#lockwood and co season 2 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vi-trying-to-survive · 1 year

Text

Don’t Tell

Anthony Lockwood x f!Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What ? Why ?”, his eyes went wide.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Definitely”, he was nodding his head.

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

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

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

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

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

He frowned, “I-”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

704 notes · View notes

d0wnb4df0rf1cm3n · 1 year

Text

Let me

Anthony Lockwood x F!Reader

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

Word Count: 3.4K

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Which led you to your current predicament.

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

Sergeant Bowers.

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

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

It was peculiar.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So?"

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

"Yeah. We probably should."

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

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

"I don't understand?"

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

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

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

"14, actually."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

fin.

578 notes · View notes

warrenposts · 1 year

Text

I Know It Hurts

I Know It Hurts (Lockwood x Reader)

Request: Prompts 3, 11, 12 with Scenario 1 for @avelinageorge + 3 with Scenario 4 for anon

Summary: You get hurt on a job and are forced to face a phobia in the hospital followed by comfort from Lockwood back at Portland Row

Warning: Slightly graphic description of needles

Word Count: 5K

Requesting Information Here Masterlist

“Y/N!” Screamed Lockwood.

You barely registered his desperate voice as your back hit the fence of the cemetery, having been forced off your feet and tossed to the side by the Ghost. You fell to the ground and looked up to see Lockwood slicing the ghost through the stomach with his rapier. You’re not sure how he made his way across the grounds to you so quickly but you're glad he did.

The ghost dissipated for a moment and Lockwood turned his back to you, shielding you in case she apparated close by you again. “Lockwood,” you groaned, struggling to stand after the blow to your side. It took you a moment, but eventually you pulled yourself up to your feet and stepped away from the fence, grimacing with each crunch your boots made on the gravel.

You were confused as to why it hurt so much more than it should have and glanced down only to be faced with blood, fanning out on your shirt. You couldn't pull your eyes away from the sight and started to feel sick, hands shaking as your mouth went dry. Time slowed down for a minute before you were quickly snapped back into reality when you felt someone grab your arms.

"Y/n," Lockwood was shaking you gently, holding your biceps to keep you upright. That seemed like a good idea since you felt yourself tip back, about to stumble back into the fence. "No, no, no, none of that." You heard him insist as he pulled you away from the hazard.

Your body responded limply and feel forwards, which he let you do this time by wrapping his arms around you and slowly lowering you to your knees then safely into his arms. He held you in a seated position, keeping you upright against his chest.

Groaning at the sticky sensation you glanced down and flinched at the sight, your breath catching in your throat as you tried to make sense of the situation.

"It's all right, I've got you," he soothed. "It's not that bad, you're gonna be okay. We'll get you-"

He was interrupted by the sound of Lucy calling out over the now hauntingly silent graveyard, “We got it! We got the source! It’s over...” Her voice trailed off as she and George came to a halt, eyes widening at the sight before them.

After a second of shock, the two ran over and dropped down by your side. "We've got to get them to a hospital!" George analyzed, although it didn't take a genius to draw that conclusion. They were all thinking the same thing as they watched the blood pool on your side.

"No!" You interrupted, choking back a sob as Lucy pressed her hands down over your wound, something Lockwood seemed too in shock to remember to do. "I'm okay, no hospitals," you strained, trying to push Lucy away, hoping it would ease some of the pain. The two boys were quick to stop you and you threw your head back in pain as you fell back into Lockwood’s chest.

"You need help, Y/n." Lockwood insisted. "We're not equipped to deal with this."

"Please," you begged. "I can't do hospitals, with all the death and needles and," Your words were cut short by you trying to catch your breath ad you began to panic at the thought.

All eyes on you were drowning in sympathy. "It will be easy, I promise."

