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gay-dorito-dust · 1 year

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Hi! Can you do an Anthony Lockwood x Reader where the reader makes a pact with Kipps to fake date him to win Lockwood, and every time Locky sees them together his jaw ticks (in the library scene it’s so hot nobody can disagree with me) and George being the faithful wingman he is tries to get Lockwood to confess and when he does Kipps is nearby and he’s like ‘How much do you owe me again?’ Thanks!

Another fic I’ve left to fester but it’s only because I was still trying to find a way to write this without it coming off as shit. Also this might need a part 2. 🦦

You were walking back from Arif’s, after picking up a few bits and bobs that you were lacking, and just as you were within the homestretch; Kipps should be seen standing in the middle of the street as though he were waiting for something or -the most likely of the two- someone. Given the fact that it was still light out for any ghost -whether that be type one or type two- to become remotely active within any capacity. You knew that, Kipp knew that, so the question still remained; what was he doing here?

Curious, you called out to him, “Kipps?” The man turns his head in the direction of your voice and flash a charming smile as he began making his way towards you. “Y/n, just the person I’m looking for.” Kipps said. “I’m not snitching on my mates if that’s what your after, I’m not a grass.” You sternly told the blonde as suspicion began to make you act on the hostility you had towards him that stemmed from less the pleasant run ins with him and his team. You were sure Kipps was a nice lad but you were yet to believe it when you see it. “Funny you’d assume that’s what I’m here for but -as much as I hate to disappoint- it’s not.” Kipps began, letting out an awkward cough as his posture straightening up out of habit. “I’m actually here to ask you out. On a date. With me.”

You looked at the blonde as though he has grew another head, internally fearing that this may be some elaborate trick or even a weird dream you were experiencing lucid. You decided to reach a finger out to poke Kipps in the arm, firmly believing that it would go through it like an illusion but when your fingertip met solid muscle; you were forced to realise that this was your reality. Kipps looked between you and the finger that kept prodding his bicep -confused- before finally reaching a hand to grasp it, halting it’s movement. “You done?” He asked with the raise of his brows and a humoured smile upon his lips. “You what?” You said without giving much of a thought and instead going by the thing that you were feeling as of that moment; you almost didn’t clock the dark painted door to Lockwood and Co opening to reveal a concerned Lockwood looking up and down the street before his dark eyes found you and Kipps conversing.

“I asked if you were done-“ “not that! The thing you said before that! The asking me out part that!” You exclaimed, cutting him off. Kipps sighs, letting go of your hand that flopped to your side to pinch the brim of his nose, closing his eyes briefly, exhausted, before opening them again and taking a deep breath. “Look I’m only saying this so lover boy back there gets so jealous that he finally stops being a pansy arse and grows a pair.” He gestured with a twitch of his head back where Lockwood was still observing you both, brows knitted and a tick in his soft jaw. He looked annoyed but you weren’t quite sure who at, you or Kipps. As much as you hated to admit it but the thought of making Lockwood jealous actually sounded fun. “What’s in it for you?” You looked back to Kipps who only shrugs, “satisfaction.”

To be quite honest you weren’t always certain on where you stood with Lockwood in terms of your relationship. You were friends but the closer you got to him, the more that got put into question by not only yourself but by the people you let into your life. You blurred the line to such an extent that you weren’t quite sure whether you should take the gesture of Lockwood brushing his hand across your shoulder, down your arm and finally intertwining your hand in his, as something he just did when warming up to the aspect of gaining a new friend beside George and Lucy or something more deeply intimate.

Nor the time that he would seemingly take up arms against those who dared sully your name or tempted the idea of bringing you harm no matter what form it would take. He would be there, standing in front of you almost like a protective shield, Rapier poised at their throats as his voice lowered an octave or two before proceeding to degrade their worth whilst praising yours simultaneously. ‘He’s just protective.’ You’d thought to yourself, despite never being in a room to see him repeat the same gesture towards Lucy or George. You knew he would, yet the time where George smartly corrected Bobby whilst Lockwood stood back and watched on, smug, told you differently.

You certainly didn’t forget the times that Lockwood would try his hardest in making you stay with him, George and Lucy even after the most minor of inconveniences, whether that be a case gone wrong or an heated argument, as though you were one to be easily perturbed when things get a little tough or don’t go accordingly. At the time you honestly thought -and still do- that this was him trying to not go through all the effort of getting an advert out in the paper, followed by the gruelling extents of interviews in hopes of filling a singular position. Nothing more, nothing less. However from what Kipps had been telling you, everyone else saw it vastly different to you.

“Yeah, sure I guess but it’s not going to work. Lockwood doesn’t like me like that.” You explained to Kipps who scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Oh I beg to differ y/n but since your so adamant on proving that dear old Locky doesn’t feel a thing for you then this shall be our bet. If Lockwood does confess then I win, if he doesn’t, you win.“ he then lends out a hand for you to take, “do we have a deal?” He then asks and to your own surprise, you took his hand. “Deal.” Kipps smiles before bringing your hand up to press a shadow kiss against it. “I’m going to have so much fun proving you wrong y/n.” He mentions as you took your hand back, though not before wiping the back of it against your trousers, “me too.” You muttered, unaware that Lockwood had saw everything and gravely misinterpreted it as he stormed back into the house, slamming the door shut behind him.

So when the next day came and you, George, Lucy and Lockwood were sat within the Archives doing your own individual research, when Kipps came over and took the vacant seat beside you; putting his head on your shoulder to overlook the abundance of newspaper clippings and books that you had displayed at different chapters. “What’re you doing.” You hissed under your breath, already seeing the looks of confusion across George’s and Lucy’s face along with the poorly concealed anger across Lockwood’s that only grew the longer Kipps stayed glued to his seat.

