#lockwood and co season 2 when

[hatsunerandal]

whoever said “lockwood giving lucy her fouth grade was him giving her a reason to stay an the ability to leave” should be put behind bars how dare hou say something al accurate

#how DARE you #it lives in my brain constantly #lockwood trusting her enough not leave after that #is so #hes so #i have so many thoughts about him #spins them around in my head likr a microwave #lockwood and co #anthony lockwood #locklyle #george karim #lucy carlyle #lockwood & co #lockwood and co season 2 when #lockwood and lucy

[alexiethymia]

You gave her a free pass just ‘cause you like the way she looks at you.

At first she looks at you in wonder, with slight awe, a country bumpkin in wonder of the big city, and you admit to being flattered. That shine fades away the more she gets to know you, George, the more all of you get to know each other, but it doesn’t disappear entirely. 

Instead, it’s tinged with exasperation, a slight roll of the eye here and there, a gobsmacked expression at your nerve (she calls it recklessness, you call it daring), and most times she looks at you like she wants to wring your neck. You admit you are amused. You throw her a roguish smirk and part of you can admit you want to rile her up (-but mostly, mostly you just want to make her laugh, the same way you can’t help but laugh, smile, because of her from that first defiant “I’ll wait”, eyes dark and feral). She looks at you with challenge, demanding if you’re good enough for her, and you admit it’s irresistible. 

You’ve always been drawn to dangerous things, and the more you get to know her, you realize Lucy Carlyle is far more dangerous than any Visitor. 

Later, under a spell, a ghost’s hold, she looks at you like she loves you - ‘You love me, don’t you?’ It’s not her words, it’s not her actions, it’s not her, just Annabel speaking through her, but - her face, her smile, her eyes as she looks at you are sweet. You don’t know who’s really under a spell between the both of you. ‘You love me, don’t you?’ - the ghost asks through her. It should be an easy enough question to answer, so why can’t you?

She looks at you in pain - I am drowning - and you want so much to save her, even if you are the cause of it. Her tears make you feel as if you’re suffocating along with her, and you’re back to being a little boy again, helpless to save anyone who’s ever mattered. The moment those words leave her mouth, fear grips your heart. Better off dead? Her of all people? You didn’t matter, but she was Lucy Carlyle and that was not the way it was going to be. 

She looks at you with eyes full of understanding, absent of the blame you so richly deserve. With apologies falling from your lips and your hand in hers, you can’t help but draw the comfort that you hardly deserve. 

You’re still the cause of her tears, and though you don’t deserve it, deserve anything from her, after what you just put her and George through, she looks at you as if she wants you to live - just live. 

You’re tired, so very tired - of Kipps, Barnes, of everything. But you come home - to her, and though you admit to feeling a bit off-balance (even if Kipps does deserve it, the pompous prick), she just looks at you, bemused, and you can’t help but sigh. It’s not quite a smirk, not quite a smile, just a slight lift in the corner of her mouth that you are endlessly fascinated by. She promises you tea, and you would promise her anything and everything. 

Later on, you don’t know how it could have gone so wrong so fast but she looks at you like she hates you. And you feel like you could almost hate her too. There is bitterness, so much bitterness, that you wonder if you have another Annabel Ward at home, but this is all you - your insecurities, your vulnerabilities. You can admit that you only got that mad because she poked at the exposed heart of you, at open wounds that haven’t even scabbed over. 

No matter how you feel though - how she makes you feel - she is still your responsibility. She may prod at open wounds, but you’ll make sure hers are closed and have a chance to heal. She looks at you - she looks at you like she wants so badly for you to believe her. She looks at you like you could break her (which fair enough because you’re pretty sure she can break you too). She looks at you like what you think matters, like you - Anthony Lockwood, not just Lockwood - matter, to her. For the first time, your gaze isn’t fixed on her eyes. Giving in to instinct, it drops. 

We can’t let you go. 

Who are you fooling? 

You trade toast for a smile. Hardly a fair exchange in your opinion. Lucy frowns more often than not, and she keeps her smiles like a secret treasure stuck close to her heart. It is during quiet moments like these in the wee hours of the morning that you feel like an ungainly relic man who would do anything to claim it for your own. Rather than Lockwood’s dazzling acts of courage, it is Anthony who can coax those rare and precious smiles out of her. Pity that you find it so hard to be the boy you once were. 

You’re afraid, so very afraid. Once again you feel like that helpless boy, never good enough, never enough. What on earth could you have to offer against Fittes, when that had been her dream and you were just a last resort. You know you sound pathetic, close to pleading, hell you will plead if that’s what it takes, sod your pride - to get her to stay, just don’t leave, don’t leave (me). (Not again). But Lucy never does what you expect, does she? Because she looks at you, she looks at you like you are enough. She looks at you like home. You can’t help if your breath catches and the half-sob that rises along with it. But luckily, for all her Talent, she doesn’t hear.

You were naive. That earlier fear doesn’t even compare to what you feel now. That was juvenile, this is paralyzing. You don’t fear death, not anymore when you fight it on a daily basis for a living. Being ghost locked doesn’t compare to this - fear, paralysis, desperation. For Lucy’s life to be snuffed out and for you to be the cause - your fault, always your fault - sucks all the air out of you. You can’t breathe. 

You could almost hate how she looks at you because she looks at you like she’s willing to give you a second chance. You want to so badly - to unburden yourself, to her. But she doesn’t deserve the ghosts you carry (-is what you say to yourself because you’ve always been a narcissistic bastard who wants to look good. Kipps’ voice echoes, in the end she’ll leave and you’ll be the one to make her). Her disappointment is an easy enough pill to swallow because nothing else matters besides the fact that she’s - alive, alive, alive. 

She looks at you like you disgust her, as if you were worse than any Visitor. You’re worse because you’re a living corpse who’s already lost your heart. You’ve fallen far from that pedestal, but in a strange way it comforts you because you’re finally being looked at the way you deserve to be looked at. And yet, with tears in her eyes (of which you are once again the cause, it’s always you), she looks at you like she still cares about you. And oh, what a right and proper bastard you are for letting this happen. Because you’ve vowed that you were never going to leave anyone behind the same way you were left behind, but you don’t want her to leave you behind either. (You’ve always been a walking contradiction.)

You’re shaking, you can’t (-breathe, you can’t breathe), but you grip her hair like a lifeline, and she grounds you like a lightning rod, hands cradling your cheeks. You lean in to that warmth (it’s cold, so cold). Her voice calls to you and while you’ve always been a shit Listener, somehow you manage to open your eyes. She looks at you, frantic and half-crazed, but somehow you can finally breathe.  

After your unexpected swim, you just want to draw her close, to cradle her as proof of life, but she pushes you away with everything she’s got. It shouldn’t sting as much as it does. You swallow your words. For all that you thought that you couldn’t handle the way she looks at you, at the way it rearranges everything inside of you, the absence of her gaze pierces worse than any rapier. The silence worse. 