"Don't lie to me," your voice was small and helpless, something they'd never heard from you before. You couldn’t help the tears that fell from your eyes as you became more and more aware of the pain. Reality started to kick in when you heard the DEPRAC relief sirens, blaring down the street and you shot a hand up to grab one of the arms that Lockwood had wrapped around you. He tightened his grip on you and you started to tremble, struggling to come to terms with the fact that whether you liked it or not, they were taking you to a hospital.

Lucy coaxed, "We'll be there the entire time." You vaguely heard her sniffles as she bit back the tears threatening to fall.

“That’s right,” Lockwood spoke softly into your ear. “We won’t let them hurt you.”

Time was warped in your mind and you only clued in to the fact that you were being pulled into an ambulance on a gurney when you could no longer feel Lockwood behind you. You started to panic as the paramedics shoved your friends away, telling them they can meet you at the hospital.

“No, no, no, no,” you objected. “They have to come with me they-AH!” You were interrupted by a sharp pain in your side and looked down to see the longest needle you’d ever seen embedded into your side. Continuing to scream, you jerked away and tried to fight them, doing anything you could to dislodge it from your side. The paramedics held you down tightly while they fished out the anesthetic and all the distress you were feeling built up in your throat. “LOCKWOOD!” You screamed as tears streamed down your face.

You vaguely heard the voice of Barnes, shouting out to let Lockwood into the ambulance and before you knew it, his grasp returned, exactly where it belonged.

You were quick to squeeze his hand, tighter than you ever thought you could. Everything was so intense and moving too quickly for you to catch up. "Lockwood," you sobbed. "Please, make them stop," you begged.

“It’s alright. I know it hurts,” he soothed. “We’re almost done, I swear.” He kept glancing over to the people surrounding you, silently asking for any indication that the words he was saying had any truth to them.

Despite his comforting hand tightly holding yours, thumb rubbing gently over yours, you couldn't keep the agony at bay. You still felt the air catch in your lungs and strangle you, taunting you in your torment. The ambulance felt hot and much smaller than it actually was and there was nothing you could do to control the rapid suffering of your lungs. Lockwood’s voice was far away but you were still happy to hear it, it being the last sound you hear as your eyes fell shut and you drifted off into suffocating darkness.

When you awoke, Lockwood was already awake. He sat by your bed, sleeves rolled up his forearms to sit just under his elbows, one of which was propped up on the armrest as he rested his knuckles against his temple. You could see his tie was missing and he'd undone a few buttons on the shirt that was now disheveled, blood-soaked and smudged with grave soil.

His eyes glanced over to you and when he saw you shifting around, he was quick to move and take a seat on the edge of the bed to instantly start fussing over you, “Try not to move,” he coaxed. “You're okay, but you shouldn't move.”

In an attempt to sit up, you glanced down and immediately took notice of the IV needle sticking out of the back of your hand. Lockwood sighed in sympathy at your realization. You took a shaky breath, feeling the bile build in your throat. “Lockwood.” You hadn’t planned your next words; in fact, you were barely aware of the one you’d just said.

“I know, I know,” he hushed.

Your throat was starting to hurt with all the hyperventilating you'd done. "I-" You couldn’t do this again. You were exhausted from the anguish that today had caused you. Impulsively, you decided that if nobody was going to listen to you then it was time you pulled off the Band-Aid yourself. You reached down, fumbling to grab the IV line but Lockwood grabbed your hand and pulled it away while the other stayed petrified on the bed.

He sighed, frustrated that he couldn't make this easier on you. “I was hoping you’d sleep through all of this-”

“I can't do this again-" You whispered, voice hoarse from all the screaming. He’d never heard such desperation in your voice and every moment of it made his heart ache.

“You need it," he insisted, rubbing his thumb over your hand while you squirmed uncomfortably. "To stop it from getting infected.”

“I can do that with a pill,” You argued, dropping your head back onto the pillows behind you, no longer able to hold the weight of it up as you started feeling hot and sick.

He reached out and shifted the monitor so you couldn't see the time left on the IV drip. “It will be out before you know it," he soothed.

