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anundyingfidelity · 1 year ago

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I'M A RUIN — Soldier Boy (Part II)

Series summary: After the events of the Seven Tower, you present Grace Mallory a new secret project you're working on already to develop a cure to Compound V. The only problem? You need Soldier Boy for that.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female reader.

Word count: 2.5k.

Warnings for series: set after S3 (spoilers), some OOC!Ben, some depressed!Ben, angst, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, slow-burn, language, PTSD, reader has Compound V (she's no Vought supe tho), Soldier Boy being an usual asshole, reader is a fucking liar.

Warnings on this chapter: Ben being a misogynist, talks about masturbation and porn, killing threats, Ben's POV in general is a red flag, death.

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tags: @k-slla

GEN MASTERLIST! — SERIES MASTERLIST!

Part II: Silence is Peace

The next day arrived fast, and again, you found yourself walking ready to have a conversation with the supe locked in the facility. A part of you was surprised he didn't try to escape yet, but Ben, on the other hand, was just letting things flow at the moment.

The heavy, metal door opened to let you in. The supe caught by surprise seeing you coming inside full of confidence at this time in the morning. A couple of armed men in black uniforms followed behind as they settled down some furniture in the empty area of the room: two small sofas and a coffee table.

His arrogant self knew those guns wouldn't tear a single hair off of him, but hey, he understood you needed to feel safe. So meanwhile, he decided to play along. He remained still by the bathroom door as you came closer.

"I didn't request that," he said once you stood face to face.

"Oh, I know. I did, it's for your therapy," you smiled, tugging the bag on your shoulder. The armed men finished decorating the cell, and they left with a loud thud of the door being closed behind their backs. "There's been a small change of plans. I will come by every day for one hour. Anything you want you will ask me first and if I approve, then I will bring it to you."

He smirked. Like if he needed to be bossed around by a fucking woman, he thought. "You sure have the balls to stand up on me like that."

"Like I said, I want to help you," you replied, making your way and sitting down on a sofa. "Please," you requested him with a hand to do the same and he followed with curiosity. You put the bag on the coffee table, taking out a notebook, pens, a folder, and a small zip bag containing the only thing he asked from you the day before. You left his reefer on the coffee table, putting the folder in your lap as you waited for him with a smile on your face he found unsettling.

Ben still didn't buy you or your intentions, but he sat down on the opposite sofa nonetheless. You had brought him something he asked from you, something he wanted and would calm him down for a little. Hopefully it wasn't going to be that bad. He only had to put up with the game of doctor-patient. In the back of his mind, he was also grateful you dropped the stupid white coat at the same time he found your attempt to fix him ridiculous. He didn't need to get fixed.

"Your guards ain't hurting me with those guns, you know that," Ben started.

"We have to try," you shrugged. "And you're still here, that has to mean something."

He rolled his eyes. Of fucking course he had to stay. There were a lot of questions in his head. He had to settle down for a moment. Things were different in the world, he needed to learn about today's tech and get a fucking good plan to get away with his shit. Who would he get to kill first? Still thinking about it. How would he escape? Probably could use some help to keep a low profile. Could you be that help, being the only human contact he figured would have from now on? Maybe.

"So how are you feeling? Did you have some sleep?" you asked.

"I slept enough, spent the whole fucking night jerking off," he spat. "That TV of yours now does have good porn some hours in the day."

With wide eyes, you wrote down after his answer.

"Alright. But tell me, how are you feeling?" you pushed, your smile long gone and replaced with a serious face locking your gaze to his own.

"Great, never been fucking better" he smirked and you shifted on your seat.

His green eyes started checking you all over for a second. The pencil skirt hugged your legs perfectly and the blouse was tight enough to show off the size of your breasts. The clothes yelling that you were expensive and valuable for the CIA, and most important, to Mallory. Soon he sensed the discomfort emanating from you as his gaze returned to your face. God, he loved doing that, but you sure were daring to get locked inside a room with him alone.

"You can tell me the truth, you know," you said.

"I can easily break your neck and explode this shithole if I want to," he spat back.

"You won't do that. You had the chance yesterday, today even, and yet here you are."