“Trying to make this more believable.” He replied before proceeding to slide an arm over your shoulder as a sharp inhale could be heard from where Lockwood was sitting; which only further proved to Kipps how easy this bet was as a smirk then soon graced his lips as he dared to be bold and look over the table at Lockwood. “Can I help you?” He asked with false innocence.

“You can start by telling me why you’re here, bothering my colleague for starters.” Lockwood replied sharply, his jaw subconsciously ticking when his dark eyes drifted towards Kipps hand that casually draped off your shoulder but was close enough to brush patterns into your upper arm. Kipps inhales as he made himself even more comfortable in his chair, “Well for your consideration Lockwood, I’m here to spend time with my significant other.” You had to applauded Kipps for saying that so casually because even you believed it for a second there before coming to the conclusion that it had to be his confidence when saying those words that made it all the more believable.

“You’re dating him!” Lucy exclaimed, looking from you to Kipps, trying to gauge from your expression whether or not this was some kind of elaborate prank you and the Frittes agent conspired together; Even thinking that made Lucy doubt it’s legitimacy for she firmly believed -and still believes- that you like Lockwood and that he likes you. George was of a similar mindset to Lucy as they shared an dubious look of disbelief. “This is so bull,” George scoffed, “why would they date a pompous dickhead like you? They wouldn’t do that. You wouldn’t do that, right y/n?” He asked, looking to you in a last ditch effort of proving him right but when you leaned into Kipps side -albeit a tad stiffly- and flashed both him and Lucy an apologetic smile.

The pair felt as though they just died inside. It was official, you had shit taste in men. “Guilty as charged.” You said, shrugging your shoulders, planting a short and sweet kiss to the blondes cheek. God you felt sick lying to your friends and that feeling only got worse when Lockwood, seemingly having had enough, got up from the table and stormed out; Though not before shooting Kipps a death glare and offering you a forced smile and an even more forced ‘congratulations.’ You could only wish in being able to get up after him but you remembered why you agreed to do this and you forced yourself to put on an act as though you weren’t affected by the suddenness of Lockwood’s actions or even aware to as the reason why.

“Was it something I said?” You asked to no one in particular, acting oblivious, but you couldn’t allow yourself to miss the way George and Lucy once again looked to each other but this time in concern. George wordlessly for up from the table and trailed after Lockwood whilst Lucy only smiled falsely at you. “Not at all.” She told you before swallowing thickly, “it’s just that ah…I thought you liked Lockwood?” Your hesitance in answering made Kipps gently nudge you in the side and shot you a look as if to say ‘say something or else she’d be onto us and this bet would’ve been a waste.’ You smiled at Lucy again before deciding to go with the most generic explanation in the book, “oh I don’t like him like that Luce! He’s just a friend. A brother even!” Lucy looked between you and Kipps once more before getting up from here chair.

“I’m just going to go check on George and Lockwood.” Was all she said as she too then left you and Kipps alone at the archives. You let go of the facade and quickly removed yourself from Kipps as he swiftly removed his arm from your shoulder. “Well that went well.” He tells you, while you -seeing absolutely zero point in staying with how clustered your mind was- gathered your belongings. “Yeah. It went super well. Not fucking awkward at all.” You retorted before leaving the archives yourself.

“Come on Lockwood, you know better then to believe the shit that comes out of Kipps mouth.” George tried to conceal Lockwood as he stared down angrily at the book he picked out on his lap. “It wasn’t him I believed.” He replied, turning a page, his jaw ticking subtly when the memory of what happened in the archive came flooding back to haunt him. “Y/n was held at figurative gunpoint.” George retorted, sitting himself down in the chair closest to his friend, feeling a little useless. Lockwood sighed, looking up from the book and at his trusted friend and confidant in when it came to his feelings towards you. “What’re you trying to imply George. That y/n was forced into having relations with Kipps?”

“Exactly! We both know that they wouldn’t willingly date Kipps, especially if they were given the same amount of time they got in to knowing you. It just wouldn’t happen.” George told him before his eyes glanced down at the book Lockwood was reading and furrowed his brows. “You do know that books upside down right?” Anthony then closes the book and takes notice of how George was in fact right about it being upside down, something he hadn’t taken into account when plucking a random book from the shelf, and sighed as he puts it to the side. “So what do you want me to do about it?” He asked and George looked about ready to strangle him with his own tie as he groaned, running his hands down his face whilst remembering to be aware of his glasses.

“Confess!” George then exclaims before remembering that he and Lockwood aren’t the only ones that live here anymore and brought his voice back to a reasonable level. “Just confess to y/n and everything will work out.”

“How can you be so certain that’s the case George? For all I know, they don’t like me in the same context that I like them.” Lockwood said, desperate in getting you far, far, far away from ever encountering Kipps ever again. You didn’t match well with the Frittes agent at all, you were vastly too different that it was too glaring for anyone to ignore. Plus Lockwood remembered the nights where sleep evaded you and how you’d join together in this very library, taking lighthearted jabs at the blonde; in those moments Lockwood would take the time to admire how your features glowed even within a dimly light room as he allowed himself to feel everything he had been originally skeptic towards. George could see the doubt within his dear friend’s eyes and it was a look he never wanted to see but now that he has, it only made him more steadfast in his goal of egging him into confessing to you and being able to close the book on a long, long, heavily awaited moment that everyone had fairly grown frustrated at it’s unbearable slow pacing.

George could see it, Lucy could see it, Flo could see it and George knew that Lockwood could see it but denied himself from acting on it and instead chose to play the long game in hopes that you’d catch on. You haven’t and the reason to that was the same reason Anthony refused to be the first to confessing his feelings; You both were scared that you’ve read too deeply into your interactions with each other, assumed that deeper feelings were at play and due to your past experiences of getting close to someone or allowing someone to slip past your defenders had only ended in someone getting hurt.