Every word that left your mouth was purely impulsive and happened without any prior thoughts. “I’m going to pass out," you choked, hardly registering what you were even saying, "or I'm gonna rip it out." Honestly you didn't even mind which; you just wanted one to happen soon so you could have some peace and get rid of the sickly feeling that rolled in waves over your body.

The needle on your hand started to feel bigger than it was and the quantity increased. Soon you felt one poking every vein in your body, tormenting your vulnerable position.

Rapid beeping echoed throughout the room as you heart monitor increased speed. Lockwood was quick to react. He let go of your hand and ducked under the IV line to crawl into the bed. He positioned himself behind you, holding you more upright so you could breathe easier. "It's alright," he whispered. "I'm here, I've got you, just breath and everything will be okay."

He held your hand in your lap and kept his other arm around your waist. Your heart warmed at his actions. He didn't even think about it, you were scared and he wanted to do everything in his power to help you. You tried to listen to him and took a deep breath of air but it was shaking and croaky. Regardless, it helped for a moment but soon your attention returned back to the needle and you tightened your grip on Lockwood’s hand instinctively.

He let out a forced laugh and began whispering into your ear. "You think you’re stressed? Your bestie George was practically pacing a hole into the floor.”

His words caught you off guard, it wasn't a strange claim but why was he bringing this up now? You shifted slightly to look over your shoulder at him and, while minding your wound, moved you so you were tucked under his arm. You still rested on his chest, but now had a better angle to lock eyes and ask, “Is he okay?”

“Completely bonkers," he insisted, cracking a mischievous grin. "By now he’s probably broken into the café, trying to cook you something better than the hospital food.”

You let out a small laugh, which at this point felt like such a foreign concept. "I wouldn't put it past him."

“Can you imagine?" He teased, "Lucy pulling him by the legs, up in the air as he clings to the oven?”

Giggling again, you tilted your head in thought. “Knowing him, he’s stealing a heart or something from the cadaver lab.”

Lockwood furrowed his eyebrows, putting on a fake look of concern. “Hmm, maybe I shouldn’t have left him alone.” He began glancing at the door, comedically trying to look into the hallway for your friends.

“He’s with Lucy," you defended in an unconvinced confidence, if that could classify as defending him.

“Yes," he laughed and countered, "the second worst influence.”

“The first being you?” You asked, raising an eyebrow to his theatrics.

“No! George." He argued, "He stole the skull remember?"

“Yeah and Lucy stole ring, twice,” you mocked. "Remember?"

“Maybe she is two,” he caved, smiling at how your demeanor had changed. He didn’t dare ask if you were feeling better, but he never let go or stopped the soothing tracing on your hand.

“Okay so ‘You, Lucy, George, me’,” You listed, looking up at him for confirmation.

Scoffing, Lockwood did a double take and further continued the debate. “George is not last.”

You groaned and leaned your head onto his shoulder. “I’m afraid to say it but he is usually the voice of reason in our little group.”

“We’re doomed,” he replied, resting his head on top of yours.

“It’s not like he enjoys it,” you defended. “It’s just that the bar for what we consider responsible is so low, thanks to you.” He would have loved to point out that your current condition rated you at least third on the ranks but he didn't want to redirect your attention back to your situation.

“Okay fine,” he gave in and negotiated. “Lucy, then Me, George. Final ruling.”

You gently shrugged causing him to lift his head off of yours, much to your disappointment. “I can live with that,” you agreed. “If you’re comfortable being wrong.” Lockwood narrowed his eyes as he smirked and opened his mouth to argue but was interrupted by a voice entering the room.

“Sounds accurate to me,” George agreed, entering the room with Lucy by his side. They looked uninjured but still worse for wear, tired at the very least.

She glanced at the needle but Lockwood kindly and subtly shook his head. She couldn’t stop wringing out her hands in discomfort, unable to bear seeing a sight so similar to Norrie. It hurt to see her best friend in such a state and couldn’t think of a single thing to say, so she was grateful when George took the lead.

