangled hiss from you.

“What is that?” Lockwood’s voice made you jump, the harshness unfamiliar. You turned slowly, folding your arms across your stomach in vain.

“It’s nothing, I was gonna look after it in a bit.” It was the first time you’d made proper eye contact with Lockwood all night, and he looked pissed.

“Bullshit,” He argued, gaining proximity, “Sit down.” You weren’t typically in the habit of being bossed around by a man, but you could tell Lockwood was serious so took a seat. He stomped around the kitchen rather dramatically, tossing you an ice pack from the freezer. You placed it tentatively over the cut, groaning and throwing your head back when it stung. Your breathing was shallow, erratic as you waited for the icepack to do its job and start numbing the pain.

When you unscrewed your eyes Lockwood was standing at the kitchen bench, aggressively buttering your toast. You watched him put together the meal you’d started, all with deep furrowed eyebrows, ending with him placing it in front of you, looking at you expectantly. You smiled at him despite the pain in your side, pulling the mug of tea closer. He’d made it just as you liked it, too much sugar and a bit of honey. You sipped it pathetically, tension bubbling between you and the boy in front of you.

“What’s new?” You asked in what you hoped was a lighthearted tone. Lockwood wasn’t impressed.

“Eat,” He urged, “You’ll already be weak from blood loss, don’t let yourself get dizzy from hunger too.” You took an exaggerated bite of the toast to appease him, melting into a moan when the food hit your mouth. Somehow, it tasted better than all the millions of times you’d made your own. Lockwood had found the perfect balance of butter and bread, soft in the middle but the crusts were still crunchy and satisfying. The corner of his mouth flicked into the smallest smile seeing you enjoy the food he’d made you, but it was clear he still wasn’t happy with you.

You continued to eat as he got up from his seat, disappearing out into the hallway for a moment. He returned with the first aid kit and you groaned. This was going to suck. Lockwood, ever the gentleman, asked for your permission to start helping you, lifting your already cherry red case shirt up to tuck under your bra, out of his way as he examined the cut. It wasn’t too deep, you didn’t think you’d need stitches or anything, but it was long, wrapping halfway across your stomach.

“This is going to hurt,” He said simply, but you could have sworn there was some gentleness there. Lightly, Lockwood began to clean your wound. Initially, it wasn’t so bad as he cleaned what had already spread and dried away from the cut which lulled you into a false sense of security. You cried out as he touched the wound itself for the first time, grabbing onto Lockwood’s shoulder for stability, though you were already seated.

“It’s okay, I’ll be quick. Promise,” He hushed you, offering his hand for you to grab instead. You clutched onto it for dear life, squeezing until both your fingers were turning white. Lockwood never uttered a complaint, working away at cleaning and treating the wound one-handed until it was done, stopping every so often for breaks when he thought you needed them.

When he was done he looked up at you from his position on his knees and it suddenly felt like the world around you was quiet. Lockwood’s eyes were so pretty. You’d always thought so, but it was particularly relevant when he was only inches away from you, sparkling in the amber light of the kitchen. Neither of you spoke, staring into each other’s eyes. You weren’t sure what to do, you didn’t want to end this moment between you but you didn’t know how to make it last. Well, you did, but that was highly inappropriate given Lockwood was in love with another girl.

“Thanks,” You settled on awkwardly, cringing as Lockwood seemed to realise where he was and what was happening.

“Any time,” He jumped up, backing up towards the sink and busying himself with pouring his own cup of tea.

You left the kitchen shortly after, unwilling to sit in the awkwardness any longer. The first step was to get out of the soiled clothes and clean yourself up a bit, the second was to flop back onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling of the attic.

“I’m going to die alone,” You said to the roof, catching the attention of your roommate.

“Don’t be stupid,” Lucy said simply, “You’re hot, anyone would be lucky to have you.” That pulled a smile from you, tilting your head back to look over at Lucy on her bed.

“Thanks, Luce. You know what I mean though.” Lucy rolled her eyes with a soft smile.

“If Lockwood can’t see all your brilliant, attractive qualities then he’s a prat.”

“I’m sure he sees many of my great qualities — he hired me. The issue is that he’s blinded by your brilliance.” It was a conversation you’d had countless times before; you decreeing Lockwood’s love for Lucy and Lucy being disgusted by it.

“You know that I have zero interest in Lockwood. Like, zero. Honestly, I’d sooner get with you than him.”

“Alright, alright, I get it. I have terrible taste in men,” You laughed, mostly cheered up.

Lucy flicked off the lamp, putting you to sleep with a story from before you’d joined the agency.

Lockwood had a similar conversation with George a few weeks later. It was after another case, all had gone well and the four of you were strewn about the house, tending to various chores that needed to get done. Lucy was mopping the floors, you were organising and putting away the mountain of books that had been used over the case, and Lockwood and George were both in the basement, tidying the store room and going over paperwork.

Lockwood looked at George, hunched over the form he was filling in, and wondered how to broach the subject. He thought you might’ve been avoiding him lately, which wasn’t exactly wrong, and thought it might be because you were trying to make your feelings for George known. In fact, it had nothing to do with George and everything to do with Lockwood. You figured if Lockwood hadn’t noticed by now that you liked him he never would, so you’d started the mountainous task of getting over him. It was unsurprisingly extremely difficult, given you lived and worked with the man. Still, you were doing the best you could.

“So, gone on any, uh, dates recently?” The sentence was awkward and Lockwood cringed. It was so unlike him and George to talk about anything emotional, especially romance.

“What are you on about?” George didn’t even bother looking up, figuring it was just one of Lockwood’s moments that he’d move on from soon enough.

“It’s just, you’ve never really dated anyone, at least while living here, so I was just asking. Um, maybe there’s someone in the house you’d like to take out?” George looked up, turning his wheelie chair to face Lockwood, resigning himself to the conversation he knew would follow.

“Yes, Lockwood. Can’t you hear Lucy and I having loud, passionate sex every night?” Both boys rolled their eyes.

“That’s not what I meant,” Lockwood grumbled.

“Then say what you mean. You’re trying to figure out if I like her because you do and you’re too scared to say anything about it.” Lockwood was silenced, caught out with his true intentions. “Let’s face it, you’re about as subtle as a car horn; you moon over her. She’s the only one who hasn’t noticed.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Lockwood mumbled, “She likes you.” George burst out into uncharacteristic laughter, wheezing and gripping his stomach.

“God, you’re daft!” He laughed, “The two of you are perfect for each other, you’re hopeless.”

Lockwood made an excuse to leave, something about folding his laundry. George watched him go, rolling his eyes before turning back to his paperwork. If the two of you weren’t going to get his exceedingly obvious hints, you were going to have to work it out between yourselves.

Your angst was bleeding into the company. You were trying (and failing) to get over Lockwood which was not only making you generally miserable, but it was impeding your ability to be a good agent.

You were on a relatively easy case, and for some reason you’d been paired with Lockwood, a rarity. Lucy and George were on the second floor of the house scoping out where the source may be whilst you and Lockwood were on the ground floor, preparing your defences and putting on the tea kettle. It was extremely awkward. Lockwood was trying to make conversation and you were trying to keep it as short as possible. If you fell into conversation you’d be reminded of Lockwood’s many wonderful qualities, and it would just get harder to get over him.

“Did you end up finishing that book?” He asked as you pulled the chains out of their duffel bags. You perked up for a moment before forcing yourself to relax. You had finished the novel and absolutely loved it, you wanted nothing more than to talk about it. Still, you controlled yourself, shrugging off the question with a “Yeah, it was pretty good.” Lockwood hesitated, caught off guard by your answer. Usually you were keen to discuss what you’d been reading, especially if you liked it.

“Are you alright?” He asked, softness in his voice and eyes. Your heart clenched for a moment, you didn’t want to worry him.

“I’m fine, Lockwood, promise.” You busied yourself with arranging the salt bombs but you could still feel his eyes on you.

The case progressed, all four of you ending up on the second level of the house to confront the visitor, each splitting up to cover the different rooms. You were in the master bedroom when the en suite bathroom caught your eye. You could have sworn you saw movement near the shower and crept towards it, trying to stay focused and address the urgency on hand.

You were immediately distracted by the similarities between the en suite and the bathroom in Portland Row. Set out almost identically, it was almost scary how similar they were; George’s soap (fancy and way more expensive than the one the rest of you bought) was on the ledge of the shower, and Lucy’s blue hairbrush sat by the basin.

It wasn’t necessarily surprising that either of those items were there, they were both bought for cheap at a grocery store so ought to have been common, but it surprised you nonetheless. You’d been so distracted by the weird similarities that you didn’t notice the figure floating through the shower curtain until its translucent hand was beside your face. You panicked, the only thing you shouldn’t have been doing, and flailed about in the tiny room, rapier knocking bottles off shelves and creating a general racket that was not pleasing the ghost.

You stumbled on the tiles trying to get your footing and get the fuck out but slid on a slippery substance — probably conditioner from the bottle you’d sent flying to the ground. It was a comedy of errors you would have quoted as impossible in an old slapstick comedy, but there you were, and the consequences were infinitely more dire than those faced by Charlie Chaplin.

The proceeding moments vanished from your memory; a violent fall, a sickening crack and an overwhelming darkness. Three more moments of light where you caught visions of the ghost, Lockwood, and aggressive flashing lights.

You woke up in hospital. You wished it was the hazy, unsure innocence that you saw in movies, but the incessant beeping and sanitised smell had you groaning as you gained consciousness. Lockwood was slumped over in the chair next to your bed, breathing uncharacteristically calm as he slept.

You watched him sleep in the least creepy way you could manage, admiring his features when they weren’t scrunched up in worry or stress. He must’ve felt you watching him as his eyes fluttered open, doe eyes overflowing with relief as he saw you awake.

“You’re up, thank god,” He said, pulling his chair up even closer to you.

“Why am I here?” You asked, examining the various wires and machines you were plugged into.

“What aren’t you here for?” Lockwood joked and you tried for a smile. He straightened himself out and continued, “Linear skull fracture, concussion, scary-looking cut on your forehead. We think you slipped and bashed your head on the countertop.” You grimaced, the pain of the fall manifesting in your head.

“That would be right,” You agreed sheepishly, shifting uncomfortably in your hospital gown, “And the hand?” Your left hand was bandaged up so thick it looked more like an oven mitt than a hand.

“Ghost touch.” Lockwood didn’t sound so happy and casual now.

“Oh.”

“What happened? It’s not like you to put yourself in danger like that; it was stupid and reckless.” You didn’t understand why Lockwood was getting so angry. Clearly, you didn’t intend to get injured, it was an unfortunate accident that you would have avoided if you could.

“As opposed to you, who never gets injured and always sticks to the plan?” You couldn’t help the venom seeping into your voice but you detested being criticised by Lockwood when he was just as bad, usually worse.

“This isn’t about me,” He said through gritted teeth, clearly trying to keep his cool while you were vulnerable. You were angry though and didn’t want to back down.

“Of course this is about you, Lockwood! You wouldn’t blink an eye if it was you who’d ended up here, or George or Lucy. It was an honest mistake, why are you being such a dick about it?” You were raising your voice but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, the tension that had been bubbling for weeks coming to the surface.

“Because you could have died —”

“So could any of us, that’s the job! I still see you jumping head-first into danger.”