He thought you sounded so sure about that. Ben held your gaze. Neither of you dare to break eye contact. It was like you were challenging him to something he wasn't aware of just yet. He didn't like that, but he remained there, breathing deeply with a strong look on his face. You were right though, and he realised could find you a good usage besides the obvious fucking use for pretty girls like you. He might have missed a good fuck for 40 years but the little common sense on the back of his mind told him the porn channel was enough for now.

"Listen, I know you're not a bad guy," the words fell softly from your lips. "I know you didn't mean to harm those people in Midtown... And in order to help you I could use some information on how you feel every time the blast comes-"

He stood up abruptly, strong enough to move the sofa he was sitting some feet away behind his back and yelled aggressively.

"Fuck off, bitch. What the fuck do you know about me? I don't trust your kind and you're making my threat sound like a great plan now.

You held his gaze as he made his way towards you. You were a prey in his cage, but even if you were scared, he didn't sense any sign of it. Ben's big frame towered you, standing just inches away from the couch you sat on. The space was enough for him to kill you with only one hand but you never moved or flinched a second.

"If you touch me, just a single hair on my scalp, you're fucked."

"C'mon sweetheart, you're no match for me," he mocked with a smirk on his face.

"Novichok definitely is."

He tightened his fists with his lips on a straight line, and his heartbeat increased at the mention of that fucking poison. Meanwhile, you just sat down looking at him with a blank face and innocent eyes. For a moment, he was tempted to just kill you but he forced himself to calm the fuck down. He didn't want to black out again, he certainly did not want to become a fugitive. If he was going to do something, it had to be done well.

"Soldier Boy, it's okay," you got on your feet. His eyes followed your moves. "It's fine if you don't want to talk to me. I can't force you to."

He saw a strange sparkle in your eyes. Were you pitying him? He didn't need that. And when he said nothing, then you continued.

"You accepted the deal, and that includes therapy to help you get out of your trauma. And sooner or later, you have to talk to me," you explained, he felt like a fucking child being scolded.

"You want to fucking help me and spray me with Novichok at the same time," he groaned.

"We have to take our precautions. But trust me. I’d rather not use that on you, I prefer other ways."

"This is fucking crap," he mumbled through his teeth.

He watched you making your way towards the book shelf, leaning down to grab a couple of books. He took in the curve of your ass as you knelt, and he wondered if you were doing all that little show on purpose to test him. His jaw clenched once again at the thought of being played with false promises and a cure to his memories.

"I can leave, but I will come tomorrow," you tossed two books on the coffee table: one about PTSD, the other one about new technology for him to start educating himself on that. "Start reading those and write down in the notebook anything you have to say. It can be about the books, your thoughts, your feelings... Anything you want. I don't have to know unless you want me to."

If looks could kill, you were already dead. He still didn't trust you. He didn't understand completely why a stupid psychiatrist of the CIA wanted him to go through rehab. You were a woman, for fucks sake. Psychiatrists were old, wise, rich men back in his days, not expensive sluts.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "You're lucky I'm trying hard not to crush your bones right now, pretty thing."

"At least you're trying, that's improvement," you smiled cockily, pointing at his chest with a finger and you took your bag and belongings together, as if he didn't threaten to kill you like three times in the same conversation. "I will leave you now. Have a good lunch, Soldier Boy."

"Time of death 9:41 a.m."

The sound of the monitor disturbed your senses as the voice announced all over the place the death of yet another supe. You watched through the windows as two lab assistants ran inside the chamber to take out the lifeless body of the woman who had given her life to volunteer and assist the program. Anything for the cure, you remember her voice saying, even after she was warned about the possible effects. The worst of them being death. The contract stipulated it clearly and you told her to think twice before agreeing to take the third version of the Anti-V, although she hesitated a lot before joining.

You breathed out. The formula needed improvement, quickly. How many corpses had they taken out of there? You lost count already. You ordered Bianca, your young assistant, to note down all the details one day after the second death of a supe you witnessed, and for her to count them as necessary and at all cost. Arms folded on your chest, your jaw clenched, losing hope and feeling despair running through your spine. The discomfort of what had to be done to find a cure sometimes was too much of a burden. But sacrifices had to be done.

