#implied Lockwood x Lucy

[frogmanfae]

George Karim X GN! Reader- Talented

Summary: George gets left behind and becomes overwhelmed with intrusive thoughts. That is, until a certain someone let's him know just how important he is.

A/n- I really relate to George in the aspect of always being last choice, so I really feel for him. I hope if any of you relate to this, you realize you are significant

George POV

Everyone looked around at each other as if they were deciding who to leave behind. We got commissioned to take care of a type one, a very simple case. There's no need for all four of us to go, in fact it's really a job two people can do on their own but ever since Lucy almost died going on a job with only Lockwood, he's been adamant about having at least three of us go.

"Why don't we just all go?" (Y/n) offered, though it seemed to be just a way to be nice.

"According to the house measurements the client submitted to me, it'll be crowded with just the three of you. It's a two room apartment with very little space between rooms, only about five feet wide corridor and a twenty square foot kitchen. Both rooms are about fifteen square feet. It's insensible for all four of us to go." I sigh and begin to go to the library. "Have fun, don't die."

"Wait, Georgie where are you going? We haven't decided yet." (Y/n) reaches out to grab my hand.

I pull my hand away. "As if. It's obviously me who's staying, don't act like that hasn't been decided this whole time. I'm a researcher, I've accepted that I'm only an agent when it's necessary. I'm just not as talented as you three."

"George, that's not true-" Lucy steps in.

"Go on, the sun will be setting soon." I continue to the library. "You'd best be off."

They all looked like they wanted to say something, but the setting sun was too much of a pressing matter and they all left.

(Y/n) lingered a bit after the other two. "You know, I think you underestimate yourself too much." And they were off.

I stood there for a moment, processing what they said, before going to the kitchen to get some tea and biscuits.

"Damn it..." I close the cabinet after being reminded that I finished off my preferred tea this morning and I already ate all but two of my favorite biscuits.

I start to go to the library again before stopping in my tracks mid step. On the table was a box of tea, my tea that nobody else really cared for, and a container of the biscuits I eat. Next to it there was a note written on the cloth, it was in (y/n)'s hand writing.

I noticed the cupboard was running low so I went to the store early in the morning. You really need to start putting your things on the grocery list when you start to run out, Georgie.

I smile to myself and put the kettle on. After I fixed my tea I finally went to the library and sat down in the chair opposite of the one Lockwood usually sits in.

Before Lucy came along, I'll admit I really felt something for him, so I would often sit in this chair while he spent his late nights reading magazines and worrying over bills. I've since given up on those feelings after we realized Lucy was more powerful than anyone since Marissa Fittes. I knew Lockwood would never feel the same way about a loser like me as opposed to someone like her.

But about a year after I finally let go of all my romantic interests for Lockwood, (y/n) joined our agency. It was completely on accident, we had been on a case and they were working freelance on the same one. They saved Lucy's life, then Lockwood saved their life and offered them a job and a place to stay. They share a room with Lucy just because it's the largest room in the house.

Since then I've began to develop the same feelings I once had for Lockwood but now for (y/n). I don't really know how to describe it, but I think I feel stronger feelings this time around. They're a lot nicer to me than Lockwood ever was, not that he's mean to me but he can definitely be a prick.

I sit in that chair with my thoughts, biscuits, and tea for about an hour before I go to my room and get ready for bed. I'm not planning on sleeping anytime soon but why wear pants when I can wear no pants?

I lay on top of the made bed for a while, and before I know it my head began to be filled with unwanted thoughts. Thoughts about how I'm a failure and untalented and insignificant.

I think about this a lot. I know that I mean something to the people around me, but that's really only three people. And it should be enough, but sometimes...

Well I don't know. Sometimes I wonder if they'd just be better off without me, though they would almost certainly die without me simply because nobody else researches as thoroughly. However, I think they would do just fine with the research (y/n) collects whenever they help me.

I look in the mirror across the room. I'm such a nerd. And a loser. I'm a nerdy loser. Wow. This is what I've become.

I cry for a while. I'm not entirely sure how long. It's not violent crying, but definitely messy and ugly and it lasts at least an hour.

I hate it when they leave me alone.

I hate being alone.

I hate that I never have good company by myself.

I hate myself.

I can't do this right now. I get up and just walk around the house. I go up and down the stairs probably six times, all the while tears are still falling from my eyes. I'm upstairs by my room when I hear the door open. I put on some sweatpants because I know how cold it gets after those three come home, the essence of a visitor still on them.

"Georgie! I'm back!" I hear (y/n) call from the ground floor.

I rush down the stairs. "Where are the othe- OH MY GOD YOUR ARM!"

"It's fine, Georgie I just need a band aid." They wave me off.

"Uh, no that needs to be taken care of! There's so much blood! Might I remind you your shirt was white before you left!" I go past them to grab some first aid items out of the kitchen but they stop me.

"Georgie you've been crying."

"What? No, I'm just... I'm a bit tired is all."

"No you've been crying, there are tear stains on your face." They bring their hand up to touch my cheek, wincing at the pain in their arm.

"Alright, no, you're in a lot of pain, go sit in Lockwood's library chair and I'll be right there."

I go to the kitchen and get a bowl of water and a rag, some disinfectant and cotton balls, bandages, and stitching supplies. I take it all into the library and ask (y/n) if they can roll up their sleeve.

"I think it'd be easier if I just took it off, don't you?"

I tried my hardest to conceal how flustered that made me feel and just nodded. They removed their shirt and sat in front of me in only their undershirt.

I wince at the sight of the fully exposed gash. "This is a nasty cut you've got, what happened?"

The cut was deep. So deep, in fact, I'm almost surprised I couldn't see their bone. It went up almost the whole side of their forearm and even a little bit up their pinky finger in a bit of a diagonal line. Bits of the surrounding skin were already turning a couple different colors, suggesting mild infection.

"I got distracted."

"Distracted? By what? And what exactly happened as a result?"

"It caught me off guard. It came up behind me and I jumped when it screamed. I pulled out my rapier, but it got caught on the side of my arm. It's been a couple jobs since I've properly cleaned the blade so it probably had a lot on it."

"What could have distracted you so much?" I take the rag and first use water to clean it before moving on to the disinfectant. "This might sting."

"Uh, you did."

"What?" I pressed the cotton ball in a bit too hard out of pure shock, causing them to inhale sharply, "oh! Sorry! Sorry!"

"It's alright..." They sighed. "It's okay, Georgie... I just felt bad about leaving you behind."

"What?" I set the disinfectant down and threaded the needle.

"Uh, can you finish stitching me up first? I don't much enjoy talking while I'm being sewn together."

I nod. "Right, understood."

I started stitching them up and almost began crying again at their occasional wince, I apologized probably twenty times throughout the whole process.

"Georgie, it's fine, really it's- gah-"

"Sorry! I'm sorry... Okay... All done." I took a fresh rag to clean the area, dry it, and then bandage it. "There... Better now?"

"A bit, thank you."

I clean up all the supplies and take it back to the kitchen to be properly dealt with later before returning to the library and sitting in my chair. "I'll have a look at that every day to disinfect it and eventually take the stitches out. Now, what about me distracted you?"

"Well... Why were you crying when I came home?"

"I wasn't."

"Yes you were, Georgie now out with it."

"I watched a sad movie."

"We don't have cable and our VHS player broke last week."

"Read a sad book."

"A whole book?"

"I had a lot of time to kill."

"Georgie."

"Fine. I was thinking about how you guys are all better than me and how I'm always going to be every one of your last choices. I'm not as talented as any of you and I never will be. I will always be George the researcher, never George the agent."

"Georgie..."

"It's true, don't deny it."

"I don't think that way. I never have."

"Don't lie to me, it's patronizing."

"I'm not lying. George, I'm here right now, aren't I?"

"So? Wait- where are the others?" I stand up, worried something had happened.

"They went to get something to eat."

I stepped closer to them. "Why didn't you go with them?"

"Because I'd much rather be with you."

I was silent for a moment before I sat down on the floor. (Y/n) climbed down from their chair and sat across from me.

"Why?"

"What do you mean?" They tilted their head.

"Why would you rather be with me? They're the cool ones, I'm the nerdy loser."

They giggle. Shit that's adorable... "Nerdy loser? Who's put that in your head?"

"... I suppose I did."

"Well... Did you ever think that I happen to like nerdy losers?"

I shake my head. "No..."

"Well. I do. I think the world would cease to exist without nerdy losers. And I'm ever so grateful for them. I'm ever so grateful for you most of all."

I sit there with my mouth agape. Grateful? For me?

"What's that look?" They ask me.

"What look?"

"You've got a look in your eyes like... Well I don't quite know how to describe it."

They look at me and I just look back at them. Then I kiss them. I haven't a clue what got into me but I kissed them. And I haven't a clue why but they kissed back. It was magical. It was like we'd set off a flare. I would never have another kiss like this in my life.

"Georgie..."

"... Shit. Shit I'm so- I am so sorry." I stand up. "Oh my god I am so sorry!"

"Georgie calm down." They reached up and pulled me back down to the floor. "I've wanted to do that for months."

"What? Really? With me?"

"Yes with you silly." They smile. "I really like you."

"You do?"

They nod. "I do."

"I really like you too."

"Well if that's the case, why don't we go to breakfast tomorrow? Just the two of us."

"Like a..."

"Like a date."

I nod. "That sounds incredible."

"Perfect." They lean in again just as the front door opens and we hear Lockwood laughing.

"Lockwood you really aren't that funny." Lucy says as the door closes.

"Shut up, I'm hilarious. George! (y/n)! We're back!" He calls. "Where are they?"

(Y/n) stands up and leans on the doorframe of the library. "You sound like you're in a good mood."

"What happened to your arm?" Lucy gasped.

"Did you guys not see that?" I nearly yelled, somewhat out of anger and somewhat out of shock. "It was vile!"

"It wasn't that bad-" (y/n) began but I interrupted.

"Uh, no it was bad! As the guy who disinfected, stitched up, and bandaged it, it was bad!"

"It needed stitches? How could you not tell us?" Lockwood looked at (y/n).

"Uh, no, don't pin this on them! It was you who didn't see the foot long slice in their arm! Was nobody there when it happened?"

"We had all split up in the different rooms. They came right after."

"God, what's the point of sending three agents when you split up? That's every horror movie ever!" I throw my hands around.

"Georgie, calm down. It's okay now. I tried my best to keep it hidden so it wouldn't concern anyone, and really I didn't think it was that bad."

"They still should have noticed."

"You're right, we should have." Lockwood puts his rapier in the holder. "I'm sorry, I should have been more aware. Is it alright now?"

"It'll need some time to heal, but George patched me up pretty well."

He nods. "Right, well... Good work tonight. Have you showered yet? You can have the first one."

"I have to wrap your arm in plastic first. You can't get those bandages wet." I lightly touched part of the bandage with my finger. "I'll go get some, go sit back in the library."

"Yes, Dr. Karim." They said it with a taunting voice, but it made me feel something. I've always wanted to be a doctor. Whether that be a doctor of medicine or history or science or whatever I haven't yet decided. I had almost forgotten of that dream of mine.

Lucy and Lockwood went off to their respective rooms and I came to the library with a roll of clear plastic and shut the door behind me.

I kneeled in front of them as they held out their arm and silently began wrapping. There was so much I wanted to say, but I didn't dare. They probably didn't want to talk about it. I had been taking care of them, that's why they kissed me. It was the adrenaline. They surely regret it.

"Georgie?"

"Hm?"

"Are you my boyfriend now?"

"What?"

"Are we... Are we dating? Or...?"

"Well... I don't know, are we?"

"I mean... I'd like to be, if that's what you want."

"It is what I want. I want it a lot."

They nod slowly. "So... Are we...?"

"I... I think we are..." I smile. They kiss me again. "Hey, you know what would be funny?"

"If we didn't tell the others and just saw how long it took for them to realize."

"Dear god I think I might be in love, we share a brain!" I laugh.

They get warmer and giggle. "I should go shower. I'll see you in the morning for breakfast, yeah?" They get up and start walking out of the library.

"Yeah, definitely." I wait a second until I hear them go up the stairs, then I flop flat on my back with a wide smile and laugh. I don't know why I laugh. Perhaps I'm just filled with so much joy and don't know what to do with it other than let some of it out with laughter. It's almost overwhelming. Every moment I'm waiting to wake up, but I never do. Because, despite the voices in my head, I am good enough for someone. Not just someone, but (y/n). That's mad to me.

But, mad in the best way.

#george karim #george karim x reader #poor George karim #someone tell him hes special I beg of you #self doubting George karim #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #lockwood and co #lockwood and co x reader #implied Lockwood x Lucy

[biscuitrule]

Give me Holly having a tiny crush on Lucy in the beginning and giving Lockwood a run for his money and him being a little jealous. Not him being mean to her in any way. But like give me him freezing when she asks if Lucy is single. Give me Holly turning to Lockwood and raising an eyebrow at him just to rile him up after Lucy laughs particularly hard at a joke she made. Give me a clench of the jaw and a glare as Holly beats him to handing Lucy a plate of toast. Give me Holly basically being the embodiment of “okay but can Lockwood fight?”

Also give me George and Holly being the side eye duo as they have to put up with locklyle being the idiots in denial. Give me George being ecstatic that he finally has someone else to suffer with incredulously as they also witness locklyle’s antics. Give me George telling Holly things Lockwood said about Lucy and Holly telling him things Lucy said about Lockwood and then them marveling over how they live with such idiots. Give me George and Holly being the locklyle mvps. Give me George and Holly placing bets on locklyle and then roping Kipps into it later.

#these are the dynamics I want to see #lucy deserves to be fought over #George deserves a buddy to suffer these two idiots with #also it was implied at least a little in the books that Holly had a tiny crush on Lucy #locklyle #lockwood and co #lucewood #lucy carlyle #anthony lockwood #lockwood and co netflix #lockwood and co show #lockwood x lucy #lockwood and lucy #lockwood netflix #lockwood spoilers #george karim #george cubbins #holly munro #l&co #l&co. netflix #l&co spoilers #hc #my post #jealous lockwood

[carebooks]

where is my lockwood & co. crossover with bridgerton in which lockwood & co. somehow time travel to the regency period and now have to deal with the time era’s bullshit whilst also figure out how The Problem is a thing in the early 1800’s when it hadn’t even existed… this is exactly what george wants to investigate. they get dragged to a time where The Problem was active and yet it has never been documented. meanwhile, locklyle were just getting their footing and being semi-more-flirty each other and now they can’t interact in private without a goddamn chaperone. do you think that stops either one of them— fuck no. but it creates so many fun situations. and in total, the trio goes out nightly more or less every time there’s ghost activity.