Lockwood groaned your name, hands in his hair and pulling in frustration. “You’re misunderstanding me, I just don’t want to watch you get hurt—”

“Then close your fucking eyes, Lockwood. I fell and I got injured. It happens and I resent having you treat me differently than the others. Fuck this, I want Lucy here instead, or George.”

“Of course you want George here, why wouldn’t you?”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” If you could stand you would be shoving past him and out the door, but you were at a significant disadvantage being hooked up to so many machines, stuck in your place.

“You know what I mean, you and George are such a close pair, aren’t you? Always working together and laughing about your own inside jokes,” He spat and the burning anger only got hotter.

“Are you fucking crazy right now? Or are you forgetting that you’re the head of this company and therefore you’re the one pairing us together in every case? Or are you so fucking busy making heart eyes at Lucy that you don’t even notice that we’re actually getting work done? Forgive us for trying to make ten hours of research bearable!”

“Heart eyes at Luce? You’re the crazy one, she and I are just friends, I swear. But you and George will make a great couple, I’m sure.”

“George and I couldn’t be less interested in each other! And if you could see past your own nose for once maybe you’d see why!” You all but yelled, surely alerting the whole floor of your argument, “Leave me alone, Lockwood, I don’t want you here anymore.”

Lockwood looked as if he was going to dispute that statement as well but a nurse came to your rescue, clearly hearing the disagreement from outside. She ushered him out, claiming it wasn’t good for your vitals to be getting angry and that you could continue the fight when you were discharged in a few day's time.

Alone in the sterile hospital room, you felt yourself beginning to cry, fat tears rolling down your cheeks and landing on your embarrassing patterned hospital gown. In a perfect world, that conversation would have gone completely differently. In a perfect world, Lockwood’s eyes would have softened when he saw you were awake. He would have confessed how worried he was about you and how much he truly cared for you. He would have brushed his lips across your hand that he was holding, then pressed them again against your own as he admitted how he’d always been in love with you. You didn’t know that it was your own defensive nature that had stopped that from happening.

But it wasn’t a perfect world and you were alone, overwhelmed by the various noises and movements going on around you. You did eventually fall back asleep, a fitful, unsatisfying nap that had you groaning and exhausted when you woke up. You weren’t alone though, which did make you feel better. George and Lucy were sitting next to your bed, deep in a whispered conversation.

“Hey,” You said, shimmying up to a sitting position. They both stopped talking immediately, turning to face you with small smiles on both their faces.

“How are you feeling?” Lucy asked, pulling her chair up to be right next to your bed.

“I’m alright now, just tired and worn down.”

“You scared us,” George added, characteristically stiff but clearly trying to be sensitive.

“I’m sorry,” You admitted, “I really didn’t mean to. And believe me, Lockwood’s already yelled at me enough for it, please just forgive me.” They looked at each other, communicating non-verbally.

“We heard,” George said, “He basically punched a hole in the wall trying to recount it.” He let out a clipped laugh before Lucy shoved him, signature glare working its magic.

“You should really apologise, he’s cut up about it.” Your mouth dropped open as you stared at Lucy. How was this your fault?

“I’m not apologising, he was the one who got angry. Right, George?” You pleaded with him, praying he wouldn’t let you down now.

“I… I don’t think it has to be right now, but you two should get over it after you’ve cooled down a bit.” Ok, it wasn’t exactly what you’d hoped he’d say, but it was better than nothing. And better than the moral lesson you knew Lucy would try and impose — what a hypocrite.

“But he was so mean!” You whined, “I seriously just had an unfortunate fall, I didn’t die.”

“But you could have,” George quipped and you rolled your eyes.

“You know it’s because he really cares about you, right? He’d never forgive himself if something happened to you and he couldn’t save you.” You couldn’t tell if Lucy’s statement was making you feel better or worse.

“Yeah, really felt like it when he was yelling at me,” You grumbled, fidgeting with the hem of the scratchy blanket.

“Well, you know Lockwood is emotionally constipated,” George added and you couldn’t help but burst into laughter — what a statement to come from George.

“OK,” You agreed finally, “I’ll apologise when we get home. As long as he stops being a massive prick.”

You were discharged a few days later, healing nicely. It would have been sooner, but the head injury worried your nurses and kept you there, not trusting you would stay on bed rest. Lucy came to your rescue, posing as a very concerned caretaker who would ensure your safety.

In fact, it wasn’t Lucy who was enforcing your bedrest. It was George who was cooking every meal and Lockwood doing all the other motherly fussing. You hadn’t discussed your fight yet, both too exhausted and too awkward to broach the subject. You hoped your six-to-eight-week recovery time wouldn’t consist of the same heavy tiredness, but you figured it would improve once the concussion had faded.

The rest of the company had started doing two-man cases so that someone was always home to supervise you. It was a little stifling but you appreciated the effort. It also shook up the status quo of the company, Lockwood and Lucy’s perfect partnership being disrupted by no one wanting to be left at home each time, which was both a blessing and a curse.

In your first few days of being back home at Portland Row, Lockwood was home with you, helping wash your hair. You’d whined so much about how gross it felt, still blood-stained where you cracked your skull open that Lockwood gave up and told you he’d wash it for you. Of course, you’d protested, saying it went way beyond what you could expect of a friend or coworker, but Lockwood would not take no for an answer, justifying that it would be more dangerous to let you do it yourself since you could mess with the stitches since you couldn’t see the back of your own head.

You sat awkwardly in the bath, dressed in an old t-shirt and bikini bottoms to preserve what dignity you could. Lockwood stood outside the bath behind you, preparing the bottles of shampoo and conditioner to his side. The anticipation was destroying you, becoming fidgety and uncomfortable even in the perfectly warm water. The second Lockwood’s slender fingers threaded through your greasy hair you felt your body soften, relaxing into the feeling with no opposition. The feeling was heavenly, the careful but thorough massaging of your scalp could have sent you to sleep in three seconds if you weren’t simultaneously on edge at the proximity.

You sat in peaceful silence for a few minutes, your head lolling back subconsciously against Lockwood’s forearms, drawing a small chuckle from him.

“I’m sorry for arguing with you the other day,” You said out of the blue, your voice cutting through the radio that was sitting next to the basin.

“It’s no worries, just forget about it,” Lockwood replied instantly, continuing his labours.

“No, I want to take this seriously. I said some terrible things I didn’t mean and I want you to know that I’m sorry for it. And, as I understand it you think I have some big crush on George which I would just like to disprove. I don’t. Like him like that, I mean.” Lockwood paused for a moment, hands going still in your hair.

“Oh,” He said after some time, “Well thank you for the apology but it is completely unnecessary. I started the argument and I was way out of line, I didn’t mean a word of it. What I meant to convey was that I was worried about you getting hurt because I… care about you. A lot.” You knew that was hard for Lockwood to say, vulnerability never coming easy to him. You turned to face him in the tub, knees pulled up to your chest as your just-rinsed hair dripped down onto your t-shirt.

“I care about you a lot too, Lockwood,” You smiled sweetly, glad you were finally getting over the weird tension that had been between you. Lockwood didn’t look as satisfied.

“No, it’s, fuck. I care about you in a different way than the others. I really like you, like, romantically.”

“Shut up,” You said quickly, not wanting to wake up from a sick dream. There was no way that Anthony Lockwood, after all these years, was telling you that he liked you. Lockwood looked lost for words. Obviously it wasn’t the impassioned reciprocation he hoped for, but it also wasn’t exactly a rejection. What was he supposed to do?

“I, uh, understand if you don’t—”

“Shut up,” You affirmed again. “I have been madly, foolishly in love with you since I started here, and you’re telling me this now? After we’ve screamed at each other and been moping around?” After a moment of him processing your statement, he began to laugh, mouth breaking into one of his light-up-the-room smiles.

“I guess so.” You joined in his laughter, admiring the way his eyes crinkled and his nose scrunched as he did it.

“So what now?” You asked once your giggles had died down, leaving you two looking at each other across the edge of the bath.

“Well,” Lockwood inched closer, “We could try this?” He leant in for a soft kiss, pressing his mouth against yours lightly. You subconsciously followed his mouth as he pulled away, unwilling to open your eyes just yet.

“Mmh, maybe we could try that one again?” Lockwood laughed at your daze and happily obliged, swooping back in for a longer, deeper kiss that set your nerves on fire.

And if Lucy and George returned from their case to find the two of you still in the bath fully clothed, that was none of your business — and neither was the ten pounds that George reluctantly handed Lucy.

[eeechooo]

Just Maybe

Fandom : Lockwood and Co. Pairing : Female Reader x George Karim Request : @sarahhelpimsinking "Reader is also part of Lockwood and co and they are really close, but George starts to get super attentive and touchy and she starts to catch in and mess with him, happy ending."

You were still buzzing with the adrenaline of the latest job as you climbed into the back of the cab with Lucy. The boys took the front seats, Lockwood chatting animatedly with the driver about something you couldn't quite hear. You settled into your seat, letting out a sigh of relief. The job had been a close call, but you had all come out unscathed.

Lucy leaned closer, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. "I am telling you, something is wrong."

You turned to look at her, raising an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

She glanced towards the front where George and Lockwood were deep in conversation. "George. He's been acting weird."

"Weird how?" you asked, genuinely curious. George had always been a bit of an enigma, but you figured you knew him well enough.

Lucy rolled her eyes, clearly frustrated. "He's been all... touchy. And he's never like that."

You frowned, thinking back to the events of the night. George had been more... present than usual, sticking close to you, even holding your hand during a particularly tense moment. But you brushed it off. "He was just scared, Lucy. It was a tough case. Anyone would be a little more... clingy."

Lucy shook her head, her expression sceptical. "I don't buy it. I've seen George scared before, and he doesn't get touchy. He gets quiet and intense, but not touchy."

You sighed, leaning back in your seat. "Look, George and I are just really close friends. Maybe he felt safer with me nearby. It's not a big deal."

Lucy gave you a look that said she didn't believe a word you were saying. "Close friends, sure. But he's been different lately. More attentive. Haven't you noticed?"

You shrugged, trying to brush off the growing unease in your chest. "We've all been under a lot of stress. Maybe he's just... I don't know, reacting to that."

Lucy crossed her arms, clearly unconvinced. "Maybe. But I still think there's more to it. Just... keep an eye on him, okay?"

You nodded, more to placate her than anything else. "Fine, I'll keep an eye on him. But I still think you're overreacting."

Lucy sighed, leaning back and staring out the window. "We'll see. Just don't say I didn't warn you."

You turned your attention to the front of the cab, watching George as he animatedly discussed something with Lockwood. You couldn't help but smile. Whatever Lucy thought, you knew George better than anyone. And if there was something more to his behaviour, you were sure you would notice it. Eventually.

For now, you were content to brush off Lucy's concerns and enjoy the calm after the storm. But a small part of you couldn't shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, she was onto something.

The next morning, you made your way downstairs, still shaking off the remnants of sleep. The house was unusually quiet, a stark contrast to the usual hustle and bustle. As you reached the kitchen, you found a note on the table from Lucy and Lockwood. They had gone to Arif’s shop for some supplies, leaving George in charge of breakfast.

You spotted George at the counter, his back to you as he prepared something. The smell of fresh tea and baked goods filled the room, instantly lifting your mood.