You would take her biting words over this, relish it even, the chance to parry or to let it land and litter her marks all over your skin. You’d wear those scars proudly. 

But then she turns and looks at you, with rage. And even through the haze of exhaustion, you cannot help but think she looks glorious, fiery even as she trails water from the Thames. But with that rage is something that wasn’t there before - fear. She looks at you like she doesn’t know you and that’s worse than anything you’ve experienced tonight. You tell yourself that you can live with her disappointment, but for you to be the reason why this defiant girl cowers and curls into herself is the most unforgivable sin. 

You realize you are selfish because even though you’ve sinned against her so much already, you still crave her forgiveness. Even though to remain with you is to risk being dragged down to the depths, you still don’t want her to let you go. 

You’ve always known it, Lockwood. You’re a hazard to yourself and the people you love. This is proof. 

You apologize, and you await her judgment. She gives you salvation. She makes your heart pound and your blood boil. She makes you remember what it’s like to be alive.  And yet, she also quiets your mind and lets you breathe like nothing else. You can’t quite remember what it was like to live before her. She’s the adrenaline in your veins. She’s the great big gulp of air you greedily take in after drowning for who knows how long. She’s quite the walking contradiction too, his Lucy. 

With a bland look and a quip, she saves you anew, again and again she keeps saving you, and oh you finally get it. You speak softly because you don’t want to shatter this precious, tender moment. It’s not about how she looks at you, but it’s about how you look at her - how you’ve always looked at her. Her eyes are mirrors which reflect your own, and as you heave in a great ragged sigh, you realize you look at her like you love her - with ache, and tenderness, and gratitude, and awe.

You love her. 

Later you fight like you have a lot to live for - and you do - you fight for Lucy and George, and you fight for yourself, for the chance to see them again, for the chance to - just live. 

And in the dawning light, though she doesn’t quite smile that smile you adore, her relieved gasp is worth more than front-page news, all the tea in London, and chocolate biscuits combined, because it means that she - they are alive.

Just reckless enough.

And she finally looks at you like she’s proud of you. 

#lockwood and co #locklyle #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #george karim #george cubbins #books #tv #does this count as fanfic? #you know you're obsessed when you've started writing fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #lockwood & co #prayer circle for season 2!

[hisnamesdylan]

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

[deithe]

i need to both simultaneously beat the shit out of anthony lockwood and also lock him in a room with a licensed therapist for a month straight

#'i used to think the bottom of the thames was a pretty nice place' ANTHONY. get help #begging wickam to literally kill him. the jump. every plan hes ever had. he is so. #also it affects lucy and george sm when he does that shit also. it puts them in danger when he does insane stupid shit on cases #bc while he doesn't care about his own life his recklessness is putting lucy and george in danger #also the whole room thing. lockwood get help challenge #my theory for season 2 which is totally definitely happening is that the room is gonna be a bit different than it is in book canon #lockwood and co #anthony lockwood

[xhaoticprince]

proof (if you needed more because let's be real, we knew) that Netfilx doesn't give a shit:

Shadow and Bone, Lockwood and Co, I am not okay with this, The Society: Shows that were watched and liked by a lot of people, many asking for a renewal of it. If it was renewed for a second season before being canceled, people had to fight for it

Avatar: The Last Air Bender: Good show that was very criticized for some of the directions it took, already confirmed to be renewed for the seasons 2 and 3

#netflix #fuck netflix #netflix cancellation #the society #six of crows spin off #its baffling that perfectly good shows get canceled/have to fight for more seasons #when a show that generated mixed opinion is already confirmed to be renewed for more #and this only like 2 weeks after it came out #six of crows #i am not okay with this #avatar the last airbender #shadow and bone #lockwood and co

[lockaluu]

Its interesting (but not surprising) how there’s this stigma around your talents fading along with—from what im picking up, this apathy for agents once they are no longer useful. obviously the Problem is still relatively new and they’re still so focused on containing the problem that anything else is very much on the back burner but I’m so interested in if there are any transitional programs/support groups/etc. out there. Im guessing their mental health services are just as shit as irl but still :’) I love kipps to death but im fr so excited to see how his talents fading play out - i havent yet read the books so idk if they like go into it but it’d be so cool to see more world-building pertaining talentless people living with the Problem + transitional period of dropped agents (like they did with Joplin, ellie, and also like whatever is developing with Fairfax’s goggles)

#deprac fund therapy for your agents challenge go! #lockwood and co #quill kipps #lucy carlyle #george Karim #anthony lockwood #lockwood & co #season 2 lockwood and co when 🤨

[manikas-whims]

I haven't started The Hollow Boy yet so i'm not entirely familiar with Holly Munro's personality.

But when they introduce Holly in season 2, it'd be so funny if she has the biggest crush on Lucy. And Lockwood is the one being petty and jealous, competing for Lucy's undivided attention 🤭

#lockwood and co #locklyle #l&coaw2023 #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #holly munro #lockwood & co #l&co. netflix #not me saying “when season 2” as if I'm sure it'll happen #but now that I've said so I'm manifesting it 😌🙏 #it'll happen okay #season 2 is coming

[janedoebby]

'Cornish told RadioTimes.com: "Well, there are five books. Season 1 encompasses the first two books. So we think there's definitely two more seasons we'd love to make out of the remaining books.'

I RECKON IF THE NEXT COUPLE OF WEEKS ARE ANYTHING LIKE THE LAST THREE DAYS THEN THIS IS A TOTAL POSSIBILITY.

also idk if this is an unpopular opinion but following this layout i think season 2 should be solely based on book 3 and then season 3 should be a combination of books 4 and 5.

*book spoilers for 3,4, and 5*

The whole plotline with the Chelsea outbreak I think could carry an entire season especially since the creative team seems keen to explore how the trauma of risking their lives daily is affecting the younger generations. Only doing one book could also allow for more domestic scenes between the trio which I've been seeing come up a couple of times amongst reviews by fans of the books as an aspect they found lacking. When Lucy resigns from Lockwood and Co I think wouldn't be as impactful if one or two episodes later she rejoins rather than using the break between seasons to introduce a time skip. While books 4 and 5 result in a major overhaul of everything we thought we could trust in when originally reading I think it would serve really well as following each other in the third and final season. Penelope/Marissa moving quickly to take over the agencies in London would increase the tension and need for the Lockwood and Co team to take action urgently. The writers seemed to favor a fast-paced story which would be better served by following book 4 with book 5.

Overall I'm just glad that Joe Cornish and the team behind the show are planning ahead for future seasons and want to continue the story they started to tell. I really hope that they get the opportunity to do so and we get the chance to see it.