#i like to think that it took a while for children to develop the seeing ghosts thing #like some of the kids right now in the regency era can see weird stuff or hear weird stuff but are basically told from a young age #to not ‘act out’ or ‘talk like a loony’ etc #and so they had to kind of push it down #till later in the decades talent just increased more until it was just there especially when the problem came a knockin’ #eloise goes insane over lucy. like not only does she look vv similar to her litle sister but she’s COOL #and yes there will be a subtle implied subject that lucy is decended from a bridgerton- most likely franny- but its never like a big thing #its mainly ‘oh fuck one of these arseholes is my ancestor and if they die i may cease to exist. oh well.’ #and then its lockwood ‘OH FUCK ONE OF THESE ARSEHOLES IS LUCE’S ANCESTORS AND IF THEY DIE SHE MAY CEASE TO EXIST’ #so thats why he takes a bigger interest in protecting them more or less; but it’s never gonna be like a HUGE thing its just a thing #who would george get along with #i havent seen bridgerton in a minute #i would write it but i have zero knowledge about regency era stuff #like ill write lockwood & co. in my sleep but i got no clue how the regency era scandal™️ works #do i have to rewatch bridgerton again; im just gonna skip to the s*x scenes we both know this #and the lady danbury scenes too #like thats all i’d end up rewatching #lockwood and lucy #lockwood and co #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #george karim #lockwood & co x bridgerton #hyacinth and george can see ghosts totes but the rest of the bridgertons as well as older teens have pushed the talent down #theyre sensitives and thats it #is that how it works #im making it up as i go #should i make a whole new type 4 that can time travel. is that allowed? can anyone stop me? #should lockwood meet kipps’ ancestor and start the rivalry from decades earlier bc he’s THAT petty

[sabinesybill]

Queen of Hearts

Link in the title 🌙

☀️6.3k

☀️Found family

☀️Hurt/Comfort

☀️Gift giving as a love language

☀️ can be read as platonic but 💅

☀️Holly/Lucy, locklyle, Lucy/Norrie

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #lockwood and co fic #lockwood netflix #holly munro #lucy carlyle #holly munro x lucy carlyle #munlyle #holly x lucy #implied lucy x norrie #lucy carlyle x norrie white #norrie white #anthony lockwood #george karim #mary carlyle #oc: susan carlyle #another of Lucy's sister who needed a name for this fic but she's just briefly mentioned #wlw #sapphic #bi Lucy Carlyle #it's canon #Holly Munro is a lesbian TO ME #i love them to bits #just two girls fighting internalised misogyny and ghosts and trauma

[kestisvrse]

bad for business

pairing ⋆ anthony lockwood x gn!reader. fluff with a bit of angst. fake dating.

synopsis ⋆ the three times you found yourself fake dating anthony lockwood.

warnings ⋆ swearing, reader is implied to be shorter than lockwood, being followed, kissing (written by someone without their first kiss send help). | wc: 1.4k

♫ - bad for business by sabrina carpenter

1. a walk home

“ladies first.” you snort at lockwoods comment as he holds the door for you to exit arif’s, a box of donuts secured in your hands.

“wow what a gentleman.” you joke making lockwood laugh a little as you begin your walk towards home, a comfortable silence falling between you two, a minute or so passes.

“someone’s following us.” lockwood says nonchalantly, you furrow your eyebrows looking at him, “he was standing outside arif’s when we went in, he was staring at you the whole time and now he is getting closer.” lockwood says looking over his shoulder, shuffling slightly closer towards you.

“well what do we do?” you ask slightly panicked.

“hold my hand.”

“i’m sorry?” you say, he failed to answer as he grabs the box of donuts out of your hands, using his free hand to intertwine your fingers.

“just trust me okay? maybe if he thinks we are together he will leave us alone.” lockwood clarified.

“o-okay, i guess” you mutter, a light blush painting your cheeks at the feeling of his thumb lightly rubbing your hand.

you were nearing portland row, you and lockwood standing closer together, you freeze up as he places a kiss on the top of your head to nonchalantly glance behind you two, “i see him, he is walking away. just… keeping holding on until we get home… just incase.” you nod, silently agreeing with him.

he didn’t let go of your hand until he placed the box of donuts on the kitchen table.

2. too close for comfort

lockwood had convinced you, lucy and george to go to this ‘ball’, you honestly didn’t know what to call it. it was a fancy building filled with agents dressed up and the adults that exploit their talents for money, celebrating nothing in particular and somehow, lockwood and co. got invites.

lockwood looked like he was at home, while george uncomfortably tugged at the collar of his button up and wandered off with lucy, leaving you and lockwood, standing in the middle of the ballroom.

“why are we here, lockwood?” you pried.

“why not? every agent in london is here.” he responds.

“that doesn’t mean we have to be.” you shot back, annoyed by a man who pushed past you, causing you to knock shoulders with anthony.

“it’s a good opportunity, to meet new people and get our name out there.”

“with our competition? yeah alright. i need something to drink.” you wandered off.

some time had passed, it included you leaning against the wall observing everyone that passed by, you had found george and lucy at one point where george had gave up and went home while lucy decided to investigate around for god knows what. you decided it was time to find lockwood again.

wandering around aimlessly you spotted him in the sea of tuxes, talking to a blonde girl, in a blue 90s like prom dress, inching closer and closer to lockwood.

you rolled your eyes at the sight, lockwoods charming smile seemingly working again, but it didn’t look like he used it on purpose this time.

“there you are, i’ve been looking for you everywhere!” you smoothly entered the conversation, linking your arm with his and his whole face seemed to light up.

“oh.” the blonde commented, squinting her eyes, “who’s this?”

“i’m-“ he cut you off, taking the lead.

“this is my partner.” lockwood replied, you smiled at the girl as she realized she misread the situation, quickly saying goodbyes and walking off.

“i couldn’t tell if you needed saving or not.” you explained, a hidden apology heard beneath your words just incase he was enjoying the girls company.

“no i did, thank you.” he said, making eye contact, “maybe we should head home now?”

“let’s find lucy first.” you suggested, and he sent you a grin.

that damn grin.

3. distraction

you had warned him.

you had told him there had to be a better way to get information that didn’t involve breaking and entering. but as per usual he used his charisma and webbed you into the whole plan.

and now, you two were running down alleyways, after being caught. ‘i told you so’ repeating over and over again in your head as you focused on running, and of course you reached another problem.

“shit!” you whispered, lockwood dragging you back behind a wall, your only escape had multiple body guards roaming the area.

“how the hell did they even get there.” lockwood said to himself.

“what do we do?? there are two other body guards about to block off the way we came from!” you panted out, catching your breath from running.

“i have a crazy idea.” lockwood made eye contact with you, he seemed nervous as he ran his hand through his hair.

“all your ideas are crazy, anthony.” you countered.

“just listen okay?” he whispers, you slowly nod, “if we can make it seem like, we have no idea what’s going on around us and that we accidentally stumbled up here maybe they won’t think it’s us.” you gave him a blank stare.

“what are you even suggesting right now lockwood?!” you grumbled, faintly you heard footsteps approaching.

“we do not have time for this, do you trust me?”

“do i have a choice?” you quipped, but suddenly the conversation was over as he cupped your cheeks and suddenly his lips were on yours. you froze up, you expected his plan to be anything but this, but then you heard the footsteps turn the corner and you needed to act just like him, quickly kissing back.

his lips were chapped, rough against your soft ones. as you brought your hands up to his face, his hands moved down to your waist, pulling you closer. it felt eager, like you had been waiting to do this forever, and it felt right.

“HEY!” you two snapped apart from the loud yell, breathless as you stare at the taller man infront of you “this is private property, you kids can’t be here.” his tone was threatening, making you tense up.

“we are so sorry sir.” you replied sweetly, “we didn’t know, we will leave right away!” you grab lockwood’s hand and hurried towards the exit before the man could question you anymore.

you held hands all the way home, but didn’t mutter a word to each other.

4. overdue confession

it had been around a week since lockwood had kissed you. you hadn’t spoken. the house having an awkward atmosphere as you avoided lockwood like the plague.

you couldn’t avoid the knock on your door, unfortunately.

“come in.” you called out from your spot on the bed, expecting lucy to walk in but were met with lockwood.

he was wearing his usual suit but he looked disheveled, his tie loose, his hair slightly messy and he looked so tired, even more tired than usual, he was a mess.

“hey.” he spoke just above a whisper, scared any louder you would run away from him again.

“oh. hi.” you sat up in your bed, suddenly looking anywhere but him, fiddling with your hands.

“i want to apologize, i shouldn’t have kissed yo-“ he began.

“we wouldn’t have gotten out of there if you hadn’t, it’s okay.” you stated, sniffling slightly. your bed dipped as he sat down.

“then why won’t you talk to me?” you looked up to his eyes, “please talk to me.” he begged, you looked into each others eyes for a moment.

“i was avoiding you because of the fact that i.. i didn’t want the kiss to end.” you confessed, “i like you, lockwood, and i didn’t want to ruin anything so i thought avoiding you would be better..” you trailed off, the air was tense as he stared at you.

“oh thank god.” he laughed out.

“what?” your anxiety kicked in, as you stared at him.

“i was scared to confess, i’m glad you did first.” your eyebrows furrow at his response, “i really like you, i have since i met you. i didn’t want the kiss to end either.”

your eyes widened slightly, studying his voice for any sound of sarcasm.

“can i kiss you again?” he whispered, scared of your rejection, you just slowly nodded looking down at his lips, he lent in.

his lips weren’t chapped this time, they were soft and you took notice of just how well they fit against yours. this kiss was softer than the first, it washed your anxiety away, and the tense air disappeared. he pulled away and laid his forehead against yours.

“i thought i was being dreadfully obvious about my feelings.”

“you were not.” you laughed at him

“oh no i was, you are just oblivious.” he responded

“shut up.” you said, and he did as his lips met yours yet again.

#lockwood netflix #anthony lockwood imagine #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood #anthony bloody lockwood #lockwood x reader #lockwood and co #x reader #lucy carlyle #george karim #netflix #lockwood and co netflix #fake dating #oblivious idiots #sienna’s fics

[novelizt]

THE CAUTIOUS TALE OF LIVING WITH ONE: ANTHONY LOCKWOOD

GENRE ➺ fluff with angst. strangers to housemates to lovers.

WC ➺ 6.9k

SYNOPSIS ➺ and they were roommates (kind of)

WARNING ➺ brief mention of poisonous candles + food delivery service (if that diverges from canon), and also mentions of skincare (if you're not into that)

DISCLAIMER ➺ fem! reader; fashion designer! reader; and i have magically added another room on the second floor. your room is across from lockwood's; you're welcome. reader is also implied to be short. lockwood calls reader 'love' but they're in denial.

NOTE ➺ is it obvious that i'm in love with him? i am obsessed with lockwood x designer!reader lately. like, imagine lockwood being her muse and arm candy to fashion shows?? him being styled by her before hunting ghosts so he's ready for interviews after?? power couple, i love them. i hope you love them too.

It was one thing having a meet-cute with a pretty boy you met at a corner store, it was another to find out that he was going to be your landlord.

For starters, it wasn't very cute after the whole 'fantasizing over the possibilities' bit.

Sure, Lockwood sometimes leaves his door open; giving you a clear view of him loosening his tie and then shrugging off his shirt, but that image would often be tarnished by George walking out of his own room without trousers on. At that point, all you could think about was seeing two boys—in varying levels of half-nakedness—and how disturbed you are instead of turned on.

When you lounged about while they were on a case, you'd find articles of clothing strewn all over the place. Some of them even corroded by plasma — gross. You had the courtesy of sorting them out and even cleaning up, but you learned to be cautious of their buddy, Skull (who was best friends with Lucy, apparently), and the newspaper clippings that often narrated gruesome details you wished you could unsee.

Lastly, the fact that you lived in the same house but lived in different worlds. You were up during the day while he was up at night. All three members of Lockwood & Co. had to bear with you because your portion of rent was enough to stabilize their financial situation. Occasionally, you wondered if things would be different if you were talented—if you had the ability to go on their excursions with them; but you'd shoot down those thoughts and convince yourself to sleep instead.

The longing to be part of his world only grew stronger the longer you stayed in the room across his. The halls were ornamented with pictures of Lockwood & Co. Usually Lockwood, since he was the spearhead. With very new headline cut out from the gazette, you imagined being part of their close-knit group. From the outside looking in, they were family. Not by blood but by choice. If you were being honest to yourself, you'd admit that you were jealous, but you believed you had no right to be.

You were studying fashion, like you had always dreamed of. You had a cozy little room in a homely house. Your doubtful parents weren't around to poison your passion... but you missed being one part of a whole. You missed having people to rely on; people to gush to when your teacher said something particularly flattering; people to rush home to after a hard day when all you wanted to do was cry. But you settled for the comfortable silence between the four of you on the rare mornings you were all up at the same hour.

That morning, specifically, you kept your head down as you scuttled behind George's chair, trying to seem inconspicuous about the redness under your eyes. About to ask for some tea, you saved your breath when George pointed to the pot; your favorite brew already steaming inside.

"Thanks," you quipped, grateful to simply have to pour and sip to be engulfed by the comforting warmth of your favorite beverage.

"How was your sleep?" Lockwood asked. His voice was accompanied by the flippant noise of a newspaper being turned. That usually meant everyone was in high spirits and looking out for a new article about their great service.

"Good," you replied. "How was your case?"

Lucy glowed above her plate of waffles. "Amazing—"

"Extraordinary," George said, surprisingly more excited then Lucy.

Their enthusiasm wrapped around you and pulled you into their world for a moment. You smiled and sipped your drink. "You two sound happy. What happened?"

Lockwood looked up from his newspaper as George began to recount the tale. "Lucy kept hearing matches being struck, none of us understood why."

Lucy sat up a little straighter. "Then George found an old candle stump that had been left there. He said it smelled weird—"

"And I recognized the smell of green corn," Lockwood chipped in.

George leaned into his seat, flabbergasted at what that had just accomplished. "The bloke realized it was phosgene! How could you even know that?"

"Because I have plenty of books to read, Georgie," Lockwood said, feigning humility. He finally turned his eyes on you, looking like a kid on Christmas eve. "The candles had been infused with a poisonous substance. Whenever they were lit, the smoke would slowly poison the people who had the misfortune of breathing it in. We would have never figured it out if I didn't know that tidbit of information."

"Amazing," you gasped in true wonder.

Their line of work was risky but these three never ceased to surprise you with their brilliant feats, no matter which day of the week it was.

"Amazing, indeed," Lucy agreed.

Seems that Lucy and George were so overjoyed by their tryst that they either didn't notice or didn't mind that Lockwood had gotten a second biscuit from right under their noses. He held a finger to his lips and you mimed that your lips were zipped. He graced you with your favorite smile and you leaned against the counter to keep yourself upright.

"Oh, I feel hungry for jam," George said out of the blue. He turned in his chair and pointed to the shelf above you. "It's all the way up there. Mind getting it for me, dear housemate?"

"I don't mind at all, housemate," you replied with cheer. You turned to see just how far up he placed it, only to pale. He had stored it on the tallest shelf. It was so high up that you felt like the jar was running away from you.

"So that's where you put it!" Lucy shrieked, outraged. "It was no wonder I couldn't find it! You evil, evil man, George Karim."

"It was for the good of the house," George said discourteously.

"The good of the house my arse—"

Lockwood called your name abruptly. He said your name so carefully, you had a hunch that he was reading your mind. Your eyes snapped to him to find that he was already behind you. Your back virtually pressed to his chest; and man, was he warm. "Let me," he said. It might have just been you, but it sounded like he had spoken in cursive. You were in your head when he placed a gentle hand on your hip. His touch light and now seared into your memory.

"You cried. Did anyone hurt you?" he whispered. It was a struggle to keep yourself still.

"No. Just a rough day," you admitted, hoping your misery didn't blend into your tone.

"Oh," he rasped. "I hope you feel better now, love."

You tried to keep your voice stable. "I do. Thanks."

As quick as he had come, he was gone; delivering the jar to the thinking cloth and resuming his seat. You wonder how could he be so casual when your insides had forgotten how to function. After a moment of (hopefully) covert gaping, you willed your breathing to even and gulped down the rest of your tea.

—

No one knew how it happened. One day, Lockwood's dresser was bee-free; the next, it wasn't.

Apparently, Lockwood had left his window open all night and the bees got excited over the lemongrass essential oil in his drawer.

"Why do you even have lemongrass essential oil in your room?" George asked, ticked off.

Lockwood looked affronted by the question. "Do none of you have methods to relax yourselves?"

Regardless of his answer, you would all have to wait 'til morning to call a bee-keeper to safely take the bees out. For now, Lockwood had been buzzed out of his own room.

Lucy hobbled up to her room and locked the door when George brought up the question about where Lockwood would stay for the night. With a glance, George understood that Lockwood would not go into his room even if he was invited. George retired to his own quarters.

That left you and Lockwood to idle by the stairwell. You didn't know air could feel so thick 'til then.

"Well," Lockwood started, suddenly interested in the carpet. "I might just stay downstairs. He couches are lengthy enough."

The image of the boss of the house, your landlord and friend, retiring pitifully to the aged and sunken sofas was just sad. Pathetic, really.

You shook your head. "Stay in my room. I have a project I'm working on anyway. I won't be sleeping much."

"I couldn't possibly—"

You cut his niceties short. "You have a case to tackle tomorrow, if I recall correctly, and it's reportedly a type two. It won't sit right with me if you don't get ample rest for it. Lucy and George depend on you."