“Don’t worry,” He nudged your arm and flopped onto the chair by the bed, stretching his legs out onto the mattress. “When we get home, I'll make you Noon Khamei,” he smiled, even more so when you mirrored his expression.

Lockwood let out a ‘tsk’ and scolded in an amused voice, “You’re too soft on her.”

“Says you, cradling her in your arms to distract her,” he proclaimed, his often deadpanned voice now laced in humor.

Lockwood felt a pang of nerves in anticipation of your reaction but you didn't start panicking. Instead, you smiled softly and croaked out in a small voice “It’s helping,” you admitted. “But do you know when I-” As if on cue, the monitor next to you began rapidly beeping and Lucy was quick to react.

She was yanked out of her concerned trance and announced, “The drip is finished, I’ll get the nurse.” Before speeding out of the room. It was obvious that she couldn't wait to get you out of there.

When Lucy returned, she had a nurse in tow. The two stopped at the door and Lucy rasped out, “George? Could you come here?” She looked nervous and assumingly only called George because she didn’t want to pull Lockwood away from you.

You watched the two intensely as they spoke to the nurse; whatever Lucy was hearing seemed to dial up the concern that already took residence on her face and George began shaking his head, clearly disagreeing with what he was hearing.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” You asked, not taking your eyes off them, hoping it was clear to Lockwood that you needed him to either lie or comfort you.

He shrugged and joked, “They’re probably just interrogating George about the missing hearts in the morgue.”

You wanted so badly to take comfort in his words but by this point you were at your limit and just wanted to go home. “Please just get me out of here,” you exhaled.

“It’s alright,” he whispered into your ear. “I know it’s been rough, but you’re safe now and I won’t let go of you again.” You took a deep breath, taking in his words and feeling a wave of comfort when he pressed his lips to your head.

The three approached and you swallowed your fear as best you could. “Give it to me straight, Doc,” you joked, although your voice didn’t have a whole lot of humor to it. “How long do I got?”

He nodded and ignored your discomfort. “We’re concerned about the state of the environment in which you were injured,” he explained. “You said it was a cemetery fence that cut you?” He asked. Despite him doing his best to explain himself, you began to feel impatient. You just wanted him he’d get to the point so you could go home. The walking on eggshells was starting to bother you after a whole evening of pain and losing your autonomy.

“That’s right,” Lockwood answered after seeing you freeze. “Nasty accident,” he eased, always trying to dampen the danger of any situation.

“Well, we believe that it’s in your best interest to receive a tetanus shot,” he announced. “To prevent serious infections that may have congregated from the rust on the fence.”

“Oh no, it’s okay,” you reassured, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “I've had them before. When I was a kid,” you confirmed.

“It’s not always enough and a sixth dose is always recommended at your age,” he pushed. “It’s the best avenue to prevent us from having to see you here again.”

‘Was that supposed to be a joke?’ You thought. “I’m sure it will be okay-” You started to get the uneasy feeling that regardless of what you said, he was going to do as he liked. That’s what doctors usually did. ‘No, that’s not fair. It’s his job and he’s just trying to help you.’ You reminded yourself. ‘You’re just stressed out. You have to remember, your friends are here. Lockwood is here.’ That’s when you looked around and realized that in all the commotion, you’d forgotten that you had people looking out for you.

At first the idea that you were being forced into a situation that you hated, one that made you so afraid and sick with no control over what happened to you, just reiterated how cruel DEPRAC had been to you over the years. But it wasn’t like that anymore, you had your friends and they were just as intent on getting you home as you were. It was a new experience that you were still getting used to but it was true none the less.

“It’s alright, It won’t be like before, I swear,” Lockwood promised, maneuvering himself to look at you directly. “I’ll be here the entire time.”