#FIRST AND FOREMOST RENEW THE SHOW FOR A SEASON 2 #probably will continue this train of thought when we hopefully get a season 2 annoucnemnt #l&co. netflix #lockwood and co spoilers #lockwood and co book spoilers #anthony lockwood #ruby stokes #george karim

[lockyle-and-skull]

just realized I’m (hopefully) gonna have to experience The Hollow Boy in motion picture

#don’t think I’m emotionally prepared for that #if this doesn’t get a season 2 I’ll cry #but also if it does get a season 2 I’ll also cry #BUT THEN WE ALSO GET TO SEE THE CREEPING SHADOW YOOOOO #actually so excited for that #edit: ​ahhhh remember when we had hope? #lockwood and co #lockwood and co tv show #lockyle and skull op #the hollow boy

[hangesextra]

Locklyle Cobra Kai AU where Lucy & Lockwood are rivals at different dojo's, but get pitted to fight together at the All Valley, and Lockwood is like "Oh shit. I think I like her...". And when Kreese comes to take over Cobra Kai, Lockwood leaves and joins Miyagi-Do with Lucy, and they become friends and maybe something more?

#lockwood & co #i cannot be normal #lockwood and co #cobra kai au #ok so i was simply rewatching cobra kai season 5 with my brother bc he hadn't seen season 5 #and i think it was episode 2 when i thought #'a cobra kai locklyle au sounds pretty damn good...' #so i kinda LOVE the idea #idk why i just yeah #its amazing in my opinion #dbbdbsbdbd

[bella-rose29]

Anthony Lockwood x reader master list

Key:

❤️ - happy/fluff

💙 - sad/angst

💛 - platonic ship

💚 - gn!reader

💜 - author's favourite

Late Night, 2.8k words

lockwood x fem!reader Y/n just wants Anthony Lockwood to go to sleep for once; he's starting to look more like a raccoon than a human being. ❤️

Little Kipps miniseries, 5.4k words

part one, part two, part three lockwood x fem!kipps!reader Lockwood had no idea just how lovely somebody related to Quill Kipps could be. ❤️

Idiot, 9.4k words

lockwood x fem!reader (requested by anon): Y/n L/n and Anthony Lockwood were childhood best friends, up until the point she walked out on him after an argument. A few years later, and many cases of Y/n and her Fittes team saving Lockwood and co's asses, can they figure out their differences? ❤️

Puppy, 3.5k words

lockwood x fem!reader (requested by anon): Anthony Lockwood has a girlfriend, but nobody else knows that. Convenient for him when, on a night out after a difficult case, Kipps bets money that Lockwood can't get a kiss out of the pretty bartender who just so happens to be the aforementioned girlfriend. Unfortunately, Lockwood is quite drunk. ❤️💜

Relic (wo)man, 2.7k words

lockwood x fem!relic hunter!reader (requested by @superpositvecloudshipper): what about a relic hunter fem reader x Anthony lockwood where reader fights lockwood over an important relic in doing so he pulls off her hood revealing she's a girl which shocks him she runs off leaving relic with him, few days later she turns up at his door very much injured and he immediately helps her then asks why she came and she tells him she has nowhere else to go (all her family is dead expect her dad who is like the most dangerous relic hunter) ❤️

Hopeless Romantics, 1.7k words

lockwood x fem!reader Lockwood and the reader's relationship through various hopelessly romantic dates ❤️

You Shall Go to the Ball!, 9.8k words

lockwood x fem!reader (requested by anon): Hey, I don't know if you accept requests, but I have one. Reader(she is George's sister) accompanies Lockwood&co to the ball at Fittes and she is jealous when she sees Lockwood talking to the girl (maybe reader enemy or something)most of the time. She decides to interrupt the conversation and introduces herself as his wife, while showing the ring Lucy gave her, explaining what to do. A long chapter please😊 ❤️ and a tiny bit of 💙

Pretty, 3.4k words

lockwood x gn!reader (requested by anon): Saw your post about Lockwood ideas so here's one! Reader and Lockwood have an extremely close call on a case and in the heat of the moment, Lockwood ends up kissing the reader. ❤️💚

‘tis the damn season, 10.4k words

lockwood x fem!reader (requested by anon): can I request a Lockwood x fem reader based on tis the damn season by Taylor swift? Absolutely no happy ending to this one 💙💙💙 and a tiny bit of ❤️, 💜

Bite Me - Vampire au (ongoing series, will be updated when Deck the Halls is complete)

THIS IS GOING TO BE AN 18+ FIC Vampire!Lockwood x fem!vampire!reader link is for the series master list, but currently there is only the prologue up there <3

Deck the Halls (and not your partner) series (completed), 54.3k words

lockwood x fem!reader When a phone call with Y/n's mother goes wrong, she ends up needing to bring someone home to pretend to be her boyfriend for three days in the English countryside. With only a short amount of time before she needs to leave, her only option is her boss Anthony Lockwood. The only problem is, she hates her boss. And he hates her. Christmas will be interesting this year, especially when a snowstorm hits and blocks all transport. ❤️ and a little bit of 💙 later on (but mostly just ❤️), 💜💜💜

Reverse damsel in distress situation (head canons)

prince!lockwood x fem!knight!reader ❤️ part 2 - gn!knight!reader ❤️💚

You can what?!, 2k words

lockwood x cousin!reader, locklyle (requested by anon): Hey! If you’re still taking requests, can I request platonic Lockwood x reader (cousin) who finds out reader can communicate with like, weaker ghosts 💛💚 

Happy New Year, 1.7k words

lockwood x fem!reader I just felt like writing this, but reader and lockwood and co spend New Years together (and a kiss) ❤️

beautiful people, 2.1k words

lockwood x gn!reader requested by anon: hi hi! Can I request Anthony Lockwood x reader fic inspired by the song beautiful people by ed Sheeran? ❤️💚

The Greatest Thing, 4.2k words

lockwood x fem!reader requested by anon: Hi, I love the way you write! I was wondering (if requests are still open) if you could write a Lockwood x reader where reader's mother died when she was little for some reason, and by taking on a case reader and Lockwood find themselves having to fight the ghost of reader's mother ? And maybe even Lockwood calming Reader down after the mission? Feel free to change parts. (btw: sorry if English is terrible, I'm Italian, English is not my native language) ❤️ and a little bit of 💙

paper rings, 10.2k words

lockwood x fem!reader based on the Taylor Swift song, featuring a lot of innuendos and mildly explicit content, but pretty much just pure fluff ❤️ and nothing else really, 💜

college au

#lockwood and co #anthony lockwood #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood x reader

[hatsunerandal]

something about lockwood SO CONFIDENTLY throwing that flashlight at the intruder is so funny

#he tries so hard to impress her #hes so #so dumb #and i love him dearly #goofy mf #oh lemme chuck this as hard as i can and FUCKING MISS #lockwood and co #locklyle #anthony lockwood #george karim #lucy carlyle #locklyle brainrot #he spins like a microwave #lockwood & co #lockwood and co season 2 when #lockwood my beloved

[atlabeth]

between colleagues - anthony lockwood

part 2

summary: besides, what's a bit of fake dating between colleagues anyway?

a/n: i have missed him!!! there is just something so fun about writing for l&co and anthony specifically i truly love their world and i love him!! this was originally going to be the entire thing in one fic but i decided to post this on its own and test the waters with you all because i am TIREd of writing long fics. free me from my prison. this is literally my third fake-dating fic bc i never get tired of the trope but lmk if you want to see more

wc: 3.1k

warning(s): fem!reader, mentions of: canon typical job stuff, a child dying (mentioned in passing. literally half a line), and a good ol fashioned breakdown. but this is almost completely fluff bc that's all in the background

You groaned as Lockwood pushed the door open, working through the knot in your shoulder while you all walked inside. You tossed your rapier into the umbrella stand, not even bothered by the clatter, and began unbuckling your belt. 

