#lockwood fanfic

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Punch At First Sight

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

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

It was meant to be an easy case. 

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

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

But, no. 

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

“Do you make a habit of punching ghosts?”

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

“Lockwood?”

“Wait.” he knew that voice. “Y/n?”

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

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

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

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

“We heard a scream.”

“What’s going on?”

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

“Hi, George.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you, too.”

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

“Holy crap, are you okay?”

Lockwood nodded. “Just a little stunned.”

“I really am sorry.”

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

Then came a scream. 

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

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

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

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

“Run?” you offered. 

“Run.” Lucy replied. 

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

“I’m Lucy, by the way.”

“Y/n. Nice to meet you.”

“You, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smiled sheepishly. “An accidental pattern.”

“Sure about that?”

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

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

“Relax. I’m safe enough.” 

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

“Are you?”

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

“Doesn’t mean I won’t.”

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

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

“Move here.”

“What?”

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

“Lockwood, I said I’m fine.”

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

“Lockwood-”

“Please.”

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

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

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

“I don’t hover.”

“You hover.”

“No I don’t.” 

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

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

“Because you hover.”

“Okay, maybe I hover a little.”

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

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

You moved in three days later.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do they know? They have to know.”

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

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

George just nodded. 

“Seriously?”

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

“Yeah…” 

“What?”

“What?” Lucy asked. 

“Your face. You have that…look.”

“What look?”

“The “I’m making a plan” face.”

“Maybe because I am.”

“Well then?”

“What if we tried?”

“I already have.”

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

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

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

But it didn’t take too long. 

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not his girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

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

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

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

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

“And why not?”

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

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

“Fuck you.”

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

“Are you-”

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

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

“I’m sorry about what he said.”

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

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

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

“Maybe.”

“What’s your name?”

“Victor.”

“Nice to meet you,Victor.”

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

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

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

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

“Nothing.”

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

“She made a mistake.”

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

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

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

“Do you like him?”

“Who?”

“The guy you were talking to earlier.”

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

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

You thought back for a moment. “Victor.”

Lockwood nodded. 

“Do I like him? What are we? 12?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Why?”

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

You laughed. “Fraternizing?”

But when Lockwood didn’t change, you did. 

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

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

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

“Will you just help with the set-up?”

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

“You’re gonna lose her.”

“What?”

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

“What truth?”

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

“Lucy-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey.”

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

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

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

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

“You’re right. And I’m sorry.”

You looked at him.

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

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

“Okay, guess I can forgive you.”

“I’m still sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

So he did. 

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

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

Until you kissed back. 

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

“Wow.”

“I’m sorry but I just had to-”

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

“No?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “No.”

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

“Not this time,” you laughed a little. 

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

“Like Victor?”

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

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

“You are.”

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

“Good.”

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

Lockwood didn’t need telling twice. 

#anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x fe!reader #quill kipps #lucy carlyle #george karim #anthony lockwood #lockwood and co #netflix #lockwood and co fanfic #lockwood fanfic #fluff #angst #swearing #pining #hints of she fell first but he fell harder #falling in love #kissing #ghosts #renew lockwood and co

[jackie5656]

Compromise  With; Anthony Lockwood

A/N: An anon requested angst, and who would I be not to deliver? This one took a while, apologies for the wait. Thank you so much for all the recent love, it means so much. I hope you enjoy.

TW: Descriptions of injury, arguing, suicidal ideation(?), Lockwood being a self-absorbed prick :)

Summary: The one where you and Anthony are at odds, and there seems to be little room for reconciliation. 

Taglist: @sunshineangel-reads @fox-bee926 @helpmelmao @galactidiot  @soupsaurus @nekee-lilac02​ (Tagged ppl who seemed to like my last story, lmk if you want to be removed <3)

       Lockwood isn’t accustomed to your anger. 

Well...That’s not entirely true. You have a bit of a short fuse, sometimes. Accustomed to your occasional irritance, sure. He fancies teasing you, pushing your buttons for the sake of admiring the way your nose scrunches up, how you huff that ever-stubborn strand of hair from your vision. 

This, though. Whatever this is, it’s different. You’re practically seething as you search around the lamp-lit kitchen. Booming thunder and relentless London rain the only noise accompanying your movement. That and the boot shackled around your left foot, which thumps pitifully as you rummage the first aid kit. He feels like a disobedient child sat in the headmistress’ office. Ragged hair still damp from the rain after a grueling mission. One that’s left a nasty gash across his forearm, having been forced into a picture frame in the midst of fighting a vengeful type two. 

George and Lucy had long gone off to bed. A brisk debrief over a final cup of tea before slugging off to their respective bedrooms. Luckily, your bastard of a boyfriend had suffered the only injury. You’d missed all the action considering your current state, though that hadn’t ceased the fierce beating of your heart as you slumped into the seat in front him. Drawing the oil lamp nearer for better light as you motion for his arm. He obeys immediately, silently, face pulled with the kind of tension only present when he’s really worried. 

Good. You honestly hope he’s terrified. Serves him right. Your tense mood is not only due to his ailment, but the lingering frustration from your argument earlier in the evening. 

**************

“Absolutely not. You’re not coming along on any missions ‘til that boot is off.” 

“Anthony, I’ll be alright. I’ve been getting around the house just fine so far!” “You shouldn’t even be on it as much as have been.” He’s got the audacity to scoff, almost amused. “More stress will only make the healing process longer.” You cross your arms, looking toward your bag-clad friends for support. 

“We should check on the cab.” Lucy offers a tight-lipped smile as George nods, ushering her out the front door before you can direct your anger toward them.

“You said yourself this case is going to be especially touch sensitive. That the client reported how evasive the problem was. Sight and sound won’t be as useful.” 

“Precisely. Perfect that George is coming along, yes?” Your eyes narrow at his condescension, you’d grown tired of his babying ever since your incident two cases ago. It felt like ages since you’d been in the field. 

“George will be too preoccupied with all the evidence! I won’t even go further than a few feet from the threshold. Just let me get a feel of things so I can-” 

“I said no, y/n. It’s final.” 

“Says who?”

“Says the leader of this company.” You choke a laugh, tossing your bag onto the floor with a heavy thud. 

“Right, yes. The one who makes all the calls?” 

“Sounds about right.” His brown eyes narrow in challenge, frustrated you’re failing to understand he’s only trying to keep you safe. 

“Same one who made the call we go into the Hope residence without well-rounded research? The case we rushed into without enough information and it ended with me on house arrest?” It’s a low blow, undoubtedly. A twinge of wounded guilt flashes across his face before the venom seeps back in. Lump in his throat burning horribly before he swallows it to dissipation. 

“Same one who knows if things go South this time ‘round you’ll only slow us down.” Your stomach twists with the distaste in his tone, vision blurring with tears as he turns toward the door. Jumping as it slams shut and takes him with it. 

********

“Won’t need stitches.” You note simply, surveying the wound gently. He nods, shoulders straightening in preparation for the oncoming pain. “Still some glass debris, I’ll have to take it out.” He’s lucky, from what it looks like the gash could have been much worse. 

“I can manage it just fine on my own.” You bite your tongue. In the year’s biggest plot twist, Anthony Lockwood insists on suffering alone in lieu of his own pride. 

“You can’t. You’re not risking any more damage to the arm that wields your rapier. Just let me.” He doesn’t listen, of course. Pinching the tweezers in his grasp and looming forward to get a better look. Dizzying at the sight, he’s not strong enough to prohibit you from taking them back. Pushing at his shoulder so he’ll relax against the chair. 

It’s not your typical bedside manner. Usually when injuries happen its gentle touches and muttered sorries or other affections. Soft and kind. 

The intruding thought pulls Lockwood’s frown deeper. The throbbing in his arm practically minuscule to the war zone in his mind. It’s awful...He misses you and yet you’re a mere foot away. 

His fist clenches as the tweezers near his skin once more, hand taking hold of your wist to cease the uncontrollably trembling of your appendage.

“Love-”

“Shush, I can do it.” You take a deep breath. Wordlessly combatting your conflicting emotions with slow, calculated inhales. You’re an agent. You’ve trained for this. Though the textbooks help little with the patching up tactics when it’s someone you love, when you’re at such odds.

You approach again, steady this time. He sucks his teeth at the particularly intricate extractions, but remains still for you. You move with as much efficiency as possible. Trying to remove the person from the wound, just as the books suggest. Though it’s nearing impossible with his eyes trained on you. Trying to steal every thought from your mind as if they’re his own. 

When you’re applying sterile gauze after thorough disinfection, he finds the courage to speak. 

“Thank you.” He clears his throat after it falters...From emotion or lack of use, you aren’t sure. Doesn’t matter, honestly. You’re still keen on grilling him. 

“George said you followed it up the stairs without telling him and Luce.”

“I was in a hurry. Wouldn’t have found its’ source in time if I hadn't.” You don't event try to conceal the roll of your eyes. Anger sinking back in as you collect the wrappers on the table and toss them into the bin. 

“So you’re allowed to be reckless on the job as long as nobody else is?”

“Reckless. I’d argue, is an exaggeration.” 

“Exaggeration? Christ, you’re impossible.”

“Yeah?” He stands as you do, holding his wounded arm to his stomach as he leans against the counter. “How’s that?”

“You’re fine with breaking protocol so long as you’re the one doing it. Putting yourself at risk any chance you get without a second thought. It’s maddening!” 

“And how do you suppose you got yourself in that boot?”

“Not by beckoning death! Mine was an accident, Anthony. I swear, sometimes it’s like you want to get yourself killed!”

“You don’t-”

“No! I’m not finished.” You step toward him, jabbing a finger into his chest to accentuate your wrath. “You have people depending on you. People that care about you, love you to bits. And you’d rather spend the better half of missions taunting death than preventing it. If you wanted to be so fucking careless, you shouldn’t have made me fall in love with you. Now here we are, both vexed and in varying casts because of you can’t seem to understand the sanctity of your own life.”

He knew that much had been true. Lockwood would risk just about anything in a case so long as it granted him victory. Hadn’t that been in the fine print, though? Guaranteed in this line of work? So long as you were granted this talent, this curse, you had a responsibility to utilize it to the best of its ability.

“Sweetheart.” It’s strained, nearly a beg with the amount of exhaustion ridden in his tone. “We can continue this tomorrow. Let’s go to bed, please.”

“I can’t,” his knuckles go white with their grip on the cold countertop as you hurriedly wipe at your eyes. “I can’t go to bed angry with you.” 