"I guess so," he conceded, pulling at the collar of his shirt.

The short journey to your room was the most shy you'd ever seen Lockwood. He was hunched into himself when he passed your door, welcomed into your corner of the world.

He had only seen glimpses of your abode. That was when you left your door ajar. Seeing it in full felt like a warm hug. The room felt so... you; from the disarray of your weighed blanket to the swaths of fabric laid across your worktable. Despite never having been in here after you moved in, he felt right at home. (Which he was, but it felt different somehow. He couldn't explain it even if you asked him.) The color returned to his face, accompanied by a sheepish smile.

"Make yourself comfortable," you said, pointing to your bed.

You gave him a feeble smile. He returned it with doubled enthusiasm before you dropped into your favorite chair and pulled what looked like the beginnings of a fabulous coat to your sewing machine.

He had settled into your sheets with ease, burying himself in your blanket that immediately drowned him with the smell of you. If he had to die, he'd like to die like this. But also, he'd like not to die because watching you from where he was felt so nice. It felt normal, and the easiness of all of this made him too giddy to rest.

The lights were dimmed and he found that you had a specific light angled at your worktable so you wouldn't disturb him.

He hid a smile under your blanket.

Even when drowse began to creep up on him, he peeled his eyes open to watch your hands work the fabric with the gentleness one would have with a baby. Your love in your work was evident in the way your eyes didn't stray and the way you continued despite the little pricks you'd get while pinning the fabric down.

Lockwood found ghost-hunting cool. He would spend all day watching a fencing match, but he could spend his whole life watching you and your love for your craft. That was the first time he had seen you work and he wished he had been more curious to see it sooner.

He fell asleep to the image of you taking a break and blessing him with a tender smile. He wasn't sure if that part was a dream.

—

George had made the earliest call to have the bees dealt with. Lockwood was relieved and disappointed at the same time. He was glad to have his room back but he'd also like to have an excuse to stay in yours. The rest of the house assumed that he was moody all morning because of the hive, so you took it upon yourself to lighten his mood.

In the middle of breakfast, you had excused yourself. He stared at your back, wondering what could possibly be so important that you skip out on the rare occasion of cake-for-breakfast. His queries came to a halt when you returned with an article of clothing folded between your arms.

It was the same color of the fabric he'd seen you putting together the last night, so it must have been what you were working on. You had finished it quickly. Judging by the smile on your face, you were happy about it, too.

"Ta-da," you sang, unraveling the piece and brandishing it in all its glory.

The outside was slate black serge fabric and the inside was lined with maroon silk or velvet. Whatever it was, it made the ensemble look especially lavish.

The surprise didn't end there. You swayed the lush coat in Lockwood's direction, smile growing as his shock did.

"For me?"

"For you," you confirm.

He takes the coat into his hands, marveling at the feel of it and reeling at the fact that he had watched you make this.

You all watched as a smile formed on his face. His eyes bright when they landed on you. "You're magic, you know that?"

Your cheeks warmed. You offered a modest laugh. "I saw yours covered in plasma burns. I thought you'd prefer a new one."

"I'll treasure this forever," the way he handled it with careful mindfulness proved it. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me. It's the least I can do."

For a moment, you two smile at each other; feeling the words that neither of you were confident to say yet. It was lovely, and something you would definitely be remembering while you screamed into your pillow and kicked your feet at the end of the day.

George's voice brought you back to reality. "Hey, where's our coats?"

Lucy nodded in the midst of chomping down on a biscuit.

"In progress, don't worry," you assured smilingly.

Watching all three of his favorite people smile at each other made Lockwood falter. Well, George was trying to hide his behind his morning paper but they all knew he was smiling. Lockwood couldn't help his smile from growing, too.

—

Lockwood did his best to keep the coat pristine, he really did. He was conflicted between wearing it out or keeping it stored in his armoire. If he wore it, it would get ruined by the ghosts he was inevitably going to face. If he didn't, you would think he didn't appreciate it. There was no lesser evil, both would be equally anguishing.

Inevitably, you asked if he'd tried the coat yet, he had to wear it and show you how much he appreciated it. Later that day, he was harrowed by a single hole that singed straight through the tail of it.

"It isn't that bad, really," Lucy tried to say placatingly. Lockwood simply sunk into himself more.

"It's my favorite coat," he agonized.

"Roommate number three can always make you a new one," George said reasonably. "I mean, she does it for a living."

"Yeah!" Lucy said, trying to bring Lockwood's soul back. "I mean, look at that!"

When he looked up, he didn't know what was worse. The hole in his favorite coat or the boy you had given a wrapped box to. At his front door even.

You waved the boy away with a smile fit for a queen then turned to Lockwood & Co. the moment they entered your periphery. Your smile was warmer for them, but Lockwood was too wrapped up to notice.

He brushed passed you with an uncharacteristically calculated "hello."

"He's in a sour mood," Lucy explained, surrendering her rapier to the umbrella stand.

"He ruined his favorite coat," George said in his horrible impression of Lockwood.

You chuckled and glanced to the stairwell, just missing Lockwood's coat tail before he disappeared into the second floor.

—

"I have something to discuss with you," was Lockwood's way of announcing himself into your room.

You spun in your chair, giving him your undivided attention. It was a miracle that he didn't buckle under your gaze. "Which is?"

"I..." He hesitated for a moment but steeled himself as he recalled the boy and the way you smiled at him. "You didn't tell me you invite your customers into our house."

"Customer?" You tilt your head. He could almost believe you were innocent.

"Yes. That boy today—"

Realization shined in your eyes. Your light laugh cutting through his sermon. "That boy wasn't a customer, Lockwood."

"Oh, really?" He quized. He placed his fists on his hips, looking more like a disgruntled mother than an intimidating agent. "Then why did he have a box, with a ribbon?"

You stood, placing your steady hands on his shoulders. He tried not to hold his breath but he had audibly gasped. If you heard it, you showed no signs of it. "Anthony Lockwood, I would tell you if I was doing business in your house—"

"*Our* house. You live here, too."

"Fine," you relented. "our house, but that boy was my cousin. He asked me if the gift he got for his girlfriend was nice enough. He needed a woman's opinion and he got it."

The information turned in his mind. When it had clicked, his expression faltered. "Oh."

"Yes," you chuckled. "Oh."

"I'm sorry."

"No need to be," you reassured. "I wouldn't play with your trust like that. Besides, I wouldn't dare do business here. I have my own boutique now."

"You do?" You were surprised that he looked more excited than you.

"I do," you confirmed with a smile. "So, you won't have to put up with me for much longer."

"What?" His smile dropped. It made your smile falter.

The tides had turned. He placed his hands on your shoulders and looked at you with the intensity he had reserved for the down-turned photographs in the house. His eyes begged for an answer and you gave it to him: "I'm... not going to be staying here much longer."

"Why?" He was demanding instead of asking.

You assumed it was because your monthly pay was important for him to keep Lockwood & Co. in business. You gave him a humble smile but he was hurt by it. "Don't worry, I'll still provide my share of rent so you can keep Portland Row afloat. I can help more when my business takes off. This place is worth saving. I'll just be living somewhere else."

His grip on your shoulders tightened. "But why?"

The laugh you gave him was humorless. "What do you mean 'why'? I'm not really an agent, Lockwood. I'm a tailor. You don't need me here."

"Yes, I do," he confessed. He realized what he had said, processed your shining eyes, and froze. "I mean— we all need you. The coat you made me is one of a kind."

You deflated. "Ah... Well, I can be Lockwood & Co.'s personal tailor . . . from a distance."

No, he wanted to scream, but he had run his mouth when he hadn't intended to. He didn't trust himself to speak again, opting to nod instead. You took it as an acceptance and stuck your breaking heart to it.

"From a distance..." he whispered. He didn't want to believe it. Envisioning your room emtpy was like living in a world you didn't exist in. It was a nightmare.

—

"I hear rent is costly in that part of town, perhaps you should stay here."

Lockwood was as subtle as a gun. He dropped that statement on you as you folded up your first box. You blinked at him until you registerered what he said.

"I can handle it."

"No. I insist you stay here," he continued. "As a friend—" he tried not to wince. "—it would weigh on my conscience to let a friend spend so much more on rent when it's perfectly comfortable here, in Portland Row — no where else."

He heard George mutter, "very suave, Lockwood," behind him. Lockwood chose to ignore it.

Your brows furrowed. To his relief, you took your hands away from the box. To his horror you took an armful of clothes out of your cabinet.

"Where is this coming from, Lockwood?"

"Nowhere!"

You didn't seem convinced. His anxiety only built as you packed more clothes into the box.

"You're doing this because you're worried?" you asked like you had an inkling of why he was really badgering you. He hoped you didn't.

It's not exactly the tune he was playing but he goes along with it. "Exactly. I don't know what kind of person you'd be rooming with, you know. They could be dangerous."

You contemplated it. You didn't say a thing for a long while and Lockwood was on the verge of breaking down when you had spun to face him, finally abandoning the box.

"Come with me then."

His blood stopped running for a second. "Come again?"

You rolled your eyes and Lockwood knew he's in way too deep because he thought you look pretty doing something as simple as that.

"Stay the night with me one time, so you know I'm safe." You stared at him, waiting for an answer.

He didn't know what to think. When you say it like that, he felt like he wouldn't be able to talk you out of it. You leaving felt more real then, and he was terrified of it.

"Oh . . . Okay."

"Okay," you repeated, giving him a smile.

He tried to return it but it lacked conviction. He couldn't feel his face when dread was nagging at him.

—

Your not-yet new place wasn't Portland Row. Perhaps that was enough reason to dislike it, or maybe it was the fact that this place was taking you away from home.

No, it was definitively he guy who emerged from the third door in the flat. The other two doors were your soon-to-be room and the shared bathroom.

Lockwood shared a bathroom with George, so, it was serious when he got the feeling that sharing a bathroom with Guy was worse.

Guy introduced himself as Leo. You greeted him with a pleasant smile but all Lockwood could think of was that Leo wasn't a name, it was a star sign.

"You'll be staying the night then?" Leo inquired. He wasn't doing anything malicious yet Lockwood felt the urge to size him up. Lockwood was tall on his own, he was intimidating when he wanted to be. Leo wasn't sure what to do with him standing behind you like an oversized guard dog.

"Yeah, just to get the feel of things," you replied. You had given Lockwood mercy when you unlocked the door and pushed it open.

He caught a glimpse of... absolutely nothing. There was a mattress on the floor but Leo didn't even have the courtesy of dressing it up with a bedspread. He wished you turned around and booked it then, but you simply gave a gentle smile and accepted it.

"Kay..." Leo said slowly. "I have an outing with friends so you have the whole place to yourself. Just remember to lock the front door properly. It doesn't click into place sometimes."

"Got it, thanks."

Leo gave you a copy of the keys and went on his merry way, actively avoiding Lockwood's pointed stare on the way out.

Being alone with Lockwood had thawed you. You laxed your shoulders and dropped your make-believe smile before grumbling at the sorry excuse of the bed you had for the night.

"Not what I expected it to be... I thought we could make it a sleepover or something but that is just sad."

"Very," Lockwood agreed. He closed the door to your room for the time being, saving both of you the trouble of agonizing over it. "Shall we head home then?"

"We're staying the night," you reminded him, pressing your finger into his chest with every punctuated word. "Besides... maybe this place has something Portland Row doesn't."

"Which is?"

"I don't know yet. I said 'maybe'."

The corner of his lip quirked up.

He watched as you rounded to the kitchen. It was connected to the receiving room, separated by a thin island rowed with barstools. He didn't have to peek to know the fridge was empty, he had your deep-set frown to tell him.

With a smile, he offered: "Shall I phone our favorite place?"

You sighed in delight, giving him that smile that made him melt. "Yes, please."

—

The restaurant you favored was always on time, but the delivery man had gone to Portland Row by mistake (since it was the usual delivery when Anthony Lockwood called in.) He had to go back and ask for the address.

The sun was gone by the time food arrived to your not-yet flat.

"Thanks, mate. Get home safe," Lockwood bade the delivery boy before closing the door.

"Finally," you cheered, setting out the table. Thankfully, Leo had the mind to keep plates, cups, and cutlery on hand. "I'm starving."

"You and me both," he grinned.

Together, you divided the dishes evently (Lockwood sliding two more dumplings onto your plate, simply because he knew you liked them) and filled the cups with tea. The light above the island was pitiful but it framed you in a nice, yellow glow.

His cheeks were full and you were stuffing your face, but the setting was so domestic he couldn't help but indulge himself. If only you two were at home, in Portland Row; that would have made this perfect.

After you had filled your bellies and washed down your food, Lockwood cleaned the table while you got started on the dishes.

"I... kind of miss home," you admitted.

Even when your backs were facing each other, Lockwood knew you were frowning. "We can go home now, if you want."

Silence.

He hoped you would agree, relent, and stay with him at Portland Row, but his hopes died when you let out a sigh. He chanced a glance at you and found you shaking your head. "Just for the night," you said, more so to convince yourself.

His heart deflated but Lockwood would follow you to the ends of the earth, so he just agreed and stayed silent.

Once he had finished cleaning up his side of the kitchen, he dropped the cloth beside the sink and, for whatever reason, trapped you between his arms while he reached over to wash his hands.

You had forgotten how to breath. Rightfully so. You were transported back to the morning you felt his warmth on your back. He had reached for something because you couldn't, he had noticed your red eyes when no one else did.

You were glad he couldn't see your face. You felt heat behind your eyes and a tightness in your throat. It occured to you that if you moved in with Leo, there would be no more of Lockwood's quiet moments of attention.

Getting away from him was the point of you moving away, but with that reality being so close, it hit you.

You would miss him terribly, you would miss the Lockwood & Co. family terribly. The question of 'was it worth the pain of staying?' haunted you at night. You would die for them, but it hurt so bad being the odd-man out for the rest of your life. And maybe you were overestimating how much they needed you around because they didn't need you at all, did they?

Your mind went blank when Lockwood backed away. The tears fell but you kept your head bowed to hide them.

There was an air of suffocating peace when Lockwood said, "I'll go look for a bedsheet."

"Okay," you uttered.

As he walked away, his footsteps rang out in your ears; Footsteps you've grown accustomed to because he would sneak into the library at ungodly hours, thinking everyone was asleep. Not you, at least.

He wasn't doing anything special but it quieted the pandemonium behind your eyes.

—

You had spent an extra few minutes in the restroom before you got around to washing your face. When you had arrived to the room, Lockwood had used a throw blanket from the receiving room couch as a bedsheet. He laid on his back, one arm on his stomach and the other splayed out to your side of the bed. His coat was shrugged off his shoulder and sprawled over his torso.

He raised his head when you entered. "Hi, love."

"Hello," you greeted with a small smile. You had to bend your knees to sit at the end of the bed.

You were reaching for your skincare before Lockwood sat up and seized your wrist. He was always gentle with you. That didn't stop you from burning it into your memory. You looked at him with a question in your eyes.

He held up two thin packages to answer you. "Face masks. You said we could have a sleepover situation, didn't you?"

You suppressed a laugh as you examined the packaging. He got collagen masks, from your favorite brand. Did he know that? You couldn't be sure. "Where did you get these?"

"From my bag?"

"I meant where you bought them," you nipped. "and since when were you into stuff like this?"

"I got them from store you told me about," he answered, leaning back on his elbows. "and I've been a regular customer since you told me my whiteheads could rival a strawberry's. It hurt my feelings."

"I'm sorry, you big baby," you snort, reaching out to pinch his cheek. He doesn't even fight it. "but it was true! And your skin looks so much better now. What else have you been using?"

He laid back fully, propping his arms behind his head. "I got that matcha cleanser you kept raving about, a PH-balanced toner... Oh! And that sunscreen you recommended me that one time."

You nodded, impressed by his dedication. "You look so much prettier now thanks to me."

"I know," he smiled. "Now are we going to do the masks or am I do I have to jump out this window and wrestle a ghost for some entertainment?"

You chuckle, patting his chest to pacify him. "We're doing the masks."