“Oh I’d think you’d find that y/n does like you very much Lockwood.” George admits in a serious tone which caused the moping male to perk up in his seat a tad like that of a puppy. “Really?” Lockwood inquired. “Really, really.” George replied, “I only want to see you happy and with the way you act with y/n. I can tell they’re the one.” He adds sincerely, recalling times where you’d butter and cut his toast when his arm was still in a sling from the Joplin incident. Or the time where you spent hours defending his legitimacy as an agent to Barnes, slagging off Frittes and Rotwell agents while you were at it which never failed to make Lockwood break out into a proud smile; All the signs and makings of the probability of something more blossoming between you two were there from the very start and they glaring obvious.

“So don’t, for the love of god Lockwood, don’t let yourself get in the way of being happy because to be able to fall in love with someone is to show them your most vulnerable self and hope to god that they don’t condemn you for it. So what’s it going to be? Sit here and sulk and have Kipps and y/n possibly fall in love? Or go out there, head held high and speak with your whole chest your declaration of admiration?” George finished his rant, staring at Lockwood who had a dead set look in his eye and a firmly locked jaw; an complete upgrade compared to his previous slouched and defeated form.

“Thank you George, what would I do without you?” Lockwood asked and George shrugged, trying to not let the praise take his attention away from what was more important, “crash and burn?” He shrugs but despite his nonchalant response, George was truly happy that his friend was finally taking the first step that should’ve been taken a long time ago.

#lockwood and co imagines #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood and co imagine #lockwood and co x you #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood x reader #lockwood imagines #lockwood x you #lockwood imagine #anthony lockwood imagine #anthony lockwood imagines #Anthony

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budgie2budgie · 2 years

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arif’s life - earlier - next

[lungs - s.g. goodman]

#sims 4 #tareq's life #arif's life #ali's life #fleur's life #rotation play #deadgrass isle #brindleton bay #the marchands #the seyeds #the wallers #the labrees

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g1rld1ary · 2 months

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jealousy, jealousy ; anthony lockwood x reader (part 1)

➻ my social life has been really busy lately so have had no time to write - split this into two parts to get smth out!!

➻ word count: 1591

➻ synopsis: you're Lockwood's favourite waitress at Arif's, and he's your favourite customer. maybe all that's needed for the both of you to confess that is some good old-fashioned jealousy

➻ warnings: none?? idiots in love, the beginnings of a love triangle

➻ (part two here)

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Anthony Lockwood famously loved Arif’s corner shop. He and his company were one of their most consistent customers, with boxes of doughnuts being delivered to 35 Portland Row seemingly every other day, not to mention enough tea drunk in-shop to fill the Thames. So, needless to say, Lockwood loved Arif’s. However, his adoration wasn’t just because of the treats — though they couldn’t be overlooked. No, the secret motivation of returning day after day was you. You were Arif’s best (at least, in Lockwood’s opinion) employee.

He’d seen you for the first time a few months ago, happening to meet you on your first shift at the shop. You’d completely messed up his order, switching his doughnut for the wrong type and perplexingly ruining his tea. When he’d politely alerted you of the mix up your eyes filled with tears threatening to spill out, hot with embarrassment. You apologised profusely, practically grovelling, which Lockwood had assured you was completely unnecessary. “Everyone has to start somewhere,” He’d said, gracing you with a charming smile that eased your anxiety.

You’d picked yourself up at his encouragement, mustering a smile and a nod that made Lockwood’s heart melt, and dutifully promised to bring him a complimentary treat with his redone tea. Despite his insistence that it was totally redundant, you reappeared minutes later with a promising looking (and smelling) teacup and a porcelain plate with the correct doughnut order and an adorable heart shaped biscuit. Decorated with a red base and pink doodles on top, Lockwood thought it reminded him of you and the first impression you’d given him; endearing and delightful.

“I might be a hopeless waitress, but I’m pretty confident in my baking,” You smiled, “This one is mine.” Lockwood had returned the smile, but hadn’t expected the biscuit to be so delicious when he tried it before you’d left his table. It was the perfect plain sugar biscuit; not too brittle or weirdly mushy but still full of flavour. He let out an involuntary groan, flushing when you giggled slightly. Having received the positive reaction you were hoping for you retreated behind the counter, focusing more intensely on getting orders right from then on.

And so the rhythm for your relationship was set. Lockwood would come in several times a week; usually with a manilla folder full of case research or admin papers for the company and would you greet you with a smile that lit up the whole cafe. You’d make bashful conversation as you made his tea — correctly, by now — and sneak him a free treat, most of the time whichever one you’d baked, which always somehow made it taste sweeter to him. No matter how hard he tried to pay you always refused, which led him to getting creative in how he delivered the payment to evade your notice. Slipping it in your pocket when you weren’t looking or placing it under his teacup as he left, creating a game for you to enjoy each time he came.

“How’s it going?” You asked one morning as you brought his tea out, “Looks serious.”

“Bills,” He confessed with an exhausted smile. You exaggerated a grimace which made him laugh, you glowed from the reaction.

“You know what would go well with that? Brownie.” Your eyes glittered, revealing the homemade square with a twinkle of your fingers. Lockwood’s smile widened to become genuine and delighted, eyes softening as he looked up at you in your waitress uniform.

“Careful, love, you’re gonna give me an ego if you keep treating me like this.”

“You mean more of an ego?” You teased and Lockwood mimed a stake through his heart, pulling a giggle from you. A silence fell upon the both of you as you stood next to his table, the shop almost empty. You couldn’t tell if it was awkward or comfortable, the kind of pause where both parties were on the verge of confessing something meaningful, but hoping the other would speak first. Lockwood was the first to move, but barely uttering a syllable when the bell on the door rang and you snapped around, hurrying to the counter.