“Morning,” you greeted, sliding into your usual seat at the table.

George turned around, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Morning. Tea and an orange muffin, just how you like it.” He placed the steaming cup and the muffin in front of you, then took the seat next to you.

Your heart did a little flip. It wasn’t unusual for George to make breakfast, but the fact that he had gone out of his way to prepare your favourites made you pause. “Thanks, George. This looks great.”

He nodded, already launching into a detailed recount of his latest research findings. His enthusiasm was infectious, and you found yourself drawn into his world of dusty books and ancient lore.

“And then I remembered that the spectral resonance in Type Two ghosts is significantly higher in areas with historical trauma,” George said, his eyes alight with excitement. As he talked, he absentmindedly brushed your arm with his hand.

You felt your brain short circuit for a moment, your skin tingling where he had touched you. It was just George being his usual self, you told yourself. There was nothing more to it. But Lucy’s words from the night before echoed in your mind, and you couldn’t help but wonder if there was something you were missing.

You tried to refocus on what he was saying, nodding along, but your thoughts kept drifting. Why was he being so attentive? And why did it matter to you so much?

George must have noticed your distracted state because he suddenly fell silent. You looked up to find him staring at you, a curious expression on his face.

“You’re really weird, you know that?” he said with a smirk.

You blinked, taken aback. “Excuse me?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’ve been staring at me like I’ve grown an extra head. What’s going on in that mind of yours?”

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks, quickly looking down at your tea. “Nothing. Just… thinking about your research. It’s fascinating.”

George raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it, but he didn’t push further. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his smirk softening into a genuine smile. “Well, if you ever want to dive deeper into the archives with me, you know where to find me.”

You nodded, the gears in your mind turning. Maybe there was more to George’s behaviour than you had originally thought. And maybe, just maybe, you were starting to see him in a new light.

__

For the next week, you began to notice the subtle changes in George's behaviour. It started small, with him standing a bit closer than usual or offering a hand when you climbed out of the cab after a job. His attentiveness grew more noticeable, and there were times when you caught him looking at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. 

But then, just as quickly, his demeanour would shift back to his usual sarcastic self. The mixed signals were driving you crazy, leaving you confused and off-balance. One minute he was the George you’d always known, and the next, he was someone new—someone who seemed to see you differently.

It was during a particularly tense moment after a mission that you started to piece it together. The team had just finished a challenging case, and as you all piled back into the cab, George had taken your hand to help you in, his grip lingering a bit longer than necessary. You felt a flutter of something—excitement, maybe?—and you glanced over at him, but his eyes were already back on his notebook, jotting down notes as if nothing had happened.

Lucy, who was sitting next to you in the back, nudged you. “See what I mean?” she whispered, her eyes flicking to George. “He’s never like this.”

You shrugged, still trying to convince yourself it was nothing. “He was just anxious, Lucy. It’s not a big deal.”

Lucy gave you a sceptical look but didn’t press further.

The real turning point came a few days later. You were all gathered in the library, sorting through the latest research for an upcoming case. George was sitting next to you, his knee brushing against yours under the table. You found yourself hyper-aware of his presence, his proximity.

Lockwood was across the room, leaning against the fireplace, watching you both with a knowing look in his eyes. It was a look you couldn’t quite decipher, but it seemed to make George uncomfortable. You noticed that every time Lockwood gave him that look, George would pull back, retreating into his usual sarcastic demeanour.

Like clockwork, it happened again. George was in the middle of explaining a particularly complicated theory about ghostly manifestations, his arm resting on the back of your chair, when Lockwood shot him that look. George immediately withdrew, his tone turning sharp and distant as he redirected his attention to the books spread out on the table.

The shift was jarring, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of hurt and confusion. Why did he keep doing this? What was going on between him and Lockwood that made George act so erratically?

That night, as you lay in bed, your mind raced with thoughts. George’s mixed signals, Lockwood’s strange looks—it all swirled together in a confusing mess. You needed to figure out what was happening, to understand why George’s behaviour was affecting you so much.

The next morning, you woke up with a new resolve. You would get to the bottom of this, no matter what it took. George’s actions were starting to feel like a puzzle, one that you were determined to solve.

__

As the days passed, you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that had settled in your chest. George’s behaviour continued to oscillate between attentive and distant, leaving you feeling more confused than ever. You realised that while you appreciated his friendship and companionship, you didn’t quite reciprocate the level of physical touch he seemed to crave. You thought you'd never think that, but that was true at the moment.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like him or that you didn’t enjoy his company—you did, immensely. But the sudden shift in his behaviour had caught you off guard, and you weren’t sure how to navigate it.

So, you decided to take matters into your own hands. Literally. You started to initiate small touches—brushing against his arm as you passed by, resting your hand on his shoulder when you laughed at one of Lockwood’s jokes. You made sure to respect his boundaries, never pushing too far, but you couldn’t help but notice the way he seemed to relax under your touch, his tension melting away ever so slightly.

And then, something strange happened. Lockwood stopped giving George those odd looks. Instead, he watched the two of you with a fondness in his eyes, as if he knew something you didn’t.

It was then that it hit you. Lockwood wasn’t trying to make George distant by giving him those stares. He was scared. Scared that his best friend was going to get hurt if he got too close to you. If it was unrequited.

The realisation hit you like a ton of bricks, and suddenly everything made sense. The mixed signals, the strange tension between George and Lockwood—it was all because of you.

The pieces finally fell into place.

“Oh. Oh.”.

__

That was when you started to tease him.

The opportunity presented itself while you were grocery shopping together. As you reached for an item on the shelf, your hand brushed against his, ever so subtly. You pretended not to notice, but you felt the slight twitch in his fingers, betraying his surprise. 

“Oh, sorry,” you said innocently, flashing him a quick smile before returning your attention to the task at hand. But you couldn’t help the thrill that ran through you at the contact, the electricity of his touch lingering on your skin.

Another chance came when he complained about his unruly hair one morning. Normally, George couldn’t care less about his appearance, but today seemed different. As he grumbled about his curls, you stepped closer, reaching out to gently smooth them down.

“They’re not that bad,” you remarked, your touch light and fleeting. But as your fingers danced through his hair, you felt him relax under your touch, his shoulders dropping as a sense of calm washed over him. It was a small gesture, but it felt good. Alright, more than good, you had to admit. It felt peaceful.

But perhaps the boldest move came when he mentioned his sore shoulders after a particularly long day. Without a second thought, you moved behind his chair in the kitchen, your hands finding their way to his tense muscles. 

You could feel him tense up at first, his body rigid with surprise. But as your fingers worked their magic, kneading out the knots and tension, you felt him slowly start to relax, his muscles melting under your touch.

“Wow, that feels amazing,” he murmured, his voice low and appreciative. 

You couldn’t help but smirk, enjoying the reaction you were getting out of him. It was fun to see George, usually so composed, let his guard down for once. And if it meant you got to enjoy a few stolen moments of closeness, then all the better. Maybe, just maybe.

__

Then one night, you didn't know if you wanted to kick or kiss your coworkers.

The movie night started out promising enough, with everyone gathered on the couch, snacks in hand, ready for a cozy evening. But as the movie dragged on, it quickly became apparent that it was a snoozefest of epic proportions. Even Lockwood, the eternal optimist regarding his tastes, couldn’t hide his yawns as he struggled to stay awake.

You, on the other hand, weren’t so lucky. Despite your best efforts to stay engaged, the monotony of the film proved too much, and before you knew it, you had drifted off to sleep.

When you woke up, it was still dark outside, the remnants of the movie flickering on the screen. Blinking blearily, you realized that George was lightly snoring beside you, his head resting on your shoulder. You were both lying on the couch, tucked under a blanket, and for a moment, you couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all.

Clearly, Lockwood and Lucy had orchestrated this whole thing, choosing the most mind-numbing movie imaginable so that you and George would fall asleep. Sneaky, but effective.

As you shifted slightly, George stirred, his eyes fluttering open to gaze at you with a look that was equal parts dazed and disoriented. It was as if he had just woken up from a particularly bizarre dream, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the sight.

“Enjoying the view?” you teased, a playful smirk playing at your lips.

George blinked, his brain still catching up to reality. “Hmm? Oh, uh, yeah. Very scenic,” he replied, his voice thick with sleep.

You rolled your eyes, suppressing a giggle. “Smooth, George. Real smooth.”

But despite the sarcasm, there was something undeniably comfortable about the moment. You shifted onto your side to face him, hiding your face in the crook of his neck as you both settled back against the cushions.

And then, almost on instinct, George tilted your chin up, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of hesitation and determination. You don't know who initiated it, but without another word, you both leaned in, meeting halfway in a soft, quick kiss that left you both breathless.

As you pulled away from the kiss, the air between you crackling with a newfound tension, you couldn’t help but chuckle softly, the sound vibrating against George’s lips. He blinked, his eyes still closed as if savoring the moment, before finally opening them to meet yours.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, his voice low and tinged with curiosity.

You shook your head, a playful smirk dancing on your lips. “Oh, nothing. Just guessing about how Lockwood and Lucy must be thinking they’re some sort of mastermind matchmakers.”

George’s lips twitched with amusement, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Well, they do like to meddle, don’t they?”

“Definitely,” you agreed, your laughter bubbling up between you like a shared secret. “But I have to admit, they might be onto something with this whole movie night setup.”

George raised an eyebrow, his gaze locking with yours in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. “Oh? And what do you mean by that?”

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance even as your heart raced in your chest. “Just that… maybe there’s something to be said for falling asleep on the couch with your best friend,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

There was a moment of silence as George processed your words, his expression unreadable. But then, without warning, he leaned in again, his lips capturing yours in another kiss that was both soft and electrifying. You both moved gently against each other, fearing the other would break the spell. You both did not. He was the first one, however, to pull back, only slightly to mumble against your lips.

"Just maybe?"

"No, definitely."

This time, there was no laughter, no teasing remarks. No mixed signals, no one around to tell you if what you were doing was good or not. It felt good, that's all that mattered.

And as you lay there in the quiet darkness, tangled together on the couch, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, falling asleep during a boring movie wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

__

okay so i am lowkey proud of that one??? i made it way longer than the others because i found a new way to write and it actually helped a lot! i hope you liked it, it was very fluffy, i tried my best LMAOOOO

i wanted to include lucy and lockwood because they're my favourite matchmakers, but also oh how lockwood is worried for his friend and just doesn't know how to help george so he's just like "yep. just be distant" lucy should slap him but we love a bsf who just wants his happiness AND HE GOT IT

anyways i read too many notes from ao3 authors, have a good day!

taglist : @neewtmas @cielooci @thestrangerblog

(if you don't want to be tagged anymore or want to be just tell me!)