Winter was the worst season for ghost hunting. As if it weren’t already freezing enough dealing with Visitors and their effects, your most recent job was almost fully outside. You considered it a miracle hypothermia didn’t get you before any sort of ghost-touch.

“What are you groaning about?” Lockwood asked, glancing back at you. “I think tonight went rather well.” 

He’d removed his jacket, and his white undershirt was dirt-stained and damp with sweat. Though he looked unaffected as ever on the surface, the quickened rise and fall of his chest said, in his own way, he was just as exhausted as the rest of you. You raised an eyebrow, but Lucy beat you to the punch. 

“You think every night goes well if we come back alive,” she said wryly. 

“It’s not the best measurement,” George added. He tilted the iron charm over the door back into place then set his bag on the floor. “Tonight was rough, Lockwood. Even by your ridiculous terms.” 

Lockwood looked at you. “Anything you care to add?” 

You grimaced as you rubbed your shoulder. “I’m never breaking down a door for you like this again.” 

You did feel a bit like an action hero in the moment, but you regretted it soon after. Even more so when it didn’t even matter in the scheme of things—the source ended up being buried by the locked shed, not in the shed itself. At least you were now last in the rotation of opening suspicious doors. 

“You offered to,” Lockwood defended.  

“Because you said you would handle all the supply calls for the next week,” you said dryly. “And it looks like that may need to happen soon.” You held up your belt—once packed with salt bombs and magnesium flares, you’d emptied it completely trying to save all your lives. It was a sad sight. 

He frowned. “Even the flares?” 

“Even the flares,” you said. 

“I’m all out of them too,” George said. “Surprised we didn’t start a full-on forest fire in the backyard.” 

“I thought those would last longer.” Lockwood’s frown deepened. “They were quite expensive.” 

“At least we got paid a fair bit,” Lucy said. “And we did indeed get away with our lives.” 

“Barely,” George grumbled, kicking off his boots. He tossed his rapier haphazardly to the side, not even bothering to deposit it into your umbrella stand, and dropped his belt on the ground, still boasting a whole two remaining salt bombs. Your lip curled at the trail of chaos. “I’m going to bed. No one bother me for at least fifteen hours.” 

Lucy smiled, shaking her head as he walked off. “Dramatic, but he’s got the right idea. I’ll see you all tomorrow.” 

“See you, Luce,” Lockwood said. 

“I’ll be quiet when I come in,” you assured, and she gave an appreciative nod. Lucy dropped a stack of envelopes on the kitchen table before she went upstairs—it was her job to pick up the mail, and you were honestly surprised she remembered after all this. 

“You’re not mad at me,” Lockwood said, glancing at you as he went over to pick up the mail, “are you?” 

“No,” you sighed, and you flopped onto the couch, “just dramatic. More so than George tonight.” 

He chuckled and leaned against the counter, making deft work of the envelopes as he sorted them into piles. One for the never-ending junkmail that graced your door, and four others for each of you. “Good. I can never handle you being mad at me.” 

A smile tugged at your lips as you stared up at the ceiling. “You’re off the hook this time, so don’t worry.” 

“And I appreciate your mercy immensely,” he said. Another glance over at you. “You look exhausted. Are you sure you don’t want to turn in?”

You shook your head. “Our post-job detox is the most important part of all this. I can hold out for another hour.”

It was hardly a detox, but it had grown to become a necessity for you and Lockwood, sitting together and talking through everything in the wee hours of the night. 

One extremely tough case left you reeling harder than usual—children always got to you, and the girl’s death was particularly grisly—and apparently, Lockwood could tell. 

It took a couple days of gentle prodding, but one night, after being completely out of it in the archives with him that day, you broke—completely. Full on sobbing. Wholly embarrassing to do so in front of your boss, especially when he, George, and Lucy didn’t seem half as affected by it all. 

It turned out he was just better at covering it all up—Lockwood understood it all a lot better than you thought. He just sat with you in the living room and talked with you, talked you through it. There was a lot of crying, a fair bit of permanently swearing off ghost-hunting, and more than a bit of hatred against the entirety of the United Kingdom. 

By the end of it, though, after you’d cried yourself into a headache, gone through a quarter of a box of tissues, and actually worked out your problems with Lockwood’s help, you felt far better. 

Lockwood thereby forbade you from holding in your feelings until they burst, and so it became a routine—it was cheaper than therapy, and most therapists, save for the few former agents working in the field, couldn’t understand it anyways. You usually slumped on the couch, Lockwood usually leaning against the counter. Sometimes with tea, often with tears, always with slightly morbid jokes. 

“How’s your shoulder feeling?” Lockwood asked, snapping you out of your thoughts. 

“It’ll heal,” you said. “It’s mostly just sore. I’ll stay away from my rapier for a few days, sleep on my other side for once, and everything’ll be fine.” 

“Good.” The ruffling of paper stopped for a moment, and his voice was slightly sheepish when he spoke again. “Are you still up for that meeting with the Caldecotts tomorrow, then?” 

You groaned and screwed your eyes shut. “Lockwood, it is three in the bloody morning. You scheduled the Caldecotts for eleven.” 

“I didn’t know that this job would go on for so long!” he defended. “The last few have all wrapped up before midnight. It’s not my fault this Visitor was particularly elusive.” 

“I am drenched in sweat, Lockwood,” you said. “Half of my coat is burnt from plasm and the other half is frozen solid. There is still dirt under my fingernails, my boots are covered in spiderwebs, and I haven’t slept in twenty-three hours. And you want me to be ready to deal with Lorena Caldecott, the most annoying woman I think I have ever met, in eight measly hours?” 

“Yes,” he said brightly. That just got another groan out of you. 

“They made you in a lab, Anthony Lockwood,” you mumbled. “That’s the only explanation for how you’re still going.” 

He chuckled. “Alright, alright. I’ll phone them first thing tomorrow morning—well, later this morning, I suppose—and see if I can push it back another day.” 

“And if not, you’re doing this on your own,” you said, finally opening your eyes again to see him walking over. He handed you your stack of mail—hardly a stack, really, only consisting of four envelopes—and smiled, irritatingly pretty even with smudges of dirt on his face. There was a reason he got away with so much, and that smile was half of it. 

Lockwood said your name cloyingly. “Come on. You know I do interviews best when we’re together. You keep me on track.” 

“I knocked down a door for you, Lockwood!” you proclaimed. “Is that not enough to get me out of this?” 