And speaking about sacrifices, you knew you had to get into Soldier Boy's head as soon as possible. The few other sessions you tried to talk to him were useless. The sixth one being today before lunch. A part of you was growing tired of faking it and pretending to be a psychiatrist, it really wasn't your field but you knew how to be one after many sessions, research, and medication on your own. Grace had taken care of your training years ago and this was just another mission with a huge impact and objective in mind: destroy Vought and Homelander, and then provide the cure to supes who didn't want their powers and give them the chance to live a normal life. People like you needed the cure, but first things first.

"Doc, the analysis of Blaze is updated," Bianca said, giving you the tablet to check the information on the supe that was collected.

"Thanks."

Blaze, or Electra Richards was her real name, was a low-profile supe for some time, and you had a secret track of those like her with some help. These kinds of supes didn't really represent a threat to Vought, so it was kind of easy to contact them and give them a possible solution with a warning written all over the place. When Electra was contacted, she had to think about it but eventually said yes. She was young and brave, but she never wanted powers. She had superhuman strength and healed in minutes, seconds even, her bones were indestructible, and when your people ran the proper tests on her she was healthy as hell. Pity that her body wasn't enough to take in the injection of the new Anti-V prototype.

You read the last notes your assistant typed on the supe's profile.

Cause of death: sudden cardiac arrest caused by ventricular fibrillation; failure in electrical signaling within the heart.

You couldn't continue like this, not anymore. Nine months and nothing seemed to work out. Some supes died, some of them quit the program, and you didn't really blame them for it. The failures were growing bigger than the small steps close to creating the final antidote. The process was becoming an endless trial and error. With a tired face and a sigh, you left the tablet on a desk and walked out making your way to your office.

You took out your cell phone and dialed Grace, walking around the room worriedly. You needed to vent or talk. Anything. And gladly, she picked up by the third ring.

"Is everything okay?" she asked on the other line. She knew you too well.

"I- No, it isn't. But you already know that," you breathed. "Another supe died on trial today. I don't know how many we have-" your voice cut off abruptly and you sighed, composing yourself after a moment. "We keep losing a lot of people..."

Grace exhaled. "It's part of the job. It's your project, you know it was coming when I approved to do this."

"That makes it even worse, you're not helping me," you replied with a playful tone. "I've been thinking- I would like to try the cure."

"No. We need you to focus on this."

"And when I get him, when I get Soldier Boy's blood? He already takes powers of supes with the blast. Should be easier."

"He's your safest option for now. You'll find a way to get it, I trust you. But don't make stupid and hurried decisions, just wait for the right moment," the lady scolded. You smiled a little, like if she was watching you. "About that, how's he doing? Is he cooperating?"

"Not at all, that's my other problem," you fell back on your chair ungracefully, your back hurting at the thought of seeing him again that day. "I am trying to get him to talk, even using my cards of dressing up like I'm a fucking slut with tight skirts and all, but he's really backing up. Besides he's a fucking dick," your words made Grace chuckle for a bit.

"All supes we have dealt with are dicks, especially Vought. But Y/N, you got this," her words attempted to make you feel better. "This is one of our best options to take them down for once. I know you've been working on this way long before you talked to me, and that's the reason I know it's gonna work, doing whatever it takes."

"Thank you, Grace," you mumbled from your heart. Disappointing her was not on your list, and you hoped it won't happen anytime soon. So you switched the topic of the conversation. "And how have you been?"

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy imagine #soldier boy imagines #soldier boy fanfiction #the boys tv #the boys fanfiction #soldier boy #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles

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shadowbriar · 2 years ago

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Anthony Lockwood - If You’re Going to Break My Heart

Pairing : Anthony Lockwood x (she/her) TouchGifted!Reader Word Count : 5.8k. Warning : Blood. Minor character’s death. Panic attack. Possible OOC as I haven’t read the books. Angst, don’t sue me. Synopsis : The ambition they’ve nurtured for years finally start to create a space between them, straining their relationship that turns what once were friends into colleagues. Notes : Part II of I Love You So. I recommend listening to Inhaler - If You’re Gonna Break My Heart while reading. Thank you for giving the fic so much love and support, please don’t hate me as you reach the end of this fic. If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕ Taglist: strikethrough means I couldn’t tag you. @nessa-stark @navznak28 @gwnwrites @archiveoftara @superpositvecloudshipper @cassiopeiia24 @wordsarelife @mellowarcadefun @ajordan2020 @a-candle-maker @obsessed-female @rambles-fanfic-trove @yokolesbianism

↞ I Love You So

“Anthony, I don’t like this.”