“We all will be,” Lucy chimed in, this being the first time she’d confidentially spoken all day. She lurched forward to grab your hand and you barely noticed the needle that was still lodged in your hand.

“Only when you’re ready this time,” George added. “Only when she’s ready,” he repeated, looking at the nurse who nodded in confirmation.

You thought for a moment. You still had no choice on the outcome but this time your friends were going to make sure it happened on your terms. “Okay,” you whispered, looking upwards, trying to remain as confident as possible.

Your friends all started smiling, their chests swelling with pride as the nurse left the room to prepare. George spoke first, “I had no idea you were afraid of needles.”

“George,” Lockwood gently scolded but you were quick to ease their minds.

“It’s okay, hospitals have always bothered me,” you informed. “They stick you with the needle when you’re not ready or prepared or even aware it’s happening.” They all nodded and you tried to find the words to explain yourself. “It’s like, the moment a doctor walks into the room, I know that nothing I say or do matters, I've been completely robbed off all autonomy.”

“It won’t be like that this time,” Lockwood promised, now sitting beside you on the mattress. He cycled between rubbing your back and gently brushing your hairline as you spoke.

Smiling, you locked eyes with him and said with absolute confidence, “I know. I trust you.” George and Lucy shot each other a look that neither of you caught.

You didn’t tear your eyes away from him until the nurse returned with a second following beside. They explained that they were going to remove the IV, give you the shot then you could be discharged.

“Are you ready?” Lockwood asked. It had been the first time you’d ever been asked that before getting a needle and you couldn’t help but smile as you nodded.

The man from before got to work disconnecting the IV from your hand and you couldn’t help but feel the nausea return. However, the moment you started taking deep breaths, your friends all started talking to you about random facts from the case. Lucy held your hand and Lockwood refused to move from your side.

When the nurse asked him to move, he simply swapped sides to give them access to your arm. As he took his seat on your opposite side, he brought a knuckle up to your jaw and gently turned your head to be looking at him, pulling your attention away from the needle in her hand. “Just let us know when you’re ready” he asked, causing the nurse to halt her actions.

You nodded, keeping your eyes on him and whispered, “Go ahead.” You still felt sick and uncomfortable but you knew you were safe and it was enough to help you get through the last of the prodding.

When it was finally over, proud smiles were plastered onto your friends faces and George let out a deep sigh, breaking the silence. “Brilliant, let’s get you out of here then,” he declared before rushing off to collect the discharge papers. Lucy followed, practically sprinting after George.

It had been almost two hours since you were finally sent home and George had made the Noon Khamei cream puffs he’d promised and Lucy had given you a blue teddy bear she’d bought from the gift shop in her frantic exit to collect the discharge forms. They made tea and Lucy sat with you for a while George went upstairs to check on Lockwood.

After a while, Lucy had started to doze off on the couch and you encouraged her to go to bed. She was reluctant to leave you but you promised that you were happy with some quiet time in front of the fire. Since then, you had sat on the couch finishing your tea and fiddling with the blue, fuzzy bear that Lucy bought. You hadn’t seen Lockwood since he set you down where you’d asked and you’d began to worry that you’d exhausted him today.

After George went up to check on him, you’d heard the shower running for some time. Since then, it had been silent and all you could think about, now that you were alone was Lockwood. How in your moments of distress, all you wanted was him and when faced with a situation where you could barely breath, he’d made it all the more bearable.

Your frantic thoughts were interrupted when you heard someone step into the room. “Nice teddy bear” Lockwood commented, leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed in a pose you were sure he’d practiced. His hair was slightly damp and he was now dressed in black sweatpants and his grey hoodie. You always found it comforting to see him in such a calm, domestic state.

A smile broke onto your face, “I’m calling it ‘Henry’.”

Lockwood shook his head and pushed himself off the doorframe and began walking over to you. “After the ghost that nearly killed you today? You’ve lost it.” It didn’t take long before he was towering over you as you sat, nestled on the couch. “How are you feeling?” He asked.