It was none other than Quill Kipps, Lockwood’s greatest rival. Although they avoided each other where possible, Lockwood’s dislike had evolved to a burning jealousy whenever he saw Kipps in the cafe, picking up on his obvious fondness of you. Obviously it was never explicitly confirmed since the boys didn’t exactly have heart to heart gossip sessions, but to Lockwood it was obvious. The way he’d saunter into Arif’s, eyes flicking straight to you, leaning in closer than strictly necessary when ordering, and dawdling as he picked up his to go coffee in order to talk to you more. Perhaps he hated it most because it was an embarrassing exposé of his own behaviour, but who was to say.

The only thing keeping his confidence somewhat balanced was that Quill Kipps never left your interactions with a free homemade treat. A lovesick ghost of a smile maybe, but no prettily decorated cookie or mathematically asymmetrical pastry. That left a puff in his chest that had Lockwood shooting Kipps a self satisfied look from across the cafe — Kipps just huffed as he took his takeaway coffee, giving you an uncharacteristically shy wave as he left. You looked between the boys, blissfully unaware of their history but picking up on the thick tension permeating through Arif’s.

Kipps appearance had done the unspoken job of igniting a spark of jealousy within Lockwood though, plan coming together as he signed off the last of the company’s bills.

As you finished your shift it was starting to get darker outside, and you sighed as you pulled on your scarf and gloves, securing your winter garments around you to face the harsh weather outside. You were just buttoning up your coat as you stepped outside, preparing for the journey home when you caught a figure in your periphery. And there, leaning against a ghost lamp like he hadn’t a care in the world, was Anthony Lockwood.

You both seemed to brighten up at the sight of each other, which made you feel your red cheeks may not have been solely from the cold.

“Thought you might want someone to escort you home,” He said, fingers tapping rapidly on his rapier the only indication he wasn’t as suave as he was trying to portray. You let him follow you along, pointing out the Type Ones you couldn’t usually see and entertaining you with stories from his cases — most of his near-death incidents left out. At some point you’d grabbed onto his forearm, initially to pull him away from the pole he was about to walk into (he was staring at you as you told him about a new recipe), but when you’d discovered how hot he ran naturally, you were in no position to let go. Lockwood would rather die than complain or have you let go.

You reached your family’s home far too soon, and you hated to have Lockwood leave. You were just opening your mouth to ask him inside when he beat you to it.

“Can I ask you something?” He appeared suddenly nervous, creating a fraction more space between you.

“Anything,” You replied, watching your breath appear before you.

“I was wondering — I mean it’s stupid, but Fittes is throwing this Valentine’s ball and invited a bunch of agencies including us and we all get a plus one which is cool and I was thinking, I mean hoping, I mean wondering,” He had to pause to catch his breath, recollecting himself after the verbal frenzy. “Would you go with me?” Lockwood looked uncharacteristically nervous, lips being abused by his teeth as he chewed anxiously. You couldn’t stop the brilliant smile from spreading across your own.

“I would love to go with you, Lockwood.”

“Really! That’s great — or cool, you know. Cool.” He leant on his rapier, stumbling slightly as it caved under his weight. You held a hand over your mouth to conceal your laughter, eyes sparkling in a way that made Lockwood’s heart skip a beat.

You parted ways with a shy wave, you up the steps to your bedroom and Lockwood back towards his own home, both sporting lovesick grins and rapid hearts.

A week later it was Valentine’s Day, the day of the Fittes ball. You’d spent all week agonising over what to wear and how you could maybe finally make a move on Lockwood — you’d even called Lucy in a fit of desperation to ask for makeup help. But there was no time left to dawdle, Lockwood would arrive any second and then the night would really begin.

Like a gentleman Lockwood had insisted he collect you from your house (albeit with George and Lucy since you all had to take a cab together) and met your parents, though you were determined to keep that part of the night as brief as possible.

You were sitting in your front room, impatiently picking at one of your press on nails. Finally, when you were convinced that Lockwood had forgotten you or secretly found a better date, the doorbell rang and you jumped to answer it before any of your family members could get to it first.

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givemea-dam-break · 1 year

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Hi there! Previous anon, prompt 21 from the one just titled “prompts list”

21 - “It’s pointless to count stars.” “It’s also pointless to count your freckles, but I know that you have 13 on the back of your hand.”

a/n: perfect!! i hope you enjoy <3 this is a long one so buckle up

for those of you who don’t know, this is the rest of the ask: “ Could you maybe do prompt 21 with Lockwood? Maybe where Lucy has just joined, and all of his attention is on her, and reader feels forgotten? And so she ends up like laying on the roof because she's upset and wants to be alone and he comes out and joins her? "

warnings: mild angst prompt: "It's pointless to count stars." "It's also pointless to count your freckles, but I know that you have 13 on the back of your hand." gn reader

It's nippy out tonight.

Despite it being early summer, there's a chill in the air that bites the bare skin of your arms and your face. The slates that make up the roof of 35 Portland Row seem to have soaked up every last vestigial of warmth from your bones without even warming up themselves.

Up above, the sky should be dark, but the lights of London cast it in an orangey glow that makes you miss your old home, miles and miles away from the city. London may have its benefits, but you miss seeing the night sky in all its glory. You miss the constellations and the endless black that stretches over the world, free of lights and noisy night cabs honking in the ghost-lamp-covered streets.

Heaving a sigh, you pull your legs to your chest and wrap your arms around them.

What has led to you sitting up on the roof of a three-storey house?

A multitude of things, you think. It could well be the fact that the case from the other night freaked you out; that ghost of a murdered grandmother out for vengeance on her - now - elderly grandkids that had ended with you hanging out of a smashed window, held on only by George's kit bag that was stuck in the frame until he and Lockwood were able to hoist you up. Maybe it was that other ghost you saw on the way home from Arif's a week ago - its peeling face had just appeared out of the ground and almost caught your leg. That one was creepy. Or perhaps, and most convincingly of all, it's the new hire.