“Then don’t.” He takes one, two careful strides toward you. Fingers pinching at your elbow in an attempt to satisfy the burning need to hold you. “Let’s forgive each other for the next seven hours. Then you can go on hating me, okay?” You huff a laugh, forehead instinctively pressing to his chest. He bathes in it as long as you’ll allow, pulling back seconds later and headed toward your room with him in tow.

********

Anthony’s eyes follow your frame as you approach the stove. Taking the cup of tea he’s prepared for you and taking your usual seat between him and George. He pushes your chair out with his foot to allow you easier access, nudging a plate of buttered toast your way. It’s not an apology, not even an olive branch. Lockwood simply refuses to cease these small acts of service no matter how angry you are with one another. It’s practically instinctual at this point, second nature. His brows furrow when you let out a relieved exhale once sat. Joining along your accomplices’ conversation about your ongoing case he’s drowned out momentarily in order to observe you.

“It hurts, doesn't it,” he unknowingly interrupts George’s spiel, “your foot.” 

“Only a bit. Just this morning.” It’s a meek defense. An evident dismissal so as not to prove his bench-warming call the right one. 

“You’ve been on it too much.” 

“It’s fine, I’m fine.” 

“You’re not. And if you had just listened-”

“Are we really starting this up again, right here?” Your eyes bore daggers into his frame. Doing your best to conceal your rage in leui of your dear bystanders beside you. Theres a few beats of silence, a moment of peace before the sorry fuck plates the nail in the coffin.

 “George, any word of upcoming cases? The sooner we leave for the day, the better.” Your chair scrapes against the hardwood as soon as he’s finished, silverware trembling as you force yourself upward. 

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” It’s practically a whisper, ridden with rage and overwhelming upset. His brown eyes meet yours, cold and distant. Completely unfamiliar. 

“So you like to think.” He quips, eyes following your form as you exit the kitchen twice as quick as you came in. There’s silence again, impossibly more awkward than before. 

“Dick move, Lockwood.”

“Stay out of it, Luce.”

“She’s right. Real dickish move there.” 

“George-”

“Right. Staying out of it.” 

*******

Lockwood prides himself for a lot of things. Communication, definitively, has never been one of them. 

How’s he supposed to explain it’s easier to put himself in front of the all the danger you face? That the rest of you need each other much more than you need him. 

That he’d rather die than lose someone again. 

He’s quiet as he creeps in, the usual love-lorn quip forgotten as he enters your shared bedroom. You’d been laying in bed, had been since breakfast. You weren’t usually one to sulk, but you were still in pain and definitely still angry. At your boyfriend, this damned boot, the world. 

“Word is your boyfriend’s been a right prick, lately. I’m hoping this can be my opportunity to stake my claim. If you’re cutting him out, that is.” He’s kneeling at the bedside, chin pressing into his forearms as he supports his head. You can feel his heat from here, hate how it weakens your cold resolve. His fingertip traces the skin on your back where your shirts ridden up, a ghost of a small passing his lips when you shudder. You’re pulling up the duvet, ceasing his touch while a trace of you wishes it hadn’t. 

You can’t see any hint of amusement leave his features. The dim of his eyes and the stutter of his heart. He swallows, subconsciously shuffling nearer. The need to be close growing tenfold. 

“Lovely, will you look at me?” Lockwood can’t help but cringe at how desperate it sounds. Whispered, rushed, fragile. Every indication he cares much more than he’s used to. 

He almost wishes he had’t asked. Dread consuming him when you turn to face him, tear stained cheeks and blotchy eyes. Lashes stuck together with moisture, blinking slow and strained. “Darling.” Is all he can manage, wounded and hushed. It makes you want to cry even more. 

“Why can’t you see I’m worried about you?” You croak out, voice strained and scratchy. His knuckles brush the moisture from under your eyes, brows furrowed with an expression you can’t quite read. 

“I do.” He wets his lips, “I see that.” An implication of I see you and I’m sorry. He’s never been good at apologies, but this time you need one. You need something, anything more than the breadcrumbs he drops. The urge to invite him in plagues your mind, broken expression tugging at your heart strings. You know better than to brush this one off, it’ll only have the same conflict arising again and lead to resentment. The realization reforms the burning lump in your throat, vision blurring with fresh tears. 

“I just-we need space.” Don’t we? Lockwood rears back, mustering up resolve he doesn’t have. You don’t mean indefinitely, you don’t mean a breakup, he knows that. Doesn’t make the words burn any less. 

“Okay, fine then.” If that’s what you really want.

He’s grabbing the dog-eared magazine at your bedside before you can say anything else. He hesitates at the door knob, begging to force himself to turn around and plead. Anthony Lockwood’s ego is somewhere near the sun, but its no match for how he feels about you. 

*******

You know when you suddenly become conscious of blinking? And it starts to feel a little odd, manual instead of automatic? You can almost forget what it was like to not have to consciously do it...

Breathing is kind of like that too

At least, that’s what Lockwood thinks when he’s sure he’s suffocating. 

His heart thrums so roughly against his chest he’s sure it’ll burst. He wonders who’d find him, huddled in the corner of the library. Cold and lifeless. He must be trembling, it feels as though the whole ground is vibrating, or-sinking. Swallowing him entirely. 

Then there was the pounding. His head, yes. There’s a dull throbbing at the base of his skull. But this is different. A rhythmic thumping approaching. Closing in on him, eager to push him into the sinking floor to meet his imminent demise. 

You’re in the kitchen. Leaning over the sink, eyes trained on the tap filling up your glass. The bed feels empty without him. And sure, you’d probably sent a clear ‘fuck off to the couch’ message with your latest conversation...But it hadn’t made falling asleep without him any easier. 

You’re taking a deep breath in, preparing for a right pitiful sigh when you hear it. Some sort of squeaking. Your head cocks to the side, discarding the glass in search of its origin. Surely one of the sources wasn’t acting up, that’d be right terrifying when you’re alone. It leads you toward the study, louder and more frequent as you draw closer. 

It’s when you cross the threshold do you see him. Tall frame curled into the corner as hiccuped gasps rack his frame. 

He scoots impossibly closer to the wall as you approach. Dropping to your knees and lifting his face to study him. A foreign sheen of panic clouds over his eyes, sending your stomach turning. 

“Anthony, it’s me. I’m here, I’m right here.” 

You’ve coached him through as many panic attacks as he’s allowed throughout the years. The first time, in academy, you were sure he was choking. A plate of biscuits strewn over the floor as he gasped for breath. 

They’re unpredictable, no matter how many times you’ve handled them. He needs something different almost every time to snap him out of it. Though it’s mostly physical touch. 

“C-cant breathe.” Your boot thumps as you draw closer, eliciting another wince from him. Clutching into the fabric of his shirt as if trying to pull it free. You undo his tie and the first couple buttons, grabbing at the sides of his face in a desperate attempt to get him to focus on you. 

“Anthony please, listen to me. I’m going to try something. If you don’t like it you just push at me, alright?” A curt, gasping nod in understanding before you’re enveloping him in an embrace. Squeezing so tight you can feel his panicked heart thrumming against your chest. It makes you want to cry and scream and hold him even tighter. Willing his pain away with all of your might. 

It’s not working this time ‘round. He can’t seem to collect himself despite your efforts. You pull away, fearing your persistence will only send him further spiraling. But he’s tugging you to him again. Arms tight around your waist as he buries himself into your neck. 

“Dont. D-don’t go. Don’t leave.” The usual cool and collected tone is manipulated to something unrecognizable. Rasped and unsure. 

It’s then you remember the look in his eyes when you’d dismissed him. The abandonment he’s feared his entire life. The little boy who forced himself to stay awake all those lonely nights, just in case he heard the lock turn and the front door open to bring them home. His adamant refusal to ignore your connection for years in lieu of protecting his broken heart. 

“Hey, look at me.” You’re pulling him back by the sides of his hide, forcing him to meet your gaze. “Lockwood, I’m not going anywhere. Doesn’t matter how angry I am,” you wince when he hiccups a sob. “Doesn’t matter how much you try to push me away.” He shakes his head, something short of a disbelieving chuckle passing his trembling lips. “I’m not leaving. I’m staying right here. With you, always. You understand?” He manages to nod, an inkling of solace flashing across his form.

“Just breathe, Anthony. In…and hold…and out” 

Your words sound a mantra in his mind. Your scent flooding his senses, skin on his bringing him back to reality. A morsel of relief prodding its way in as you caress the sides of his face and up into his hair. 

“I’m sorry.” He swallows, focusing on formulating the words. “I know I haven’t said it. Never say it enough.” Shaky arms wrap tighter around your waist, keeping you close. Afraid you’ll disappear despite your affirmations. 

“Consider yourself forgiven.” You bite back a smile when the tension unknowingly spills out of his body. Frame drooping with undoubted relief at the simple words. “I love you. Even when you’re a right prick.” 

“I know.” He pulls you so you’re between his legs. Your back against his bent appendage and your own pair over his other outstretched one. Right side of your body pressing against his chest. You try to push away, unable to fight his affections off despite his weakened state. 

“See? Right prick, you are.” 

“Shush. You know bloody well I love you.” He presses a kiss to your temple, smoothing over your hair and gaging your reaction. Still catching his breath from before. “I know I don’t say that enough either.” He’s quiet then, brown eyes looking to yours with such sincerity your breath catches in your throat. “I’d do anything for you, you know that.” 

“That’s sort of what I’m afraid of, if you don’t recall.” You’re both solemn then. Your fingers intertwining with his in a familiar dance. He can only hum, swallowing thickly. 

“What if,” his eyes rake your frame. Studying you again. “What if you came along the next assignment?” You light up at that, searching his features for jest. 

“Really?”

“Just outside. Making sure we’re all alright. And I don’t go off getting myself killed.”

“But-” 

“Dove.” The nobility in his tone finds him again. A subtle warning. “This is me. Anthony Lockwood, attempting a compromise.” You bite back an abashed smile at his raised brows, urging surrender. 

“Noted.” You fiddle with the cool, silver ring adorning his index finger. “I get to select the case, then.”

“Alright.” 

“And I get to intervene if things go South.” 

“Absolutely not.”

“Figured that was ambitious.” 

<Masterlist>

#lockwood x reader #lockwood and lucy #anthony lockwood #lockwood and co #lockwood gifs #lockwood netflix #anthony bloody lockwood #lucy carlyle #george karim #lockwood imagine #lockwood fanfic #lockwood fic #lockwood x you

[lockwood-ot3]

Lockwood & Co Fic Recs: cot3

Lucy/Lockwood/George fanfic recs! By no means comprehensive.