[kestisvrse]

hi sienna ! i love your fics SO SO MUCH you can’t even imagine the sizes of my love for you and your works but your works are always so freaking cute but they’re little ;( can i ask you for a medium or a big fic just about lockwood x fem reader being a couple and write just tooth rooting fluff. actually i’m so sorry for asking you for a big size cause i know how difficult is to write big ones but if you’re being able to write it i would read you masterpiece with pleasure ! *sorry for the mistakes, english isn’t my native language ;( 🪩

a trip around the sun

pairing ⋆ anthony lockwood x gn!reader. fluff. established relationship.

synopsis ⋆ your relationship with anthony lockwood. or love languages with anthony lockwood.

warnings ⋆ reader implied to be shorter, kissing, i think that’s it? let me know if i missed anything!! | wc: 3k

a/n ⋆ do not apologize!!! your english is amazing :) and i promise i’m trying to get into the habit of making my fics longer, school and all that yk! i’m so sorry this took so long!!!

anthony lockwood masterlist

@mitskiswift99 @novelizt @initialchains @eedwardss

♫ - comfortable by keni titus

you had known lockwood for almost two years, him having employed you a little while after george, and lucy joining a year later. in that time you grew closest with the boy, his charm easily able to capture you.

you knew everything about each other, you being the first person he had really opened up to about his family, which had ended with the first and only time you had ever seen lockwood cry.

the point is, you had his back and he had yours, and of course how couldn’t you develop a crush? his natural personality was to flirt with you, sending winks and grins your way in any situation, it was impossible to not like him, you just didn’t expect it to be reciprocated.

march 3rd

february was an odd month to say the least, only because of lockwood.

it started with flowers appearing at the door addressed to you from an anonymous person (lucy immediately assumed it was kipps, which lockwood didn’t take lightly to the suggestion.), and then the love letters, was it slightly creepy? definitely, but that didn’t stop the blush you had when you read the letters that were so romantic it was like they had been written by cupid himself.

you can’t exactly remember how, but one day lockwood subtly revealed it was him sending these gifts, he brushed past it so quickly you almost missed it, grabbing his arm to pull him back down to the kitchen table to question him.

the presents became less frequent, but not because he had told you, but because he started to take you on dates, or giving you the gifts up front. he went all out on valentines, taking you to a nice restaurant that you were positive none of you could afford, but he would brush you off and tell you not to worry about it.

he would hold your hand in the taxi on the way home from jobs, offering you his clothes if you shivered even slightly, lucy was ecstatic for you, while you remained confused, sure he had been touchy or flirty before but as soon as you entered the month of valentines, he acted as if you were dating.

which he had meant to make happen before march, but the nerves got to him as he pushed it farther away, settling for chocolates or notes under your pillow.

but here he stood, outside your room with a bouquet of flowers, asking you to be his.

“what?” you choked out in shock, your hand sealed to the door helping you stand up as your knees weakened.

“will you be mine?” he repeated, a sudden line of sweat covering his forehead.

“you- you’re serious?” you said in disbelief, as he shuffled his weight onto his left foot uncomfortably, expecting rejection.

“yes, yes i’m serious.” he spoke nervously, a lopsided grin appearing on his face, “if you say no it’s fi—“

“no! i mean, yes!” i sigh, “i’m not saying no, i want— i want you to be my boyfriend.” you stammered out, as his nervous grin quickly turned to a cocky one to hide his urge to jump for joy, he stuck his hand farther out for you to take the flowers.

“okay.” he beamed, his cheeks turning a light pink.

you look up at him through your lashes, hiding a smile behind the bouquet in your hands.

march 17th

george was fed up with you and lockwood's little honeymoon phase, shoving you out the door making you two make a journey to arif’s for donuts.

it took you a lot longer than it needed to, walking as slow as possible that a few people had to walk around you, just basking in each other’s presence as you held hands, his thumb tracing over your knuckles.

“we should go for walks together more often.” he suggests, bumping shoulders against yours as you hum in response, grinning up at him.

reaching the steps of portland row, you hand him the box to reach into your pocket and grab your keys, not noticing him staring at your face, as he gave himself a pep talk in his head.

“um- before we go in.” he began, causing you to look up at him, freezing your actions of going to unlock the door, “can…”

you tilt your head at him, moving forward, “what’s wrong?”

“i just..” his eyes flickered to your lips, “i wanted to do it in a more romantic setting, but i really can’t help myself.” his voice lowered as he stared intensely down at you, “can i kiss you?”

he watched as your mouth curved up and your eyes sparkled staring at him, you began to nod eagerly as you brought your hands to his cheeks. his hand slid onto your back as he leaned towards you, meeting each other halfway as a soft kiss was placed to your lips. you could only imagine how red you were as you pulled him closer, deepening the kiss that was meant to have been a peck, but he didn’t decline, attempting to not drop the box of donuts in the awkward position.

but they did almost go flying as the door whipped open, revealing george narrowing his eyes at the two, “sickening.” he said, grabbing the donuts from lockwoods hands and slamming the door in your face.

april 20th

after a very long job, you couldn’t stand to go up one more set of steps to your and lucy’s shared room, feet aching leading you towards lockwoods bed, you quickly changed into a big t shirt he owned and flopped onto the bed. minutes later he joined you upstairs, shocked to see a body wrapped in his sheets, but he crawled in next to you, trying to ignore his red hot cheeks at just the thought of you sleeping in his bed.

but you were too tired to notice, too busy focusing on sleeping as a wave of tiredness took over you.

“g’night anthony.” you mumbled against his pillow, he propped himself up on his elbow, leaning over you to turn the light off, he stared down at you in awe before bringing a kiss to your temple.

“goodnight love.” he whispered, laying down next to you and draping his arm across your waist, pulling you closer to his chest.

after this, lucy got the room to herself most nights.

june 5th

lockwood and co had been busy lately, leaving your anniversary celebration a few days late.

it wasn’t a huge deal for you two, at least it wasn’t as big as a year, so you didn’t mind sitting on the roof, late at night staring at the stars, the only sounds being the wind whistling through your ears and the sound of lockwoods heartbeat through his chest while you laid on him.

you both needed a quiet moment after the hectic weeks you had, finding peace in each other's arms in such a scary world.

when his hand caressed your chin to turn it up towards him, you had expected for him to lean in to kiss you, but he just stayed staring at you, like you were a painting in a museum.

“what is it?” you whispered to him, nuzzling into his shoulder.

“just want to admire you a bit.” he says nonchalantly, taking notice of how it heats your cheeks, “it’s so easy to get lost in your eyes.”

you hit his chest, hiding your face in his neck flustered from his words as you giggle, but he just chuckles, pulling you away so he can look at you again, before leaning down to place a kiss to both your cheeks, you lips, just everywhere on your face, in between kisses muttering about how perfect you were.

“i love you.” he lets slip as he kisses your temple, freezing against you at the realization.

his lips pursed and eyes widened as your jaw dropped, his pupils dilated, waiting for a negative reaction, but he was pleasantly surprised when you beam up at him, whispering “i love you too.” before pulling him by his tie to meet your lips halfway.

august 23rd

the agency never had many free or calm nights, and even if you did it was usually spent with everyone trying to catch up on sleep.

but finally, after so much hard working the past year you all took the week off, leading to your first ever lockwood and co game night.

also the night that lucy learned lockwood physically could not live without you.

lucy and george sat on the armchairs in the living room, you and lockwood in the couch opposite to them as you rolled the dice of some board game you were playing. as lucy stole a biscuit, hiding it from george to see, she noticed the way lockwoods left hand just had to be touching you.

whether it rested on your back, held your hand, rested on your knee, it didn’t matter, his hand was always hovering over you.

she suddenly realized why george had been so disgusted seeing you two together all the time when you first started dating. don’t get them wrong, they loved you two together but lord, anthony was love sick.

you also brought out another side of him, he had his own smile and laugh reserved just for looking at you or laughing at something you said.

lucy didn’t have to hear lockwood say he loved you, it was written all over his face.

october 3rd

you were convinced he had forgotten.

sure, he was very busy lately but it was your 8 months and he didn’t even say happy anniversary. he instead sent you and lucy out to do errands all day.

lucy wasn’t happy to be guiding you around as you pouted and stayed eerily quiet with short responses.

but she tried to ignore your sad tone as she knew what awaited you at home.

“tell me luce!!” you begged, as you both got closer to home her smile brightened and she walked a little faster, “why are you so happy all of a sudden?”

“no reason!” she said, fumbling with the old lock on the door, once unlocked she reached into the bag and grabbed the book lockwood had asked you to pick up for george’s christmas present, “could you go put this in lockwood’s room?”

you groaned but nodded, shrugging your shoes off as you trudged up the creaky steps.

you sighed at the sight of light leaking out under the doorway, announcing he was in his room, and suddenly his gift in your pocket felt very heavy. you frowned before walking to the door, knocking lightly.

you were taken aback at the sound of him pouncing up from his bed and sprinting to his door, opening it only a crack so you could only see his eye.

“hi?” you muttered in confusion, brows stitched together, his eyes crinkled indicating he was smiling, as he ripped the door open.

“happy 8 months.” he breathed, revealing his bed.

your jaw dropped at the sight in front of you, his bed had been littered with letters and gifts for you, letters addressed to you for when you felt sad, or for certain holidays. your favorite chocolates laid in the arms of a teddy bear wearing a crown, he noticed as your eyes glazed over as you stepped into his room.

he met your side, taking the book from your hand to place on his dresser as he shut the door with his foot, his arms snaked around your waist and his chin rested on your shoulder, “m’sorry if i scared you, i wanted to surprise you.” he whispered, looking at you despite your eyes being glued to the bed.

“you- all this— for me?” your sentences were choppy as you tried to remember how to speak, your brain slowly turning to mush at how adorable the whole gesture was.

“of course, love.” he said, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder as he squeezed you closer.

“oh anthony, i love it.” you chuckled in disbelief, a few happy tears slipping onto your cheeks but he was quick to swipe them away, “i got— hold on.” you snapped back into reality, digging in your pocket for the present that had seemed so heavy earlier and now you couldn’t even find it.

suddenly you grabbed hold of the velvet box and pulled it out to reveal to him, “it-it’s not much i’m sorry.” you said, looking bad at the bed.

“you could have given me a kiss as my gift and i would have been perfectly fine.” he assured you, he spoke softly and his voice calmed you so easily your knees almost buckled.

your thoughts were interrupted as he snapped open the box, revealing a silver ring with A.L + your initials carved into it.

he said your name softly, admiring the ring as he slipped it onto his ring finger (not purposefully, but it didn’t stop your heart from beating faster.), “this is more than enough, it’s beautiful.” he said, beaming at you.

“i love you anthony.” you breathed, getting lost in his eyes as he admired you.

“i love you more.”

december 25th

anthony spoiled you enough throughout the relationship, despite getting told off by george for the times you really couldn’t afford it. you didn’t think it was possible for him to find you anymore things to buy or write for you, until christmas.

you all agreed to keep it small, the four of your curled up in the living room playing games and opening small gifts.

and that’s how it went, everyone gave each other a gift or two, and you played games all night, the house echoing with loud laughter when lockwood got caught cheating, or lucy performed a victory dance that almost involved her falling and taking the christmas tree down with her.

it wasn’t shocking that as soon as you yawned and announced you were going to bed that lockwood quickly followed your footsteps, guiding you to sleep in his room instead of the attic with lucy, not that you were complaining.

as you changed into pajamas (aka his t shirt) he ran downstairs to grab you a glass of water, no harm by it right?

so you got comfortable under the covers, fiddling with the hem of the duvet as you heard him climb the staircase.

he wore a cheeky smile as he stood next to you as you lay in the bed, your eyes narrowing as he passed you the water.