If you're being completely honest, you had been entirely supportive of hiring a new agent. After three months of (legal) work with just Lockwood and George, and a year of living with them before that, you were in desperate need of some other company. Too many times have you been greeted when coming home from a case by George cleaning the house in nothing but a T-shirt that if he dared bend down would reveal more than you were willing to see. Too many times had the two boys been just that - boys - and had irritated the living daylights out of you. You were in dire need of some new friends.

You just hadn't realised that everything would change because of it.

Lucy Carlyle is great, really. As a roomie? Messy, but nothing you aren't used to. As a person? Lovely, albeit grumpy in the mornings and prone to becoming frustrated when she doesn't really need to be. In all honesty, there is nothing wrong with Lucy, and you're slowly becoming quite close.

It's Lockwood that's the problem.

Your relationship with Lockwood, as frustratingly platonic as it is, has been founded on years of friendship that you will cherish for the rest of your life. As soon as you were able, your parents packed up and shipped you off to London to work for the notorious Fittes agency, and they benefitted from your labour. Safe to say, it pissed you off. You met Lockwood during his apprenticeship with an independent agent and hit it off, meeting George a mere month later when you were teamed up together. It was your trio and your anger at the system that inspired the creation of Lockwood and Co. Perhaps not the most prestigious of agencies, but it was yours.

It took a lot of work establishing a business, and you had to pull a few strings and fake some tears in order to get all of the DEPRAC insurance you needed - Lockwood wasn't exactly in the good books of some of their employees - but you all managed and had your own special roles.

Lockwood, the leader, the face of it all. He's always been your anchor, the thing that kept the ship from sinking. Whenever you were on a hard case that had you frightened, it was Lockwood that gave you confidence with nothing but an easy grin and a light joke. His Talent of Sight is stronger than anyone else you have met.

George, the researcher. He finds everything that essentially keeps you alive on a case: the backstory, the house plans, the history of the site and the ghost. If not for his desire to know absolutely everything he possibly could, the cases you've completed would have been impossible. Plus, he's a great cook and figured out that Arif's offered home deliveries. Life changing.

Then there's you. You've always liked to think you were the glue that kept the team together. Whenever the boys had an argument, it was you that got them to buck up and fix their attitudes. But you're also the one to slink the company out of trouble. While DEPRAC has grown used to Lockwood's charming smiles, they can't deny the person who keeps him on track and their sweet talk.

It was the perfect trio. Everything was balanced, and you figured it would still be once a new agent was hired.

Oh, how wrong you were.

Shivering in the cold, you can hear the voices of your friends pouring out of the opened kitchen window. You're not entirely sure what they're talking about, but you can hear Lockwood's questions. His admiration for Lucy is palpable, clogging your throat.

He's allowed other friends, you know, but it's not that what bothers you. It's the way he looks at her: that sparkle in his eyes when she speaks; the soft quirk of his lips that implies a private smile in favour of his infamous grin; how his gaze follows the twists and curves of her words.

It's the way you look at him.

You'd be lying to say that you don't care for Lockwood more than a friend should. The way you feel for him is entirely different than you've felt for anyone. Almost as if he's an amplifier of your emotions, igniting them to impossible levels until it feels like you're burning endlessly. For years, you've buried the feelings deep, refusing to acknowledge them. But, now, it's proving to be increasingly hard when he's exhibiting the exact same feelings but for someone else.

In your daze, you didn't notice the voices in the kitchen fade away, so you jump when there's a voice below in your attic bedroom.

"(name)?"

Lockwood. Your heart feels heavy.

You shuffle down slightly until you can wave your foot in front of the window. Seconds later, the glass pane swings open and Lockwood's head pokes out. His cheeks are already becoming rosy from the chill.

"What are you doing up here?" he asks. "We missed you at dinner."

Watching as he climbs out of the window and up onto the roof, you murmur, "Counting stars, I suppose."

He is quiet for a moment as he gets comfortable on the stone-cold slates. "It's pointless to count stars, you know. All the light pollution - can't even see them."

"It's also pointless to count your freckles," you say, leaning back on the roof and closing your eyes, "but I know that you have thirteen on the back of your hand."

A long pause. "So I do. Very perceptive."

You can feel his warmth when he lies down next to you, but you keep your eyes shut. Maybe if you do, you can pretend that his hand is close because he wants to hold yours; or that he's looking at you the same way you do him, with nothing but adoration and love and a little bit of humour. Anything is possible when your eyes are shut.

"So, what's the real reason for you being out here? You've not climbed up out here since that case in Camden when you had the misfortune of seeing George's bottom sticking out of a window."

Shivering at the memory, you say, "I guess I've not felt quite right lately."

"That I know. You turned down George's homemade sausage rolls. They're your favourite."

"They are." You clasp your hands over your stomach, fearing that they'll have a mind of their own and reach for Lockwood's. "I don't know."

A blatant lie, and you're sure he knows it because he shuffles an inch closer. His gaze burns on your cheek, but you don't look. It's easier not to. You're afraid you'll admit things that should stay hidden if you do.

"Is it because I kept you home from that case yesterday? I'm sorry - I just didn't think it was a good idea. I mean, you seemed quite ill -"

"It's not that," you say, but your voice is a mere whisper.

It's true. That isn't the bit that bothered you. It's the fact he took Lucy instead of you or even took both of you along. For god's sake, he even took George! It was just you being singled out.

"Then what is it? (name), I'm worried about you. You don't speak to me anymore."

The words are there, choking you. I love you too much to see you love someone else. It kills me to watch you forget about me.

He's like the stars in a way. You can't see the stars right now, but you know they're there, and the knowledge of that is painful because they're so close but so far. With Lockwood, it's similar. You know he's there, and you can physically see him, but he's so distant from you now. He's hidden by new lights that permeate your sky.

"It's Lucy, isn't it?"

Your heart is in your throat. "No."