Lockwood drops his bag, carefully letting the sack fall off his shoulder. The heavy chain rattled as it came in contact with the ground. Her worried eyes tingles his heart, as if he couldn’t decide if he should be delighted to see how adorable she is right now or to take her worry seriously. She does have the tendency to be apprehensive at times.

She continues to express her worry but her words blur as if he was listening underwater. His brain was working itself hard to comprehend her sentences, to process whatever it is she was trying to tell him, and though he feels it in his heart that he knew what she wants and what she was saying, he still couldn’t compute the words she utters.

“We’ll be fine,” He finds himself says, mouth moving as if it has its own mind “We’ve been through this a hundred times, we’ll be alright. I promise to keep you safe.”

Her brows were still pinched, a small frown of disagreement displayed, but she remained quiet. Slowly yielding to his words and nodding in approval. She takes his hand, interlocking their fingers and guiding him inside the mansion.

Lockwood could see all the glowing traces on the floor as soon as they stepped in. He took out his rapier, ready to fight whatever is to come their direction. His breathing was getting shallow as fear started to crawl on his skin. Lockwood scrunches his nose, muttering to himself, everything will be alright.

But as he takes a step further, the sound of Lucy wailing in pain greets him. He turns to the source of sound, seeing Lucy kneeling and crying as she covers her ears with her hands.

Then another scream was heard. George was fighting ghosts just a few feet in front of him. Lockwood feels as though his feet were melting to the ground, unable to provide aid to any of his best friends, watching in horror as George fights for his life.

“Anthony,”

Now he turns to his right. She was sitting on the floor, leaning on the door frame with blood pooling around her. Her shirt was stained red. Her face is pale, gleaming from the sweat that is lacing her skin. Her right hand moves to his direction as if she was reaching for him. A futile attempt to eliminate their distance.

“No..” Lockwood mutters as panic sinks in “I’m coming. Stay with me, please, I’m coming!”

As he tries to reach her, a swarm of ghosts comes to his direction. He tries to fight them off, swinging his rapier in every direction as they just seem to be coming from everywhere. Lucy’s wail, George’s scream of help, and her trembling calls of his name become louder with each fought ghost. He wasn’t sure if he could save all of them, or any of them in that matter, but he would certainly die trying than to give in.

With the last breath of energy left in him, Lockwood drops to his knees and crawls to her. He reaches for her face, gently rubbing her cheeks to gain her attention but her eyes are vacant. Staring at him without a blink.

“No, no..” He chokes, crying and calling her name “Please, come back. I’m right here, please— I’m— Look at me, please. Hey, it’s me! It’s Anthony!”

Her still warm body was limp inside his embrace. He cries for her, screaming her name in hope that it would wake her somehow. His white shirt is now soaked red, marked by her blood.

Come back.

Please.

Lockwood jolts up from his bed, drenched in his own sweat as he tries to process his surroundings. His bedroom was dark, lit dimly by a candle by the wooden table. He lets out a relieved sigh, rubbing his eyes away from his own tears. This would be the third nightmare this week.

He peels off the blanket that was enveloping his body and puts his feet down from the bed. Lockwood stares on his bedside table. A new picture from earlier that day was framed and stood proudly. He was smiling, holding the most unattractive cake that George insists is a masterpiece while standing on his right, Lucy on his left. They were smiling brighter than the sun. They looked happy, whatever that word means these days, and truth be told he felt happy too then, but everyone could see the darker hue under his eyes and how dull his smile is compared to his best mates. This birthday was hollow.

It was his first birthday without her.

Lockwood stood from his bed and walked out of his room, finding himself gravitating to where she used to stay. He turns the door knob gently, as if afraid he would wake up anyone sleeping inside the vacant room, wincing as the door makes a creaking noise. He studies the room and pictures where her belongings used to be. He remembers the scattered jewelleries on the table, the pieces of chocolate wrappings by the bin, and the clothes hung behind the door.

He walks closer to the bed, resting his hand on the mattress and pretending to feel her lingering warmth. The scent of her sweet perfume that is now gone. Their pictures that used to decorate the walls were missing, leaving torn marks on the wall paint.