Last updated 7/8/23

I Found A Fox, Caught By Dogs by @twelfthbite Some of the best tension in a scene between L/L/G I have read. My goodness. light kink & D/s tone Literally Everything by TheMalapert but especially her L&Co Bodega Series which includes "Ghosts made them do it" Literally Everything by chahakyn / @shizuoi see my Author Spotlight for extended summaries!

Better than Before Series by @lemonsharks Stunning tension between cot3, then progresses further into the relationship. features the amazing line: "George, I," Lockwood said, then hesitated. "I like the way you look at me, too." Sweet Somethings Series by justice_for_skull (hyper_fix) Insanely hot series including free use & cockwarming. So hot, and soft at the same time.

Sink or Swim by @waiting-for-my-hogwarts-letter Mermaid AU! Freedivers Lockwood and George; local mermaid Lucy

Someone Throw A Lifeline (I Don't Wanna Drown) by @waiting-for-my-hogwarts-letter pre-cot3. Anthony Lockwood hates storms.

Interpolation (A Line We Drew In the Array) by @iantalks Great pacing, and ballet.

Honey honey honey (series) by @fromjannah Pre/developing Lucy/Lockwood/George

aftershocks by @aberfaeth Fantastic magic system theory concept, well-executed

Chivalry Fell on Its Sword by alphabetsoup4u cute get together fic

Kiss It Better by @wolfjawswriter Cute, with fun banter.

whiskers on kittens by 11pmbed great pacing, Locklye --> ot3 progression with fantastic confession from Lockwood

at last, peter rabbit made his way home by 11pmbed drunk!Lockwood & spot-on dynamics between the three of them

Tea for Three by IceAngels sweet ot3 w/ plenty of tea & an observant Portland Row neighbor

Could Never Want For More When I'm Here by @dont-offend-the-bees like a warm hug. fantastic ot3 dynamics!

Gunshots Are More Powerful Than Sheer Stubbornness by @between-two-fandoms such great Lockwood POV, showcasing how & why it's hard for him to be vulnerable. so sweet thunderbolt through my body by @sa-heelies amazing view of George thru Lockwood's perspective and it feels good to be known, so well by @paladinbaby Lucy & George, then George & Lockwood. it takes Lucy & lockwood a minute but they get it together pieces of you and me (and us) by @grasslandgirl bright and dark and beautiful

you should never know how easy you are to need by @grasslandgirl Lockwood develops Hanahaki. Death by heartbreak, and all. Dreadfully boring.

Dressed in Black (head to toe) by cherriepixie27 the Lockwood Dress Fic

Domino Effect by cherriepixie27 insanely hot Maysturbation fic - chain reaction of overhearing each other

chase the echoes from the rafters by @sanvitheartificer Three scenes of Lucy, Lockwood, and George loving each other on purpose.

Turning Saints into the Sea (Series) by @alphacrone “Georgie.” Lucy tilted her head up to look at him. “Do you love him?”

i'd blind myself to see it by @hazelnutchai Includes kissing (for science!) and then kissing (not for science)

Sundress Season by Lindzm1318 getting together Pride!fic with Lucy doing face paints, queer Kipps & Kat, (well, queer everyone) and Lucy irresistible in a sundress, of course. The Night Started Like Any Other by @siapom pre/developing cot3 featuring George in a too-small towel

Blinding Lights by @kennysbirthday Lockwood gets a migraine, and George knows how to help. Lucy follows his lead. featuring great banter

you only live forever in the lights you make by @thethinkingcloth two years after she was ghost-locked, Norrie wakes up. book spoilers! found family goodness, and not just for our cot3 The Care & Keeping of AJ Lockwood by FionaDunn featuring Dom!George with some smokin' hot dirty talk!

hug all your friends and let them know by @beautifulmakkaris Contrary to popular opinion, Lucy realises she’s in love with both boys on the same day.

Please also check out my cot3 fanfiction on Ao3 (Rainshadow07)

Updated 7.8.23

#lockwood ot3 #lockwood & co #lucy carlyle #lockwood and co #lucy/lockwood/george #george karim #cot3 #anthony lockwood #poly cot3 #lockwood fanfic #lockwood fic rec #lockwood and co fanfiction #georgewood #locklyle #save lockwood and co #georcy

[hateletterstogender]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Lockwood & Co. - Jonathan Stroud, Lockwood & Co. (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Lucy Carlyle/Anthony Lockwood, Lucy Carlyle & George Cubbins | George Karim & Anthony Lockwood, Anthony Lockwood & Quill Kipps, Holly Munro/Holly Munro's Girlfriend (background) Characters: Anthony Lockwood, Lucy Carlyle, George Cubbins | George Karim, Holly Munro, Quill Kipps, Holly Munro's Girlfriend, Assorted Agents Additional Tags: Fittes Ball v2, Post-Book 05: The Empty Grave (Lockwood & Co.), POV Anthony Lockwood, Anthony Lockwood Loves Lucy Carlyle, Simp Anthony Lockwood, Lockwood was maybe 2 thoughts, and they're both Lucy, everybody knows they're together, (Except for them), Slow Dancing, First Kiss, getting together (finally) Summary:

Lucy was wearing his mother’s necklace. The one he had shown to her along with a somewhat nervous explanation- “My dad gave it to her soon after they met. It was a symbol of his undying devotion.”

And now, I’m giving it to you, had gone unspoken about a week later, as he set the necklace down on her bed along with some papers. As a symbol of mine.

Lockwood really wished he had found the courage to say that out loud. He was a bloody fool. Assuming she would understand and leaving things unsaid (the most important things) was almost always his downfall. Especially with Lucy. Sure, he could fight off hordes of ghosts or beat just about anyone in a duel no problem- but the second he tried to ask out the girl he liked, Lockwood decided to flounder around like a Limbless.

 In which their relationship isn't confirmed and Lockwood flounders around like a Limbless

#lockwood and co #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #locklyle #i finally finished it #lockwood #lockwood netflix #the empty grave #lockwood fanfic #locklyle doesn't know they're dating

[lleann-art]

i miss lockwood and co

#lucy carlyle #lucy i miss you come back😭😭 #I MISS THE SHOW SO BAD #i read book 1 and 2 but i'm too lazy to read the rest bc i'm too distracted by the fanfics💀 #anyway i love them #lockwood and co fanart #lockwood and co

[wenigstenshabeichesversucht]

You've made your bed, now lie in it

Pairing: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader

Summary: 3 times you and Lockwood have to share a bed, and one time you want to share a bed.

Warnings: one bed trope, fake dating trope, fluff, only kissing, no smut, english is not my native language

Word Count: 3.9k

After a longer break I'm finally back. Enjoy!

The first time you and Lockwood, an insolent prick of a boss, had to share a bed, was comparable to a train wreck. You wanted to look away, but you couldn’t. This was how you felt, when you stared at the way too small bed in front of you. You wanted to look away, but you couldn’t. And even if you could, where did you want to look? At the face of your far too handsome boss, hell no! Or at the floor, which was so dirty, that you were sure, that nobody cleaned it for at least a year? No, not happening.

“I will not sleep on the floor”, you stated without removing your eyes from the bed.

“Me neither!”

Hearing his voice made you seethe.  Maybe he was your boss, but he wasn’t your friend. George and Lucy were your friends, but never him.

“You booked this flop house!”, you protested.

You had a mission two hours away from London, which required you to stay for two days. Luck wasn't on your side when Lucy and George got sick four days ago, leaving only you and Lockwood to drive up here.

“But I’m the boss, so I will not sleep on the floor.”

What would you give for the opportunity to get rid of him right now? But you were too tired to kill him, you just wanted to sleep.

“Fine, then we will share”, you bit out, ready to bite off his head.  

“Fine”, he shouted back, but if you weren't mistaken, his voice sounded a bit hoarse.

Far too late, you realize what you had agreed on. You wanted to curse, but you kept your mouth shut. It was far too late to back down. He would never let you live that down. So, you had no chance. Turning your back on him, you went to your bag and took off your sweater.

“What are you doing”, the panic in his voice brought a smile to your lips.

“Getting ready for bed, what else does it look like?”

Not wanting to give the poor boy a heart attack, you put on a shirt, before unclasping your bra. Behind you, you could hear Lockwood taking a sharp breath. But you couldn’t care less. Never would you put yourself through a painful night in a bra. Opening the button of your jeans was the last straw.

“I’m going to the bathroom”, rushing past you, Lockwood loudly slammed the door shut behind him. You couldn’t help but smile, maybe you had to share a bed, but you totally won this round.

When you left the bathroom, after brushing your teeth, your eyes almost popped out of your head when you saw your boss, who had already made himself comfortable on the bed.

“Where is your shirt?”

Was this his revenge for the bra? Would the entire night be psychological warfare? Not that you weren’t ready. You were ready since you stepped your first foot into Portland Row and realized, that your new boss was a jerk.

“I always sleep like this.”

Your eyes narrowed, not sure if that was a lie or the truth.

“Don’t come crying to me, if you’re too cold this night.” With these words, you slipped into bed next to him.

“I will not be cold”, he protested, and you doubted it. The room was fucking cold, you weren’t even sure if the heater was working. But you were too tired to argue with Lockwood about this, what didn’t mean, that you weren’t ready to tell him “I told you so”, when he would admit it.

“Touch me and I will kill you”, you threatened before turning off the light. Next to you, Lockwood let out a humorless laugh, which shacked the whole bed.

“Trust me, I have the same desire to touch you as I do to touch a ghost.”

“Great, we sorted that out“, you snapped back, unable to let him have the last word.

For a moment there was only silence, broken only by rustling as you both tried to find a comfortable sleeping position. Which was harder than it sounded like. The bed was way too small, and you would rather die than to cuddle with Anthony fucking Lockwood. His body was only inches away from yours, and you could feel the heat he was radiating.

“Stop hogging the blanket”, hissed Lockwood, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“Maybe you wouldn’t need it, if you would wear a shirt like a normal person”, you spew back.

“Fuck you!”

“Fuck me yourself, you coward”, you didn’t know what was coming over you. You didn't know what made you say those words, but in the future, you would blame it on being tired.

Lockwood didn't need to be told twice. Hungrily, his lips crashed against yours and with all your anger you kissed him back, while clawing your nails in his naked shoulder. This wasn’t how you had imagined your first kiss with Lockwood. You always thought it would be sweet and slow, not raw and angry.