“I’m sorry I yelled today,” ignoring his question, you were quick to apologize, now much more conscious than you were on the field. “The pain made me a little delirious and you were just trying to help."

“Don’t be,” he shook his head in an unsteady fashion. He didn’t look so good; a little shaken and disturbed. “It was a rough day," he shrugged. "For all of us.” You were waiting for an unconvincing smile but he never gave one.

“I’m just glad to be home.” Something warmed in Lockwood’s chest every time somebody described the place as ‘home’, you could see it in his eyes, clear as day.

For the first time since you arrived home, he locked eyes with you and you let out a breath of relief when you saw the subtle smile on his face. “Well perfect reason to never let it happen again,” he joked before his smile turned bitter sweet. “I couldn't bear it,” he admitted.

The silence made you a little uncomfortable under the circumstances, you weren’t sure what he meant by that but you decided to overthink it later. So instead of asking you just raised your plush bear up a little higher and asked, “Couldn’t bear it?”

He tried so hard to not smile, but he couldn’t hide it, “Damn, Lucy.” You laughed at his feigned frustration and set the bear down next to you on the table.

“Will you sit with me?” You asked, scooting over on the couch to make more room for him. “It really did help at the hospital.”

Lockwood swallowed and took a nervous breath, fidgeting slightly where he stood. “You need to rest,” he declared.

“But- But," you fake stuttered, feigning a pout in a dramatic fashion. "It's so uncomfortable over here all on my lonesome."

“No,” he insisted, a genuine smile now slowly growing on his face. He narrowed his eyes in false disapproval, the smile giving him away. “I won’t spoil you just because you have been so careless as to injure yourself.” For a moment, he lost the humor in his tone and it felt like you were being scolded.

“Really,” you pressed. “I’m sorry I panicked so much, I just-”

Lockwood was quick to interrupt you and softly asked, “How could you ever be at fault for that?” He seemed serious in his question, genuinely confused as to why you held yourself accountable for that.

“Maybe you’re just not bothered because you’re so infatuated with me,” you teased. “Can’t do any wrong in your eyes.”

He held the eye contact, almost challenging you and you were relieved that your usual dynamic had come back into play. “Oh, you’d like that wouldn't you?” He asked.

“It was nice taking advantage of how much you care for me,” you opposed. You both has matching smiles lighting up your faces. It was a nice contrast from the previous events of the night.

“I’m afraid to say, I'd gladly do it again.” He admitted, “You might be on to something.” It almost sounded like a confession or admission but you chose to accept it as confirmation.

“How do you always know exactly what I need?” You asked, “at the hospital, you completely distracted me.” It was a fair question. You were aware of how well you all knew each other but Lockwood seemed to have a hold over you that you couldn’t quite identify.

“Because you’re obnoxiously vocal when you’re uncomfortable,” he teased and gave in, taking a seat next to you before shaking out the blanket that had begun to slip off your lap so it was now covering you both.

“Well, that’s because I know you’ll cater my every need and desire," you mumbled, leaning in immediately to his side.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, mumbling into your hair.

“Everything is a little sore,” you admitted. “But I’m glad it’s over, I feel better now that I’m here.” You didn’t specify whether you meant Portland Row or your current position, but it didn’t really matter. Either one was true.

Feeling your eyelids start to drop, you turned as subtly as you could, nestling further into his side, hoping he'd pull you in to cuddle closer with the arm he had draped over your shoulders.

He didn’t pull you in, instead he tapped your arm and started indicating for you to sit up. "Uh-uh," he softly protested, guiding you to an upright position. “You shouldn’t sleep on the couch in this state. Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”

Immediately you threw your head back and began pouting at his actions. “Nooo, it’s so hard to get comfortable,” you practically sulked. “And you just sat down," you added, hoping to appeal to his own exhaustion.