“why are you smiling like that?” you asked, biting back your own grin from the nervous look on his face. your thirst long forgotten as you put the cup on your bedside table and sat up, urging him to admit his secrets.

all he did was kneel on the ground which had you very confused, slightly taken aback as you studied him.

until he pulled out three wrapped boxes from under the bed, plopping them in your lap, “merry christmas.”

“anthony.” you gasped at him, adjusting your posture, “what is this?”

“gifts.”

“obviously they are gifts.” you stated, as he chuckled, “i mean why are they here? there is no way we can afford this.”

“i pulled some strings.”

“i hate when you say that.”

“just open them!” he urged.

you rolled his eyes as his eyes lit up in excitement. the first box contained a pair of shoes you had been obsessing over for months, causing a proud smile on his anthony’s face as he sat next to you on the bed as you gasped.

the next box contained two books that lockwood already owned.

“i know i said i would read these but i meant your copies! we cannot afford to be buying books we already own.” you scolded, your jaw dropping.

“relax!” he said, his arm sliding between your back and the pillow, his hand resting on your waist, “they are the ones i own, i just wanted to be fancy and romantic.” he explained, smirking as you roll your eyes again.

“you are something else.”

the third present was smaller than the rest, tearing it open to reveal a box with a necklace inside, you gasped as you realized the pendent hanging to the necklace was in fact a locket, and as you opened it, it revealed a tiny photo of you and anthony that lucy had taken the day of your and lockwood's first date. it was so small that you had to squint your eyes, but despite the blurriness you were able to depict that it had been taken from the second floor window, you and anthony hand in hand as you returned home, wide grins on your faces.

“anthony…” you breathed, the metal of the necklace was shining into your eyes due to the light hitting off it, but you found yourself unable to tear your vision away.

“don’t say we can’t afford it, because i don’t care.” he states, “i want to spoil you.”

reluctantly you look away from the jewelry in your hand to look at him, “i love it.”

before he could respond you tackled him into a hug, peppering kisses all over his face, muttering about how amazing he was as you tried to stop yourself from crying. he just smiled, finally catching your lips with his as you sat over him on the bed.

“i love you.” you whispered against his lips, before you could go back to deepening the kiss he started speaking.

“i don’t think i could live without you.” he said softly, you pulled your head back to get a better look at him, expression softening as his arms wrapped around your back, “i love you more.”

“yeah, not possible.” you responded, causing him to laugh out, but he was quickly distracted with the urge to kiss you again.

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Punch At First Sight

Summary: Anthony Lockwood x Fe!Reader -> You and Lockwood have met a few times before, however after a punch to the face for the third time, Lockwood, which a push from Lucy, decides to make things different.

Disclaimer: Multiple uses of the f-word. Mentions of accidental violence, ghosts, Kipps being a dick, a slap across the face. Fluff, angst, hints of jealousy, and Lucy giving Lockwood a needed talking to. Not Proof Read.

It was meant to be an easy case. 

A couple of type ones haunting an abandoned building just outside of London. The local ghost hunters had all created that big of a myth they had scared themselves away. And the cost of a Fittes agent was too high of a price for the type of ghosts they had. So, Lockwood and Co were the business chosen. 

Only, it would have been nice to know if one of the previous agents had reached out to an old friend to take care of the job as well. 

But, no. 

Instead, whilst listening out for the ghosts, Lockwood stepped around a corner and when getting ready to attack what he thought was a ghost, he was met with a punch to the face and then a voice calling out; “Oh my god, you’re human.”

“Do you make a habit of punching ghosts?”

Then, through watered eyes, he saw the outline of the person who had punched him and it seemed she had clear enough vision in the dark to recognise him. 

“Lockwood?”

“Wait.” he knew that voice. “Y/n?”

“Holy crap. I am so sorry. Are you okay? Wait. Why are you even here?”

“The same as you, I’m guessing. Unless you tend to sneak into abandoned buildings at two in the morning.”

“Sophie didn’t even tell me they hired someone else. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Lockwood managed to stand up straight this time just as Lucy and George came running round the corner. 

“We heard a scream.”

“What’s going on?”

George looked from Lockwood to you. “Y/n?”

“Hi, George.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you, too.”

“She was hired.” Lockwood explained just before Lucy spotted him. 

“Holy crap, are you okay?”

Lockwood nodded. “Just a little stunned.”

“I really am sorry.”

“We really have to stop meeting like this.” Lockwood said, with a slight smile as he looked at you. 

Then came a scream. 

“Considering we’re all here and considering no-one else was hired to do this job-” George began. 

“That wasn’t a human.” Lucy finished. 

“And since we’re here with minimal weapons.”

One of the ghosts, a woman, came floating through a wall and turned to look at them. 

“Run?” you offered. 

“Run.” Lucy replied. 

Making a break for it, you all tried to outrun the ghost before another one of her friends joined her, pushing all four of you down a different corridor. 

“I’m Lucy, by the way.”

“Y/n. Nice to meet you.”

“You, too.”

By the time the sun was beginning to rise over the city, you all made it back to Portland Row where a fresh bruise had made its way to decorate Lockwood’s face. 

“You have a hell of a punch.” Lockwood said before prodding his own bruise in his reflection of the pan on the stove. 

You chuckled, pulling a bag of peas from the freezer before closing it and walking over. “Quit moaning. It could have been worse. Here.”

Standing, Lockwood seemed to have grown even taller than you. Taller than when you’d both last met. 

Looking at you, you watched as his eyes closed at the cold contact of the bag as you pressed it to his face. 

“Hold it there for a while. It should help with the swelling.”

“You know, we really need to stop meeting like this.”

You narrowed your gaze a little and clicked your tongue. “You’ve already used that line.”

“Have I?” Lockwood seemed to think for a moment before, “Oh, yeah. Suppose I have. But it is true.”

“Hey, the first time was an accident. I thought you were trying to-”

“The first time is an accident, three times is a pattern.”

You smiled sheepishly. “An accidental pattern.”

“Sure about that?”

“Yes.” you said before, “Maybe? Can never be too careful when hunting alone.”

Lockwood’s demeanour changed for a moment. “Alone? You’re hunting alone again?”

“Relax. I’m safe enough.” 

You moved backwards and began to tidy the kitchen a little to give yourself something to do whilst Lockwood leaned back against the kitchen counter, lowering the frozen bag from his face so he could watch you more closely. 

“Are you?”

“Yes, Lockwood. I’m fine. Honestly, you don’t have to worry about me.”

“Doesn’t mean I won’t.”

You held his gaze for a moment, a million thoughts running through your head until it landed on He’s just a friend…

From there, you shifted yourself from the kitchen table and placed the empty glasses in your hand in the sink beside him. 

“Move here.”

“What?”

Lockwood stood tall once more and turned to face you properly. “Move in here. Lucy got a deal when she bought her bed, so she’s got a second one spare. We can set it up on the other side of the loft. I don’t like the thought of you hunting alone.”

“Lockwood, I said I’m fine.”

“What happens if something happens to you? Look, I can put you on the payroll so it won’t be a favour. You’ll be working with us. And you’ll have a team behind you. You’ll also be safe. Please.”

“Lockwood-”

“Please.”

Looking up at him, you saw the desperation in his eyes. 

It wasn’t often he opened himself up or let himself show any kind of vulnerability but when he did…

“Okay. Fine. But you can’t hover over me.”

“I don’t hover.”

“You hover.”

“No I don’t.” 

“Why did George kick you out of the Archive room in the last case we were in together?”

Lockwood thought back and when he didn’t answer, you answered for him. 

“Because you hover.”

“Okay, maybe I hover a little.”

“But before anything is written, the others have to agree. Lucy, too.”

“She will. I know so. It’ll be nice for her to not be outnumbered.”

You moved in three days later.

Lucy had prepared the spare bed for you and even decorated the walls behind your bed with a couple of pictures she found in some old boxes that had yourself, George and Lockwood in them. 

“I didn’t know what you’d want to do, but I thought I would do something to help at least.”

“I love it.” you smiled, dropping one of the boxes onto your bed. “Thank you.”

Over the following week, yourself and Lucy got to know one another, sharing stories late into the night when researching cases and in desperate need of a break. 

Lucy came to learn what Lockwood meant by the punch when you all met not being the first time. You came to find out what brought Lucy to London. And you both came to discover that, with the right planning, you could both scare Lockwood and George. 

Only, one night, George and Lucy decided to tag team which also gave them a chance to talk about you and Lockwood. 

“Do they know? They have to know.”

“Don’t bother.” George sighed. “Three years and nothing has changed.”

“They’ve been like that for three years?”

George just nodded. 

“Seriously?”

“You know I walked into the kitchen yesterday and they were slow dancing in the kitchen and…it was like nothing happened.”

“Yeah…” 

“What?”

“What?” Lucy asked. 

“Your face. You have that…look.”

“What look?”

“The “I’m making a plan” face.”

“Maybe because I am.”

“Well then?”

“What if we tried?”

“I already have.”

“Maybe,” Lucy nodded. “But that was then. Now you’ve got me. Tag-team. What do you say?”

“Well, considering it would take an earthquake to wake them both up from whatever coma they’ve convinced themselves that they’re in…sure. Why not? But how.”

“I haven’t got that far into the plan yet.”

But it didn’t take too long. 

After six months of living with each other, the plan practically made itself. The chemistry between yourself and Lockwood was palpable and even more so when you were outside together. 

Like when you and Lockwood were in the library with George and Lucy where Lockwood was standing behind you, reading the section of paper you were pointing to, his arms caging you in from where you sat, when a group of Fittes Agents waltzed over. 

“You might want to give your girlfriend a little breathing room, Tony. After all, PDA can be off putting especially in such a public place.”

Standing, and not denying it, Lockwood practically burned Kipps a hole in the ground for him to fall through. 

“Relax, Tony. Just having a little fun. So, are you going to introduce me to your girlfriend?”

“I’m not his girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

Kipps couldn’t help but widen his smile. “You’re not. Well then, Tony.”

However, you were up like a shot standing beside Lockwood. “But I would be very careful in your next choice of words. He might not be my boyfriend but he is my friend.”

Closer up, Kipps seemed to recognise you. Or at least, that’s what his face told you. 

“You know, for all the people in the world, I wouldn't have considered one of the best rogue agents being best buddies with our very own Anthony Lockwood.”

“And why not?”

“Although, rogue is very fitting for Tony. After all, it was breaking the rules that got him into trouble in the first place. Sweetheart, if I were you, I’d walk away whilst you still can.”

The only thing anyone could remember was hearing the contact of your palm across Kipps’ cheek and the red mark left in its place. 

“Fuck you.”

It took a moment to get over the shock before Kipps and his team walked away and you relaxed a little before grabbing your jacket and telling the others you’d be back. 

“Are you-”

“I’m fine, Lockwood. I’ll be back in five.”

It was in those five minutes that one of Kipps’ team found you by the vending machine. 

“I’m sorry about what he said.”

“Why? You didn’t say it. And I’m guessing you’re assigned to be with him.”

“Still, I could have said something to stop him and I didn’t.”

“Something tells me even if you did, he still would have said it anyway.”

“Maybe.”

“What’s your name?”

“Victor.”

“Nice to meet you,Victor.”