“I hate you so much”, you whispered against his lips, and Lockwood let out a chuckle.

“Believe me, I hate you more.”

You woke up to the sunbeams dancing on your nose. It was much warmer, than the night before, maybe the heater, had started to work overnight. This thought vanished, when you realized, that the heat was coming from your pillow, or better speaking the body you used as pillow. Suppressing a scream, you hastily tried to get away, only to back up a little too far and therefore to fall out of the small bed. You came up with a hard thud that woke up Lockwood.

“Y/N?”, sleepily Lockwood looked over the edge of the bed, and you suddenly remembered what you had done last night. A blushed creeped up your face, while you thought about the kisses you shared. At least you stopped, before it escalated. You could never forgive yourself and your morals if you had slept with Anthony Lockwood, you hated this arrogant prick.

“Are you in such a hurry to get away from me?”, running his finger through his swoon worthy hair, he gave you one of those arrogant smiles you hated so much. Seeing this, you wanted to wrap your fingers around his neck and just squeeze. But you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of saying that you were throwing yourself at him. So, you just glared up at him.

“Yes, I want to get as far as possible away from you, and I think we'd be doing both of us a favor if we forgot what happened last night and never talked about it again.”

For a moment, Lockwood looked at you with an expression you couldn't quite put your finger on. It wasn't pure hate, at least not just.

“Last night was a mistake.”

Even if it was your idea to forget everything about last night, it hurt to hear him calling it a mistake. However, you would never give him the satisfaction of showing him that.

“At least we agree on one thing.”

The second time you and Lockwood shared a bed was nothing more than a mistake. It was shortly before Christmas, Lucy already left Portland Row to take a train to one of her sisters and George was already by his family. You had the choice between spending Christmas with your family or with Lockwood at Portland Row. It was like choosing between Scylla and Charybdis. But before you could make up your mind, Lockwood felt ill, and you weren’t the heartless bitch, he made you out to be. You didn’t want him to die, even if you often said it. But you needed this job and without Lockwood there wasn’t an agency. Therefore, you decided to stay and care about him, so he didn’t catch a pneumonia and died a painful dead, even if he deserved it.

It was all going as well as you could expect it. Lockwood was too ill to fight with you, and you only wished for his dead once or twice a day, so far less than normal. Everything was going well, till you started to fell sick. Of course, this idiot couldn’t keep his germs to himself.

You were shacking from the cold you couldn’t escape, as you went up to his room, to bring him his dinner. Normally you tried to do this as fast as possible, in and out, before he even had the chance to say anything to you. So, you didn’t have to see him longer than needed, and he didn’t have to see you longer than needed. Nothing had changed since the night you shared a bed and kisses. You still hated each other with burning passion. But this time as you stepped foot into enemy territory, aka Lockwood’s room, you realized that this was right now the warmest room in the whole house. Setting down the tray, you carefully took a seat on the only free space in his room, the edge of his bed. You wouldn’t stay long, you told yourself. Just long enough to drive the cold from your bones.

“You’re looking worse than usual, I didn’t know it was possible”, Lockwood’s annoying voice, broke your peace.

“Says the person who looks like a walking corpse”, you bite back.

“You got sick.”

“No, I’m fine.”

You didn't know who you were trying to convince with this lie. Anyone with eyes in their head could see that you weren't feeling well. However, Lockwood was too exhausted to argue with you. He just started to eat his dinner, while you closed your eyes to find the strength to stand up and leave this warm behind you.

The next time you opened your eyes, you weren’t sitting on the edge of Lockwood’s bed, you were lying in it. You weren’t sure, how it happened, but you were sure it was just an honest mistake, which could happen to everyone. Feeling too sick to panic, all you could just concentrate on was that you were finally warm. You managed to successfully ignore Lockwood's arm over your hip and his steady breathing on your neck. This was a problem you would deal with when you felt not like dying any minute. Closing your eyes for a second time, you drifted away.                 

The first thing you realized, when you woke up the next morning was, that Lockwood’s warm was missing. He had sneaked out of his own bed, while you were still sleeping. So, this was the perfect chance for you to sneak away to not have to face Lockwood after accidentally falling asleep in his bed. But you couldn’t muster the strength to move. You could just lay there and wait for your doom, aka that Lockwood returned.

It didn’t take long for him to come back. In his hands, he held the tray you used the last days to bring him food.

“I brought you breakfast”, giving you the tray, he got in the bed beside you. If someone had told you, that you would spend Christmas eating breakfast with Lockwood in his bed, you would have laughed and called the person delusional. But here you were. Neither of you had the energy to argue, so you both just ate in silence.

“You should try to get more rest”, Lockwood told you, after both of you finished eating, and he was right, not that you would ever say this out loud.

“You too, you still look like shit”, maybe he was a little bit fitter than you, but he was worlds away from being healthy.

“Fine”, he bit back, another sign, that he was everything but healthy. Normally he would have said something mean in response, but he just laid down beside you. For a moment, nobody said something. Then you shuffled a little bit in his direction, attracted by the warmth he radiated. He acknowledged this with raised eyebrows.

“I’m just cold, don't imagine anything about it.”

“I would never!”

The rest of the holidays you spent together in his bed. It was a surprise for both of you, that at the end, when you both felt better, no one had torn off the other’s head.

When Lucy and George came back and asked how your holidays were, you both just shrugged. What really happened was probably a secret that you both would take to your grave. You quickly found back in your everyday life of hating each other, and it was almost as if none of this had ever happened. But only almost.

The third time you had to share a bed with Lockwood would have been avoidable if Lucy had been a little bit more cooperative.

Lockwood and Co. had a new, very lucrative case. You were hired to secure a very dangerous source. The catch was, that the owner was one of those weirdos who was a little too enthusiastic about the occult. He was planning a two-day seance with an overnight stay at his manor, and your client had managed to get you an invitation. The only problem was that the invitation was for one guest and a plus-one. There was no question that Lockwood would go. But your team couldn't agree on who would accompany him. George wasn’t an option, that would bring too much attention. That only left you and Lucy.

“We all know that I’m a bad liar, nobody would believe me, that I’m Lockwood’s girlfriend”, Lucy stated. Normally you loved Lucy, she was your best friend. But right now, you could have punched her.

“As if anyone would think I was dating Lockwood”, you countered and directed to the asshole himself, you said: “I would never date someone like you.”

“And I would never date someone like you”, he fired back, and you didn’t have to look at Lucy and George to see them rolling their eyes, like always when Lockwood and you decided to argue.

“With the sexual tension between you, no one will doubt that you are dating”, Lucy butted in and could be glad, that looks didn’t kill otherwise she would be six feet under.

“There is no sexual tension, only hate”, you argued hotly.

You would never admit that there was maybe sexual tension, because if you would, you would think about it, you would think about the kisses in this one fatal night and that was a way, you didn’t want to go. Because if you would go down this path, there was no return to normal. Therefore, it was way easier to tell yourself and anybody else, that you hated Anthony J. Lockwood with burning passion.

“But Lucy is right, Y/N should join Lockwood”, George the little backstabber joined Lucy’s side. Knowing when a fight was lost, you ran your hand over your face.

“This can only go wrong.”

You should be right.  You weren’t even an hour at the manor, and you hated everything. The weirdos got on your nerves with their own stupidity. Lockwood's arm had been around your waist for almost 43 minutes, and you wanted nothing more than to rip it off and hit him with it to dead. Yeah, you were everything than happy. I didn’t help, that Lockwood had decided that fake girlfriend wasn’t fancy enough and had given you an engagement ring before he introduced you to everyone as his fiancée. You were dead and in hell, otherwise you couldn’t explain, how you landed in this situation. At least the ring was pretty.

“We should sneak away and look for the source”, you whispered, only loud enough for him barely to hear you. Slowly, Lockwood nodded to let you know that he heard you. Calculating, he let his gaze wander about the other people in the room, probably to find the best way to disappear unnoticed.

“We should kiss”, he said after a moment, and somehow managed to seem totally serious.

“What?”, you almost choked from sheer surprise.

“If we make out, no one will be surprised if we disappear, everyone will just think that we were looking for a quiet corner to have a little fun.”

Hearing this, you grimaced. But he wasn’t wrong. Nobody would think much about you sneaking off when you first put on a show. Without a verbal response, you grabbed Lockwood by his tie and pulled him down to your height. Hungrily, you caught his lips with yours. Lockwood didn’t waste any time and pulled your body against his. Eagerly his hands roamed over your body, and you had the feeling, that this meant a little bit more to both of you, than just a show for a case. Not that you would ever admit it.

When your lungs were screaming for air, you reluctantly broke the kiss.

“You’re actually a really good kisser”, Lockwood smiled down at you, and it felt like your stomach was riding a rollercoaster.

“You’re actually very average”, you lied like the liar you were. But the truth was, there was nothing you would like more than to kiss him again.

“Like, you have kissed so many guys to know what average is. Feel free to admit it, I’m a good kisser.”

Seeing his arrogant smile, you just rolled your eyes.

“Let’s go, so we didn’t kiss for nothing!”

Together you walked through the manor, till you found the library, your first guess for the location of the source. You just started to look around when you heard steps coming in your direction. Before you could find a good hiding space, the door opened and nobody else than the owner of the manor, the weirdo you wanted to steal from, was standing there.

“Miss, did you get lost? The library is not open for the guest”, he told you, and you tried your best innocent smile. But Lockwood appeared beside you before you could try to lie your way out of it.

“I’m so sorry, Sir. My fiancée and I were just trying to find a quiet room”, he gave the owner his best Lockwood smile, while his arms found again his way around your hip.

“Then I would suggest trying the bedroom assigned to you.”

Under his caution eyes, you and Lockwood walked out of the library.

“I saw the source”, Lockwood whispered in your ear, at the moment the door closed behind you.

“Did you take it?”

“No, didn’t have the chance, but we can do it tomorrow, right now we should return to our bedroom, or do you want to socialize a little bit more with the other guest?” Hell no!

“Let’s go.”

Of course, your bedroom had only one bed. At least it was big. You and Lockwood could both sleep in it without touching each other. Without saying much and more important without arguing, you both got ready for bed. Of course, Lockwood decided against wearing a shirt.

“I hope one night you will freeze to death”, you mumbled while slipping under the blanket.

“I’m too hot for this and considering how you always cuddle up to me at night, you know it too.”

Rarely, you were lost for words, but this was one of these moments.

“Keep dreaming, Lockwood”, you shot back, but both of you knew that this was a lame response. As a reaction, Lockwood just gave you a cocky grin.