After a bit of trying to get the masks on right, failing, laughing at each other, then helping each other get them on right; you both laid back. Lockwood pillowed your head with his arm and blanketed your tummy with his coat.

The masks had to be left on for 20 minutes and what better way to pass the time than talk each other through existential crisis?

"Don't be so hard on yourself. Lockwood & Co. has done so much for people. You got commendation from Penelope Fittes! That's worth something, you know."

"I know that. I just can't help but feel like... I haven't done enough," the admission is like a weight off his shoulders. "People don't really crowd to be part of Lockwood & Co."

You turned your head, looking quite freaky with the paste-white mask. Then he sees your faultless eyes through the gaps and he falls all over again. "Well, you have so much life ahead of you to do more. The agency's impact on the world can't be ignored though, Lockwood. You've serviced a plethora of people from all walks of life. And for what it's worth, I want to be part of Lockwood & Co."

A disbelieving expression crossed his face. "Really now?"

You nodded then returned your eyes to the ceiling. You felt too vulnerable to admit it to his face. "I'm jealous that Lucy and George are fully capable agents. I love them, don't get me wrong, but I feel so inferior. I don't even have a choice to be part of that world."

"What are you talking about? You are part of that world. You're part of our world." He nudged your side. "You are part of Lockwood & Co., love. You always have been, ever since you stepped through the door."

"Yeah? Well... not in the way they are. They have talent. I can just wish I could help," you sighed.

He took a moment to think then he turned his head to you. "How about this; you can help us do research. I know it's not as snazzy as swinging a rapier but it's a pivotal part of our operations."

Your brows furrowed. "Really? You'd let me do that?"

"I would have invited sooner you if I knew you were eager to help," he replied. You weren't looking at his face but you knew he was smiling. "Only part-time though. You have a talent for what you do now."

"Thank you," you said, but he got the feeling that you didn't believe it.

"I mean it," he insisted. He pinched the coat that was draped over you. "This coat you made me; people will be fighting for a design just like it within the first year of opening your boutique. Mark my words."

"I won't give it to them," you replied. "this coat is one of a kind."

"How generous of you, but it would be a bad business decision to deprive the fine people of a coat as refined as this one."

"No," you chuckle. "I mean, this coat is really one of a kind." You flipped the collar of the coat over. Lockwood hadn't seen it before, but be saw it then. "See?" And see he did.

His initials and surname were embroidered on so carefully that it took the breath from his lungs. That wasn't all. Beside his name was a cheeky embroidered imitation of his favorite giraffe mobile and a little image of his rapier.

"It was a pain to do so I won't be doing it for anyone else," you told him, like you hadn't just put the stars in his sky. "Your coat is my magnum opus."

"Oh," he whispered, running his fingers over the threads. "Now I feel bad. Plasma burned part of it."

"I'll make you a new one in a year, maybe." You pinch his side. "Keep it in one piece until then, okay?"

"Okay..."

"And don't tell people about the embroidery," you said sternly. "I'm not made for it, and my fingers still hurt from trying."

"I promise," he chuckled. He lied. He would have to boast about it to Lucy and George. Maybe even Kipps, if he pissed him off enough.

"We still have about ten minutes before we take the masks off. Tell me a story," you requested.

"Bossy," he smirked.

"Story, please," you rectified.

He conceded. He thought about which story to tell you before settling with the original Beauty and the Beast. You scooted closer with every word he said.

"Beast is much nicer in this version," you said, stifling a yawn behind your palm. Lockwood's arm was going numb but he didn't have to heart to move when you were already so comfortable.

"Asking her to marry him every night when she's trapped in his castle is nice?"

"Consent is key," you retort. Your voice slurred off at the end. When your breathing evened, he knew you had fallen asleep.

He tried not to be endeared, but you had cuddled into his side. Your fingers found his shirt and clutched it like it was your lifeline. The best he could do was smile to keep the urge to scream in.

When the time for your masks were up, he peeled away your mask and then his, tossing them aside then readjusted the coat to cover you fully.

He did his best to refrain himself, but he was never good at that when it came to you. He dipped his head to allow himself a kiss to the crown of yours.

—

You two (read: he bent to your will) decided to walk home.

The morning was sunny and the breeze was friendly, you couldn't resist a little fresh air and the perfect excuse to hold hands with Lockwood. In your defense, he was the one who offered. "I steer, you relax," is what he said.

So, you let your mind wander as he steered you in the right direction. He gave your hand little tug when you two were about to turn a corner, tapped on your knuckles when waiting to cross the street, and, sometimes, surprising you with a cheeky pinch to your side when you weren't paying attention. There were so many smiles exchanged, you weren't sure who was enjoying the walk more.

Disappointment began to swim in your belly as Arif's came into view. Just a bit more and you'd have to let go.

Again, Lockwood demonstrated his scary ability to know what you were thinking. Instead of walking passed Arif's, he walked you right into it. He held the door for you and flourished his hand quite dramatically, too. "Ladies first."

"What a gentleman," you chuckled.

You wore matching smiles as the bell jingled above your heads and the aroma of fresh dough invaded your senses.

Lockwood reluctantly pulled away. "Go find a seat. I'll order."

You walked about, catching sight of a few couples who were out to enjoy the beautiful morning too, before settling down in a seat in the corner. It was a table for two and the wooden seats reminded you of home.

Lockwood didn't take too long himself. He found your table and set the goodies down. Your favorite doughnuts were a staple, but he ordered a slice of rainbow cake, too.

You had a bite of doughnut before asking about it.

"For you," he said, pushing the cake in your direction. "Consider it a parting gift."

Parting was easier said than done. In lieu of last night's events, you couldn't imagine leaving Portland Row for the lifeless flat. The only reason you had been able to sleep was because Lockwood was there—and he was Lockwood, no explanation needed. You'd rather feel like the odd one out and bask in the occasional warmth of Anthony Lockwood than be a lonely tenant in Leo's flat.

With a smile, you pushed the plate away. "No, thank you."

His lips twitched, holding back the beginning of a smile. "Oh, come on. Take it."

You shook your head, a smile forming on your face. "You have it. Congratulations on hiring the best part-time researcher in London."

He discarded decorum by propping his elbows on the table. "Will this part-time researcher stay in Portland Row?"

"Maybe," you quipped.

"You torture me," he groaned, setting his head on the table.

"As if 'in Portland Row — no where else' is subtle."

"I tried to be," he defended indignantly.

"I could forget about it, if..."

He raises his head, anticipation written on his face. "If...?"

"If you get me that coffee you promised me when we met. You haven't fulfilled that promise yet, and it's been a year."

He placed a hand on his heart, mouth falling open as he feigned being shot. "How cruel of me. Will you find it in your heart to forgive me?"

"Coffee first," you tutted.

"Coffee first," he promised, recovered from the make-believe bullet.

For the final stretch, Lockwood dragged his feet and on purpose. He pretended not to know which house was his (even if it was infamously the last one on the street,) and even stopped and stared for a few infuriating moments to bide his time.

"That isn't our door, love."

"Your name plaque is right there, Anthony, you can't fool me this time."

"Really? Perhaps we should visit the opthalmologist then, I can't read it. The doctor's is that way."

"Lockwood..."

"Okay, fine." He conceded, letting you pull him along.

You got as far as the first step before he had tugged you back, hard. The momentum had sent you into his chest. "Oh, for goodness sake—"

"You're cute when you're mad," he smiled. His gaze dipped down to your lips, successfully making your breath hitch. "Consent is key, right?" You're thouroughly convinced that he picked that moment to swipe his tongue across his bottom lip and rile you up. "May I?"

It felt like you were using the last of your air and patience as you whispered, "You may."

Patience was thrown to the wind. He dipped you—like in those corny movies you swore you hate—and kissed you like his life depended on it.

It wasn't a life changing kiss. It was how much you'd been anticipating it that made it feel like a life changing kiss. He smiled against your lips and you couldn't help but laugh into his. You could hear the applause in your head, resounding and drumming the beat of your heart. There was hollering, too. It kind of sounded like—

You pulled away reluctantly. You had to place your hand between you because Lockwood had chased your lips.

Still dipped in Lockwood's hold, you recognized Lucy and George even if they were flipped in your vision and still in their pajamas. Their applause died down slowly.

"Uh-oh," George said seriously. "we've been caught, Luce."

"Oh, my, my, my," she played along, smile turning the right way as Lockwood pulled you up and oriented you properly.

His smile was bright, so you hadn't a clue whether he'd done it on purpose. You had a hunch though. You were just about ready to reprimand him, but he'd stolen the words from your lips by stealing another cheeky kiss.

There was no use holding back your smile when you felt him smiling against you again. You would have do deal with shennanigans just like this as a, now, permanent resident of 35 Portland Row.

Caution: Anthony Lockwood's magnetic field is too strong, and he clearly had a new addiction to your lips.

NOTE ➺ something has possessed me. i have never written this much back-to-back. if you're in the middle of a lockwood brain rot too, i've posted a few other fics you might like.

please don't be shy to reblog or share your thoughts in the comments! the world needs a little more anthony lockwood.

(my favorite fic writer also noticed me so i'm in my giggly girl era eeeee—)

⌠ @novelizt 2023 ⌡

#— ❨ 🌺 ❩ 𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐙𝐈𝐄'𝐒 𝐔𝐓𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐀 ₊˚.༄ #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood fanfiction #anthony lockwood fluff #anthony lockwood angst #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood and co fanfiction

[maraschinomerry]

You Are My Sunshine

Pairings: George Karim x gn!reader

Summary: sunshine x grumpy, based off this tiktok audio (the sunshine character needs comfort and surprises everyone when they go to the grump, who is equally surprised when they find themself hugging back)

Content: not-quite-enemies to friends, heavily implied previous non-con from another character and a non-graphic second attempt, emotional hurt/comfort

A/N: cheesiest title ever but the second I heard that tiktok audio I knew I wanted to write this for George, it reminded me so much of the way he seemed with Lucy until they bonded over pizza (but maybe a little played up to fully fit the grump persona)

Word count: 3.3k

Taglist: @neewtmas @marinalor (taglist is open if anyone wants to be added!)

George knew you were going to be infuriating from the moment you set foot on the doorstep of 35 Portland Row.

He opened the door after the shrill bell echoed down the hall, to be met by your beaming face. Had he not been taken aback by how cute you were, he'd have closed it straight away.

"Hello!" you greeted him cheerily. "I'm here about the job - I'm (name), what's your name?"

Good grief, you were lively. One of the only perks of agent work was that everyone else was as sharp-tongued and hardened as he was, yet here you were with all the enthusiasm and energy of a puppy in a park. Still, no point being rude until you'd proven how unprepared you were. Then he could be smug about it too. "George."

"Nice to meet you, George. May I come in?" You'd noted his surliness, but it didn't phase you. Having tried everywhere else, you really needed this interview to go well. Normally by now you'd be thoroughly fed up with the rejection, it was bad enough the first time but the fourth was just upsetting, but you forced yourself to remain positive for a good first impression.

George led you silently into a cosy living room, where a boy and girl were chatting away in hushed voices on one of the sofas.

"Another candidate," George muttered as he sank into an armchair and buried his head in a comic. The other boy rose from the sofa and offered his hand. You shook it gratefully. "Anthony Lockwood," he introduced himself before gesturing to the girl, who waved briefly. "Lucy Carlyle, and I hope George had the good sense to give you his name."

You nodded and introduced yourself in return. They seemed an odd bunch - younger than you'd expected, with no sign of adult supervision, and simultaneously welcoming and closed off. Especially George, who hadn't so much as looked at you since you'd entered the room.

"I'm afraid I don't have any references to show, I had to leave my previous agency rather quickly after an incident, but I have a CV and my grade certificates to look over if you'd like," you explained, holding out a plain white folder to Lockwood. He rifled through it, noting aloud that you'd just finished at Rotwell, and you could have sworn George rolled his eyes over the top of his comic.

Lockwood laid the folder on the table. "Interesting stuff, but if you don't mind I'd like to give you a couple of tests." Hold on. The advert didn't say anything about that. Lucy must have sensed your alarm and been through something similar, as she offered you a reassuring smile. You wondered how long she'd been with the agency, how recently she'd done these 'tests'.

The tests came in the form of objects, covered by tea towels and unveiled one by one with dramatic flair. You were particularly intrigued by a jar of swampy green liquid containing a skull. Excitement crept into your voice when you realised it was a ghost jar, something you'd longed to see for years with no success, but it abruptly jolted to shock when the skull developed an almost-face and shot you a chilling grin. You struggled to regain your composure. George had lowered his comic now, watching you disdainfully, so you relaxed out of spite and resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow in challenge. No, it wasn't necessary, you were in a good mood and being polite. You needed the job.

The rest of the tests were a breeze. The taller boy, Lockwood, certainly seemed pleased with your results. As he opened his mouth to congratulate you, however, George finally spoke.

"Lockwood. A word."

The rest of you looked at him, and he glowered back. Lucy stood, smiling at you again. "Why don't I take you through to the kitchen, (name), since George appears to have neglected to offer you any tea." You followed her out of the room, the atmosphere behind you souring by the second.

As soon as you were out of earshot, George rounded on his friend. "You're not seriously thinking of hiring them." It was a statement, not a question.

"Why not? They did well, don't you think?"

"Sure, but try and tell me you're not going to get sick to death of them spewing sunshine everywhere they go within the first two weeks." Lockwood chuckled, mentally filing 'spewing sunshine' away with 'braying gallery for bellends' on the list of his favourite George-isms. George misinterpreted the laughter as denial, and threw up his hands in defeat. "Fine, go ahead, but I'm calling it now. Two. Weeks."

—

You settled into Lockwood & Co. remarkably quickly, flying through the first two weeks. Lucy had bonded with you immediately, your cheerful demeanour bringing back her softer side, and even Lockwood found himself warming to you. The only person who steadfastly kept you at arms length was George. He was civil enough, having gradually come to terms with the fact that you were probably there to stay, but he never initiated conversations and ended the ones you started as soon as possible. Even in group moments round the dining table, he seemed immune where your presence began to make the others more animated. He had your back on cases as much as the other two, you couldn't deny that, but you were still wary around him. As the weeks went on and he was forced to acknowledge you more, he took to calling you 'sunshine' - never in a fun, playful way though, always "hold on, sunshine" when he was shooting down your optimism or "come on, sunshine" when you were forced to pair up and he automatically took the lead. If it had been anyone else calling you that it would have been sweet, but from him it left a bitter taste in your mouth.

—

"I think George hates me," you announced.

It was well over a month, nearly two in fact, into your employment, and you were sprawled on Lucy's floor as she lay above you on the bed painting her nails. She leaned over at your words, hair falling all around and casting a web of shadows across her face.

"What makes you say that?" she frowned.

"Oh, come off it, Luce, it's obvious. He still treats me like an interloper, barely registers my existence and when he does he never treats me like a real person, just calls me 'sunshine' like it's some horrible thing. If anything it's him that's the problem for being such a…" you trailed off as you struggled to think of the right analogy. "A storm cloud!"

Lucy giggled. "It's the hair, isn't it?" You laughed too, picturing his black curls as a dark cloud ready to burst.

The bedframe creaked as Lucy got up, moving to join you on the floor. Her nails, half finished, had been abandoned. "He doesn't hate you though, he's just not a people person at the best of times and I think he's got so used to being on the same page as me and Lockwood that not being able to figure you out has blown his little puzzle-loving mind. Not that that's any excuse."

You nodded. It made sense, but still didn't make you feel any better.

"Do you want me to talk to him?" she asked. You appreciated the offer, but it was better if you did it yourself. More mature, for one, and a chance to prove you weren't as one-dimensional as he must think.

—

As you expected, you found George in the library. He was curled up in his favourite armchair, one book open in his lap and another on the table beside him alongside a mug of tea. The gentle glow of the lamplight washed him in golden hues, emphasising his curls and the smattering of freckles across his cheeks. He glanced up behind his glasses at the creak of the door to see you lingering on the threshold, shifting uncomfortably. Although you were fully dressed, your anxious demeanour and lack of pretense made you seem more exposed than he'd seen you before.