There's a rustling of clothes as Lockwood sits up. "You don't have to lie to me."

Finally, you open your eyes, greeted by the orange haze of the London night sky. Lockwood's face is just in your vision, right at the edge, but the concern in his eyes is more than evident. There's a crease just between his brows, and the corners of his lips are turned down just so -

No. You need to stop looking for the little details. They'll be your downfall.

"I'm not lying," you insist. "I just - It's not easy to talk about."

"You've always been able to talk to me, (name). Why is this any different?"

"Please don't push me on this, Lockwood."

"It's affecting all of us, though. I don't know what to do with myself, for one, because you're not speaking to me as much. George looks lost without you chipping in for dinner. Which, speaking of, you've not eaten dinner for the past week. We're all concerned."

You don't mean to say anything, really, but everyone has a breaking point, and after weeks of bottling all your feelings up, you've reached yours.

"It's you."

"What?"

Sitting up, you shrug. The cold air bites your skin. "Ever since Lucy joined us, you've been distant. Don't get me wrong, Lucy is great. I really like her. But... You're saying I don't speak to you much now, but you don't make the time for me. You're so obsessed with her and her Talent that you don't have time for me anymore. It's easier for me to just keep myself away from it."

"(name)..." Lockwood frowns, but his eyes stay right on yours. "I don't - I'm not obsessed with Lucy. I've plenty of time to spend with you."

"But you don't." The words weigh heavy on your shoulders, and it feels like your insides are being squished. "You keep me home from cases and take her instead. You barely acknowledge me anymore. More often than not, when I walk in a room you're either fawning over her or about to drag me into a big long spiel about how much you love having her as an agent and friend. You've lost interest in me."

Something sparks in his dark eyes - anger. "You're joking, right? You're my closest friend! I wouldn't do anything to hurt you."

You drag a hand over your face, wishing all of your feelings could melt from your skin and soak into the roof. It's too much to deal with. You don't want this - arguing with Lockwood over feelings you're too scared to explain - but it's inevitable. Everything you've ever done has led to this moment.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," you mumble.

But as you make to swing down through the open window, Lockwood's hand grasps yours. When you look at him, you can't help but analyse all of those little things - those downfalls of yours. The furrow of his brows, the crease in his nose, the little twitch in his cheek. The summer sun has brought out a few freckles on his face, barely visible in the light of the ghost lamps on the streets down below.

"Please, wait." The look in his eyes is enough to give you pause. "I'm not - I'm not obsessed with Lucy, I can assure you of that. Her Talent is interesting, yes, and that's what has me so distracted. But I haven't lost interest in you. I could never. That's like George losing interest in books and research."

Frowning, you grumble, "Thanks for comparing me to inanimate objects."

"No, no, that's not what I meant! But you get my point, right? I don't think George could live without those. And, so..."

He looks at you expectantly, with a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. But it clicks.

It's as if the sky above you has cleared and filled itself with millions of bright stars. The weight on your shoulders has suddenly lifted, and your heart, so heavy mere seconds ago, feels light and free and hopeful.

"If you're worried that I care for Lucy more than I do you, you're horribly wrong." A soft laugh passes his lips. "It's quite impossible. In fact, you're the only thing I think of most of the time. It's led to quite a few close calls."

"You're not pulling my leg, are you?"

"I think you'll find that I'm holding your hand right now." It's a bad joke, you know, because he laughs at it. "No, I'm not. I promised you years ago that I'd never lie to you, didn't I?"

He did. Just a few months after you first met. It was the crux of your feelings for him.

"You really care about me that much?"

There's that grin of his. "More. I love you that much."

And it feels like the whole sky has lit up in brilliant colours, dappled with gorgeous stars. Your elation is bordering on being suffocating, and you're sure you're gripping Lockwood's hand harder than necessary.

"I hope you feel the same, otherwise I'll be really mortified."

The smile that splits your face is one you have never donned before, and he looks wholly entranced by it.

"I do," you say. "More than should be healthy."

"Ah, well, we have a knack for the unhealthy."

#anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood x reader #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood and co fanfiction #lockwood and co #lockwood and co netflix #anthony lockwood #george karim #lucy carlyle #x reader #fanfiction #givemea-dam-break

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lewkwoodnco · 7 months

Text

Timeless (Lockwood x reader)

A/N: inspired by Timeless by Taylor Swift! A mix of angst and fluff, and the ending is a little awkward but I just haddd to end that way

She had had an exhausting couple of weeks - there was so much she didn’t understand about Lockwood, or what she felt about him or why. It was becoming more and more difficult to go on cases, even the simpler ones, because of how dangerous Lockwood made it for himself, no matter how cut-and-dry the case was. She’d feel this wave of nausea wash over her every time she saw him absent-mindedly step out of their salt circles or leave the iron chains in a corner.

It was that same nausea that was beginning to creep up on her now. They were about to go on a case and it had sickened her to hear George go on and on about the murderous ghost they would be meeting. Lately it had begun to feel as though a Lurker lived in the floorboards of the house, filling her stomach with leaden dread. Her nerves pushed her feet out of the house, screaming for an escape from the doubt that hung in the still air of the house.

She didn’t want to wander far; her friends would worry, but there was this cosy shop just a few doors down from Arif’s. It seemed completely unassuming, a little dull even, but there was something beckoning her from the shelves cluttered with antique vases and memorabilia of years past. It was a dusty little box with a smudged label, and there were photos inside them. Some blurry, some with a faint, barely-there tinge of colour, but there was one photo that made her breath catch in her throat.