“We'll see that tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, we will.”

You firmly resolved to keep a lot of distance from Lockwood and his tempting warmth that night.

But waking up the next morning, you realized that you could even break the best resolutions. Like this one. Lockwood was like a mobile heater, and that was too tempting for you when you were sleeping. This night was no difference. As you had been asleep, you had cuddled yourself in Lockwood’s side, and he had draped an arm around you, to pull you even further against him.

With a bright red face, you tried to free yourself from his hug. But your movement woke him up.

“Look like I was right, I’m hot, and you know it”, sleepy, he smiled up at you.

Torn back and forth, you closed and opened your mouth. You weren’t sure if you should kiss him or choke him till he died. You did neither.

“Or maybe you are just so touch starved that you can’t help but hold me in your sleep”, you countered.

“Maybe, but who could blame me?”

Too stunned to speak, you just stared at him. Was he flirting with you? Or were you just hallucinating? It must be the second. Maybe you were still dreaming.

“It feels really nice to hold you in my arms.”

“But aren’t we hating each other?”, a bit overwhelmed, you ran your hand through your hair. You were here to steal a source, not to talk abut feeling with Lockwood, you weren’t prepared for this.

“I never hated you, and I think you also don’t hate me.”

That was a bold statement, but maybe it was the truth. You weren’t sure what you felt for Lockwood. He had been an asshole to you from day one. And you hadn’t been better. Since the beginning, he had something that you just wanted to kiss or kill him. Because you were an insecure mess, you had decided to be mean to him rather than get hurt by him.

“But why were you such an asshole?”, you asked, curious.

“Because you let me something feel, I don’t like. In your presence, I feel so giddy and nervous, not like the agency head I should be.”

“We are such idiots. You are an idiot, but maybe I’m the biggest idiot of all. Seeing your face let me feel stronger emotions than I ever felt before, and I’m not sure if I want to kill or kiss you for it.”

“Then kiss me.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice. You kissed him like you always wanted to be kissed, like nothing in the world mattered to you beside him. And maybe this was true, the first thing you thought about was normally him and the last thing which crossed your mind before falling asleep was his dorky smile. You loved him, and you were an idiot, that it took you so long to realize it.  

The first time you wanted to share a bed with Lockwood was after you and him returned successfully from your mission. You stole the source without getting caught, and after you told Lucy and George how you did it, you were sitting in the living room. Lucy and George already went to bed and you both were peacefully silent. The only sound was the cracking of the logs in the fireplace, while Lockwood played softly with your hand in his. You were still wearing the ring he had given you. You had wanted to give it back to him, but he insisted that you keep it.

“Do you need a personal heater this night?”, Lockwood broke the silence, and you gave him a bashful smile.

“Maybe?”

“Are my eyes deceiving me or is that a smile, my love?”

“Oh, shut up.”

You were still laughing when Lockwood pulled you up from the sofa. Hand in hand, you walked up the stairs to his bedroom and for the first time in your life, you wanted to share a bed with him. So, this was what you did. Slipping under the blanked with him, you let him pull yourself in his arms. With your head laying on his naked chest and a happy smile, you slowly drifted away.      

#anthony lockwood #lockwood & co #lockwood & co fanfic #lockwood and co #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood netflix #fanfic #lockwood x reader #anthony bloody lockwood

[itripandfallalot]

So the wonderful @martii-art had some amazing art of Lockwood, and I reached out to see if they might be able to create something for one of my fics, and they did!! I love it! In case you're curious what fic, it's this one -

Seriously go check @martii-art out - INCREDIBLE WORK!!

#lockwood and co #locklyle #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #fanart #fanfic

[lewkwoodnco]

Falling For You - Lockwood x Reader

“First person to laugh loses.”

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

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

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

“Deal.”

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

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

word count: 2.6k!

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She handed out the mugs of tea.

"What pickup line?"

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

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

"S'that?"

"A bill."

"What bill?"

"Nothing to worry about."

"I'm not worried."

"Good."

"Show me the bill."

"You're adorable."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Not more terrible than you."

"I beg to differ!"

"Wanna bet?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

“First person to laugh loses.”

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

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

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

“Deal.”

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

"What did you do?"

"Nothing."

"What are you going to do?"

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

"No thanks."

"How about a date?"

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

"Hmm, excuses, excuses."

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

"NO no no no please please please -"

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

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

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

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

She paused for a minute.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Is everything okay?" 

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

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

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

"Good one," she whispered.

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

"Did it hurt?"

"When I fell from heaven?"

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

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

"I was checking for broken bones."

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

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

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

"...concussion?"

"Nuh-uh."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How're you feeling?"

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

"Are you sure? Feeling chilly?"

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

"...huh?"

"Because you are building."

"What."

"I win."

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

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

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

"I...what?"

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

"Why do you have a Brooklyn accent?"

"You's got a Brooklyn accent."

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

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

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

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

"I think you're building too."

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

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

"Oh. Hey."

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

She smiled. "Feeling better?"

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

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

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

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

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

“Did it hurt?”

She put her mug down. “Lockwood.”

“Did it hurt?” He pressed, firmly.

“I’ve already heard this one.”

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

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

“So. Did it hurt?”

“When I fell from heaven?”

“When you fell into my life.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #lockwood and co netflix #anthony lockwood #fanfiction #fanfic #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood imagine #valentines day #fluff

[theeoriginals]

ok but what about werewolf!reader who is protective over tyler lockwood since mason died, and she's at senior prank night when klaus turns tyler. i imagine klaus being curious about her bc he hasn't seen or met her since she doesn't hang around elena & co. bc of what they did to mason. love u and thank you for blessing us with all these requests!!

i think i want you | klaus mikaelson

klaus mikaelson x reader (no y/n!)

author's notes; sorry this took a while!! holidays got the best of me and i've been so busy. i hope u like this!! go check out my klaus fic on wattpad for more content :) link on my masterlist

warnings; mentioned violence & death but nothing explicit. this is genuinely just a lot of fluff, and only a tiny bit of angst. I like writing klaus being straight up infatuated so enjoy

She’s heard of him. Klaus Mikaelson. Not only is he an Original, but he’s the worst of them. He’s a mystery, a myth of a man. The hybrid. The only one of his kind, and he’s trying to make more. He’s trying to become a god of his own making. He’s a terrifying beast, even in their world of monsters. He is the monster beneath your bed, he is the boogeyman that you see in the shadows of alleyways and glimpses out of the corner of your eye.

When she meets him for the first time, she expects something out of a fairytale, she supposes. It was unintentional, the image of him she had in her head, but she’s heard of this fabled man her whole life as a warning of what can happen if you grow lonely in this life. 

She figured if she ever met Klaus Mikaelson, it’d be the first and only time. There weren’t many stories based on people’s personal interactions with him for a reason. If he bothered to pay you a personal visit and not just send one of his cronies out to deal with you, it probably meant you wouldn’t be seeing another day. 

But instead of that, instead of meeting her demise at the hand of the infamous man for some offense she most likely didn’t even mean to do, she meets him in the high school gym in Mystic Falls, Virginia. 

She meets him, and he’s just a man. 

He’s a terrible man, no doubt, but just a man. She is perhaps wrongfully unafraid of him because of this. It most likely doesn’t bode well for her, because even though he looks just as human as the rest of them, she doesn’t doubt those stories about him are all real, and likely worse than the retellings. 

But she was raised with a pack that taught her to be unafraid in the face of death, and even though she doesn’t have that pack anymore because of men just like Klaus Mikaelson, she wants Tyler to know the security and safety of it just as she had. 

She does not flinch when he looks her way, and resists the urge to rip his head off of his shoulders when he snaps Tyler’s neck and puts Bonnie on a timer for finding a way to bring him back to life as a hybrid. 

She knows she can’t win a fight against him, so she doesn’t fight back, not even as he forces Tyler to drink the doppelgänger’s blood and turns him into a hybrid. A half-dead, half-wolf thing that her pack would likely call him an abomination for. It’s a very dark, comforting thought to her that they aren’t around to condemn Tyler to the ends of the earth for something that was entirely out of his control. 

She knows Tyler is frightened of her doing that, just by the way he looks at her. He learned from Mason and herself that there’s a sense of loyalty to their kind, and that vampires are an inherent enemy. Even his relationship with Caroline would be enough to get him shunned from most werewolf communities at this point. Though, even Mason himself didn’t take that into consideration considering his relationship with one of the doppelgängers. 

After everything is said and done that night, she takes Tyler home without saying a single word to Klaus. Anything she wants to say will get her killed, and Tyler needs her more than ever now, so she can’t get ahead of herself. 

Tyler sheds rare tears in the privacy of his home. He tells her he’s terrified right now because of the fact that a part of him is technically dead now, and that he’s never felt like a monster about being a werewolf until now. 

She does her best to comfort him, but it doesn’t help much. She doesn’t know what he’s feeling right now and they both know it. If the circumstances were any different, she’d probably think he was the new enemy. 

He falls asleep eventually and she leaves him be, heading to her temporary room in the Lockwood mansion. She falls asleep looking at the moon just outside her window, thinking about how she was just a little disappointed in the fact that Klaus Mikaelson is just a man. 

────── 

The next time she sees Klaus Mikaelson, it’s in the tea room in the Lockwood house. He somehow looks even more underwhelming in this place, despite its grandiosity. She doesn’t know why or when she’s going to stop feeling so disappointed in the fact that if she didn’t know any better, she could’ve walked past him on the street without even looking his way. 

He’s there for Tyler, she knows, but Carol’s playing her role of oblivious hostess, and now she’s left to entertain him while Carol goes and handles a small, mayoral emergency. 

Carol leaves them with a charming smile, winking her direction, and she ignores the older woman pointedly. 

“I don’t think I got your name the other night at the school,” Klaus says, tilting his head as he looks at her. “I’m not usually so rude, but the stakes were high and I ran out of patience. You know how it is.” 

She narrows her eyes, shaking her head a bit. “A thousand years old and you haven’t worked on your patience? Maybe your priorities are a little skewed,” 

Klaus’s eyes flash with danger, but she swears she sees amusement in the smirk that pulls at his lips. It sparks that flint inside of her that likes to push and push, just to see the breaking point. She’d tried to deny it, but it only takes the smallest moment for that desire to set its sights on Klaus Mikaelson, even though pushing him could mean death. Her curiosity was a fatal flaw in itself, she knows.