“I took the supply calls,” he said, “and I’m pushing back the meeting. We’re even now.” 

“Fine,” you said, extremely grudgingly. “But you’re getting them to push it back at least until tomorrow, because once my head hits the pillow, I don’t think I’ll be up for at least twenty-four hours.” 

“Promise,” he said with a nod. 

You sighed, finally righting yourself so you could look at your mail, and glanced up at Lockwood as you picked them up. “You get anything interesting?”

He shook his head. “Unless you consider a letter from Fittes begging me to buy the newest edition of their manual interesting.”

You hummed and looked back down at yours. You slipped your finger under the seal and tore it open, chuckling a bit when you took it out.

“How about you?” Lockwood asked.

“25% off my next Dorothy Perkins purchase,” you said, holding the coupon up. “Very thrilling.”

“Incredibly so,” he nodded. “When’s the last time you even got something from there?” 

You huffed a laugh as you worked open the next envelope. “I bought a dress for my cousin’s graduation last year. Haven’t worn it since.”

“So doubly thrilling,” he said. 

You’d opened your mouth to shoot back, but instead you frowned as you pulled an embossed card out. You skimmed through it quickly enough but got the meaning all the same. 

“Huh,” you said. “My cousin is getting married.” 

Lockwood raised an eyebrow. “Dorothy Perkins cousin?”

You shook your head, still frowning. “No. Maternal aunt’s son. Dorothy Perkins was paternal aunt’s son.”

“Ah,” he said dryly, “how could I have made such a mistake?”

You didn’t even have the energy to retort back as you stared at the letter. “I suppose I’ll need to pull out that dress again. It’s an invite.”

“Congratulations,” Lockwood said. “Are you going to need time off?”

“I don’t even know if I should go,” you mumbled, leaning your head against the side of the couch. 

“Why wouldn’t you go?” he asked with a frown. 

“Because I haven’t seen my family in a while,” you said, “and I haven’t seen this side of the family in an even longer while.” 

Lockwood shrugged. “Then it’ll be a nice reunion.” 

“Lockwood,” you said, “I’ve lied to them.”

“…Okay,” he said slowly. “About what?”

You winced. “They think I have a boyfriend.” 

He still seemed lost. “Strange thing to lie about.”

“You don’t understand.” You sat up, putting the letter to the side. “My family’s from Liverpool, right? We’re all so busy that we never really have time to meet up, but I make it a point to call my mother a few times a month so she knows I’m still alive.” 

Lockwood nodded. “Yeah, I know. You usually call her after every rough case.” 

“Right. Because my mum hates my career,” you said. “I thought she was going to have a heart attack when I told her I’d scored my first job with Tendy’s. I thought she would actually pass away when I told her I quit Tendy’s for you.” You glanced at Lockwood. “She thinks you’re a lunatic, by the way.” 

He shrugged. “Many do.” 

You smiled and shook your head. “She hates that I’m an agent, but so long as I stay alive, she says she can deal with it. But she has a rule on our calls that I can’t talk about our jobs—says they give her nightmares. So instead, she talks about every facet of my personal life.” 

Lockwood’s eyes finally flashed with understanding and he nodded. “Hence the boyfriend lie?” 

“Hence the boyfriend lie,” you echoed. “She will not stop bothering me about it—apparently the dating life of her daughter is more important than anything else. So on our last call, I just lied and told her I had one to get her off of my back.”

Lockwood actually had the nerve to laugh. “And how did that work out for you?”

“It worked fine,” you said, “and it was going to continue to be fine. But then Will had to go out and get engaged, the dolt.”

“So just go on your own,” he suggested. 

“I can’t show up alone,” you grumbled. “Not only would it be completely embarrassing, but the questions would start up all over again.” 

“Then don’t go.” 

“I can’t not go!” you exclaimed. “Will’s a lovely cousin.” 

“You just called him a dolt,” Lockwood said. 

“I call you a dolt all the time,” you said. “Doesn’t mean I don’t like you.” 

Lockwood chuckled and shook his head, and that was when an idea came to you. There was a slight furrow in his brow when he glanced back at you. 

“I don’t like that look.” 

“Come to the wedding with me,” you said suddenly. 

Lockwood’s expression sobered even further. “You can’t be serious.” 

“It’s the perfect solution!” you exclaimed, moving to the edge of the couch as you clasped your hands together. 

“You want me to be your pretend boyfriend,” he deadpanned. When you nodded, he shook his head in disbelief. “You’ve got to be joking.”

“Why would I be joking?” you asked. “You’re quite possibly the best candidate for it all. We’re best friends, we know each other well— God, I’ve talked about you enough in general to my mum that she won’t even be surprised that it ended up being you.” 

Lockwood’s eyebrows rose. “Won’t they look down on you dating your boss?” 

“You’re hardly my boss,” you said. 

“I pay your salary,” he said. “You live in my house. My name is on the door.” 

“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” you said. “Besides, you owe me after tonight!” 

He frowned. “We just agreed that we were even.” 

“Well, I lied,” you said. “My shoulder is in excruciating pain from knocking that door down, and the only way for it to heal is for you to pretend to be my boyfriend.” 

He gave you a wry look and said your name. “Come on. This is an awful idea.” 

“It’s a brilliant idea,” you said. “You get a chance to dress up and charm an entire family—you live for that sort of stuff, Lockwood. I finally get my family off my back with some actual proof and I actually get a break for once.” 

You saw the uncertainty on his face and you huffed. “Don’t give me that look. This is the exact sort of plan you’d come up with and try to force on me if it meant we’d get a hand up.” 

“I know,” he said grudgingly, “that’s why I don’t like it. It’s dangerous when you start learning my tricks.” 

“Please, Lockwood,” you begged. “I’ll do all your chores for the rest of the month. I’ll shake Lorena Caldecott’s hand with a smile on my face.”

“That is tempting,” he said wryly. “I can never fold my dress shirts the way you do.”

“Wrinkle-free dress shirts,” you said with a gesture. “And— and, I will cash in my favor with Arif. Discounted doughnuts for the next three months.”

Lockwood’s eyes widened. “You’ve got favors with Arif?”

You shrugged. “I helped him out a couple times with ghost things.”

He huffed a laugh and shook his head. “You really are something.”

“Discounted doughnuts, Lockwood,” you continued. “Discounted doughnuts and wrinkle-free shirts and my best behavior for the Caldecotts, no matter how sleep-deprived I am.”

“…This really means a lot to you,” Lockwood said after a moment, “doesn’t it.”

You nodded. “My family— my mum—will never lay off if I show up alone. If you’re on my arm, you talk a bit about yourself and compliment me a few times and charm them with literal ghost stories, then I’m off the hook for good.”

Lockwood pursed his lips, his arms folded across his chest as he thought it through. 

“Please,” you said. “It’ll just be one night.”

After another moment, he let out a sigh almost as dramatic as your earlier ones, but his lips quirked up at the corners.

“Fine,” Lockwood said. “I’ll go with you.” 

Your eyes widened. “You will?” 