There was a black-and-white photo of her and Lockwood sitting on a too-soft love seat on the porch of an old house. She blinked, and now it was just a normal photo of some random couple again, like the rest of them. But for a minute she was sure that, for some reason, it was Lockwood’s twinkle in that man’s eye and her smile lines around the woman’s lips. The longer she stared at it, the more differences she found: the man’s knees weren’t as knobbly as Lockwood and the woman’s feet were definitely smaller than hers, but this sense of warmth and familiarity grew. She had never seen this couple before, and she would probably never again, but at the same time she had this feeling that she knew everything about their lives, or the important part anyways. She could feel the warmth enveloped between their hands, the kind of warmth she got from Lockwood’s hands. The crease in the man’s eyes, the tilt of the woman’s head, the way their limbs slotted in place like two perfect puzzle pieces made for each other…it seemed so natural, so ordinary that she would have been inclined to reserve her awe, if it weren’t for the magnetic love radiating from the picture. The photo just barely captured the love the couple shared, like how there was precious little left in her life not consumed by Lockwood.

There was another photograph, much more formal, of a woman standing in a shirtwaist dress reminiscent of the 1940s, gazing into her lover’s eyes. The way they looked at each other, like they had the kind of love that needed no answers from unanswerable questions. It didn’t matter whether or not “The One” existed, or even if they’d live long enough to find out, but they had a quiet, resolute kind of love, and that was all they needed. It ached the way they made it look so simple, so natural, to love and to hold the way she never dared to, even in secret. They weren’t fearless, but they were brave enough to love now, while they still had time, and it was enough. She, on the other hand, was only brave enough to love from afar. She read every one of his newspaper clippings on the wall, like watching him grow up through a scrapbook, traced the words he wrote on their thinking cloth, and prayed to gods she didn’t believe in that he would somehow turn out alright. In a way, nothing had changed since then- the world was still so full of terror and the looming threat of decay; but for every heart that stops, another beats on.

She pulled herself out of the photos, looking around at the other antiques polished within an inch of their life, which held a sense of age that couldn’t be polished away. But it wasn’t weariness she felt as much as the contentment of a life lived well and lived fully. Her gaze shifted and she spied the shopkeeper - though, of course, he appeared as an apparition of a greying Lockwood, his weathered face alight with the same spirit today. And for once, she was able to feel something other than fear. Hope. Courage. The resolve to see him like that herself, but only decades down the road. Then, it will be their photos collecting dust in a flimsy cardboard box hidden away in the life they had the courage to build together.

A shadow glimmered against the frosted glass of the shop and the real Lockwood stepped into the shop with a soft jingle of the door, faintly smiling.

“I didn’t know you liked antiques?”

“I don’t, not particularly, but…something in my head said ‘stop’… so I walked in.”

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood x you #Anthony Lockwood imagine #anthony lockwood oneshot #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood and co netflix #lockwood x y/n #timeless #Taylor swift #speak now taylor’s version #timless (Taylor’s version)#From the vault

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starzortega · 5 months

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Hey, could I request Anthony Lockwood x reader where its their 1st anniversary and he takes her out on a date and spoils her

Sweet heaven

Masterlist:

Warnings: mention of S!icide (one word), fluff

Word count: 690

Pairing: Anthony Lockwood x fem!reader

Request: “hey could i request Anthony Lockwood x reader where it’s there 1st anniversary and he takes her out on a date and spoils her”

A/N: i actually hate this one so much but felt like I should post it anyway let me know what you think 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

————————————————————————

Waking up to a soft kiss on her shoulder, she opens her eyes, almost blinded by the brightness of the sun casting a yellow hue across the room. She feels his head nuzzled into her shoulder, breathing a content sigh. "G'morning, my love," his voice raspy, not used to being used in a while.

"Good morning, Tony. Happy anniversary." Turning around so they now face each other, her arms go around his middle, looking lovingly into his eyes.

"A year already? Surprised you're not tired of me yet."

"Believe me, I will never be tired of you, Tony."

He smiled at her, his heartwarming She was the light in his life, the only person he'd trust with his life. They first got together when they were on a case, Lockwood being his normal reckless self, putting himself in harm's way just for her. It was sweet, of course, but she was tired of his suicidal tendencies. All she wanted was for him to tone it down. 'Just Reckless enough,' she'd say, he had listened; he always did. Their argument ended in a cheesy love confession.

"What are the plans for today?" After a few minutes of silence, she spoke up again.

humming softly, “I was thinking we could make breakfast first, then I’ve got a surprise for you.” He winks. Her smile widening, she rests her head against his chest, breathing in his scent. “Sounds perfect; thank you."

“As much as I love this, I think we need to get up soon. We have plans today.” He kissed the top of her head, squeezing her waist.

Pulling back to look up at him, she bargained, “Just five more minutes?"

He rolled his eyes, acting annoyed, but the smile that plastered his face said differently.

“Fine.”

—------------------------------------------------------

“What are we going to make?” She asked, Now standing in the warm kitchen, all ready for the day.

“Pancakes, your favourite.”

Y/N beamed at him, jumping to get the ingredients. They immediately started cooking the pancakes, only knowing how to make them thanks to George, who kindly told Lockwood the day before.

Pulling out her chair, he waits for her to sit before tucking the chair back in and going back to the kitchen counter to retrieve the plate of pancakes before occupying the seat next to her.

Tucking into them, they grimace slightly before looking at each other and giggling.

“I think we should leave the cooking to George."

“I don't understand what we did wrong; we followed his instructions perfectly!" he groaned.

Reaching to clasp his hand in hers, “It's okay, we still have leftover doughnuts from Arif’s?” She asks questionably. Lockwood nods and quickly reaches up to get the doughnuts.

Eating the doughnuts and moaning at the sweet taste of them, they began to get ready for their busy day.

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

"Here this is for you."

It was now the end of the day, and the fire was crackling next to them. They were sitting practically on top of each other, with a mug of tea in her hand. She turned slightly to look at him. Glancing down at his hands, she notices him holding a Velvet box, slowly opening it to reveal a beautiful necklace. It was stunning. When the small diamonds caught the light, they shimmered.