“My only goal in life has been to break this curse,” He says, leaning forward to sit the cup of tea Carol had brought him on the table in between them, the only obstacle stopping him from lunging for her and snapping her neck before she could even blink. She wonders if he’s even aware of all the ways he could kill her, just by looking at her in this mundane setting. She doesn’t know if she actually wants an answer to that, though. “And now I’ve done that. I think a thousand years of this has proven I have nothing but patience.” 

She hums, acknowledging the fact that he was right. She couldn’t imagine being in his shoes, waiting a thousand years to break a curse that kept you from being who you are. Even now, knowing that the Sun and the Moon curse was fabricated in order to help Klaus break the only curse– his curse– when it comes down to it, she can’t blame him for his insistence. 

But she thinks about Tyler and how frightened he was, and she can’t stop the annoyance that builds in her all over again, so any bit of understanding washes away like sand beneath the rising tides. 

She shrugs, unwilling to vocalize the depth of her understanding, as miniscule as it may be. “Still, choosing a hormonal teenage boy as your first hybrid probably wasn’t the smartest decision, wouldn’t you say?” 

Klaus narrows his eyes at her and she stubbornly sits still, unwavering beneath his prolonged, burning stare. “You’re protective of him. I understand why you wouldn’t like me. But I’ve just made him the strongest creature he could ever be. He won’t need you, or any other pack he might have been clinging to before this.” 

And this, she thinks, is the biggest indicator to why she’s not properly afraid of this man before her. It’s not just because he looks unfortunately normal, spare his admittedly beautiful face, or that he’s yet to truly focus any of his true capabilities of danger in her direction. It’s that, at the end of the day, Klaus Mikaelson is just as human as the rest of them are. Because no matter how long you live, or what kind of creature you are, everyone gets lonely. 

“On the contrary,” She says, blinking slowly as she scans his face. “Tyler needs me now more than ever. And any pack would be lucky to have him around. That’s the whole point of a pack. You know that you’re never alone, no matter what happens.” 

To a degree, she knows that’s a lie. There are plenty of packs out there that will banish Tyler and any other hybrid that is made in the coming months because of the rivalry between the creatures that the hybrids are made of. But she also knows that for every pack that will turn them away, there’s one that won’t. There’s always someone, even if it’s just one person, and she’s willing to be that person for Tyler, or for any other hybrid that goes through the loss of their pack. 

“It’s a shame you’ve never known what that’s like,” She says, leaning forward to set her own cup of tea down, a mirror of his actions a moment ago. “Unwavering loyalty and trust, and a sense of family that never goes away. You may think that Tyler has no one, but I will always be here for him, just as I was his uncle.” 

Something defensive passes through his face and he stands abruptly, making her tilt her head back to maintain eye contact with him. 

Klaus leans down into her space, and they glare at each other with a surprising amount of vitriol that neither one of them feels is even genuine. 

“You can cling to your idea of family all you want, but it won’t change the fact that Tyler isn’t just a werewolf anymore. And as much as you may want to deny it, you can’t help him anymore just like you couldn’t help his poor uncle,”

He stands upright again, looking at her almost accusingly. “But since it’s causing no harm to me, I suppose there’s no real reason to make you give up this desperate mission. I wish you the best of luck, dear, truly,” 

He doesn’t wait for a response from her before he leaves, and after her initial anger and embarrassment wears off, she realizes he never even talked to Tyler like she assumed he came here to do in the first place. 

────── 

Mystic Falls has never felt like a smaller town. She’s never run into someone so many times when all she wants to do is avoid them. 

It’s like all of the sudden, since that very first night she saw Klaus Mikaelson, he’s everywhere. He’s in Tyler’s house, because the newly-made hybrid suddenly worships him. He’s in her dreams. She can’t escape him. 

Even now, sitting in a corner booth at the Mystic Grill, he’s suddenly there, sitting across from her like an old friend catching up for lunch. 

Immediately, her face twists in disgust. “Klaus.” 

He smiles in the face of her adversity, and says her name with a fondness of unknown origins. She almost feels insane, looking at him with any degree of civility. 

“What do I owe this visit to?” 

“I’m curious about something and I’m hoping you’ll humor me,” 

“Interesting start,” She huffs, taking a sip of her drink beside her. “What on earth could you possibly be curious enough about that you have to ask me?” 

“You, of course,” 

She swallows roughly, nearly choking as she looks at him in surprise. “Me?” 

The hybrid nods, smirking at her reaction. 

“What… What do you want to know about me?” 

He leans forward on the table, looking at her as she suddenly avoids his eyes, unwilling to admit that she’s feeling heat rise in her chest. “Why is it you aren’t banding together with those bumbling idiots to get rid of me, hm?” 

“Oh,” She breathes out, face turning solemn for a moment as she looks down at the tabletop. “I don’t– I don’t have any reason to want to get rid of you, really. I don’t necessarily like you, but you haven’t hurt Tyler in any permanent way so… I guess I’m just not really worried about it.” 

When she finally meets Klaus’s gaze again, there’s something shocked and unexpectedly warm in his blue eyes that makes her own soften. 

“Is it really that simple?” 

She falls silent for another moment, picking nonsensically at her nails. “They killed my friend.” 

She looks back up at him, sighing. “Mason Lockwood. Tyler’s uncle. He came here because of Katherine– she was looking for the moonstone so she could break that stupid curse that you made up. And they killed him for it,” She shakes her head, anger seeping into her voice. “They’re irrational. And if I’ve learned anything about this life, it’s that being irrational gets people killed.” 

Klaus hums lowly. “You are right about that.” 

Heaving a heavy sigh, she looks up at him, eyes wide and pleading. “What do you want from me, Klaus? I’m not picking sides here– I’m going to protect Tyler until it kills me, and that’s all. So what do you want from me?” 

He observes her for a moment and she doesn’t falter beneath his stare, if only out of spite. 

“Perhaps,” He starts. “I just want to know you.” 

Something fragile breaks on her face and she shows just a little bit more of that vulnerability to him in this new space between them. “What’s so interesting about me that Klaus Mikaelson wants to know me?” 

His eyes search her face, lost. “I don’t know yet. I’m hoping you’ll let me find out,” 

She lets out a breath, quiet, and admittedly flattered. 

A smile pulls at her lips, bashful in a way she isn’t used to. She allows it to spread across her face and beneath Klaus’s gaze, she feels like a blooming rose being adored. It makes her feel things she’s nowhere near ready to admit to herself, or anyone else. “I think we can work something out.” 

Klaus’s returning smile takes her breath away. It feels new, and wonderful. 

#klaus mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries fanfiction #kol mikaelson #the originals #fic recs #tvd klaus #klaus x reader #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson fanfiction #klaus mikaelson fanfic #damon salvatore #elena gilbert #tyler lockwood

[bubbl3zdaseaotter37]

Heyyyyyy so I know I disappeared off the face of the planet for like a month there but IT'S FOR GOOD REASON. I'm going through college applications rn and SATs and the whole gauntlet so yea. Also: hyperfixating on a new fandom

bc HAVE YOU HEARD OF LOCKWOOD AND CO??? LIKE

THIS SERIES

IS

KILLING ME.

and then Netflix had the gall to go and FNDUGNSVGING CANCEL THE SERIES and of course I only found this out AFTER I watched all the episodes and was so emotionally invested in these idiots that I think I may have cried when I found out.

and yes I know there's a book series too; I'm almost through book two and I am TERRIFIED of reading The Hollow Boy bc I'm getting bad vibes from the fandom every time someone mentions it. like. Reichenbach in the Sherlock fandom. and Mark of Athena w my Percy Jackson broskis. Violent sobbing in the back of the room, type thing. We got any long-time Lockwood & Co fans here? Bc I need emotional support.

anyways, have any of my fellow fanfic writers ever had the dilemma of "I want to write a fic for this fandom but at the same time I don't feel like I'm a 'member' of the community bc I haven't consumed every available piece of it yet?" idk, maybe that's just a me thing. That's why I'm throwing this out into the abyss.

So what do you guys think, my fellow fic gremlins? Can you always tell when someone writes a fic that they're a new member of the fandom? Is it cringey?

#fanfiction #fanfic #lockwood and co #lockwood and co fanfiction #lockwood and co netflix #lockwood and co fandom #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #george karim #george cubbins #jonathan stroud #locklyle #lockwood and lucy #renew lockwood and co #save lockwood and co #PLEASE NETFLIX #i'm literally begging #on my knees #save the children

[lockwood-ot3]

Lockwood-ot3 Pinned Post <3

Hello and welcome! This is a place for all things Lockwood & Co, but highlighting and celebrating our bestest ot3: Lucy/Lockwood/George.

Things this page does:

Fic Recs: Send me any good cot3/rarepair fic you find and I will do my best to showcase it here! Master list of fic recs below, now including author spolights!

Showcase other L&Co community stuff/fanart - screenedits, memes, gifsets, art, etc!

Accepts Prompts: Send me asks with your ot3 prompts! I will do my best to fill them, at least 4-5 sentences, hopefully more!

AUTHOR SPOTLIGHTS

FIC RECS: Lucy/Lockwood/George

Lockwood & Co Rarepair Fic Recs

My Lockwood & Co fanfic on Ao3, (Rainshadow07)

Poly Cot3 Prompt Responses/Drabbles

Want to submit a prompt? Send me an ask! 1. doubling down : Lockwood & Lucy try to undo the damage done by Joplin 2. gold pressed : George is out of laundry 3. hold my heart : George runs into someone from his old team at Fittes. It doesn't go well.

If you are an author and I have linked your fic and you do not want me to - please message and let me know!

If you found a fic you think should be on the list, or an author or fanart I should showcase, send me a message

Let's grow these ships! <3

updated 7.5.23

#lockwood and co #lockwood fic rec #lucy/lockwood/george #lucy carlyle #anthony lockwood #george karim #lockwood ot3 #lockwood & co #locklyle #lockwood fanfic #lockwood fanart #poly co #lockwood & co netflix #rarepairs #lockwood & co rarepairs #cot3 #poly cot3 #poly cot3 + kipps #georgewood #georcy

[hateletterstogender]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Lockwood & Co. - Jonathan Stroud, Lockwood & Co. (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Lucy Carlyle/Anthony Lockwood, Anthony Lockwood & Jessica Lockwood, Anthony Lockwood & Gravedigger Sykes, George Cubbins | George Karim & Anthony Lockwood, Anthony Lockwood & Holly Munro Characters: Anthony Lockwood, Jessica Lockwood, Gravedigger Sykes, George Cubbins | George Karim, Lucy Carlyle, Holly Munro Additional Tags: POV Anthony Lockwood, Lockwood's Tragic Past, Panic Attacks, Vague Suicidal Thoughts/Intention, (its Lockwood so), Depressed Anthony Lockwood, Anthony Lockwood Has Trauma, Anthony Lockwood Needs Therapy, Post-Book 05: The Empty Grave (Lockwood & Co.), Lucy Carlyle Loves Anthony Lockwood, Anthony Lockwood Loves Lucy Carlyle, One Shot, Stream of Consciousness

Summary:

Today marked 8 years to the day since Jessica had died. 8 years, 2922 days, 70,800 hours.