"Mind if I join you?"

"Not exactly like I can stop you."

"Well no, but I still wanted to be decent and ask. I'm not a dick."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

You sighed. You couldn't resist having a jab at him, fed up with the way he'd been treating you, but getting him on the offensive wasn't particularly conducive to making him like you.

"It means you've been resentful or outright horrible to me since the second you set eyes on me and I don't understand what I could possibly have done to make you hate me so much."

George frowned, putting the book down and giving you his full attention for perhaps the first time ever. "I don't hate you." Lucy had said as much too, but that didn't mean you believed him. "And it's not anything you've done. I just…" His fingers played absent-mindedly with a small tear in the fabric of the armchair as he tried to find the words. You waited patiently. "I don't get how you can be in a job like this and still be so naive."

Something in you twitched, and you felt your blood start to boil. "I am not naive."

"Oh really?" His voice grew sharper. "So it's not naive to live a life in which any one of us could die or get permanently ghost-locked any given night, and still act like everything's rosy and we'll be saved through the power of friendship and happy thoughts? How can you think like that?"

"Because I have to!" The words exploded out of you, startling yourself almost as much as they did George, whose eyes widened as his mouth closed. You tried desperately to claw the words, the feelings, back in, but it was too late. Resigned, you sank into the other armchair, George's eyes on you the whole time.

"I've always been quite cheerful," you began, voice barely above a whisper like the outburst had drained all your energy. "When I was going through my training at Rotwell, it was my optimism that kept the rest of the team sane, because we all knew that if even I gave up then there was no hope for any of us. But my team leader, Miles, he thought I was naive too. Innocent. He… he took advantage." Your breath hitched, and you fought the urge to cry. Across from you, George unknowingly shifted forward in his chair, closing the gap between you a little. "After a while I could barely be in the same building as him without being afraid of what he was going to try. So I left. That's how I ended up here."

"I still don't understand, though," George said quietly. "How do you go through that and come out more upbeat than ever?"

You gave him a wobbly smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. "Because if I don't, that means he wins. And I refuse to let him take that away from me."

George was silent, but he nodded a little in understanding. Naivety he couldn't abide, doing it to be annoying was, well, annoying, but spiteful positivity he couldn't help but respect. Plus, it occurred to him that this was possibly the first time you'd opened up to anyone about your experience, to him of all people despite how he'd treated you. He watched you intently, grappling with the fact that you had suddenly become a much more complex person than he'd first believed.

You squirmed under George's intense gaze. It felt good to get that awful memory off your chest, but weird that of the whole agency it had been him you'd told first. He was utterly unreadable in that moment, face unexpectedly soft and yet with a hardness behind his eyes that you couldn't be sure wasn't still directed at you. You cleared your throat nervously, wiping a stray tear away with the side of your hand.

"Anyway, um, I should probably get to bed. Prepare for the case tomorrow. Good night, George." You got up hastily, moving to the door.

"Good night, sunshine." You froze. There was no malice in the word at all this time. When you turned in shock, you saw he had picked up his book again. It almost covered the lower half of his face, but just over the top of it you could see the corners of his lips turned up in a smile as he watched you leave.

—

The case was going well, you thought. It was an incredibly old house, all wood panelling and decorative columns, huge oil paintings and plush velvet upholstery. Lockwood and Lucy had ventured up the grand spiral staircase, leaving you alone downstairs with George, and after last night you felt a little more confident being around him, though he was still difficult to read at times.

"How about I head through to the kitchen and you handle the lounge?" he suggested. That was new; normally it would be an instruction with no room for input. You nodded, taking the door on your left.

The room was large but stuffy, a thick layer of dust coating what would once have been an opulent social area. Faded leaf print paper covered the top half of the walls, separated from the ornate oak panels below by a picture rail. At the far end of the room, the empty fireplace was surrounded by marble and a metal grate. The navy blue sofas were almost grey now, having not been covered to defend against the cruel onslaught of time, and likewise for the long oval coffee table in the centre. You scanned the room with your torch, looking for anything that could be a source. A rustle came from the hallway behind you; you were surprised George had finished so quickly.

"Fancy seeing you here, sweetheart."

The deep voice behind you sent a shiver down your spine. You turned on legs of jelly, one hand drifting to your rapier as you willed your expression to remain as neutral as possible.

"Miles. What are you doing here?"

The older boy stepped into the room with a lecherous grin. He looked exactly as he did two months ago. Just seeing him made your stomach turn. "My team is on a case up the road, and when I heard your little agency," he said the words with a sneer, "was in town, I felt it would be rude not to pay you a visit. You left me without saying goodbye, after all."

Everything you'd been through with him flashed across your mind, and you struggled to keep your voice from shaking. You glanced at where he blocked the doorway, your only exit. "You didn't deserve a goodbye," you said as confidently as you could.

"Oh come on now, baby, after everything I did for you?" He was moving closer, and you found yourself gripping your rapier tighter as you stumbled away.

"Don't come any closer, Miles, or I swear-"

He laughed, a wicked sound that rattled from his chest. He didn't stop moving. "Or what?" You felt the backs of your knees collide with the table, the impact buckling them and tipping you backwards until your shoulder blades collided painfully with the wood and a cloud of dust billowed around you. Still Miles advanced, pinning you down with a hand across your throat. You scrabbled feebly at his sides. He pressed down harder, spots dancing across your eyes as you gasped for air that wouldn't come. His other hand snaked down your body, unaffected by the way you clawed at it. "Look at you, silly little thing. You couldn't do anything then, what's going to stop me now?"

"I am," came a familiar voice from the doorway.

The hand left your throat and breath rushed back into your lungs. You sat up, coughing. As the room swam back into focus, you were met by George, backing Miles into the wall with his rapier brandished and a dark look on his face.

Despite being at the end of a very sharp blade, Miles still managed to look smug. "You their new boyfriend? Good luck with that."

"No," George almost snarled. "I'm their friend, which is far more than you can say. You're nothing more than a trespasser."

By this point Lockwood and Lucy had heard the kerfuffle and made their way downstairs, having located the source in record time; as soon as they saw George with his rapier drawn, they burst into the room with their own in hand. Wordlessly, Lucy positioned herself a little further back, her body between you and Miles, while Lockwood went shoulder to shoulder with George. A flash of recognition crossed his face (he did know the higher-ups from most agencies in the area, after all) and his jaw set.

"You need to leave," he stated dryly. "This isn't your case, and you aren't welcome here." While George was more than competent with a rapier, Lockwood's reputation preceded him, and his added confidence and unwavering blade made Miles gulp. He moved cautiously to the door, George on his heels to make sure he left. The older boy shot you one final glance, a vicious wink, before he disappeared. You collapsed against the table with relief.

Immediately, Lucy and Lockwood sheathed their rapiers. "Are you okay?" they asked in near unison. You weren't sure you could give an honest answer: blood was thundering in your ears, your lungs were still frantically trying to replace the air that had been pushed out, your knees and shoulders hurt and your neck was definitely going to bruise. Your vision began to blur with tears, but through them you registered the vibrant orange of George's outfit as he returned. The dam of emotions broke. You surged forward. Lucy opened her arms for a hug. Lockwood held out a hand for you to settle into his shoulder. George dropped his arms to his side in statuesque shock as you barrelled into him.

The others snapped their attention to George, and he blinked back in surprise. He glanced down to where your hair merged into his shirt, face buried in his chest as sobs wracked your body, arms wrapped around his waist under his open plaid shirt. He threw Lucy a panicked look - she was your best friend, shouldn't you have gone to her for comfort? Lucy simply nodded pointedly to you. Slowly, slowly, George brought his arms up and placed them delicately around your injured shoulders. The second you felt the contact, you melted further into him and he tightened the embrace. Lockwood and Lucy continued to stare, dumbfounded, and George felt something blossom in his chest. He was secretly honoured that you'd gone to him - maybe it was just because you'd told him exactly what had happened between you and Miles, but he hadn't expected that to be enough to change your frustration overnight. Whatever the reason, it had certainly changed how he felt about you. In that moment, as he brought a hand up to stroke your hair, he knew that he'd do anything it took to protect you, to prove to you that he was glad to have you on the team, to work to be worthy of being the person you trusted with all your emotions and secrets the way you had with this. And he was never, ever, going to let anyone make you feel the way Miles had, vulnerable and afraid, or the way he had, like you had to justify the way you chose to be brave and be yourself. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head as he reached around his back to tangle his fingers in yours.

"Come on sunshine, let's get you home."

He didn't let you go the entire way back to Portland Row.

#lockwood & co x reader #george karim x reader #gn!reader #george karim #sunshine x grumpy #lockwood & co #lockwood & co fanfic

[ajbullet]

Started watching the X Files a couple weeks ago and immediately it reminded me of Lockwood and Co. Anyone who has seen both please tell me I’m not crazy by seeing the similarities between Scully/Lucy and Mulder/Lockwood.

Like Scully is the serious, no-nonsense one who is careful and precise and grounds Mulder when his crazy theories lead them both into dangerous situations. Yet she’s willing to follow him anywhere and even though they don’t always agree (in fact they very rarely do, hence the premise of the show and their partnership) but she backs him up and believes in him even to always be there for him.

Mulder is always jumping into danger without blinking and putting his life at risk in order to find out the truth and get to the bottom of each case. He is often reckless and careless with his own life, but would do anything in this world to protect Scully and defend her, riddling himself with guilt and anger when it’s his fault she’s targeted or hurt.

Their partnership is so unique in that they are complete opposites, yet they work so well together by balancing each other out. They have so much respect for each other and care about each other so deeply (platonically at first but eventually romantically). As with Lockwood and Co, I originally watched the show and loved it for the romance aspect between the two main characters but soon came to enjoy it even without looking at it through a romantic angle. It’s truly about two people who come to know each other so well and love each other that they become basically two half’s of a whole. I hate the phrase “they complete each other” because it implies that they aren’t whole on their own (which all of these characters are - Lockwood, Lucy, Scully, and Mulder). It’s more like they elevate each other and make each other a better person. The person they want to be and who they can be. There comes a point where they become so intertwined in each other’s lives that though they can survive on their own, there will always be a missing piece where the other was.

I think this applies to both of the pairings (Locklyle/Sculder) and the dynamic along with the personalities are very similar. That doesn’t even begin to compare the plots of the two shows, which share the overall idea of the fight against the paranormal/supernatural and the affects that constant fight has on the characters, along with their relationships with everyone else.

…anyway, that’s been on my mind for a while since I started the X Files (I’m on season 5) and while I impatiently wait for the renewal announcement of Lockwood and Co season 2. (Which is going to happen. It’s going to happen. It’s going to. Eventually)

#anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #locklyle #lockwood and co #lockwood & co #lockwood netflix #lockwood&co #lockwood and lucy #x files #dana scully #agent mulder #fox mulder #mulder and scully #agent scully #the x files

[alphacrone]

Angst Week Day 1 - @lco-angst-week

missing scenes | AU | canon divergent 

X-posted on AO3

No book spoilers.

TW: discussions of death, injury, gun violence, blood, implied suicidal ideation

-

“I seriously hope you don’t have a soulmate,” George told Lockwood one evening after a particularly grueling job. “Because you are going to get them killed.” 

Lucy shot George a nasty look, but Lockwood laughed it off. “I’m not that reckless, George.” 

“Sure,” Lucy said bitterly. “And the sky’s not blue.” 

Lockwood rolled his eyes and grinned. He was certain he didn’t have a soulmate, else he’d be dead by now. The universe was set on taking away everyone he’d ever loved; his soulmate would’ve been on that list. 

“I hope Kipps is your soulmate,” George told him. “Then at least there’d be a silver lining when you managed to off yourself.” 

That made Lockwood laugh even harder. Lucy scowled and went oddly silent. He hoped she was just angry about the job and not jealous over Kipps. Lockwood couldn’t handle it if she wanted to be that bastard’s soulmate. 

Experts claimed soulmates were an unfortunate byproduct of The Problem. Whatever had twisted and torn the fabric of space and time between the world of the living and the other side had also played a cruel trick on humanity, linking souls at random. Most of the population never knew who their soulmates were as there wasn’t a reliable way of testing it, not without risking death. George had spoken of cases of near death experiences bringing soulmates together, but those were few and far between. Soulmates generally only found each other in romances and tragedies, and Lockwood did not want to live in either. 

“You should be more careful,” Lucy told him as they returned home, kicking off their shoes in the hallway and tossing their rapiers into the umbrella stand. “For yourself, if not for your soulmate.” 

“You and George worry too much,” he said. “I think I’ve been just the right level of reckless since the Bickerstaff ordeal.” 

Lucy raised an eyebrow. “You just jumped from the top story of a house to, and I quote, ‘defeat a Visitor with the element of surprise.’” 

“And it worked!” Granted, he could have just thrown his rapier or silver net down, or let Lucy and George handle it from the ground, but where was the fun in that? 

With a sigh, Lucy turned to head up the stairs. “George is right,” she told him as she left. “Your poor soulmate…” 

That evening, in the comfort of his favorite armchair in the library, Lockwood pondered what Lucy and George had said. Was he really putting some poor person’s life at stake when he took risks in the field? It seemed unfair of the universe to link the lives of two strangers, especially when at least one of them was an agent. 

Sometimes Lockwood wondered if his parents had been soulmates. Maybe if they hadn’t been, one of them might have survived. Nothing about this soulmate business seemed good or right or fair. What was the point of entwining souls like this, only causing misery and strife? In old stories, the term soulmate was something beautiful, souls that were meant to exist together, souls that were meant to love each other. Now they were a worry at the back of your mind, a fear that kept children up at night. Love was never part of the equation. 

It was a fear that kept him at night too, sometimes. Not for himself, but for Lucy and George. What if their soulmates were agents as well, or relicmen or nightwatch, doomed to the same dangers that came with their professions? Would either of them simply die one night without a word? It was too painful a thought to linger on too long, so Lockwood let himself live in a world without soulmates, where a person’s death was their own and no one else’s.

In the end, however, he would be forced to understand that this was not the truth of the world. 

-

Lockwood had been shot. 

Of all the ways he’d imagined his own death, Lockwood had never actually thought a gun would be part of the equation. Ghosts had no need for firearms and relicmen preferred weaponry that could double as tools of the trade. Even in the moments he’d considered the Golden Blade might be his end, Lockwood had assumed it would be with that stupid gilded rapier of his during some heroic duel to the death. 

The fall was more in line with how he’d imagined it would all end. The crash landing in the bowels of the catacombs was a nice touch, very on brand. But this did not kill him, so Lockwood trudged forward, following the screams of his friends. His bullet wound screamed in agony, but he wouldn’t let himself succumb to that until he knew Lucy and George were okay. 

His timing was impeccable. Lockwood took a leaf from Lucy’s book and chucked his rapier at Bickerstaff’s spirit, giving the others time to conceal his source again. They were both whole, both up and moving and alive. The moment the danger had passed, Lockwood fell to his knees. He could go now. He could rest. 

But when he said something to this effect, propped up between his friends, Lucy made a distressed noise and held him closer, supporting his abdomen with her hand. It was warm through the thin, bloody fabric of his shirt. 

“We won’t let that happen, will we George?” Lucy asked. Lockwood could barely grasp her words, as distracting as it was to have her hand on his stomach. 

“Never,” George said, and the intensity in his voice startled Lockwood. It had been a long time since anyone had cared if he lived or died, and now he had two of them. 

Unfortunately for them, Lockwood could feel himself fading. He’d never come this close to death, despite his best efforts, but he knew it was fast approaching. He hoped George and Lucy would be okay when he was gone; at least they had each other. 

Suddenly, the left side of Lockwood’s body went cold, and distantly he realized Lucy had pulled away. He looked over, vision blurring, and saw she’d slumped to her hands and knees, body trembling. 

“Luce?” He whispered. She didn’t respond. 

“Lucy?” George spoke more loudly, more urgently. “Luce, what’s wrong?” 

“I…” Lucy’s face had drained of color and her elbows buckled, sending her face-forward into the stone floor. “I think I’m dying.” 