"Oh, Tony. This is beautiful. thank you." Her eyes glistened with tears. She truly loved him.

His hands took hold of the necklace, motioning for her to turn back to him so he could slip the necklace on. Y/N turned back, surprising him by smashing her lips against his.

Their kiss was soft and gentle. Lockwood could feel her hands slowly glide up to his neck, lacing her fingers into his hair. Pulling away once they lose their breath, they sit there for a while, taking each other in. Feeling their foreheads touch and their eyelashes tickling the other person's face, she presses another soft but quick peck to his nose. The red coat that paints his face doesn't go unnoticed by the girl.

They stayed there till they fell asleep, the warmth of the fire coxing them into a soft lullaby.

#anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood and co #lockwood netflix #lucy carlyle x reader #lockwood and lucy #cameron chapman x reader #ali hadji-heshmati x reader #fanfic #george karim #lockwood and co x reader

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teaandransacking · 1 year

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hii!! could you do an anthony lockwood drabble where reader is having a stressful day and its just a bit of comfort from him ? thank you ^^^

Of course! I had a bit of a shitty day on Thursday so I sympathise.

I hope this ticks all your boxes!

Words: 1k ~ content: Straightforward Fluff.

You closed your bedroom door, wondering if screaming into your pillow would be audible for your housemates downstairs.

It’d been a hell of a day. First you’d accidentally tumbled loads of books off a shelf in The Archives when the hardback you wanted was stuck. Then when opening your purse in Arif’s shop, the coins had jumped out of a rip in the seam and rolled under the baking goods shelf, some of them never to be seen again. And then, when you’d arrived home and shut yourself in the basement to blow off some steam with rapier practice, a fuse had blown, and no one else was home, so you’d spent a frustrating half hour trying to change it, something you’d never done before.

After all that, you were so thoroughly frazzled that just one more thing would’ve been the last straw, so when Lucy, George and Lockwood arrived home after a recce on a nearby mansion, you’d pleaded a headache and retreated upstairs. They’d wanted to hear the results of your research, but you’d asked them to wait until tomorrow.

You loved them all, but you were going to have a meltdown if today threw one more spanner in your path.

As intent as you were on escaping, you hadn’t noticed Lockwood’s concerned frown as you went.

In your room, you lay on your bed, gazing at the ceiling. There was a small spider making its way around the plaster of the ceiling rose, and for a moment you longed to trade places with it. No responsibilities, no clumsy accidents, no embarrassment or stress.

As you’re contemplating a nice little life as a spider, there’s a soft knock at the door, and then you hear Lockwood utter your name.

When you don’t reply, he adds, “Are you all right? We were worried.”

It’s on the tip of your tongue to ask if he means he was worried, but you decide not to read too much into it.

“Can I come in?” he says after a few moments.

“Okay.”

The door opens slowly, and he stands there in his shirt and tie and smart trousers. Purple socks today. He’s holding a tray with a steaming pot of tea on it, a little china milk jug, and two cups.

One of them, you note, is your favourite cup, shaped liked a cat with the handle fashioned as a tail.

That makes you smile, and you sit up.

Lockwood comes to the end of the bed and places the tray down.

“There’s the smile I wanted to see,” he says. “Can I sit?”

You nod, and he does, folding his long body next to the tea tray.

He pours deftly, not a single drop wasted, and adds the amount of milk he knows you like, then offers you the cat cup. You watch his hands as he works, hoping he doesn’t know how often you’ve thought of them on you, how his rapier-calluses would feel on your skin. On your most sensitive places.

“Thanks,” you say instead.

“So, are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?” he asks, his hazel eyes searching your face.

“Just a lot of little things getting on top of me. You don’t need to worry.”

He frowns. “But I do. You’re part of this team, and-” he cuts himself short and looks down into his cup of tea.

You reach forward and pat his thigh. “And what?”

He looks away as he adds, softly, “And more than that, you’re very important to me personally. So if you’re upset, in any way, I want to be here for you.”

You smile. “It’s admirable, that you care about your employees so much.”

Lockwood sighs, setting his cup down. “You know it’s more than that. Or, if you don’t know, it’s because I need more practice letting people in.” He holds your gaze as he sets the tray aside and moves up the bed towards you, making sure you’re okay with his proximity. “Do you want me to stay?”

“Yes,” you say, leaning into him as he sits next to you, and then he curls his arm around you, and you snuggle in, and he smells of earl grey tea and hot buttered crumpets, and home, and everything inside you unfurls, and the knot in your stomach relaxes.

“Just to check,” Lockwood says, resting his cheek on your hair, “There’s no one that needs to meet the sharp end of a rapier after today?”

You chuckle, sipping your tea. “Nothing like that.”

“Because if Kipps-”

“I swear, nothing like that.”

“Good. That’s good.” He stands up for a second and you worry he’s going to leave, but instead he grabs a thick blanket from where it’s slung over the foot of your bed and brings it over, sitting down again and tucking it around you both.

You snuggle back into him and he sighs, tugging you back against the headboard.

Through the window, the sun is setting, filling your room with blood orange and gold hues. Shadows spill on to Lockwood’s face, kissing his cheekbones and the set of his mouth, and he’s almost too beautiful to look at.

You sit there together for a long time, his arm around you, his cheek warm on your hair. You can feel his heart beating under your palm, and it’s a steady, sure sound. It makes you feel safe. Wanted. Loved.

At some point you realise, “Lockwood! Your tea’s gone cold.” The tray is still on the floor, where he put it earlier.

He shrugs. “I can always make another cup.”

This, from the boy who is all we only have so many teabags and one biscuit per agent, makes you melt a little bit. Especially when he adds, in that buttery smooth British accent, “I only have one priority at Portland Row right now, and it’s you.”

#tumblr askbox #anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood and co #lockwood and co fanfiction

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