Not that Lockwood is counting.

or, Lockwood’s tragic past

#lockwood and co #anthony lockwood #lockwood #lockwood and lucy #lockwood netflix #lucy carlyle #locklyle #anthony lockwood's tragic past #my favorite tag tbh #oneshot #jessica lockwood #post empty grave #lockwood fanfic #ao3 #lock nation #lockwood and co fanfic

[arielleshaina]

New Christmas colored pencil drawing AND a fic to go with it! 🎄

#lockwood and co #save lockwood and co #lucy carlyle #anthony lockwood #ao3 #fanfic #writing #cameron chapman #ruby stokes #artwork #fanart #george karim #christmas

[wenigstenshabeichesversucht]

"He is half of my soul, as the poets say"

Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

Pairing: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader

Summary: Reader sees something on a job which got her realising life is too short

Warnings: angst, trauma, description of dead, english is not my native language

Word Count: 4.3k

The cold was slowly creeping up on you, and the sight before you could only mean one thing, you were dreaming, dreaming a nightmare.

The day started like every other, you all slept till noon and then George went to the Archive to collect information for your new case while Lucy, Lockwood and you prepared everything else.

The sun was already slowly setting and was turning everything around you into a dim light when you all met up with George. “Around sixty years ago, the house was owned by a young couple, Andrew and Mary Hoffman. They were brutally murdered by robbers.” George told the team as you entered said house.

The new owners had no connection to the killed couple, they weren’t even sure if it was one or two ghosts. They only reported that the living room and the second bedroom upstairs were colder than the rest of the house; two weeks ago at night, the rooms became so cold that the windows were freezing and they could see their own breath. This, plus a dreadful feeling, had brought the owners to Lockwood & Co. to get rid of their ghost problem.

You joined Lockwood & Co. half a year ago. Since then, your team had become your best friends, and you trusted them with your life. Of course, with Lockwood & Co. often times things took a turn that really nobody expected, but they had your back and you had theirs, so you knew that it didn’t matter what the night had in store, Lockwood & Co. would ace it.

With this in mind, you followed your team inside the kitchen. Like every good team, you knew your ins and outs, so you didn’t need to talk to know that it was your job to make tea while Lockwood searched for biscuits. You had like fifteen minutes before the darkness would settle upon East London, which was also enough time for a cup of tea and one or maybe two biscuits.

While you were busy preparing each cup of tea the way each member of Lockwood& Co. liked it, Lockwood found what he was looking for. And when he happily declared that the new owners had the good kind of biscuit, you couldn’t help but smile. Lockwood’s happiness always got you beaming, when he was happy, you were happy, probably because you were such good friends. At least that’s what you tell yourself when you were lying at night in your bed and couldn’t sleep because you were too busy thinking about how the laugh of your boss sounded or how his skin felt on yours when you accidentally touched at the kitchen table when you both were reaching for the same item. Maybe if you would stop for a moment and think about it, you would realise that you were head over heels in love with your boss and landlord, but for you denial was not just a river in Egypt.

“The police suspected Mary was killed first, they found her body in the living room. Andrew was found upstairs in the open door of the bedroom. They assumed, he heard the gunshot which killed Mary and wanted to see what happened”, George shared his grim research, and you pushed his cup over the counter to him. As thanks, he gave you a quick nod.

“So, we should split up”, Lockwood appeared next to you and cool like always he leaned against the kitchen counter. This was enough to make your heart skip a beat. It felt like every minute, it would just jump out of your ribcage.

“George and I, and you and Y/N, like always?”, asked Lucy sipping her tea.

Lucy was the best listener you ever met; Lockwood’s talent was great sight. You were like George; you got a bit of everything. You could see ghost, but no death-glow. You could hear the voices of visitors, but you couldn’t understand what they were saying. Only your touch was better than average and saved you from the fate of a night watch kid. Sometimes when you touch something ghost infected, you could see, hear, and feel important moments of the ghost’s life. For you, these visions often felt like minutes, but it was only a few seconds.

But in Lockwood’s humble opinion, a few second were enough for you to get ghost-touched. For someone so reckless, he was terribly worried about your safety. Therefore, you got into more than one argument about this issue. If Lockwood had his way, you would sit back home, while your team was fighting ghost without you. But that was no life you wanted to live, and you made this clear. If Lockwood would ever force you to stay back at Portland Row, you would leave Lockwood and Co. This was the argument, which always won you the fight. When he couldn’t keep you safe by leaving you back home, Lockwood insisted, that on missions you always stayed by his side. He was the best swordsman of you four, so he was the best fit to protect you and himself from getting ghost-touched. You didn’t mind. It was nice to work close with Lockwood, when he wasn’t plunging himself head first into danger. But Lucy once claimed, with knowing smirk in her face, that he was doing it less, since you joined the agency.   

It was no surprise to everyone, that he agreed with Lucy, and before you knew it, you were standing in the living room. One look at your watch confirmed what you already felt, every minute the last light of the sun would disappear, and the night would begin. Unconsciously wrapping your jacket tighter around your frame, your fingers fiddled with your belt, trying to remove the thermometer.

You weren’t nervous-no- you weren’t more nervous than on any other mission. Of course, you didn’t know which kind of ghost you would encounter this night, but you were positive that you could handle it. To fail in front of Lockwood wasn’t an option.

Finally freeing the thermometer from your belt, you began to start tracking the temperature. This was your job, while Lockwood was kneeing in the middle of the room, probably examining the death-glow.

The closer you got to the fireplace, where the remains of a long-forgotten fire lay, the colder it became. When you came to a stop in front of the fireplace, your hair stood up, and you couldn’t help but tremble. Closing your eyes, you put your hand on the old stones of the fireplace, expecting them to be cold, but they were nicely warm.

“How odd”, you muttered, before you were hit by a vision.

The first you picked up was the warm, it was a stark contrast to the cold, you were feeling just seconds ago. You were still standing in the same spot in the same room, but beside the fireplace everything was different. The furniture and décor were an older style, bright sunlight shone through the window, and everything screamed home.

In the middle of the room, a couple were slow dancing to “Will You Love Me Tomorrow” from The Shirelles, they were laughing and the happiness they were emitting was luring you in. You couldn’t help but also smile, and for a moment you forget that this wasn’t real. As if you were under a spell, you watched the couple in awe and as he spun her around, you saw his face for the first time.

You inhaled sharp. This face in front of you, you would recognize everywhere. The man looked exactly like how you imagine Lockwood would look in maybe four or five years. He was dressed in the fashion of the 60s, and his eyes shined full of love. You could watch him like this forever.

Narrowing your eyes, you tried to get a better look at his dance partner. She had light brown hair and wore a pretty yellow dress. The pair did another turn, and you couldn’t believe your eyes. The woman in Lockwood’s arm were you. She was exactly looking like you. Maybe a few years older and a lot happier.

Lockwood was gazing at her like she was his world, and you would have given everything that your Lockwood would looking at you like he was looking at her. You would kill for it. As this thought plopped up in your head, the world around you shifted.

In one moment, everything around you were bright and warm in the next moment you stood in the dark lifeless living room and the cold rushed over you, like somebody emptied a bucket full of ice water over your head.

A bad taste in your mouth and a creeping feeling of dread was all the warning you got, but it was also all the warning you needed. Pulling out your rapier, you spun around to come face to face with the ghost of Mary Hoffmann. But what you saw let you freeze like a stone statue. You weren’t ghost-locked, you just couldn’t believe it. It was like looking into a mirror, just that the own reflection was dead.

Shortly the thought, that the ghost was playing with you, crossed your mind, but that was not how your visions worked. Mary looked exactly like she had in the vision; she was your Doppelgänger.

Tearing your eyes from the sight, you never wanted to see in your life, you looked to Lockwood. Normally Lockwood tried to look cool, calm, collected, but right now his eyes darted between you and the ghost, not believing what he saw.

Nobody of you were moving, the ghost looked at you and when your eyes locked you couldn’t even lift a finger. You could feel her sadness and her grieve. But under all there was anger, an anger you could understand all too well. Maybe you didn’t know how it felt to lose your own life, but you already felt the grieve and anger after you lost a loved one.

“Darling, please step back slowly”, Lockwood tried to sound calm, but you could see right through it. But his voice had always the same effect on you, it brought you back.

Removing your gaze from the ghost in front of you, your eyes met Lockwood’s. That was enough to stop the growing panic. He was here with you, nothing too bad would happen.

Clutching your rapier like your life depended on it, you followed Lockwood’s order. Slowly you took a step back, then another till your back hit the wooden shelf of the fireplace. All the time you watched the ghost cautious, waiting for it to attack you. But Mary only followed curious your movement until you touched the wood.

It was like you flipped a switch. In one moment, she was peaceful, in the next she wasn’t any more. With a high wail she lunged for you, and before you could react Lockwood was there, his rapier slicing through her. Ectoplasm splattered around, and a few drops hit your boots. And the ghost? She vanished but both of you were agents and knew that it was only a matter of time, that she would reappear. Time you could use to search for the source.

“Are you OK?”, Lockwood sounded concerned.

Like the liar you were, you sent him a small smile, “Sure.”

Of course, you weren’t OK, not after seeing this. But you were too professional, to let it affect your work. Therefore, you took a deep breath and tried to slow your thoughts. First came the work and when you survived the night, you could handle your feelings.

You weren’t new to this field, your experience told you, that it wasn’t a coincidence that Mary acted up as you touched the wood. Her source had to be close. A short look at Lockwood confirmed your suspicion.

“We should lay out the chains”, Lockwood suggested, and you nodded. Both of you knew, that there was no guarantee what would happen, if you touched the source and to find it you had to touch it. Also, there was the possibility, that the ghost was out to get you. Maybe it also realized that you both were a lookalike and now wanted to kill you for it.

“I grab them and Darling, remember no matter what happens, I have your back.”

While Lockwood laid out the chains, he insisted on doing it, you stood with raised rapier next to him, ready to fight off the ghost, if it would appear. But you both were lucky; Mary didn’t show up.