"We'll I wouldn't have if I'd known you were this tired,” he bickered back. “Besides, what does that matter?" he asked.

"I don’t know,” you mumbled, not shifting your weight to keep him on the couch. “It’s just more comfortable with you,” you admitted sheepishly.

His heart burned at the way you practically buried your face into his chest, he tilted his head back, starting at the ceiling to hide the giddy smile that fought its way onto his face. “Well, you don’t get everything you want just because you’re hurt,” he goaded, still nudging you to sit up.

“I get you, don’t I?” You asked, locking eyes with him after he gently pulled you to your feet.

“You do,” he whispered and he held your face gently in his hands before tilting your head down to press his lips to your forehead. You closed your eyes and held his wrists tightly, leaning in further as didn’t to find much separation between the two of you anytime soon. “You do get me.”

"Will you stay with me tonight?" You pleaded, looking up into his eyes. “You need to rest just as much as I do.”

“Well, in the interest of not giving in to everything you want,” he teased, gently shaking your head in his hands, causing you to laugh and pull them away from your cheeks. He leaned down and whispered in your ear. “Whatever you want.”

“Lockwood?” You asked softly, looking up at him through your eyelashes. He hummed in response. “Don’t forget my bear.” The frustrated huff that left his nose was worth the profanities you were likely to read on the thinking cloth in the morning.

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood #lockwood and co season 2 #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood and co netflix #lockwood and co x reader #geroge karim x platonic!Reader #lucy carlyle x platonic!reader

712 notes · View notes

hisnamesdylan · 2 months

Text

Lockwood: Just don’t call me Ant. Or Tony.

Lucy(internally): Does anyone actually call him Tony??

[Later]

Kipps: Well, if it isn’t Tony.

#lockwood and co #save lockwood and co #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #quill kipps #why read the books when I keep summarizing them #in meme format #this is like my third time #but seriously #the books are pretty good #you should read them #and watch the show #on netflix #then complain about the lack of a season two #it’s worth it #lockwood & co #renew lockwood and co #lockwood and co season 2 #the screaming staircase

75 notes · View notes

killerfrostisme · 1 year

Text

Not to be dramatic but Jonathan Stroud's letter announcing Lockwood and Co's cancelation literally broke me.

Like "Portland Row is always open for business"? "Drop by any time"? "It's your home too, after all"?

HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO BE OKAY AFTER THIS

#lockwood and co #books #fiction #jonathan stroud #renew lockwood and co #lockwood and co season 2 #lockwood and co series #lockwood and co tv show #lockwood and co netflix #l&co netflix #netflix #35 portland row #cameron chapman #ruby stokes #it's literally one of the best book adaptations I've seen in recent times #netflix you're an ass for cancelling it #ali hadji heshmati

1K notes · View notes

locklyle1kanij · 8 months

Text

I’m rewatching Lockwood and co for the millionth time and idk why but it just dawned on me now that these are the goggles that if we got another season, Kipps would be wearing this and that’s just very funny to me.

#anthony lockwood #lockwood and co #lucy carlyle #locklyle #george cubbins #george karim #lockwood & co #save lockwood and co #quill kipps #kipps #goggles #lol #lockwood and co season 2

147 notes · View notes

wellgoslowly · 1 year

Text

yknow what. I'm just gonna stay delusional. they could look for a home on a different streaming service AND! shows have been renewed before bc the fandom had been bullying netflix. I just. can't accept that this is the last time we'll see them. I can't.

#renew lockwood and co #lockwood and co #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #locklyle #george karim #george cubbins #locklyle brainrot is real #lockwood netflix #flo bones #lockwood and co season 2 #linnie is going insane #l&co netflix #l&co. netflix #l&co #anthony bloody lockwood #doing this to stop me from crying

799 notes · View notes

downbadf0rficppl · 3 months

Text

let me

Anthony Lockwood x F!Reader

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

Word Count: 3.4K

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

Repost