“What? Were you ghost touched?” George surged forward, jostling Lockwood in a way that made his bullet wound blaze in agony. He and Lucy groaned out in unison and for a moment Lockwood’s vision went white. He slumped against George, unable to hold himself upright anymore. 

“Oh, shit,” George whispered. “Where’s Kipps. Kipps?!”

Suddenly Lockwood found himself lying on the dusty stone floor of the catacombs. George scrambled off, shouting for Kipps, shouting something about the keys to a pair of handcuffs, and Lockwood turned his head to get a better look at Lucy. 

Her eyes met his, distant and unfocused. Her breathing was labored, chest rising and falling in a painful staccato. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Lockwood understood. 

“What’s wrong with her?” He heard Kipps ask. “Ghost touch?” 

“No,” George replied. “Worse. They’re soulmates.” 

“Shit.” 

Shit was right. All this time, Lockwood’s soulmate had been some poor, faceless sod somewhere in the world, collateral damage in Lockwood’s personal quest to join his family sooner rather than later. But now it was Lucy, and he realized that every stupid, reckless thing he’d ever done had put her in the line of fire. It was inexcusable. It was monstrous. 

Tears welled in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he croaked out. “Luce, I’m so sorry.” 

Someone was lifting him into their arms—Kipps, he thought distantly, since he could see George pulling Lucy to her feet—but Lockwood didn’t care. They could throw his body in the Thames for all he cared. He just needed Lucy to be okay. 

“We’re not tossing you in the Thames, Tony,” Kipps said, and Lockwood realized he’d spoken aloud. “That would only kill Lucy faster.” 

Kipps had a good point. Lockwood supposed a broken clock was still right twice a day. 

“You’re awfully rude for someone who needs my help,” Kipps said lightly. Lockwood couldn’t tell where they were going, but it felt like up. Surely he wasn’t already dead. Heaven didn’t exist and if it did, he certainly wouldn’t be let in. 

“Shut up,” George said and Lockwood realized he must have said that aloud as well. “No one’s dying tonight.” 

“Except Joplin,” Lucy wheezed. 

“Ah, well, yes,” George agreed. “Except Joplin.” 

Lockwood laughed as his vision went dark. 

-

The trip out of the catacombs and to the hospital was a blur. DEPRAC had arrived quickly and taken care of Winkman and his men. Lockwood knew he and Lucy and Ned had all been loaded into ambulances, though there wasn’t much anyone could do for Lucy in her state. George and Kipps were waylaid by Barnes, but George threw such a fit that he was allowed to ride in the ambulance as well. The pain and fear in his face chilled Lockwood to the bone, so he closed his eyes and let the darkness overtake him again. 

When he next came to, Lockwood was in a small room divided by a curtain. Someone was in the other bed, but he couldn’t see them, could only hear the beep of their heart-rate monitor. It beeped in tandem with Lockwood’s, slow and steady. 

Before long, nurses came in and took his vitals. They gave him water when he asked and explained that he was a very lucky boy, that he’d flatlined during surgery and had to be resuscitated. Fear and guilt pooled in his gut, and Lockwood tried to ask after Lucy, but it came out a jumbled croak of words. 

“Your friend should be back soon,” one of the nurses told him. “The one with glasses. He’s been by your side all day.” 

George was here. George would know where Lucy was—how Lucy was—and would be able to tell him everything he needed to know without sugarcoating it. Lockwood thanked the nurses and they left again, promising to bring him some juice. 

They were right; George arrived not long after, sipping on a Styrofoam cup of tea. He looked haggard and half-dead himself, eyes bloodshot and clothes still covered in blood and gravedirt. He gave Lockwood a small smile when their eyes met, then immediately scowled. 

“I can’t believe you got shot,” George said in lieu of a greeting. “Of all the stupid, reckless things you do on a daily basis, I never expected you to get shot.” He took his seat next to Lockwood’s bed, setting his tea aside. 

“I promise I wasn’t trying to get shot,” Lockwood said. Speaking was getting easier, but his chest still burned something fierce where the bullet had entered. “Lucy, is she-?”

George’s expression darkened. “You know you died on the operating table, right?” 

Lockwood’s heart skipped a beat. He had died. He had died, for a minute. That meant his soulmate-

Ignoring the pain in his chest and the tug of his IV, Lockwood shot up into a sitting position. He gripped his sheets, ready to throw them aside. “Is she- did she- she can’t have-” Everything went numb and cold. Panic fizzled through his veins. Lucy couldn’t be…

“I’ve never watched anyone die before,” George said quietly, looking down at his knees. “She was just…gone.”

The room spun. Lockwood struggled to breath. His hands shook. Lucy had…she had…

“They resuscitated her,” George said quickly, sensing Lockwood’s panic. “She’s alive, Lockwood. They resuscitated her and you and everyone is alive.”

Lockwood fell back against his pillow. The relief was overwhelming. 

“She’s alive,” a voice said from the other side of the curtain. “And can hear everything you’re saying.” 

George grinned and stood, moving quickly to pull back the curtain to reveal Lucy in the other bed. She was still sickly pale and hooked up to as many wires and machines as Lockwood was, but she was here and awake and alive. Lockwood let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. 

“Luce,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

Lucy smirked. “Yes, Lockwood, I’m sure you were just begging to be shot.” Her tone was joking, but they’d been in a situation a little too similar to that not long ago at Combe Carey. “You couldn’t have known.” 

He couldn’t have, it was true, and he certainly hadn’t begged the Golden Blade to kill him, but there had been so many times before then where he’d put Lucy’s life in jeopardy. He should have cared more before when his soulmate was just a shadow of an idea, but the selfish part of him knew it only mattered now because it was Lucy. 

“Killing you is unforgivable,” he said softly. “You should be angry with me.” 

“Oh, trust me, I’m fuming,” Lucy said. “As soon as we’re out of here, we will be having words. But not because you nearly killed me, Lockwood. Because you nearly killed you—again.” 

George moved his chair to sit between their beds, smiling softly. “We’ll be getting a lot more jobs after this,” he said, taking off his glasses. He rubbed the lenses with the hem of his shirt, but it was so dirty it just made a bigger mess. “Better jobs. More dangerous, high-profile jobs. We’ll need to discuss your habit of getting into near death situations.” 

“Never again,” Lockwood said sincerely, struggling to push himself into a seated position. “I won’t endanger Lucy like that again. Not now that I know.” 

Lucy sighed and gave him a sad smile. “I wish you’d take your own life more seriously.” 

“You know what?” George said. “I’ll take it. I don’t care why he keeps himself alive, just that he does.” 

He laughed and so did Lockwood, but Lucy stayed silent, shaking her head. He knew she was mad at him, but Lockwood found her anger and her concern wonderful. It was a warmth he hadn’t known in years, one that sank into his bones and made his heart feel light. If staying alive meant Lucy was alive, that was enough to keep himself safe. 

But if staying alive meant Lucy was happy, then he supposed that was more than enough to truly live. 

#lockwood and co angst week #lockwood & co. #anna writes things #ok to rb

[inthenameofallthingsholy]

𝚂𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝙼𝚎 𝚁𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜

Hi i’m Speedy, pronouns She/Her, and I write blurbs and one shots. Send me requests for fanfic and I’ll write away! My fandoms and my criteria for each fandom such as ships below the cut. This criteria is just because if you have a ship I’m not good at or don’t like, you deserve a better fic than what I produce

Marvel- Mostly movies but I can do some shows like Daredevil and Agents of shield (if AOS no DaisyxPhill or Simmons or Fitz x someone other than each other). There are a ton of ships for this fandom, so just ask and i’ll tell you wether i ship or not, no judgement given to you :)

DCAU- Justice League and Justice League unlimited only please, and I specialize in Wonderbat but I can do other ships like Hawklantern or Green Canary.

Star Wars- I mostly do LeiaxHan but I will write others like Anidala, Damerey, etc. I just don’t do Reylo.

Star Trek- I mostly do Next Gen, Voyager, and Enterprise.

Hamilton- mostly specialize in Lams, Leggy, or Hamliza, but I can dabble into other ships

SandersSides: I’m not good at writing Roman and Virgil with people other than each other but Logan, Patton, Janus, and Remus I can mix and match the coupling.

Glee: So many people change partners in this show I can pretty much mix and match any too characters (except Kurt and Blaine i’m not good at writing them w/other people)

She-Ra: The canon couples or the implied canon couples (Catradora, Glimbow, Scorfuma, etc)

Owl House: Raeda, Huntlow, Lumity. That is my entire range, it’s embarrassing Ik. I can dabble in side character ships though such as VineyxEmira

HP Marauders: Wolfstar, Jily, or DorcasxMarlene. I don’t do Jegulus or Marlily, i’m sorry.

HP Golden Trio Era: Anything except pedophilia, that is how low the bar is lol.

Amphibia: Sashanne, Marcanne, and everything in between

Stranger Things: Mileven, I can do Byler even though I think Will deserves better, Mucas, Jancy, Stancy, Ronance, Steddie, DustinxSuzie, Jopper, and EddiexChrissy

Lockwood and Co: Lockwood and Lucy yk

Bridgerton: mostly x readers, but also Kanthony

Helluva Boss: M&M and Stolitz

Suits: I do Harvey x Donna and Mike x Rachel.

The Rookie: I do Chenford

Chuck: Chuck x Sarah, Morgan x Alex

I probably forgot some so if there is a fandom you’d like to ask me about, go ahead!

#Marvel #Daredevil #agents of s.h.i.e.l.d. #DCAU #Wonderbat #Star Wars #leia x han #damerey #Anidala #Star trek #star trek tng #star trek voyager #star trek enterprise #Hamilton #Hamilton lams #LafayettexPeggy #Hamliza #sandersides #prinxiety #logan x remus #logan x patton #patton x logan #patton x janus #Glee #klaine #she-ra #catradora #glimbow #the owl house #lockwood and co

[silverspectre]

the ghosts of a scream || locklyle

👻 pairing: anthony lockwood x lucy carlyle, eventual implied holly munro x lucy carlyle

👻 genre: angst, post-series au

👻 words: 1.2k

👻 tags: ANGST like goddamn this hurts a lot, mentions of alcohol & purposeful intoxication, talks of trauma, implied depression, pretty graphic meltdowns i am Sorry, ~metaphors~

👻 what to expect: “It was the bitter aftertaste of truth that always stung him in the end.”

👻 a/n: so i Actually Exist! this was written actual months ago (see: may) and as my summer courses have ended, i’m posting this! special thanks to @toishi for beta-reading this!! i hope you guys enjoy :>

👻 inspired by: my love, i still by i’ll ; a few years later by block b ; stay here by gaho

"You'll stay with me?" "Always. No matter what it is, my heart will always choose you, Luce."

It had been years. Lucy could no longer hear ghosts, and nor did she want to. Her head was sick and the voices kept echoing in her ears - a reminder of the suffering, the pain, the resentment. She and Lockwood no longer had things in common besides the trauma. The relationship grew tiring, like a repeated day of chores. Regardless, even if she couldn't see ghosts, her ghosts of the past haunted her in every waking moment.

Lockwood wasn't doing any better. She knew that much from George, who seemed to be the somewhat most sane out of the original Lockwood & Co. trio. Holly was thriving, Kipps was alright. How Lucy envied Holly. There was no hate toward Holly Munro; no, no, no, rather, hopeless longing replaced that anger. If only Lucy was perfect like Holly....

"You're sure you'll be alright without me?" "I'll be fine, don't worry about me." Lockwood had restrained himself from calling her 'baby'. If he was honest, Lockwood still loved Lucy. it was a plain fact; a parasite plaguing the back of his mind. He knew she was the one for him, but he had to respect her decision.

It was nights like these that he drank. The alcohol was his poison, and he'd hope to make it his cause of death. He couldn't go on without her, it hurt too much. These thoughts weighed his heart like the weight of the world on Atlas's shoulders. His heart was so, so weak.

Where had he gone wrong? What had he done? He was so, so sure Lucy had been his. He would always be hers. She'd left him once before, and the months proceeding were hell. At least he'd gotten an excuse to see her then. Now, there was none. Memories haunted him worse than any Type 3, and as much as he drank, he could not forget.

He couldn't forget the way she left, the way he let her, or the way he'd cried for the first time in a long, long time, slouched against the kitchen cabinets. The way he completely broke down, knees cuddled to his chest and head bowed down. The way his hands shook and the tears he tried to wipe away only kept pouring down his face. The way he blamed himself, yelled, screamed and almost punched a wall. No one was there for him now.

Because he was stupid. He just lied, brushed her off like dust. Lucy was more than that - but he still lied to her, pretended to be fine for her sake. But he knew - he could never brush it off - the fact that he'd always love her, even if the slippery words sugarcoated in strawberry syrup told him he didn't. It was the bitter aftertaste of truth that always stung him in the end. How could he have let this happen?

"Come off it Lucy, you know I'd die for you." Somehow, Lucy found herself knocking on Holly Munro's door. Somehow. Holly lived alone, being single. Holly was always there for Lucy; she'd know what to do.

"Lucy! What a pleasant surprise." Holly was, as always, dressed casually yet somehow managing to make it look gorgeous. A cherry red apron was tied around her waist.

"Is this a bad time?" Lucy asked.

"Of course not! I'm just baking. The cookies are almost done. Why don't you step inside?"

Upon doing so, the scent of said cookies greeted her, warm and inviting. "So, what brings you here?" Holly asked, untying her apron and hanging it on a hook. She gestured for Lucy to sit on the couch, which Lucy did. "Have you been alright?"

"I want to move on over Lockwood."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Is that so?"

"Just... I feel like moping about it weighs me down. I want... I want to feel happy again."

Holly sat down next to Lucy. "That's understandable. How do you want to go about doing that?"

"That's the thing. I dunno. Everything feels.... pointless. I want to date more, but I don't know many people - and besides, I'm afraid it won't be the same as before."

Holly nodded, listening patiently. You could really tell she was listening, making proper eye contact and following everything Lucy said. That was the thing about Holly: she was so caring, thoughtful, and patient. She never made it feel like you were bothering her.

Ding. Her oven timer sounded.

"Where d'you think we'll be a few years from now?" "Together. Happy." The pain was always immense. It twisted and turned, coiling itself around Lockwood's heart or even himself - it was too hard to tell. It suffocated him, made it impossible to breathe. The pain was a snake, constricting around his heart until the feeling was gone but still ever-present, until sadness was the only thing Lockwood knew, and tears were the only thing he could produce. A crying Lockwood was far from a pretty sight.

He wanted to scream, but his throat always seemed too dry. He wanted to go numb, feel nothing, but his eyes always seemed too wet, his heart's bleeding incessant. He drank, but the alcohol could not cure the wound inside him. It closed him up for a night, but the morning after was always shittier than the night previous. It was a failed strategy, but it was a routine, and a strategy, to the very least. Something he could do, and pretend it worked.

"I want to live my entire life with you."

"Is that so? I want to live the entire afterlife with you." The more they spent time together, the more Lucy fell for Holly. The more dates she'd set up that felt entirely meaningless. With Holly, she needn't worry. Everything drifted away when it was only Lucy and Holly. She was always so considerate and caring, and her laugh sent butterflies rushing to the pit of Lucy's stomach. Lucy hadn't felt this way in years. Holly Munro was perfect, but not the jealousy-invoking kind of perfect. She was the kind of perfect that made you want to kiss her.

Months passed with failed date after failed date. Holly was ever-patient, but Lucy new she couldn't wait. She'd confess, she could totally do it! Well... What if...? Holly wouldn't... But how would...?

"Penny for your thoughts? You've been staring at a wall for 5 minutes, Lucy."

"Why do you love me, Lockwood?" "There isn't a reason not to." Lucy and Holly Munro were dating. Lockwood couldn't remember exactly how he found out, but he did. They looked so happy together, just as he and Lucy had years back. Maybe they were happier. After all those years, Lucy had been the better one out of the relationship. Lockwood felt like he did nothing in that time after the breakup, wasting it, even though the initial hurt and pain had never numbed truly. He felt worthless. Like he could do nothing. Everyone around him was happy, so why couldn't he be like them? What had he been doing wrong? Tears ran dry but his heart cried blood and liquid pain that could only be described as a mixture of regret and agony. He screamed. The walls echoed, then everything fell silent. Obsolete of sound, as if it was trying to erase his feelings. Devoid of anything, but he could still feel the pain. His hands trembled, shook, and he grasped one hand with the other but the shaking was ceaseless and he could only drape a shaky arm over his eyes. He couldn't bare see the light, shining and blinding him, obliterating his senses. When would he be okay?