He let himself lay on the mattress. His eyes glued on the ceiling, thinking and imagining what she might be doing right now. Is she asleep? Is she caught in a book and lost track of time reading? Is she brewing a pot of hot tea to help ease her mind? Is she thinking of him the way he’s thinking of her?

The boy rests an arm over his eyes. He let out a long defeated sigh. There’s no one he could share his burden with now. No one would understand what he’s going through. Even if he tries to talk to someone, he knew that he could never be as transparent to a soul as he was with her. The weight that has been suffocating him gets worse each night and Lockwood wasn’t sure how long he could keep his feigned persona.

Please, come back.

—-

Lockwood knew that the job would have some complications. There was no way that the Prime Minister would only hire their agency for such a gallant event. The Ball was too important to be guarded just by three teenagers. No matter how proficient Lockwood would think his colleagues are, securing such a prestigious function would require more than a handful of elite agents.

“Kipps,” Lockwood greets as they enter the hall “Fancy seeing you here.”

Kipps smiled amusedly, turning to face the younger boy with such glee that it alarms him, “Dare I say that I’m glad to see you here, Lockwood.”

Lockwood shows a thin smile.

This job was a rather different mission than the ones they’ve done before. Instead of cleaning a mansion or securing a relic, the team was tasked to maintain the stability of the government’s event. With the ghost epidemic persisting and countries collapsing, the government is planning to hold an evening party to gather the powerful men and women from different countries to talk about their economic alliances. A couple of days ago, the government officials received intel that a certain group of radicals were planning to crash the Ball by releasing sources. Security has tightened since and there have been no troubles found so far yet one could never be too secure for such a paramount event.

“I heard you’ve been getting back on track, retrieving more sources and regaining attention at the agency.” Lockwood said, pretending to be interested in Kipps “Did you finally take that fencing lesson I told you about? How did it feel learning to properly hold a rapier with 6-7 years olds?”

Kipps smirked. The kind of smirk that says ‘I know something you don’t’ and it edges Lockwood to the bone. He hates not knowing about things that might cause him a disadvantage. Sure that their teams are now playing for the same flag, that they’re mates instead of rivals for the upcoming task, but he couldn't stop himself from thinking that this is a competition still.

Lockwood’s mind was abruptly distracted when he thought he heard a familiar voice. He turns to the source, eyes softened when he sees her, talking to some officials. Her hair was styled differently and the stark difference of appearance she has now wearing Fittes uniform was rather nauseating but no matter how peculiar she looks right now, Lockwood couldn’t help but to feel delighted to see her.

“Ah, there she is!” Kipps says, clapping his hand with a big smile as he calls for her “Lockwood, have you met my newest member?”

His grip on the rapier tightened. Kipps is evidently rubbing it on his face now, holding her by her shoulders just like he did when they met at the grocery store months ago. Lockwood forces the corner of his lips to tug into a smile, trying to collect himself and avert his focus to her.

“Anthony,” She greets with a smile “I knew you would be here.”

Lockwood nods, a little bit too stiff that it made her gaze softened as if she was apologising for something he couldn’t tell. His mind was split in two, torn between feeling overjoyed on seeing her and wanting to punch Kipps’ face. He forced a smile at her, trying his best to ignore Kipps’ presence, “How have you been?”

“Great. Where are Lucy and George?”

As if on cue, a piercing squeal was heard behind them. George and Lucy were now running toward her, pulling her into a rib crushing embrace. The trio looked like a group of children returning to their kindergarten class after a spring break.

Lockwood smiles at the sight. This was what normal is for him. To see her with George and Lucy, talking and laughing as if the world was nothing but a background noise. She looks radiant. Her beaming smile etched on her face, cheeks flushed from the giddiness. She looks beautiful.

“So to answer your question,” Kipps says, making Lockwood to glare at his direction “Yes, I did take fencing lessons, and no, it was not with 6-7 years olds. I rather like this fencing partner of mine, actually.”

—-

Trying to keep his focus is evidently impossible with her standing next to Kipps now. Lockwood knew that today’s briefing was important. That the officials are telling them the rundown of the party, vital exit points, and more confidential information about the intel, but what exactly can one do when the person he’s missed the most is standing by his sworn enemy? Besides, Lockwood’s certain that George is noting everything down, they could surely just go over this back home.

“Don’t do it.” Lucy says as she glances at Lockwood.

“Don’t do what?” He questions, not moving his gaze from them.