Meanwhile, across the room and up a level, Lucy spotted you talking to Victor. Even laughing every once in a while. And when Lockwood joined her, she saw the pain in his eyes before a brick wall came up. 

“We should be getting ready. George found something. I’ll be back in a minute.”

For the rest of the day, Lockwood seemed closed up. Especially towards you. 

“What is your problem?” you eventually asked him. 

“Nothing.”

“Lockwood, I heard you snap at Lucy earlier.”

“She made a mistake.”

“Exactly,” you cut him off. “A mistake. And she’s never made one before.”

“One that could have put one of us in serious danger-”

“We were outside the perimeter.” You could have laughed, until Lockwood asked you a question you weren't expecting. 

“Do you like him?”

“Who?”

“The guy you were talking to earlier.”

“Kipps? You did see me slap him, didn’t you-”

“Not Kipps. Vinny. Or Vincent or…whatever his name is.”

You thought back for a moment. “Victor.”

Lockwood nodded. 

“Do I like him? What are we? 12?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Why?”

“Because I need to know if you’re fraternising with the enemy.”

You laughed. “Fraternizing?”

But when Lockwood didn’t change, you did. 

“You know what, fuck you, Lockwood. What I do with my time outside of work is no concern to you. You know what, do this yourself. I’ll go and help George.”

A few minutes later, Lucy walked inside the room to a very grumpy Lockwood. 

“What the hell did you do? Fraternising? This isn’t Bridgerton, Lockwood.”

“Will you just help with the set-up?”

Sighing, Lucy did as she was told, but not before telling Lockwood a couple things he desperately needed to hear. 

“You’re gonna lose her.”

“What?”

Picking up some of the iron chains and laying them down, Lucy explained. “It might not be Victor, but one day it will be someone. And it probably won’t be long before they come along and whisk her away from your grumpy arse because you’re too stubborn to tell her the truth.”

“What truth?”

“That you like her. Love her, even. If my gut feeling is right. And it usually is.”

“Lucy-”

“Look, you can go on being an arsehole because you’re scared. Or you can talk to her. All I’m saying is do something about it before somebody else does. Both me and George have seen the way you look at her. It’s more than you want to admit, Lockwood. But one day you’re going to have to, or else you are going to lose her and all you’ll have is a bruised eye and a broken nose once every couple of years, if that.”

Lucy didn’t say anything else after that but Lockwood did apologise for snapping at her earlier which she forgave him for after calling him a frustrating bastard. From then, she watched as you all completed the job together and that look that she often saw in Lockwood’s eyes, returned when he looked at you. 

Yet, by the time you had all gotten home, he still hadn't apologised to you. So, with a hard nudge from Lucy, Lockwood finally made his way to find you. 

“Do something before somebody else does, and that includes apologising. And she’s in the Library. Goodnight.”

Lockwood stood outside of the Library door for a while, trying his best to find the right words so he wouldn’t end up with a broken nose, despite how much he probably deserved one. 

You had lit the fire to try and cancel out the cold that had seeped in through a forgotten open window, and if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought it was midnight, not 6 in the morning. 

“Hey.”

Looking behind you, you tried your best not to roll your eyes at Lockwood as he walked inside. 

“I’m just looking over some old cases. Just so you know that I’m not fraternising with the enemy by reading a book.”

“I shouldn’t have said it like that.” Lockwood began. “I shouldn’t have said it at all. I just…I guess I panicked.”

“That’s a bullshit excuse and you know it.”

“You’re right. And I’m sorry.”

You looked at him.

“Really, really sorry. For the fraternising comment and the bullshit excuse.”

You took a minute and it was the longest minute of his life. 

“Okay, guess I can forgive you.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“I know, that’s why I forgave you. But a cup of tea wouldn’t hurt.”

Lockwood smiled. “Okay. One tea coming up.”

Only, as he walked away, you answered his question. 

“And I’m not…fraternising with the enemy. Victor and I were just talking. I think you’d like him. I think he might hate Kipps just as much as you do. And, no.” you shook your head. “I don’t like him. Just so you know…”

Lockwood nodded and for a moment, turned to walk away until Lucy’s words echoed again in his head. 

“Do something about it, before somebody else does.”

So he did. 

Sighing under his breath, he took the jump, turned around and reached for you. 

Taking your head in his hands, he cupped your jaw before bringing your lips to his. At first, it shocked you and for a split second, he thought he was about to get his nose broken for good this time. 

Until you kissed back. 

You felt yourself stumble a little but Lockwood caught you, holding you close to him before his forehead came to touch yours, your eyes still closed. 

“Wow.”

“I’m sorry but I just had to-”

You shook your head, “Don’t apologise.”

“No?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “No.”

“So you’re not going to break my nose.”

“Not this time,” you laughed a little. 

“Okay…then I’m gonna jump. I like you. Well, I more than like you. Like way, way more. And I…I want to do something about it before someone else does.”

“Like Victor?”

“Yeah,” Lockwood laughed a little. “Like Victor.”

“Then…good. I’m glad you finally jumped.”

“You are.”

You nodded. “I mean, you have terrible timing but yeah, I’m glad you jumped.”

“Good.”

“Good. Now, are you gonna kiss me again or am I gonna have to-”

Lockwood didn’t need telling twice. 

[lewkwoodnco]

Falling For You - Lockwood x Reader

“First person to laugh loses.”

”Not fair! I’m always laughing when you’re around. You’re bloody ridiculous.”

”Fine. First person to…er, feel something, loses. Deal?”

It wasn’t a question as much as it was a challenge. She hesitated. He took a sip from his mug. She let go of the breath she was holding.

“Deal.”

a/n: tfw you almost die in the arms of your future employer :) rip lockwood and co, never an agents first choice be it in canon or fanon ok ill stop now also just to be clear we’re all ignoring how much the title sucks ass okay god only gave out a limited number of brain cells and we can’t ALL be as creative as @bella-rose29 (will make a separate post on this a little later, not enough space here) (but also she was SICKKK for coming up w the title deck the halls (and not your partner) ok didn’t mean to turn this into a belle appreciation post but 👍)

warnings/tropes: fluff fluff FLUFF, this is about as fluffy as it gets from me ashdkd, cringy pick up lines overload, also I declare plagiarism (?) of some rlly popular incorrect quotes, you'll know it when you read them

word count: 2.6k!

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST

She and Lucy were in the kitchen, putting the kettle on and waiting for the boys to reach home. The four of them had split up to get some errands done that morning before breakfast - she and Lucy went to collect the payment for a few jobs, while Lockwood and George dropped off some paperwork at DEPRAC headquarters. Lucy put the kettle on while she refilled their teabag jar, and a minute later the boys walked in.

George was telling Lockwood off for something, who wasn't looking too sorry for whatever it was that he had done, though he clearly cared enough to try to suppress his giggles.

"Those forms took me hours, Lockwood. I wasn't about to let you drop them into some slush."

"I keep telling you, I wasn't going to drop them."

"How would you know when you were too busy making an ass of yourself?"

"I haven't seen a good pickup line in a while, George. You found it funny too."

"Yes, and the threat of you chucking our forms was downright hilarious."

She handed out the mugs of tea.

"What pickup line?"

"It was just a DEPRAC ad. Something like 'Are you a wraith? Because you have me love-locked.' Just a reminder of some quick signs of a visitor presence for Valentine's Day." 

She meandered over to where Lockwood was standing at the kitchen counter, a little too casual. He immediately snapped up whatever he was scribbling. She looked mildly (read: exaggeratedly) injured, but he just gave her one of his winning smiles. Really, she was well within her rights to be suspicious.

"S'that?"

"A bill."

"What bill?"

"Nothing to worry about."

"I'm not worried."

"Good."

"Show me the bill."

"You're adorable."

It was a poor excuse of an attempt at a distraction, as she immediately started trying to snatch it away. Lockwood just held the folded paper above his head, trying to pry his jacket out of her yanking hands. After a minute or so of vehement struggling, the scuffle ended the way all of their scuffles ended - her playing at sour grapes.

"Oh! Go boil-yer-head. I don't even want to see that bill anyway."

He slotted the letter into an envelope smoothly as George cut in.

"Speaking of bills, hopefully, we'll be able to pay more of them off soon. Couples like to go away for Valentine's, so it's the perfect time to get any lingering visitors taken care of. We should put an ad in the paper, like DEPRAC."

That set Lockwood off again, and George groaned. As he got up to get another biscuit, she conspiratorially turned to Lockwood.

"Y'know, for someone who's so tickled by pickup lines, I bet you'd be terrible at them."

"Not more terrible than you."

"I beg to differ!"

"Wanna bet?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

“First person to laugh loses.”

”Not fair! I’m always laughing when you’re around. You’re bloody ridiculous.”

”Fine. First person to…er, feel something, loses. Deal?”

It wasn’t a question as much as it was a challenge. She hesitated. He took a sip from his mug. She let go of the breath she was holding.

“Deal.”

Their bet had taken a back burner in her mind while she was preparing for their case that night, but she was still immediately suspicious when she walked into the kitchen to see Lockwood innocently snacking on a bowl of raisins.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing."

"What are you going to do?"

"Nothing! Can't a guy eat his raisins?" He silently proferred the bowl to her. She narrowed her eyes. 

"No thanks."

"How about a date?"

"When did we get - oh. Ha ha." There was a mischievous crinkle in Lockwood's eye. "Sneaky. I was busy preparing for our case, like a proper agent."

"Hmm, excuses, excuses."

"Fine. If George finds out you haven't read tonight's case file, you're on your own."

"NO no no no please please please -"

She prepped a few pickup lines before they left, just enough to stop Lockwood from becoming completely unbearable.

"Are you a visitor? Because you've been haunting my dreams."

She scrunched up her nose. "Boo. That's terrible."

"You try coming up with a visitor-themed one. They're all so horrible."

She paused for a minute.

"Are you a Lurker? 'Cause you're making my heart race."

"...no one likes a show-off," he grumbled, and she smiled to herself as they continued rooting through boxes, looking for a potential Source.

"Your hand looks heavy. Could I hold it for you?"

"What's it like to be the most gorgeous person in this room?" That one got a good laugh out of him.

"Might be more flattering if my competition wasn't a Raw Bones. You’re pretty and I’m cute. Wanna be pretty cute together?"

"If you and I were socks, we'd make a great pair."

She revelled in the huge smile that lit up his face. She knew he'd get a kick out of that one.

She hadn't expected to have as much fun with their game as she did. They recounted their highlights to Lucy and George on the way home, which made for an entertaining end to the case. As Lucy and George put away their coats, Lockwood lingered behind, looking at her as if there was something he wanted to say, but couldn't quite find the words. She became even more alarmed when he placed a hand on her shoulder, because of how serious he looked.

"Is everything okay?" 

He took a shaky breath and tightened his grip on her shoulder ever so slightly.

"If you let me borrow a kiss, I promise I'll give it right back."

The line itself wasn't particularly outrageous, but in the darkness by the door, with their faces in the shadows and him holding her close, she momentarily forgot how to breathe.

"Good one," she whispered.

He gave her a sloping smile and retreated into the kitchen. She stood there for a moment, thinking about the warmth on her shoulder, as if his hand was still there.

"Did it hurt?"

"When I fell from heaven?"

"When you fell down the stairs. Right in front of us. It's been ten minutes and you haven't even gotten up yet."