He screamed louder than the blinding light.

A dark, dark silence.

#lockwood & co #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #lockwood and co #holly munro #locklyle #lucewood #munlyle #holly munro x lucy carlyle #lockwood x lucy #fanfic #drabble #angst #fluff #l&co #lockwood #fanfictionm #*silverspectre #lockwood fanfic

[team-free-will-you-idjits-67]

Regarding Dean

Description: Dean starts losing his mind. Literally. All his memories, people’s names and even himself start slipping away. You and Sam fight to get him back with the help of Rowena. 

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Rowena Macleod, Reader

Relationship: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: A bit angsty (Maybe), FLUFF, implied smut at the very end (a little) 

Word Count: 2487

A/N: This is for @luci-in-trenchcoats 10k challenge! We had to write a fic based off an episode and I chose episode 12.11 Regarding Dean. 

A/N2: Again, thank you to my twin, the lovely @justawaywardwinchester for beta-ing this for me! 

Tag List

Masterlist

You sat at the motel table, head in your hands as Dean walked around the room trying to name objects. Sam was following closely behind, sighing and scribbling on a sticky note pad every time Dean named something wrong. 

You were sick to your stomach and your heart was breaking while you were watching the man you loved slip away. You only knew that it was going to get worse.

A knock on the door broke you from your troubled thoughts. You got up, watching the boys as you opened the door revealing Rowena on the other side, “Hello boys, Y/N.” You nodded towards her as she entered your room.

Dean looked at her quizzically, “Who’s she?”

She looked between you and Sam, “Looks like the spell is progressing, I see.”

You and Sam looked at each other, focusing back on the witch as Dean approached her. He smiled, tugging at a strand of her hair, “Her hair. It’s so bouncy!”

Rowena smiled, “Why, thank you!” She turned towards you and Sam, “Do we have to fix him?”

Sam cocked his head to the side “Rowena,” his tone dark with warning. You in turn stared daggers into her wretched soul for even lightly joking. Of course Dean needed to be fixed.

She sighed, turning her attention back towards Dean as she grabbed his hand, checking him over. “Those glyphs you found, are an archaic form of Celtic magic.” She continued on, but your attention was not focused on what she was saying.

You were focused on Dean.

You could see his light and mind diminishing, quickly. You were hunters. You knew that this life didn’t end pretty, but you never thought Dean’s would end this way. A literal vegetable.

Rowena and Sam walked to the other side of the motel room to talk while you sat with Dean on the bed watching Scooby Doo. You couldn’t help but smile at the innocence this dreadful curse placed on him. He beamed at Scooby, laughing at the ridiculous things the talking dog and his gang did.

Your mind wandered, wondering what would become of things if Dean couldn't be saved. How would you and Sam cope without the eldest Winchester? Sure, Dean may be an arrogant ass sometimes, but he was your family. You both needed him as much as he needed you guys.

You knew you wouldn’t be able to cope. His death, especially like this, would kill you.

In that instant, you regretted never being open with Dean about how you felt. It’s like all that usual rom com shit that old bitties love. You were pining after the man that you worked with, but never did anything about it. You were too scared to ruin your friendship with him. You’d rather have Dean as a friend than not have him at all.

Sam took Dean into the bathroom to talk alone, leaving you with Rowena. You stared at the TV, Scooby Doo still playing, when Rowena broke your attention from the cartoon. “Oh dear, Y/N.”

“What the hell do you want Rowena,” you words dripping with venom.

She chuckled, “No need to be nasty, Y/N. I just feel sorry for you.”

You tore your eyes from the screen, hateful disdain emanating towards the witch, “You feel sorry, for me?”

She nodded, crossing her hands delicately in front of her, “It’s hard to watch the man you love fade away.”

You stared at her, dumbfounded, “How-,” you were cut off by Sam leaving the bathroom.

Rowena quickly bounded towards Sam, “How is he?”

He shook his head, “Oh, like you care.” He sat on the end of the bed with you, “You know, I’ve seen my brother die, but watching him not become him? This might actually be worse.”

Tears started to form in your eyes as you listened to them. This definitely was worse than just watching Dean die. You rubbed your mouth, trying to push down your feelings.

Rowena spoke low, “We need to find that grimoire.”

You scoffed with Sam, “Of course. That’s your angle.” He ran his hand through his hair, “A powerful spell book shows up and all of a sudden, you’re here to help?”

You chimed in, “Altruism isn’t your style, Rowena.”

She looked between the both of you, “True. It never hurts to have a Winchester, or Winchester adjacent, owe you one though.”

You got up off the bed, walking towards your weapons bag. You grabbed your gun, checking to make sure it was loaded with Witch Killing Bullets as Sam got up, “Gideon Lockwood’s address was in his accountant’s files. If it’s there, we’ll find it.”

Rowena bounced slightly in place, “Well, of course you’ll need me there to read the spell.”

You cocked your gun and looked at Sam, “No, you’re staying with Dean.”

Sam looked at Rowena, “Someone needs to stay here with him, and I don’t trust you with us.”

Rowena scoffed, “Well, obviously. But the grimoire is written in ancient druid, how do you expect to find the right spell without me there?”

You walked over to Sam, handing him his loaded gun, “You said a few were still alive right?”

Rowena looked between the two of you and rolled her eyes, “You really expect them to read the spell for you? You just killed their brother, they would rather use your skin as an outfit.”

You and Sam smiled, holding up your guns, “They can try.”

---

You slid into the passenger seat of the impala, as Sam started it outside of the accountant’s office. Worry started to eat away at your insides.

What if it’s too late?

What if you can’t save Dean?

You looked over at Sam, white knuckled grip on the steering wheel as he stared forward. “Sam?” He didn’t look towards you and kept quiet. Tears started to prick at your eyes again as you whispered, “What if we can’t save him?”

Sam grunted in response, “We will save him.”

“But-.”

He turned towards you, seething, “We will save him.”

You nodded, staring forward as you drove towards the Lockwood’s house.

---

Sam ambushed the guard outside, “Who’s inside?”

The guard reluctantly told the two of you the lockwoods were indeed inside, before Sam put him down. You both quietly walked into the house as he called Rowena.

“You’re in?” The shock in her voice annoyed you slightly.

Sam shushed Rowena, “Yeah, we’re in.” He swallowed thickly, “As soon as I get the translation, you cast the spell.”

You both walked through the house, looking for the Lockwoods. Finally approaching a room with the door slightly ajar, soft humming coming from the other side of it. Sam pushed the door open, Gideon lay dead on a table in the middle of the room, stones covering his eyes, as his sister, Katrina, continued pinning the butterfly she had in her hand.

Sam stepped forward, “These guns are full of Witch Killing Bullets. So, why don’t you go to your grimoire and tell us how to break the memory spell?”

She snickered, finally looking towards you both, “I told him you would come.” She finally pinned the butterfly into her display case, “Boyd wanted to go after you, but I said ‘why bother? You’re hunters. You’ll hunt us down, right at our doorstep.’”

Sam stepped forward, “I’m not asking you again,” as Boyd came up from behind you two, yelling, throwing you two into a bookshelf as Katrina started chanting a spell over her display case. The noise that was produced from her spell was high pitched and harrowing, bursting your ear drums. Blood poured out of your ears as you tried protecting them with your hands.

It was no use.The pain you were in, physically and mentally, was enough to cause you to pass out.

You woke up to crashing on the floor below you. You looked around the room, Boyd was standing over Sam with a knife. Sam was trying to talk to him, reason with him, but he wasn’t having it.

The Lockwoods were hell bent on bringing their brother back.

You struggled against the magic they used against you, keeping you in place, hoping you could break free and save Sam when you heard a gunshot ring downstairs. Boyd panicked for his sister as Sam took the opportunity to charge him. Boyd dropped the knife and pushed Sam off with magic. He started to run out the door when Sam grabbed the blade and charged after him again. Another burst of magic knocked the blade from Sam’s hand as Boyd escaped from the room.

You felt the magical binds fall off of you as Boyd’s priorities ran elsewhere. You shot up, running after him with Sam. As you ran down the steps, you saw Dean, gun in hand, Katrina dead on the floor, and Rowena, a crumpled mess to the side.

He was confused, pointing the gun between the three of you, not knowing who the witch was. Sam yelled, “No, no, no,” he pointed to himself, “Brother,” you both looked at each other and pointed at Boyd, saying in unison, “Witch!”

Dean pointed the gun towards Boyd and pulled the trigger. Boyd fell against the wall, crumpling onto the floor as blood poured out of the bullet hole in his chest.

You looked at Rowena, “Rowena, you need to help him.”

She nodded as she stood up, “Some help up would have been appreciated, but a girl can’t get everything she wants, now can she?”

You grumbled as you walked down the stairs with Sam, passing Rowena dragging Dean up the stairs. You ran your hands through your hair and bit at your nails as you waited for Rowena to reverse the spell.

Purple light flooded the upstairs as you could hear Rowena chanting in the foyer. They emerged from the hallway, walking down the stairs as you both stared up at them dumbfounded.

Sam spoke softly, “Did it work?”

Dean looked over at him and pointed, “Who are those hippies?”

You turned away, running a hand through your hair as tears started falling down your cheeks.

It didn’t work.

Dean laughed behind you, “Look at his face. Ah, kind of like that time I ate all your Halloween candy. Remember? Classic.”

You turned around, wiping at your face as Sam scoffed, “Not funny.”

You shook your head, tears still falling, “That really wasn’t funny, Dean.”

His smile softened at your reaction, “I’m sorry, Y/N.” He walked towards you, wrapping you in a bear hug, “I didn’t mean to upset you like that. I was just trying to mess with Sam.”

You just nodded into his chest before pulling away, “Now, let’s get the hell out of here.”

The boys smiled and nodded, walking towards the door as you and Rowena followed closely behind them.

---

Rowena made sure to leave quickly after you all got back to the motel. She cleaned the blood off her face, fixed her makeup, and packed up quickly. You stayed in the room, packing up the last of everyone’s things as the boys walked out with Rowena.

You walked out of the room, as the boys were standing on either side of the Impala, talking. You opened the trunk, throwing in the duffle bags, and closed it.

Dean was messing with his keys as Sam looked at him with concern, “It’s uh, the shiny-.”

Dean glared at him, “Shut up and get in the car.” He looked towards you and smiled before he slid into the driver’s seat of the impala.

You quietly got into the back seat, settling your back against the door and throwing your legs up onto the seat. You closed your eyes, letting the calming sound of the tires floating over the tarred road, the boys rhythmic breathing, and the low sounds of a classic rock song wash over you. Sleep came easily now that you had Dean back and everyone was safe.

---

You woke up, a few miles from the bunker, Dean’s gaze hardened on to the road, Sam sleeping by his side. You swung your legs over from the seat, placing your feet on the floor board as you placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder, “How are you doing, Dean?”

He smirked, his right eye crinkling at the corner, “I’m good.”

You sighed as you sat back against the seat, “Okay. I’m here if you need to talk though.”

He nodded, “I know.”

---

You sat against the headboard of your bed, freshly showered, as you scrolled through Netflix when a knock rapped on your door. You sat up a bit straighter as you placed the remote down beside you, “Come in.”

A shadow loomed before you saw who was at your door. “Hey, Y/N.” You nodded as Dean pushed his way into your room with a hand rubbing the back of his neck, “Is it okay if we talk?”

You scooted over in your bed, patting the empty space, “Yeah, Dean. Always.”

He smiled as he sat next to you, laying his back flush with the headboard, “How are you doing,” he threw his hands out motioning in a circle, “after all of this?”

You chuckled, “Better, now that you’re okay.”

He smiled and nodded, “Yeah.” He looked up at the ceiling and rubbed his mouth, “Y/N, this uh,” he scoffed, “this whole thing really opened my eyes.”

You turned towards him slightly, “What do you mean?”

He chuckled as he wrung his hands in his lap, “I,” he paused, looking at you with concern in his eyes, “I,uh, like you Y/N. This was kind of a wake up call for me. Losing my mind and everything.” He smirked, “This life, it doesn’t have a happy ending. But, after the last 24 hours, I would like to make my life as happy as it can be, even with a shitty ending.” He looked at you, wide-eyed and mouth slightly agape, a small smile playing on his lips as he turned to face you, “Look, Y/N. The way I watched you react today, I think-,” you cut him off, lips crashing against his.

You cupped his cheek with a hand as your lips melded with his. His lips were soft, plump, and needy. Seemingly a perfect fit against yours. His hands cupped your face tightly as his tongue swept along your bottom lip, begging for entrance. You opened up to him, your tongues meeting, swirling together.

Dean broke from the kiss, staring deeply into your eyes, “Woah.”

You laughed, “What, didn’t expect that Winchester?”

He smiled and leaned in, softly kissing you. He got on top of you, dragging you down your bed so you were laying flat against your mattress, without breaking the kiss. One last soft peck of his lips, he looked you in the eyes, a smile plastered on his face, “Way better than I expected.”

Tags: 

Forever Tags:

@emoryhemsworth , @nanie5 , @gabrielslittleangel, @alexwinchester23 , @assassinofmasyaf , @caswinchester2000 , @justawaywardwinchester , @thehufflepuffblog

Dean x Reader Tags:

@unlikelycollectortimetraveler , @xxtheoutsidersxx

#Michelle's 10K Writing Challenge #supernatural #spn #supernatural fluff #spn fluff #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #dean winchester #sam winchester #rowena macleod #regarding dean #spn 12.11 #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester and reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fluff #team free will you idjits 67 #tfwyi67 imagines #spn imagines #supernatural one shots #spn one shots #supernatural imagines

[kestisvrse]

stealing kisses

inspiration credit ❤️

pairing ⋆ anthony lockwood x gn!reader. fluff.

synopsis ⋆ christmas at lockwood and co. gives anthony the perfect opportunity to make a move.

warnings ⋆ implied shorter reader, idk how to write kissing, very fast paced sorry, swearing. | wc: 0.5k

tags ⋆ @mitskiswift99 @novelizt @karensirkobabes @initialchains @eedwardss

♫ - bet u wanna by sabrina carpenter

the holidays somehow made 35 portland row even cozier than usual.

the living room decked out with christmas decorations, a few more scattered around the house.

it was a quiet night, you were reading in bed as snow fell, coating the streets in it, the perfect winter wonderland.

your peace was interrupted by a knock at your door, opening to reveal anthony lockwood, both arms raised above him, one leaning against the door frame, as the other held something above the both of you.

mistletoe.

“now, what’s going on here?” you joked, grinning up at him

“just came to say hi, no idea how that got here.” he nonchalantly adds, inching slightly closer.

you chuckled, staring up into his eyes.

ever since you met lockwood you had been drawn to him, whether it was his looks or his personality, they both made you have a crush on him.

it wasn’t until recently (with the help of lucy) that you realized he liked you too, but was denying himself from the feelings, so you didn’t act on it.

but clearly, he had realized and didn’t want to wait.

“should we… uhm.. follow it’s tradition?” he questioned, blushing.

“i don’t know..” you teased, walking closer, “what would the george and lucy think?”

he was looking at your lips now, refusing to look away, “i don’t think they would mind.” he spoke barely above a whisper.

you hummed in response, taking your turn to look at his lips.

and then the space between you two closed.

his lips are soft against yours, like the snow falling outside. you hadn’t realized how complete this simple kiss could make you, like the whole world disappeared and it was just you two left, and it was all you needed.

the mistletoe dropped to the ground, so he could bring both his hands to your waist. you brought one of yours to his cheek and the other squeezed his bicep.

his brows furrow as he tries to bring you closer, impossible as you were already both stuck together like a puzzle piece.

reluctantly you pull away, your lips feel cold without the warmth of his. you don’t open your eyes straight away, just taking in his presence and the moment.

he brings his hand up to trace your lips, opening your eyes you find him admiring you.