“Yes,” he said with a laugh. “It— it’ll be fine—you’re right. We’ve been living together for the past year and a half—we know each other well enough to sell it. And with half the agency going out for it, I can write off any hotels or dinners as business expenses.” 

That got a laugh out of you too, and you shook your head. “You are my savior, Lockwood. Truly.” 

“Just means we’re back in your court on favors,” he joked. “And you know what? I think this could actually be fun.” 

“Really?” 

“Really,” he nodded. “Besides,” Lockwood smiled wryly at you as he stood up from his spot against the counter, “what’s a bit of fake dating between colleagues anyway?”

You huffed a laugh and finally managed to pull yourself back up into a sitting position. You cracked your neck and rubbed your shoulder, grimacing a bit at the soreness but thankful that it wasn’t worse. “Can we work out the rest of the details later? I’m exhausted, and I know you’ve got to be running on fumes.” 

His smile softened and he nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Later today, I suppose.” He frowned as he looked at the clock. “God. It really is late.” 

You hummed in agreement as you unlaced your boots, trying your best to avoid the spiderwebs when you took them off. That was your number one question about the Problem—why the hell did spiders have to gravitate towards ghosts? 

“Get some sleep, Lockwood,” you said, setting your boots with everyone else’s shoes. That mess was an issue for another day. “You’ve got to be refreshed—those supply calls aren’t going to make themselves.” 

Lockwood rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t completely bite back his smile. “Best behavior for the Caldecotts, love.” 

“And nothing less!” you exclaimed without turning around, pointing in the air as you continued up the stairs. You heard Lockwood laugh behind you, and the sound brought out a smile of your own. 

It was now nearly four in the bloody morning. Your shoulder still ached, your coat was beyond repair, and you would have to scrub beneath your nails for at least ten minutes before you settled in tonight. But somehow, Lockwood still had you smiling and feeling better about the whole experience. 

For god’s sake, you fought ghosts on a daily basis. You’d been training with a rapier since the tender age of eight. Your skills rivaled some of Fittes’ and Rotwell’s best—who cared what your family had to say about you? 

You were right. This wedding would be a piece of cake with Anthony Lockwood by your side.

#anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood x reader #lockwood x you #lockwood & co x reader #lockwood & co #x reader #reader insert #sadie writes

[readytofangirl]

I can’t stop thinking about Lockwood & Co. It’s probably kinda unhealthy how much I love them. GIVE ME SEASON 2. Here is a list of why you should watch it:

1. The yearninggg - OMG it gives me the same feelings i get when reading percabeth, kanthony and kanej

2. Found family - Im a sucker for this trope. Has me in a chokehold. Dealing with trauma together asdfghjkkklabxgj

3. Smart ass banter - lowkey marauder fandom you would love it

4. A tall, dark-haired british dude that is a simp for his girl but wont admit it AHHHHH

5. Swords - my inner “percy jackson obsessed” child was living for it

6. HANDS - the pride and prejudice girlie inside me was being fed.

7. It is only 8 episodes and I literally watched it all in one sitting.

8. It’s been all I can think about for the past week and if it doesnt get renewed that might be my 13th reason ngl.

#lockwood and co #locklyle #netflix #bridgerton #kanthony #kanej #sixofcrows #marauders #pride and prejudice #percy jackson #percabetn

[therubyreader]

The Fight for Lockwood and Co. Season 2

Ok, so, I was wrong, Netflix was stupid enough to cancel Lockwood and Co. after one season despite how good of a show it was and how literally all of the ratings were in its favor. But! there is some light at the end of the tunnel and I am back to spread more (hopefully not false) hope to the masses aka Lock Nation (I think that's our government name).

For starters, and I mean this in the best way possible, this fandom is probably the most aggressive one I've seen when it comes to trying to save the show. Now, I'm usually not the biggest fan of tv shows so I usually sit on the fringes of the fandoms, watching, so this is my first time really being in the thick of things and I don't know if it's due to my inexperience in tv show fandoms but this is genuinely the most dedicated fandom I've ever seen. The lengths that we as a collective are willing to go to in order to save the show is extremely admirable and honestly gives me hope for a second season. There's hashtags trending on multiple platforms, a watch party being planned, and a petition was created. If you're out of the loop on that and want to participate, @thisgameissonintendo made this wonderful masterpost pretty much explaining everything going on in the fandom in efforts to save the show.

While doing some research for this post (yes, I do research, I've been out of college for nearly two years but I still can't shake the habit) I was looking to see how many times Netflix has reversed a renewal decision, I couldn't find any examples of Netflix un-canceling a show, it's always been them deciding to cancel a show that's recently be renewed. But, there have been plenty of shows that have managed to have a second life outside of Netflix which is good news for us, especially since Netflix doesn't own the production rights, Complete Fiction, a company founded by the show's director and producers, does, which means they could, in theory, pitch the show to another network/streaming service. And, coupled with fan efforts, there is a pretty decent chance another network will swoop in to save the show since they know it will bring them money and viewers especially if they're seen as the heroes by the fanbase.

The point of all of this is to say that despite the cancelation this is fight worth fighting and we have a good chance of winning. So, keep trending hashtags, join the streaming party, sign petitions, get the word out, this isn't over yet and I'll be damned if I go down without putting in my all.

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #save lockwood & co #save lockwood and co

[lewkwoodnco]

Now That We Don't Talk - Lockwood x Reader

A/N: very very brief suicidal mention, sooooo much writer's block hhhh (the seasonal depression is depressing), (angst but diluted if that makes sense) add/remove yourself from my taglist in the link beloooow ALSO

🎄Special Announcement! I'll be doing a twelve days of Christmas fic series (1 songfic fic a day leading up to Christmas) BUT I will also be accepting extra holiday-themed requests (if any)!🎄

(speaking of the holidays, thinking of switching to a santa-themed george icon soon hmmm), wc 3.1k

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 3.5 | Ch 4 | Ch 5

TAGLIST | MATERLIST

Moving had been a surprisingly smooth process that she remembered little of. She had to take care to not think too much about the ornaments she was packing or the boxes she was taping shut or the lonely town she was numbly driving towards, lest the rest of her catch up to the grief weighing her down. Her supervisor had looked plenty confused when she explained where she was transferring to, and muttered something about not knowing if there were any visitors there.

As steep as the change was from working in central London to a significantly sleepier town, she seemed to be adjusting fine. In fact, she was liking the peace and quiet. Or at least, she would, soon enough. She'd learn the right habits, like finding contentment in the stagnant void that descended on her windows far too quickly every evening, the same way she'd unlearn bad habits, like him. So no, her biggest problem was hardly the early sunsets here, but was actually what everyone wanted to talk to her about when she called. The one thing everyone - her old teammates, colleagues, friends - wanted to make sure she knew.

"The gala was fantastic this year - though not as fun without you, of course -"

"You'll never believe who showed up."

"He looked very sharp in his suit. He cleans up nice, I suppose - Anthony Lockwood, I mean."