With a strangled wheeze, he righted himself, looking more than a little stupid with his affronted expression and hair sticking up in all directions. They were on a case, and Lockwood had been a bit too close to the stairs whilst investigating the death glow on the landing. It had been quite a painful-looking rollercoaster of a fall with many bumps as he flailed for the railings, ending with a muffled scream.

"I was checking for broken bones."

"For ten minutes? Do you even have that many bones?"

He had an oily smirk on his face, though it was mostly nullified by his slightly crossed eyes.

"I've got...so many bones, I could give you a...wait. No. Hey lady, do you want a...bone? If you were a bone, you'd be in my...body...my body has all the bones...hang on. Okay, got it. Bones....fuck."

"...concussion?"

"Nuh-uh."

That was the moment his knees chose to buckle under him, and the three of them hurried to hold him upright. Even though he kept insisting he was fine, he was looking far too pale and woozy, so they flagged down a cab and pushed Lockwood into it. After a quick round of rock paper scissors, she joined him in the cab while George and Lucy got to stay to finish the job.

It had been a bit of a challenge to fumble for the key to the front door with the dead weight that was Lockwood compressing her spine, but she somehow managed. She tried her best to keep track of all of his long limbs after he knocked his head on the side of the door frame, groaning again. She dumped him onto their living room sofa, going down with him in the process, and with some difficulty peeled herself out of his grip. The bump had clearly taken quite a bit out of him, for by the time she returned with a blanket, he had completely passed out.

With some difficulty, she wrestled his rapier off of him and draped the blanket over him. She put away her own gear and rapier and curled up with a book on the armchair opposite the sofa. It was odd to see Lockwood sleeping. And even more odd to see him doing it so peacefully, like all thoughts and worries had been knocked clean out of his head. Much like her thoughts, the first time they met.

It hadn’t even been her goddamn fault. She had been lugging around her uncle’s rapiers since hers had been sent for cleaning and it was starting to make her arm ache. She deserved a little lean, no doubt. Only, what she thought was the door frame had been the door itself, so when her then-future employer had opened the door, she stumbled right into his arms.

And then promptly fell out of them when he let her go by surprise. To his credit, he was superfluously apologetic and sympathetic, and kept asking if her head was alright throughout the interview. It was a little annoying, if she were entirely honest, but she was grateful when that sympathy translated into a job, because all coherent thoughts in her head were lying somewhere on their front door runner.

As much as she tried not to think about the incident since Lockwood showed no sign of doing so himself, it kept her up at night more than she'd like to admit. But it had also been rather liberating, as there was little else she could do that would be any worse.

As if hearing her thoughts, Lockwood began to stir after an hour or so, opening his eyes blearily. She instinctively put her book down and crouched next to the sofa, where she immediately felt awkward. After a moment's hesitation, she placed her hand on his forehead, and they blinked at each other in confusion.

"How're you feeling?"

"Great." He cleared his throat, which barely helped his hoarse voice. "Chipper."

"Are you sure? Feeling chilly?"

"No, I'm fine. Are you a construction worker?"

"...huh?"

"Because you are building."

"What."

"I win."

He turned to his side and buried his face into his cushion with a satisfied look on his face. 

"Oh, Lockwood. I don't think..."

He pulled his head out of the cushion alarmingly fast. That couldn't have been good for his neck. "Ohhh, too good for my pickup lines now, eh?"

"I...what?"

"I get a bump on my head and you don't like my pickup lines no more?"

"Why do you have a Brooklyn accent?"

"You's got a Brooklyn accent."

"Okay, now you're just throwing a tantrum."

He fussed for a few more minutes, muttering out of the corner of his mouth or into the cushion, but eventually calmed down. As his eyes fluttered close, his breathing becoming long and even, she quietly got up to leave.

"Just so you know...I do think you're building."

The Brooklyn accent was gone, and though his low murmur was comfortably familiar, something in it sent a spark running through her brain.

"I think you're building too."

She could have sworn he had a small smile before his mouth relaxed as he drifted off again.

She didn't see much of him after that, given how much rest he needed, and the reprieve from their game was a welcome relief. The pickup lines didn't slide off her tongue as easily when she meant them as much as she did now. Still, she couldn't hide from him forever, and ran into him in the kitchen a few nights later.

"Oh. Hey."

He held up the biscuit tin. "Hello. Catching up on my biscuit rations."

She smiled. "Feeling better?"

"Definitely. A little sick of lying about, but I think I've finally got my head on straight."

He smiled, and the tension between them melted. She smiled back.

"Must have been scary, having your brain go wonky like that." 

"It was...wild. I don't even know how I had the presence of mind to put my rapier away."

Her cheeks burned as she pointedly rummaged through their pantry for a snack while Lockwood brewed tea for the both of them. They sat at the kitchen table in silence, slowly sipping their tea as they ignored the elephant in the room. That is, until Lockwood broached the subject.

“Did it hurt?”

She put her mug down. “Lockwood.”

“Did it hurt?” He pressed, firmly.

“I’ve already heard this one.”

“Just - humour me for a minute, won’t you?”

She looked at the little she could see of his face, given how close they were sitting, and gave a small sigh.

“So. Did it hurt?”

“When I fell from heaven?”

“When you fell into my life.” 

He lightly squeezed her hand, it was only then that she realised that they were holding hands. She choked on her breath in a mildly undignified manner, but with the proximity and the unexpected answer, she was well and truly taken aback. She waited for the embarrassment to kick in. There were a lot of things to be embarrassed about at that moment - how he could probably see every imperfection on her face, how he could probably tell how nervous she was getting from how clammy her palm must be, and of course that he remembered their dreadfully embarrassing first encounter.

But the shame never came. If anything, she felt oddly…touched. There wasn’t anything embarrassing about the memory anymore. It was…as much as it pained her to admit it…slightly romantic. She looked away from his face, shaking her head slightly, staring at their gripping hands. So easy it was to hold onto each other in the shadows, but terrifying in the daylight. Scratch that, it was terrifying to see herself holding his hand just as tightly as he held hers. Maybe he did compel…something in her.

His hand disappeared into his pocket, and a moment later he was pulling out a familiar, weathered envelope. 

"I've never...I've never asked anyone to be my Valentine. Never knew how it worked. Still don't really know how it works. So I tried writing it all down, and..." Lockwood frowned at the loopy yet measured scrawls in front of him. He sighed in defeat, crumpling the letter. "...and I still don't know how it works."

She swallowed through the lump in her throat. "Me neither. But..." she tore her eyes away from the table, looking at his face with his emotions stacked plain as day. "I think we know enough."

She curled her fingers into his. Years ago, she hadn't thought knowing if she was in love would ever be an issue, but for so many years she struggled to find the love they wrote books, songs and poetry about. But sitting here now, in the dim light of the kitchen, with a person whose face she could trace in her sleep, she realised Little Her had had it right all along.

“I always thought you were very nice to me in that interview. A little too nice.”

“You didn’t hear the way you screamed. I thought you were going down with a heart attack.”

TAGLIST: @dangelnleif @elenianag080 @snoopyluver20 @ell0ra-br3kk3r @avdiobliss @mitskiswift99 @ahead-fullofdreams @neewtmas @mischivana @houseoftwistedspirits

[saltwaterburns]

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

intertwined, sewn together - lockwood & co.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[justjudethoughts]

Shortly after reading Lockwood and Co, I sent my best friend a series of texts chaotically explaining why it was so important to me. Please enjoy the following brain rot:

"Because it's about a girl who doesn't have much of a family (she has a lot of sisters, but they don't really care about her and she has a horrible mother). She hears voices in her head and has emotions she doesn't know how to control. Half the time, she's the worst version of herself. But these two boys find her, and they take her in. They very quickly realize how talented she is, but because she is so talented they know how vulnerable she is and they promise themselves to never let anything happen to her. But it's not just about safety on the job: it's about her being loved. This girl who was never loved right. Not by her parents, not by her sisters, not by her employers. And suddenly, she has a family she didn't even mean to create, one she's scared to trust. But Lockwood and George are constantly saying "I love you". By making her toast without her asking, and by checking in on her, and by making her feel seen. By a thousand tiny little domestic gestures of familiarity. There are so many times where it honestly would have made sense for them to let her go. She's wildly irresponsible. She breaks the rules. She's a liability. But they never, ever let her go. Because, more than they need her, she needs them. It's not about her talent. It's about her. It's about how Lucy Carlyle is broken and lost and two golden retriever boys pull her out of the gutter and convince her that she matters and means something.

And it's about a boy who is reckless and crazy, but oh so soft and steady with his loved ones. Who has grown up with ghosts. Who lost his parents before he was really old enough to remember them, but his whole house is covered in what they owned. And then he loses his sister, and he keeps her room the way it was, and can barely stand to go in there and sees her in Lucy. And he visits their graves because he doesn't want to be left out. And there is a tremendous, aching hole in his chest where they are supposed to be, but he lets that make him kind. Sure, it makes him a little more reckless. Sure, he needs therapy. But he loves fiercely, despite being scared to do it. People matter to him. Saving people matters to him. Being the person his loved ones need matters to him.

And then there's George. He's goofy and socially awkward. He's the third wheel, the one who is convinced he's unnecessary. But Lucy and Lockwood would die before leaving him. Because they DO need him.

And these three, extremely broken children who have lost something in one way or another come together and have breakfast at midnight in the kitchen. And make tea, and doodle on their table cloth, and take turns washing the dishes, and give one another a home."

[vi-trying-to-survive]

Public Displays

Anthony Lockwood x f!Reader

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm positive", he grinned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey", she turned towards him,

His eyes met hers, "Yes ?'.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[jesslockwood]

Risk

Non Request / Request

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

Word Count: 5k

Pairing(s): Anthony Lockwood x Fem Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Fluff, Angst.

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

!!!PLEASE REBLOG!!!

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

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

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

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

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

Stupid rapier and even more stupid; Anthony Lockwood.

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

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

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

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

You sigh, “What do you want?”

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

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

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

“Y/n/n-“

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

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

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

Damn it you were thinking about him. Again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pretty- pretty-“

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

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

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

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

“What? You’re judging me aren’t you-“ 

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

That melted your insides a bit. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you snort at that comment.

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

“-An arse.” 

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

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

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

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

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

You nod smiling a genuine smile for once.           

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/n!” 

“Yes Leighton?” 

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

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

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

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

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

You muster up the courage to speak. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He almost laughs but is trying not to.

“How’d you get fired?”

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

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

“Okay.”

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

You turn to the Rotwell team

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

They look at each other and start to leave.

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

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

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

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

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

“Hear anything?” He asks.

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

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

“Shall we go up?”

Famous last words.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

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

“I mean it. Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You then close your eyes and sleep overcomes you.

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

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

He moans and then mumbles something incoherent. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/n I-“ Anthony tries to speak.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A big one at that.” George adds on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine, five minutes.” You say.

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

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

“I got you this.”

You take it into your hand, and open it.

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

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

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

You stop him with your words.

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

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

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

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

Taglist:

@waitingforthesunrise @sleep-i-ness

[novelizt]

GLOSS ☁︎ ANTHONY LOCKWOOD

GENRE ➺ fluff, first kiss

SYNOPSIS ➺ Lockwood isn't blind to your newest, shiniest lip gloss.