“i think i might need to kiss whoever created mistletoe.” he chuckled.

“just kiss me instead.” you responded, tilting your head.

“oh gladly.” he breathed, pulling you in for another kiss.

this one felt more heated, more desperate, like you were each others oxygen, like you needed it.

he brought both his hands back to your waist, clutching at your shirt, as you wrap your arms around his neck, one hand sliding up into his hair, playing with it causing him to grin into the kiss.

“fucking finally!” lucy yelled, you both break apart, snapping back to the real world. you see lucy standing excitedly at the top of the stairs with george, who had a disgusted expression.

“dinners ready, by the way, but clearly you both were already eating.” george mocked.

“gross george!” you groaned, hiding your face in lockwoods shoulder.

“oh yeah says you! hurry it up.” he retorts, stomping down the stairs, lucy giggling following close behind.

as you pull away from lockwoods shoulder, and begin to follow the other two, lockwood is quick to grab your hand and spin you back towards him.

he lands a peck on your lips, “needed one more.” he whispered.

#anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood #lockwood x reader #lockwood and co #anthony lockwood imagine #anthony lockwood x you #anthony lockwood fluff #lockwood and co netflix #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood and co fic #lockwood netflix #sienna’s fics

[wolfjawswriter]

What Old Friends Can Do - Lucy x Lockwood 4

“Gossip in the Town” - Lucy x Lockwood

Lockwood and Co. Series

Summary: Old friends may come as a solution.

Warning: This fic is made with the sole purposes of dealing and possibly kill Writer's Block and using an OC I've had in my mind for a while now, so it may be a little crappy and trashy. READ UNDER YOUR OWN CONSCIENCE.

————————— “Wow, I can’t believe Mr Denson left his store to Geoffrey!”

“I know! Had he just waited for his son to be old enough, his store wouldn’t be doing as bad as  it is right now”

Walking down the streets of Cheviot Hills with Ethan, he started telling me about the things that had been changing since I left. Apparently, most of my old friends were either married, gone from town, or dead, but that was a minority.

Seeing as most of our supplies had been used last night, Ethan thought we could go to Gladwell and Jenner; the only store in town that still sold ghost-fighting supplies. He and I were right now on our way to order the materials. George and Quill had stayed at Ethan’s home looking through more records to see if they could find more about the ghosts we encountered, while Lockwood had taken Holly with him back to London, said we were probably going to need more help during this haunting. He assured us they’d be back before we had to go back to the station tonight.

Things had been a little tense during breakfast, with all that happened last night, and I was grateful for some time away from the team. Before leaving, Lockwood had asked me to tell them what happened, but I still couldn’t talk about it.

“Daniel would have made a better manager by far- Wait, hold on, is that, Deborah Lance and Fergus Mallicoat? Holding hands?” I pointed to the other street where a couple was marshmallowy rubbing noses and holding each others hands.

“You mean, Deborah and Fergus Mallicoat holding hands” Ethan said, his voice slightly labored with the effort of the long walk.

“What?!”

“They got married about a year ago” He smiled “Quite a celebration, really; the party lasted about two nights at least”

“But they hate each other!” I exclaimed “Every time they were in a room together, they were always at each others throats”

“Wish it was still that way, you should see them now! Last time I was with them it was all ‘My wuzzy-fuzzy-fluffy-cuddly-honey-bear’ and ‘My dear hunny-bunny-pumpkin-princess’, it was almost disgusting!” Ethan said in a funny voice.

The streets were full of people I once knew, all of whom acknowledged me from afar. I was actually grateful they did; I didn’t feel particularly keen of greeting everybody that recognized me.

“That’s probably because you’re walking beside me” Ethan had said. I had initially insisted that he let me go on my own, I knew perfectly well where the store was, but he insisted in coming, said the exercise would do him good. He had brought a walking stick with him, though not one of those metal sticks you saw your grandpa walk with, but a fancy wooden one with iron on the tip and a beautifully carved iron wolf in the handle (his sister gave it to him as a joke after loosing his leg, but he kept it and used it with pride whenever he did) “People avoid getting too close to me whenever I’m outside, think I'm going to take any opportunity to make a fake accident and sue them or something”

“Why would you do that, your family already has so much more money than most people here”

“Well, people think what they want, Lulu”

We finally arrived to Gladwell and Jenner. It reminded me of Mullet’s; the racks with flares, salt bombs, rapiers and chains were all the same, but with an older, less cared-for appearance than the one in London. We gave the owner a list of what we would need and asked him to deliver it to Ethan’s house today before curfew.

“So…” He looked at me mischievously.

“So what?” I asked him.

“You and Lockwood, eh?” He asked. I choked on my own breath and my face flushed hotly like Greek Fire was lit on it until I was red. He wiggled his eyebrows at me, which was more funny than insinuating since it made the scars on his face move.

“Well, I- he- we-”

“Mmmm?” He lowered himself to my eye level, his eyes filled with a lively delight, so different from his normally dozing features.

“We- we may have…confessed…our feelings…for each other” I muttered sheepishly.

“What did you said, Lu, I couldn’t hear you, will you repeat that for me?” He mocked me as we started walking out the door of the store, now having paid for the supplies and made sure they would be taken care of.

“Hey!” I slapped his shoulder playfully “Don’t push your luck! But yeah…we did”

“Well, tell me all about it!” He exclaimed excitedly like a high school girl who’s best friend had just returned from a date with her crush “How was it? Did he took you out or did he just asked to talk privately with you? Was it romantic and beautiful or did you two just let it out? Did he kissed you or did you kissed him?”

“Well, we took a stroll on the park” I bit my lip self-consciously, remembering how it had all gone; how Lockwood gave me his family necklace and asked me to walk with him, how we held hands while we walked, how he stopped and pushed a strand of hair behind my ear as he told me how much I meant to him and that he would do anything to prevent me from leaving the company like I did before and then asked me to please never leave “We were quiet for a while, but then we talked about this, and that…then he told me how he felt”

“And?”

“Then I told him how I felt…”

“Oh, come on, Lu! You gotta tell me all the juicy details!” He blurted, to which my face heated again with a million flare’s intensity.

“What?! No, there’s no juicy details, what are you talking about-”

“Lucy? Is that you?” A girl came running to us from the other side of the street, looking out that no car was coming her way. Her long, golden hair waved behind her as she neared us, her flowery gown swishing behind her prettily. She smiled those dentist-advertisement smile (a female version of Lockwood’s smile) and waved until she was with us and gave me terrifically strong hug “Oh, Lucy its so good to see you again! And all well and good!”

“Its good to see you too, Bunny” Yeah, that’s her name. Bunny Kingsman, once a decent and hardworking agent like Ethan and me. Probably lost her job when Jacob’s agency closed, if not before for personal reasons, since I remember her still working there when I left.

She was that kind of girl that was good looking since childhood (like Holly) and would win a beauty competition just by participating. However, she had the bad luck of being born in a town like Cheviot Hills, where your beauty only matters for marital affairs. She had Bambi brown/golden eyes, heart-shaped lips and a small nose, the face of a princess. She was naturally skinny, her body softly curved on her hips, her chest and her behind, with graceful doe-like legs. An alive version of that fairy tale princess, the Sleeping Beauty, if you please.

“Look at you, Lucy, you’ve changed! I see you got your mom’s hips, I always knew you’d have them. And you cut your hair, didn’t you? Short definitely suits you more!” Her eyes sparkled like a flare exploding against a ghost as she cheerfully regarded me, commenting about this and that. I had once been really good friends with her, closer than I ever was with Ethan, but after I left town, we never stayed in touch, and when I came that winter when Lockwood hired Holly, I didn’t bother trying to look for her (or anyone else for that matter) “It has been so long, I’ve missed you so much!”

“I know, I’m sorry we haven’t talked, its just-”

“Oh, its okay, I’m sure you’ve been very busy. Working on London must be great, you never run out of work, do you?” She smiled angelically "How I miss working on hauntings! What I wouldn’t give to reopen the agency, even with old and no-fun Mr Jacobs, at least then we’d have something to do. Oh, hi Ethan” She turned to look at him and batted her long eyelashes playfully at him, then pushed her golden, wavy mane over her shoulder “I haven’t seen you around in a while”

“Ah, yes, well, not much to do outside” He stammered, looking over to the side of the road. I spied a blush that crept up his face, his eyes half coming back to gaze at her. Bunny giggled softly, once again fluttering her eyelashes at him.

“I see you let your stubble grow” She purred, a hand coming up to his chest “Last time I saw you, it definitely wasn’t there”

“Well, its been a few months, Bunny” Ethan noted.

“Think we can maybe, meet up soon…” Bunny prompted, her hand playfully twirling her golden locks “Maybe, get a cup of tea and talk…?”

“I’ll have to think about it” He said “But I’ll make sure to let you know”

“Alright then” She looked back at me and hugged me tightly once more “I’m glad to see you again, Lucy. Hopefully we’ll have time to catch up soon!”

“Yeah, me too” I said.

“Bye Ethan, see you around” She walked away to where she came from, remarking a little the sway of her hips as she walked.

“Well” I said, my voice becoming suggestive and playful.

“Well what?” He asked, now both of us having returned to walking.

“I didn’t knew you and Bunny were getting along better” I purred. Ethan blushed once again, lowering his head so that his uncombed mat of a hair somehow hid it.

“We’ve talked more with each other on some of the most recent events, I guess” He muttered timidly “And maybe we’ve met on occasions to talk and take a cup of tea, but I wouldn’t say we’re ‘getting along better’”

“Sure thing” I refuted “So she wasn’t batting her lashes at you, and she didn’t started playing with her hair while you talked, and she was not pointing out how she obviously likes your stubble, and she most definitely wasn’t inviting you out”

“What are you trying to imply, Lulu?” He asked, regarding me suspiciously with his only eye.

“She swung her hips! Didn’t you noticed?” I blurted, my hands moving about in the direction Bunny walked away “She was flirting with you!” Ethan scoffed.

“As if, we don’t do anything other than talking”

“Is she married? Does she have a boyfriend?”

“Not that I know of, and if she was married I would know”

“What makes you think you’d know?” I asked

“Because I’m invited to every event there is in this town” He divulged, his eye rolling exasperatingly “Every single one of them; every wedding, every funeral, every birthday”

“But you said people mostly avoid you”

“In the streets. But I’m the rich boy in town, they want to have me as a friend, they think I might do them favors. And what better way to get to the rich boy’s money than inviting him to all of our events so he feels important” He sighed “But we’re straying from topic, Bunny is not married, but she wasn’t flirting with me”

“And what reason would she have to not flirt with you?” I asked, my hands coming to my hips.

“First, I am a cripple” He said, wooden stick pointing to the metallic stump that came out his pant-leg “Second, I’m not allowed to work, and third, I’m still a cripple”

“Wow, you truly are blind” I scorned “Ethan, we both know you are more than just a cripple. Bunny would be very lucky to date you” Again he scoffed.

“You say this because you’re my friend, Lulu”

“And because I’m your friend I know so” I smiled at him, his drowsy smile returning to his features “Now, lets go back and make sure George and Quill haven’t set your house on fire, or drowned Makayla”

When we got back, Ethan’s house was still standing and intact. George and Quill were sitting at the kitchen’s table with many books, and a plate of Ethan’s home-made muffins, sitting on the it. Most of them were records of the cemetery from centuries back. George had his notebook beside him, his hand writing on it from time to time as he kept reading.

Makayla, still thankfully alive, was sitting on George’s lap, the book he was reading sitting on top of her, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“She seems to like him better than me” Ethan told me “Guess my legs are too skinny for her liking”

Our supplies arrived only an hour later; a box of magnesium flares and another of salt bombs, plus bags of fillings. Ethan and I got around to sorting them and preparing our bags for when we had to leave. There were, however, much more flares and bombs than the ones we needed, even for the extra and emergency equipment.

“Ethan, how much supplies did you actually bought?” I asked, my eyes on all the remaining flares in the box, which was about half of it.

“Oh, just the necessary amounts for a safe haunting” He mused. I must say, I hadn’t seen that many equipment left unused.

“But this is more than what we need” I protested.

“Lu, look at this house” He said pointing around us “Its huge, like the amount of money in my family’s bank account. And do you know how much I spend?” I remained silent “Less than the one that’s gained from the company in a week. I don’t need that much money, I can’t spend that much money on my own. Let me spend it on something that’s worth”

After finishing sorting our bags and making sure our chains were there too, Ethan went to the kitchen, taking his cat with him, and took out his baking items. Me? I decided to make good use of the time I had away from the team (George and Quill were still working with those documents) and from Lockwood and take a bath. Hopefully it would help me clear my thoughts.

The bathroom in my room (all rooms, even the guest one, had its own bathroom) was quite spacious for being a bathroom. It had a toilet and a tub with shower. The sink atop a long counter, probably once filled with products but was now empty. A full length mirror on the other side where it became a sizable wardrobe.

The water was nice and the soap felt good as I rubbed myself with it. It helped me relax, my thoughts finally taking clear form in my mind. The events from last night still weighed hard on my conscience. The ghost train, the howling, my memories, the ghost of my father. Suddenly I understood why Lockwood wasn’t keen to talk about his past; not because of embarrassment, I certainly wasn’t embarrassed of throwing a flare at a wolf’s face, but because it wasn’t easy. It just wasn’t easy.

How was I supposed to tell my friends that something that happened years ago, and that had never bothered me, had suddenly come back to haunt me? I couldn’t bring myself to say it. But I knew I’d have to, eventually, and probably soon. Still, I wanted to keep it with me for a little longer.

“We are back!” Barely an hour later a knock on the door told us Lockwood and Holly were back. Plus Lockwood felt the need to announce it as they entered “And with our backup!”

Behind them, the smell of sewer-water, mud and lavender drifted in, and with them walked, in all her unwashed, unsanitary and grimy glory, Flo Bones, relic-woman, queen of the Thames and Lockwood’s idea of a backup plan.

“Nice house you’ve got here, Locky” She said as she entered, her eyes drifting around under her muddy straw hat.

“Actually, Flo, this is Lucy’s friend’s house” Lockwood said “He is letting us stay here while we work on this case” Flo huffed from behind her puffa jacket. Her huff, however, died there when Ethan walked into the room.

“This is Ethan, my friend and our host” I said, noticing how Flo just blinked “Ethan, this is Flo Bones, hopefully you remember her from my letters”

“How to forget the relic-woman that helped you get the skull back, that letter was like five pages long!” He exclaimed.

“Is that a glass ball?” Was the first thing she said.

“Silver glass, yes”

“Can I have it?”

“No” I intervened “And you also can’t touch his scars, you’ll pass him a disease or some other bacteria” She only scoffed amusedly, but didn’t press on the matter.

“I’ll take you to your room so you can settle before leaving” With that, Flo followed Ethan out of the threshold and up the stairs.

“How did you managed to get her on the train?” I asked once they left.

“All we’re saying it, it was hard” Lockwood huffed.

“You got the supplies?” Holly asked.

“We’ve got enough equipment for at least five more cases” I boasted.

“What?” They blurted. I showed them our remaining boxes of flares and bombs and our packed rucksacks. Lockwood, Holly and I then went to see George and Quill with their stack of notes so they could explain what they found. Though, before they could get too far with their findings, Flo and Ethan came back down. Flo took my place at the table and I left the room to make my friend some company (I had already listened to the explanation an hour before, I didn’t need to hear George rambling about the interesting history of Cheviot Hills once again).

“You let her touch your glass ball, didn’t you?” I asked him.

“Mmm, yes”

“And she asked to touch your scars, didn’t she?”

“Maybe”

“And you let her touch them?”

“Maybe”

“As I said, diseases”

A while later, Lockwood called me back to the meeting so we could discuss our strategy, and soon, it was time for us to leave.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be ok” Ethan told me before I walked out “Just remember, beware the wolves”

“I will”

#lockwood and co #Anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #george cubbins #holly munro #quill kipps #oc #original character

[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.

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