"They've become quite the celebrities, that Lockwood & Co., though the other two don't seem to tolerate the cameras like he does."

"Oh, you should have seen it. Say what you will about Lockwood but does he know how to make an entrance!"

"Were you at the gala this year?"

She sighed for what must have been the fifth time that day. "No, Ted, I was not. You were at my farewell party, remember?"

"Tha' was for you?"

"Goodbye, Ted."

"Wait! You've seen the pictures, haven't you?"

"No, I haven't, because contrary to popular belief, I am not obsessed with evrything that goes on at Fittes."

"Well, we had a tiptop chocolate fountain this year. Didn't get clogged once and looked absolutely gorgeous. Anywho, I've recently stumbled upon this smashing business opportunity involving chocolate fountains - they're selling like hot cakes, I tell you! - and I'd love to spread the wealth."

"Theodore, you haven't joined another MLM, have you?"

"What is an MLM, other than an opportunity to invest in yourself?"

"Don't make me phone your mother."

The call ended rather abruptly after that. Only Lucy, as always, was an angel.

"I take it you've heard plenty about him?"

"Who? Oh, him. Yes, more than plenty."

"I thought you might. He has...quite the presence, so the papers wanted to interview him, and he agreed - "

" - obviously - "

"And I think they asked him about you at some point."

Her mouth dried. She struggled to find her voice, forcing it to stay casually disinterested. "Hm? What did he say?"

"Absolutely nothing. First and probably last time I've seen him stunned speechless. Naturally, it's all anyone can talk about."

"Mhm."

"He hasn't talked about you, if you're wondering. Sees it coming from a mile away every time George and I try to bring it up. It's so stupid; we know it, he knows it, and he's always in a foul mood. He keeps thinking, these days...Y/N?"

"I don't care."

"No one would blame you if you did."

"I don't."

"So how are you holding up?"

"Well, Luce, I felt happiness outside of external validation for the first time in...ever, then three months later I'm crying in my bathtub wishing I would die, and now I'm miles away from everyone I ever knew and it's always dark outside and I'm always miserable. I'm doing great."

She could hear the exhaustion in the crackling static of the telephone. It occurred to her that she wasn't much acting all that cheerful either.

"If it makes you feel any better, I think he half-expected to see you there."

She inhaled sharply and sat up in her armchair so fast she could feel a cramp curling in her neck. She didn't dare believe Lucy's words. "Really?" she wanted to breathe into the telephone, and revel in dormant delusions, if only for a moment. Instead, she gingerly sank back into the chair, continuing in a flat voice.

"Well, I don't care about any of that now. Oh, I'm sick of it. All of it. If I never hear his name again for as long as I live, it'll be still be too soon. How's George doing?"

After she hung up, she laid in her chair, watching the shadows from her shutters stretch and fold over her furniture as the sun set. She was thinking about the last party she had been to, a yacht party where some of Fittes' and Rotwell's biggest investors were in attendance. How Lockwood had managed to score an invite was beyond her, but what intrigued her more was the cab ride they shared back to Portland Row.

She had been half-dozing off when she felt a hand cover hers. As she blinked at him blearily, she noticed the rigid tension in his spine, as if poised and waiting for an attack. He was clutching her hand purposefully, as if holding off on warning her about something malevolent that was consuming him. She couldn't see his face, which began to feel no different from the cold, hard window pane it was peering out of.

She stirred, distantly unnerved by his impersonality. He glanced at her, apologetically retracting his hand with a sheepish smile. But that look of consternation remained on his face as he turned back to the window with a furrowed brow, with the air of waiting for something. He visibly relaxed as they approached Portland Row, but she couldn't shake off the uneasy feeling even by the time they reached the doorstep.

"You all right?" she was asking, while Lockwood fumbled with their keys.

"'Course. Why wouldn't I be?"

She didn't respond, and the two of them watched him wrench at the key in the lock, trying to steady his mildly trembling fingers.

"Key turns the other way."

He paused his efforts, and after a second or two turned the key the other way. The door slid open smoothly with a click. He held it open, but she just looked at him expectantly. He sighed.

"I'm fine, I promise. I just...get a little nervous around some parts of London."

"Which parts?"

"Some."

"Scared of what?"

"A few things."

"Why?"

"For fun. Look, I'm freezing out here. Can we just drop this?"

That was more than a mild exaggeration; the sun had only just set and the air was still pleasantly balmy. But he looked so beseechingly, and it didn't take much for her to relent when it came to Lockwood, so they stepped inside and shrugged their coats off in silence.

"I'll tell you some day. I'm sure I will."

That was some day too far away. Now she'll never know if, or why he ever felt like that. Or rather, she wouldn't know when he would feel like that. But it was no matter. It was none of her business then, and it was even less of her business now.

She had mostly forgotten about her conversation with Lucy by the following week, which was why her parcel came as a bit of a surprise, especially since she'd mentioned being swamped by a mountain of upcoming cases.

Y/N -

I was thinking about our call the other day. On a completely unrelated note, here's about every gossip rag from the past month I could find at Arif's.

Love, Lucy.

She was beginning to see what was so appealing about these magazines. As ruthless as they could be, they sure knew how to sell a pipe dream to common folk with less exciting lives. The gala was clearly as glitzy and glamorous as it was every year, and the articles held an air of intrigue now that she was quite separate from Fittes. But that quivering excitement became somewhat muffled as she flipped through the glossy pages.

The Anthony Lockwood she saw now looked worlds apart from the Lockwood she left behind. His well-fitting suit, megawatt smile and carefully styled hair made him look expensive in a way that destabilised her. She flipped through photograph after photograph of him looking jarringly luxurious besides walls of text effusing about the success of their latest case, and what an honour it must have been to be personally invited by Marissa Fittes herself. It weighed at the pit in her stomach to see this unfamiliar silhouette of a friend who was become increasingly unattainable, speeding along roads to prosperity faster than she could ever keep up with.

She sifted through the other rags. The most extensive feature was a few pages long, and was centered more on the exciting, up-and-coming agency that was Lockwood & Co. rather than a specific case. There were pictures from their most recent cases, and in each one he looked unnaturally distinct from the last, but in every single one he oozed an appealingly languid charisma. It was good to see him doing so well. She was happy for him. Or she would be, tomorrow, when she had the strength for it. Lockwood was unbearable in a way that made him perfect for a life in the public eye, a life for which she was somehow always deficient. She traced a too-long strand of hair flopped on his forehead in one of the photographs, as if she could magically straighten it out.

She could see him now, thumbing through the pages with an approving tilt to his head, limbs folded uncomfortably in the armchair he always insisted on sharing with her. "No such thing as bad press," he'd claim absent-mindedly, his too-long hair flopping impractically. And she'd watch him with bruised eyes like she always did, wishing for nothing more in that moment shared with him. In other words, wishing for nothing short of what she could never have.