NOTES ➺ it's lockwood season, isn't it?

YOU'RE GETTING ANNOYED NOW. It's been ten minutes of you trying to coax any sense out of Lockwood, to no avail. He's staring down at you but everything you say goes in one ear and out the other.

It's 3 AM. You can't blame him for being off-kilter but it still annoys you. He chose to stay at the kitchen table with you to connect dots on an important case yet he's the one with his head in the clouds.

You snap your fingers and he jolts, eyes keeling together to focus on your hand. When you drop it, he goes right back to staring.

"Anthony," you say on the brink of huffing.

His head moves but his eyes don't. "Yes?"

The urge to roll up the paper and smack him with it is immense but you refrain. He is your employer—it would be a disservice to his hospitality. Still, you'd like to. Instead, you stand and set your palm on the table. "Can you focus on this? I know I'm breathtaking but I'd like to sleep soon."

His gaping mouth shuts and his shoulders square. He sort of resembles a deer in headlights but you don't have the opportunity to dwell on that because he's stood now, too. "Then we turn in for the night."

You blink slowly before nodding. Seems like a good idea. If he can't focus now might as well use the time to catch Zs.

He leans forward to bestow a ritual kiss on your temple but you're the one who freezes when he bends lower than usual, placing a kiss on your lips instead. Lockwood pulls away with a smile that's lifted higher on his left, throws his coat over his shoulder, and heads for the kitchen door. All while you try to find the words.

You come up with none but turn to him to see if he'd take it back or apologize for the lack of subtlety, but you're not surprised that he maintains his smile. He's halfway out of the room, one arm leaned on the jambs, when he directs his smile to you. "Night, love. Oh! And nice gloss. Is it honey? Ah, I'll ask tomorrow. Get some rest." He blows a kiss and takes a mental note of your face before he's gone.

The next morning, you confirm that it's a honey gloss and he just gives you a knowing smile in response.

🦋 ⌠ @novelizt 2023 ⌡

[g1rld1ary]

hiiii🩷 i love your work and i wanted to request a drabble. i don’t know if you’ve done something like this before or not so… also im new to the whole requesting thing.

so it’s basically a lockwood x reader where lucy and george don’t know lockwood has a kinda secret gf. and one day she shows up to the door of 35 portland row and lockwood has to explain to them that he has a girlfriend. (he didn’t tell anyone to protect her or smth).

opening doors - lockwood x reader

wc: 1980

cw: mentions of an injury, one use of 'my girl' but otherwise gn i think?

an: thanku for requesting baby!!! sorry its taken a while but i lovedddd this request and writing this!! i know i changed the end a little bit but shh hopefully its ok!! xoxo

Dating whilst ghosts roamed the streets of London was hard. Dinner dates were a precarious decision and you had to be sure if you were spending the night pretty quickly for your own safety (against ghosts, men were still another question). Dating a ghost hunter? That was harder. Yes, he wasn't exactly a 'ghost hunter' but that was close enough from the stories your boyfriend told you; brushes with death were a common occurrence, much to your chagrin.

You couldn't count the number of times you'd sat up all night in your bedroom, waiting for a call to confirm that he was alright and alive after a case. But Lockwood was Lockwood and each time, just as your eyes were starting to close on their own, your phone would ring and you'd be startled awake, picking up as fast as your arms would let you. He'd open with an affirmation that everything was fine and he was sitting in the library with a hot cup of tea, ready for a chat with you.

This had been your routine for the six months you'd been dating, and while it had ruined your sleep schedule, you couldn't be happier. Lockwood had turned your world upside down after your chance encounter at your university while he was investigating a case, giving you adventures and the most love you'd ever felt. You were similarly obsessed with him, rambling on about your day over the phone and attaching to his hip whenever you could get together.

This was all true, except for the last four days. Lockwood told you on Sunday they had a high-paying case on Monday night and hadn't called you since. No confirmation he was alright, let alone alive, and it was killing you. He'd never forgotten, not once over six months. This ignited a panic in your stomach, anxiety clawing through your chest as you had to continue on with your week acting like you could think of anything other than your boyfriend.

On the fifth day, you'd had enough. And so, on Friday afternoon after your class had let out for the weekend, you marched to Portland Row for the very first time. Lockwood didn't want you around his business, saying he wanted to keep 'the best thing in his life' separate and as safe as possible. You didn't mind, you had a tiny apartment all to yourself that you were more than happy to host him in, but it did make your expedition more scary than it otherwise would have been.

Still, you steeled your nerves and rapped on the front door, picking your nails nervously as you waited for someone to answer. That person happened to be an unimpressed-looking boy who you recognised from Lockwood's tales as George.

"Can I help you?" He asked, wearing cartoonishly large rubber gloves that made you want to laugh.

"Is Lockwood here?" You took his lead to skip the pleasantries, none of it being even vaguely interesting to you until you knew your boyfriend was alright. George hesitated.

"He's not seeing anyone right now."

"Why not?" You all but cut him off, desperation making you forget your manners. He narrowed his eyes, clearly choosing his words clearly.

"He had a nasty accident on our last case. He's only gotten back from hospital today and is on strict bed rest. If you have a professional inquiry, you're welcome to return later or speak to me or my other colleague, Lucy Carlyle."

"Can I speak to Lucy?" You needed to talk to a girl. Clearly, George was not the most emotionally sensitive member of the company, and if you tried bartering a visit with him you had an inkling you'd start crying. If Lockwood's descriptions were anything to go off, Lucy was much more likely to understand you.

George let you in, clearly reluctantly, leading you to the kitchen. He awkwardly made you tea, leaving you to drink it silently as he went to fetch Lucy. You took the moment alone to take in the kitchen, a soft ache settling into the edges of your heart. It was so cozy, so lived in that it almost upset you. Lockwood and Lucy and George. They were the residents of 35 Portland Row, they got to wake up to one another every morning. They got to bicker over the jam and tea. You woke up alone, going about most of your days in silence unless you started talking to yourself, but you were really trying not to make that a habit.

It wasn't that you hated Lockwood keeping you a secret, it made complete sense. He was in a dangerous profession and had an even more impulsive nature, making for a risky lifestyle. And as he'd unwillingly told you, he did have people who occasionally came after him. Lockwood didn't want you caught in the crossfire and you understood, you were grateful, even. But looking at the life he led without you, you couldn't help but regret it a little bit. Portland Row was the kind of place you didn't even have to try to be able to imagine as your home.

You were interrupted by George returning with Lucy in tow, both clearly unprepared for a client. George was in some sort of cleaning gear, the aforementioned gloves and an apron over his shirt, and Lucy looked like she'd been working out but not for long, only a slight sheen on her features and her clothes still mostly light and moving.

"Hi, I'm Lucy," She greeted, a warm (if somewhat awkward) smile on her lips, "How can we help you?"

"I need to see Lockwood, please."

"You know we're not idiots, right?" George snapped, "Actually, I'm much more competent than him." Lucy shot him a dark look, elbowing him in the ribs as they sat across from you.

"What he means is that despite it being Lockwood's name on the sign, we're all fully qualified to talk to you and take your case. I'm not sure what George has said, but Lockwood is--"

"He's my boyfriend." You cut her off, unable to stand any more delay. You were met with dead silence, both agent's jaws dropped open.

"What?"

"He's my boyfriend," You affirmed, "We're dating and I need to see that he's ok."

"That's not possible." George shook his head, "He's never mentioned you."

"Not that we don't believe you, but can you tell us more? We just don't want to let any random person into our house, I'm sure you understand," Lucy added and you nodded instantly, more than aware that Lockwood had made enemies during his time with his company.

You started speaking, spilling the exact timeline of your relationship, details of your time together, vague suggestions that he'd told you about his family, anything you could think of to prove that you were really together. Then, like a lightbulb illuminating over your head, you reached into your coat pocket for your wallet. Sitting on the inside was a Polaroid of you and Lockwood, him kissing your cheek as you laughed. George grabbed it, examining it in disbelief. Even Lucy stole a glance or two before turning her focus back to you, new sympathy in her eyes.

"Will you please tell me what happened to him?" You begged, reaching out for Lucy's hand. She held yours firmly, speaking in a soft voice as she explained the incident.

"We were on a case on Monday and Lockwood took a leap down some stairs to get away from a ghost. He fractured his patella. It's fine, the doctor said he got pretty lucky all things considered, no surgery needed or anything. He was just kept in hospital for a few days because -- as I'm sure you know -- Lockwood isn't good at following instructions, especially orders not to get out of bed for a week. He only got back this morning which I assume is why he hasn't communicated with you." You nodded slowly, taking it all in.

"Can I see him, please?"

They both nodded quickly, leading you up the stairs to where you assumed Lockwood's bedroom lay. Lucy knocked before cracking the door open, smiling softly at her boss.

"We've got a guest here for you."

"A client? Can't you talk to them? I'm not in my professional clothes!" You could hear him rustling in the bed sheets, presumably pushing himself up to be sitting and smiled a little.

"Better than a client, I hope?" You said, stepping through the doorway. You watched Lockwood go through a thousand emotions in an instant, but his face settled on elation, holding out his arms for you.

You rushed to his side, wrapping him up in your arms as tight as you could.

"What are you doing here?" He asked incredulously, a laugh escaping his lips.

"Someone didn't call me after his case," You replied, sliding into the bed next to him to hold his arm.

"And someone didn't tell his coworkers-slash-friends-slash-housemates about his secret partner he's had for half a year!" George cut in.

"Sorry, Georgie," Lockwood gave him a megawatt smile, "Had to keep my girl safe, you understand." You grinned, pushing yourself even closer to him. George grumbled something but Lucy was already pushing him out the door, giving the two of you some much-needed space.

Safely alone, you pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"I'm glad you're okay. I was so scared."

"I'm sorry, lovely. I couldn't get to a phone in the hospital, but I thought about you all day every day."

"But now your friends know about us," You said and Lockwood nodded with a smile that made your insides melt.

"They do," He paused, "So d'you think it's time for you to finally spend the night here?" You grinned.

"Really?" You could almost feel the sparkle in your eyes. Lockwood nodded again, a matching look on his face. You didn't bother confirming, instead pressing your lips to his desperately.

Dinner at Portland Row was exactly how you'd imagined it; loud and chaotic and absolutely perfect. George and Lucy arguing over the tiny details of a case story they were telling you, Lockwood butting in with a flashy description of the action sequence. You laughed along, compliments spilling out as you tasted George's cooking. It was too easy to see it happening perpetually, and you had to stop yourself from getting too comfortable on your first visit.

You settled in for the night next to Lockwood. You were in Lockwood's bed with him. You weren't sure if you'd stopped smiling all night.

"I like being here," You said into the dark, looking at the vaguely Lockwood-shaped shadow next to you.

"You could stay here more often, the others love you already."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I mean, all that we've gotten out of keeping us a secret is worry. If people come after me, I promise that I'll do everything to protect you, but we shouldn't waste all our time being scared of something that may never happen. I love you," He said. You faltered, breath hitching slightly. He'd never said that before. Maybe it was slow, maybe it wasn't, but you knew Lockwood was so scared of committing to his feelings, this was everything.

"I love you too," You replied, hearing the smile in your voice as you said it. It was the easiest night of sleep you and Lockwood had ever had.