“Whatever it is you’re planning to do, Lockwood, I’m warning you, don’t.” She says with more firmness “We’re working on the same team now. Kipps isn’t your enemy.”

Lockwood snorts, “Like hell he’s not.”

Lucy rolls her eyes. Arguing with Lockwood while the cause of his fury is still in the room would be pointless. His lips were in a thin line, murderous eyes locked on Kipps who was still talking to her, discussing their plan for the job. For anyone else the two of them would look like nothing but a pair of elite agents who are only doing their job, but for someone blinded with jealousy, a certain way of Kipps’ gaze already set Lockwood’s skin ablaze.

Time feels like it passes by much slower in this hall. Lockwood swears that it’s been forever, that Kipps has been whispering and making her smile forever. He knew that the two are close, hardly half as close as they were, sure, but she’s always been good friends with him. Even back at the academy, Lockwood had always seen Kipps as a rival since day one.

And no, this goes further than just the fencing thing.

But in the end, she would always come for him first. Lockwood would be the first person she would tell her day to, the first she would share the pastries she bought from the new bakery around the corner, the first she would come to practise her rapier skills with. Now it looks like Kipps has dethroned him from such a position.

“You’re going to lose her completely if you let jealousy cloud your mind.” Lucy warns “They’re just doing their job.”

Lockwood turns to Lucy, looking offended, “Mind you, I am not jealous.”

“Like hell you’re not.” She says, repeating his own words.

“Shut up, Luce.” He retorts “Listen to the officials.”

“Lockwood, I’m serious.” Lucy says, this time pulling his arm with firm warning “Your jealousy is bleeding right out and if you’re not careful, you’ll only push her further and remove herself entirely from your life.”

He remains quiet, looking at Lucy with unsure eyes.

Lucy sighs, letting go of his arm, “Don’t overthink it. They’re just friends.”

His lips were itching to spit more arguments but Lockwood gave in and nodded instead. He tries to avert his mind by asking George to give him a recap, telling him pointers of the crucial information he missed from trying to murder Kipps with his stare.

The job was simple. Come to the Ball, make sure no ghosts were released from the supposed source attack, fight whatever party that might be in their opposition, then go home with a check big enough to feed them for the whole year. A big fish for a rather simple task, Lockwood notes.

Lockwood could already see the list of activities his friends would do once they finished the job. Perhaps a week off for everyone to go enjoy their well deserving reward is due. Lucy has been wanting to visit her friend Norrie and it’s been a while since George went to see his Grandmother in Sidcup. And him? What would he do to fill in a full seven days of no work?

It would’ve been much easier to make notes of all the brilliant activities to do if she was still in the team. He could go and visit her family, it’s been some time since he met her parents. Or maybe they could go somewhere new, jump on the train and visit cities, perhaps countries. Or even just staying at home and listening to her favourite records echoing through the walls of 35 Portland Row. All things would be pleasant so long as he gets to do it with her.

He wondered what she would do with her share. Maybe she would use it to get herself a new rapier. A fancy one where she could have her initials engraved on it. Or maybe she would use it to buy new paint and canvas, she does have a talent in such art. Or maybe she would go and visit all the museums and libraries in town. She loves going to such institutions. Lockwood remembers the first time they went to the National Gallery, how fascinated she was with all the pieces though he would argue that none of the works displayed is half as magnificent as she is.

But now that he thinks about it, Lockwood couldn’t help but to have her words echoed in his head. When was the last time she painted? When was the last time they went to the museum? When was the last time they went to a library just to lend some overrated novel?

I don’t know anything about you outside of work anymore.

Lockwood slowly looks up, painfully looking back at her and Kipps who are now scribbling some notes on the clipping board he was holding for her. That used to be their thing. Even with George in the team, he would often brainstorm ideas with her first, him holding the notebook and her holding two pens with different colours— black for him and blue for her. Seeing her do it with Kipps now torments him to say the least.

What I want you cannot give, Anthony.

—-

Lockwood’s shoulders stiffened as he watched her approaching. Her gentle smile was present but for the first time in his life, instead of feeling comforted, Lockwood feels intimidated. The sight of her and Kipps still burns in the back of his head and his realisation of how much he’s lost her is something that he’s still trying to process.

“Hi,” She greets “Where’s George and Lucy?”