Maybe it was some lingering wish to break herself before he beat her to it. Because that was all it was; dodging blows, lying through pretty teeth, racing ahead to pull one over on him, cursing the feel of his breath on her. There was simply no calm, no respite, only the all-consuming experience of becoming wrapped up in him and losing bits and pieces of herself which would never again be truly hers.

She picked up the telephone again. It felt too heavy in her hand. Numbly, she spun the dial as if on autopilot, keying in her mother's phone number. The dial tone comforted her in some twisted yet cathartic acknowledgement of the emptiness inside of her.

Looking at it now she could see the distinct air of mystery that engulfed Lockwood and clouded her vision. He was never quite fully present; a part of him was always tucked away to be kept secret in some dark corner, and her mind was only too happy to extrapolate, to construct this most desirable yet entirely mythical figment. She felt ragged, winded and worn from battling reality day after day, all alone. And most of all, she felt so very stupid.

Her mother was saying that she had made the right decision. Not that she needed any reminding. Of course her life had taken an upward swing ever since; she'd be a fool to think otherwise. She was positively paralysed with liberty, bedridden with joy, simply immobile with ecstasy!

She was slowly but surely going very insane. Now making eyes at each other, now disconnect, now love, now heartache, now this, now that, but never any peace. Maybe it was some lingering wish to shatter and let the pent up misery dissipate.

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

Months passed. The holiday season arrived, and she choked through the November blues with shivering bones and clammy hands. Even with the slight uptick in visitors, as was expected in the colder months, her life provided little to distract her from her own ghosts under the floorboards. So when she received a consultancy request from Fittes one morning, she had written back and mailed her response all while still holding the jam knife.

The train was crowded and noisy with the bustle of the holidays, but as it chugged along through the fields of snow, she couldn't help but perk up ever so slightly at every sigh and creak of its wheels. There was a spring in her step all the way to Fittes headquarters, where she was supposed to collect her apartment key.

A tall, indistinct figure was walking out of the revolving doors as she approached. She flinched when she realised who it was - Lockwood, who didn't seem much happier to see her either. He looked mostly well, though the corners of his mouth were a little strained, his face flushed in the cold.

"...Y/N?"

"Lockwood."

"You're...home?"

"Yeah. Um, how have you been?"

"Good...good. Busy. As busy as winter gets."

He was wearing a different coat. It was quite similar to his old one, but this one was thicker and more structured, and looked like it was at least somewhat effective in keeping the brisk winter wind out. He looked foreign and unfamiliar in a way he hadn't since...since the Investors Party.

It had taken her a while to pick his face out of the pretentious crowd, given how preoccupied she was with weaving through the thicket of people. It had taken her a eyes minute to adjust to the almost nauseatingly charismatic silhouette of an especially-chuffed Lockwood in a newly tailored but otherwise identical suit. She tried to give him a reproaching look, but there was something infectious in his smooth ease as he larked about in his prime which made her lips twitch despite herself as he waded through the crowds.

"You really shouldn't be here."

"You're clearly not drunk enough yet."

"How did you even get in? This is invitation-only."

"Had an invite, didn't I?"

She pursed her lips, shaking her head slightly. He was hopelessly incorrigible in an oddly fascinating way. Her voice dropped to a murmur as she felt herself begin to relent.

"I ought to...tell someone about you."

"That you're secretly in love with me?"

"That we have an illegal stowaway."

"You're not going to rat me out, are you?"

The pleading look on his face was enough to give her pause. She was already beginning to regret her decision, but he looked so vivacious it was difficult to stay disapproving for long.

"Excellent. Now, would you be so good as to point me in the direction of the bigger spenders?"

They spend the next few hours laughing and entertaining the many important men on the boat and their great deal of important thoughts. She'd excuse herself towards the end of every conversation to leave Lockwood and the glimmer in his eye to close a deal. For someone so adept at climbing the corporate ladder, she was surprisingly poor at fulfilling these adjacent duties.

She hated every second of it, and she drank as much as she could without raising eyebrows to make it all halfway palatable, but it was all worth it then. He had wanted to stay for as long as it would have been polite, so when they finally left, long after the media had made their rounds at the event, his jacket was folded over his left arm and his hand was delicately holding hers.

When she was stuck in her drafty cottage on the edge of nowhere, she'd think about the feel of his fingers curling around her palm more than it was appropriate, and wonder how she ever thought she was somehow better off here.

But that evening's sense of camraderie was long gone. Now, she regarded him coolly, holding him at arm's length. They may have had a rough falling out, but that didn't mean they couldn't still be friends. Just friends. Nothing more. But the vaguely intimate look in Lockwood's eye told her he was in no mood to entertain any kind of platonic notions.

"I didn't know you were back."

She relented. It was the season of giving, after all.

"Only for a while. Fittes hired me as a consultant for a few months."

He blinked at her. "You could have called."

"I didn't think you'd be interested."

"Of course I'd be interested. I'm always interested when it comes to you."

She sighed sharply. It was so easy to get swept up and believe him when he said things like that, that she wondered how she found the strength to leave. He was a bastard, a ne'er-do-well who only knew how to break her heart after promising sweet, simple luxuries in whispers over expanses of skin. She made her lips tremble, her pulse quicken, her heart shake in all the worst ways.

But underneath all that, love was there. Love was there...still.

"Ready to go?"

They turned in unison towards a strikingly beautiful girl with glossy raven curls walking out of the revolving doors. The girl's smile only slipped a fraction as she shook her hand, and she was distantly aware of making some kind of clumsy introduction. They stuttered through some stunted small talk, during which all she was aware of was the blood roaring in her ears that gave the whole scene a distantly muffled feel. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Well, this was...lovely. Shall we go, then?"

The girl turned to leave, but some semblance of hesitation prevented her from pulling Lockwood along with her.. His face still had that same confused look.

"You could have called," he repeated tonelessly, like a broken record. The girl's presence made the back of her neck smart and prickle uncomfortably.

"I might, later."

"Bye. Nice meeting you."

"Nice meeting you too."

"We're home all day."

The last one was from Lockwood.

"Just...if you want to drop by. So that Luce and George don't have my head on a platter by supper."

"Goodbye, Lockwood."

He was captivating in a way that made her want to keep him all to herself. No one needed to intrude on this tantalising secret they shared. It was at that moment that she made the very unfortunate realisation that she didn't need to say it out loud to make what she had been screaming from the rooftops of her heart any more real - him and her would forever be unfinished business.

And nothing she could do could make the palpitations of her heart any less real either.

As the life she once dreamed of walked away from her, all she was acutely aware of was that it was a lingering wish, some half-thought dream, to sit opposite him in a chilly kitchen on blustery mornings, watching him drink his tea while she got drunk on him.

TAGLIST: @novelizt @avdiobliss @dangelnleif @mischivana @mitskiswift99 @houseoftwistedspirits

#lockwood & co #fanfiction #lockwood and co #lockwood and co netflix #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #anthony lockwood imagine #fanfic #lockwood x y/n #taylor swift #1989 vault tracks #taylor swift 1989 #1989 tv #1989 #1989 taylor's version #now that we don't talk