Now you stood inside the iron chains, slowly reaching out to touch the wood a second time. You could feel it, you were so close. Closing your eyes for better concentrating, you carefully let your hands wander over the shelf. When you touched to deep cuts in the wood, which awfully resembled the letters A and M, you knew, that you found it. But before you could inform Lockwood, another vision came crashing over you like a wave and pulled you under.

You were in the same room as in the last vision. But now it was night, and you were looking down the barrel of a gun. Her angst, your angst, was all consuming. Your whole body was shacking.

“Please”, her and at the same time also your voice, was not more than a whisper.

That was all you needed to realize, that in this vision you weren’t just watching her, you were her. And now you would learn how it felt like to die. A small tear ran down your cheek, and you didn’t know if it was Mary or you, who was crying.

Before you could beg again, the robber pulled the trigger. The pain you felt as the bullet priced your flesh was worse than anything you had experienced before. Falling to the floor, you wanted to scream, but the only sound which left your mouth was a quit whimper.

You could feel the warm blood rushing out of your body and starting to form a puddle beneath you. You were too young to die. You had so much you wanted to do, you had so many people you had so say goodbye to. You just couldn’t leave George, Lucy and him- oh you would miss him so much.

With the last of your strength, you tried pressing down on your wound. Burning hot pain shot through your body. But still your warm blood was running through your finger, and you were running out of time. Any breath could be your last one. Everything was cold and you were so tired. You would love nothing more, than to just close your eyes, so you did. Your lungs took their last breath, and then you died.

Just to suddenly standing next to Marys/ your dead body. There was only one thing worse than seeing your own ghost, and that was seeing your own lifeless body. By the sight in front of you, your blood was running cold, and you felt like throwing up.

“Darling, everything alright? What was this noise?”, you heard Lockwood’s voice from above. The robber exchanged looks before they followed his voice upstairs.

Knowing what was to come, your whole body went stiff.

No-no-no-no, that could not happen. You couldn’t let him die. Panicking, you searched for something, that could be used as a weapon, but when you tried to reach for the poker, your hand just went through. In this vision, you were the ghost, you couldn’t change anything.

You jumped when two shots rang out, another tear was running down your cheek. Damn, you knew that you didn’t want to see it, but you couldn’t help it.

Rushing up the stairs, there he was lying. His lifeless eyes stared at the ceiling; all sparks long gone from them. Your legs gave up under you and with a loud wail you felt to the floor. You were wrong earlier; the worst sight of your life was Lockwood’s dead body here in front of you. And you would never fully recover from it.

You were still crying ugly when you came back. When you said yes to this job, you really didn’t expect to get so traumatised. Your heart was beating so fast like you just ran a marathon. Trembling all over, you allowed yourself a quick look over your shoulder.

There he stood, with his back to you, he was facing the room. His rapier was resting in his hands, while he tried to look less tense than he was feeling. Relief flooded through you at the sight of him. It hasn’t been real, he was alive. You suppressed a loud sob and forced yourself to appear calm on the outside, even if there was a storm raging inside.

“I found the source, do you have a crowbar?”, hearing the sound of your voice, Lockwood turned around, which was a bad mistake.

Of course your luck just ran out and Mary decided, that this was the best moment to reappear again. Would it be a typical mission for Lockwood and Co. if something like this wouldn’t happen? You guessed not.

Seeing her appear right behind Lockwood, her arm outstretched, gave you a heart attack.       

They say when something terrible happens, you witness it in slow motion. But that wasn’t true for you. It always happened so fast.

“Watch out”, you yelled, while your hands worked hastily to pull out a salt bombe out of your jacket pocket. While Lockwood spun around and only escaped the ghost-touched by jumping back, you threw the bomb. It hit Mary right in the chest, and with a high-pitched wail she backed off.

“I will fend her off”, without warning, Lockwood threw with his free hand his crowbar to you. Luckily for you, you caught it.

To be completely honest, this was a shitty job. You hated it with all your bones. If it were up to you, this night couldn’t end fast enough.

So you took Lockwood’s crowbar and bought it down onto the shelf with all your anger bundled and a roar of frustration. Two hits were enough to cause the part of the wood with the initials to splinter.

Behind you, you heard Lockwood taunting the ghost to distract her from you. Because one thing for sure, Mary hated what you were doing to her source.

There was no reason for you to drag this out any longer. Therefore, you took your silver net and threw it over the little piece of wood, you broke off. In an instance, the chaos stopped.  

“Are you alri-”, Lockwood never got to finish his sentence, he got too distracted from the loud pounding footsteps, which were running down the stairs.

The next moment, Lucy appeared in the doorway.

“Thank god, you are alive”, with a relived sigh, she threw her arms around Lockwood. Confused, his eyebrows raised.

Would it be any other day, you might have become jealous at the sight in front of you- you could never hug Lockwood light this- but this job had been hell. You only felt tired, so tired.

“We were fighting against a ghost, which looked exactly like you”, Lucy added when she realised how confused Lockwood looked. You already put two and two together, thanks to your visions.

“And suddenly he just vanished, did you found both sources by any chance?”, George chimed in as he entered the room.

“Quite possible”, picking up the silver net, you were careful not expose the source.

“Here”, without further ado, you handed the net into George’s unexpected hand. You wanted nothing more to do with it.

Not waiting for his response, you pushed past him and rushed out of the house. You knew that it wasn’t your smartest move to just run out of a house in the middle of the night. But you still had your rapier and you needed fresh air.

Trembling all over, you took a deep breath. What the hell had been this shit show? And why had they looked exactly like Lockwood and you? You wanted to cry, but you hadn’t any tears left. Wiping your cheeks to remove the salty remains, you crumbled a little. You could still feel the warm blood on your hands, you could still see Lockwood lying dead in front of you.

But before you could collapse, you heard steps behind you. Turning your head, you saw Lockwood hurrying to you. Without saying anything, he pulled you in his warm embrace, and you melted under his touch. Laying your head against his chest, your hands griped his coat, like you were afraid he would leave you. You could hear his hearth racing, and you were sure, that your heart was beating even faster.

Like this, you stayed for what felt like forever. It seemed like both of you wanted to make sure, that what happened inside the house wasn’t more than a bad dream. As if you stayed long enough like this, you could undo what you had seen insight.

After a moment Lockwood broke the silence, “For a second I thought you were her and that you-”, right in the middle he stopped, and you looked up into his pained face.

This was the moment, that you realised, how close you were. You would just have to stand on your tiptoes and your lips would be brushing his. But you didn’t dare. What if he didn’t like you as much as you like him? Then you try to kiss him, ruining everything.

“I never felt such relief in my life when I saw you standing there”, pausing, Lockwood also seemed to realise in which position you both were. Blushing, he took a step back, and you wanted to scream.

“Darling, will you be OK after tonight?” Certainly not. Maybe you put a stop to the haunting, but for sure her memories will haunt you.           

To 85.66% you were sure, that after this night Lockwood told the rest of the team, that you both had fought against your lookalikes. You could see it in the pitiful glances they gave you.

The first days after the job, you mainly spend in your room. At the latest, when you didn’t protest when Lockwood suggested that you stay home for the next job, everyone knew that something was wrong with you.

Every night in your dreams, you and Lockwood died again and again. Every night you woke up heavily panting, and your bed was soaked with sweat. Rational, you knew that neither you nor Lockwood had died, but it had felt so real.

Even when the light was shining through your window, you felt the adrenalin pumping through your veins, ready to fight or flight. The worst part was, that you knew your fear wasn’t so wrong. As an agent, every job could be your last. A little slip up and you could be dead.

To distract yourself, you tried to think of reasons why Mary and Andrew Hoffman looked exactly like you and Lockwood.

One time you read, that every person had seven doppelgängers, but the probability that your lookalike married Lockwood’s was so low. There must be another explanation, you just knew it.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t hear the knock on your door. Only when Lockwood entered your room, you got brought back.

“Do you believe in reincarnation?”, you asked the first thing, that came into your mind, before he could say anything.

Taken by surprise, he came to an abrupt stop in the middle of your room.

“I-I- I mean”, he stuttered, and slowly a blush began creeping up his face. From the eloquent Lockwood you often watched was no sign to see.

“Are you thinking about them?”, he asked instead of answering your question. He didn’t even have to say their names for you to know who he was talking about.

“Yes, they got me thinking. How odd it is that both were our lookalikes?”

“And they married each other.” Lockwood’s brown eyes met yours and your heart stopped.

“Yes, and they married each other”, you repeated breathless, while Lockwood came closer.

“May I?”, before you knew it, he was sitting next to you on the bed. Only now did you realize he had swapped his fine suit for a simple grey jumper. If it was even possible, your heart started to beat even faster. Discreetly, you tried to wipe off your sweaty hands on your leggings.

Hoping to gain control over your own body again, you took a deep breath. “You didn’t answer my first question, do you believe in reincarnation?”

Nervously, you bit on your lips, and Lockwood’s eyes followed the movement before his eyes lingered.

While fidgeting with his hands, Lockwood cleared his throat. Never before you saw him so nervous.

“I would like to believe that my soul will always find yours, no matter when and where we are.”

He was looking anywhere but at you. Which was fine, totally fine, because you looked like an idiot.

Was he saying what you thought he was saying? Or was it just wishful thinking?

The last job has showed you, that the life could be awfully short, you could die any time. Sometime love was worth taking a risk on and if you knew one thing it was, that you loved the reckless idiot in front of you.

Gripping his jumper, you brought his lips down to yours. First, he wasn’t kissing back, and you were scared, that you did a big mistake. But then he returned the kiss, and you felt like flying.

Far too quickly you separated and breathless you gazed into each other eyes.

“I would also like to believe that my soul will always find yours.”    

#anthony lockwood #fanfic #lockwood & co #lockwood & co fanfic #lockwood and co #lockwood netflix #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood x reader

[dangerously-human]

I was tagged by @synestheticwanderings for a writing thingy that I just remembered, and I rewarded myself for writing some very boring sentences for an outline for my final semester project by writing some far more fun fanfiction.

RULES: Post the last sentence you wrote (fanfic / original / anything) and tag as many people as there are words in the sentence.

Her wound breaks him.

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) I will not be explaining myself at this time.

Ayy, that's few enough I actually can tag that many people! Tagging @polithicc, @lilaccatholic, @loubuttons, and @softboiledwonderland (optional as always) <3

#personal #writer probs: fanfic edition #lockwood & co