“Having a stroll around. George wanted to get a better idea of the building and you know Lucy had to make sure he didn’t wander too far away.”

She nods, “Why didn’t you come with them?”

Because I wanted to talk to you, he thought, but instead Lockwood only shrugs, “Just needed some peace for myself.”

“Oh, I’ll leave you—.”

“No,” He says fast, taking her wrist before she could leave “Please, stay.”

She looks down to his grip, taking a shaky breath before slowly peeling his fingers off of her. Lockwood swears that the day just keeps on getting worse and worse for him. But she stayed by his side, not leaving. Standing still as she looks everywhere but him. God knows what she’s thinking now.

Lockwood blinks to try and process the unfamiliar situation. His heart was crushed, worse than the state he’s been in and he thought he was already broken. It’s as if he could finally feel the distance she’s been talking about. The invisible space between them that he didn’t realise was present until it’s too late to close it. The wall that’s separating them is too high to be climbed now.

“Happy birthday, by the way,” She breaks the silence, reaching into her back pocket and still not meeting his eyes “I got you this. It’s nothing much, just a postcard I got when I went out of town. I should’ve sent it but I didn’t have the time, sorry.”

He took it gratefully, a genuine smile blooming on his face, ”You went to Liverpool?”

“Yeah, with Quill. We had a mission there for a couple days.”

“I see.”

Lockwood’s lips are on a tight line now. Just how blessed he is today, indeed.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call for your birthday.” She says again “I wanted to, but I thought it would wiser for me not to.”

“Why not?”

“People don’t call their ex-employer and tell them happy birthday, Anthony.”

Ex-employer. Anthony thought he knew heartbreak until he heard the word come out of her lips. All these years of friendship, affection and tenderness shared with each other, reduced to such improper status. Whatever chance he thought he had to fix their relationship, Lockwood knew that it’s all gone into mere specks of dust now.

She finally looks up to him, realising the hurtful words she’s just uttered. It didn’t feel as horrible in her head but having to hear it herself she couldn’t help but wanting to slap herself. Since when has their relationship turned into who could hurt the other most?

“Anthony—,”

“No, I get it.” He cuts, nodding and feigning a smile “I’m glad you found an agency that could better appreciate your talents.”

Her expression softened, feeling guilt to weigh more on her shoulders.

“I know this would be wrong of me as your ex-employer to ask,” Lockwood says, his voice trembling as he tries to bottle his emotions “But can I please hug you?”

She winces at his use of words, how unsure he was with his question when they used to pull each other for warm embraces with bright smiles on their faces. She runs to him with open arms, pulling him close as if she needed the hug herself.

Lockwood could feel his body practically melting into her touch, the way his aching muscles finally relaxed as the familiar embrace was finally engulfing him once more, but his heart was heavier than before. If he thought he lost her the night she gave him her resignation letter, he was certainly proven wrong. This hug feels like the bitter slap of reality. That he was the only one crumbling, that he was the only one breaking, that he was the only one suffering from their separation.

And farewell tastes even bitter now.

—-

A couple of weeks have passed since the Ball meeting. A couple of weeks have passed since he last saw her. A couple of weeks have passed since Lockwood’s started to live his life as half a dead man. He’s been busy with other missions, trying to satisfy as many clients as possible and it’s looking pretty neat to say the least. Just don’t look too closely at him. You’d notice how he’s slowly slipping out of his mind if you do.

Just reckless enough, Lockwood chants in his head every time he’s working on the field. Holding onto the warnings George gives and all the ever so friendly scolds from Lucy. But even with as much reminder and support the two could give, it would never be enough to fill in the void in his heart.

Just reckless enough, Lockwood repeats to himself. Turning those three words into a prayer somehow as he’s slowly losing his grip. The only time he would brush the thought of her under the rug would be when his rapier is out, trying to fight for his life, trusting his instinct to swing the weapon against whatever trouble he’s come across, be it in the flesh or ectoplasm.

Just reckless enough, Lockwood muttered quietly as he tried to keep his focus. His shoulders were heavier by a thousand folds. The sight of that innocent man caught in the crossfire between him and some relic thugs tonight haunts him. How that poor man fell to the ground as Lockwood tries to flee from the scene, unintentionally using the man’s body as a shield from the bullets shot in his direction.

Now his feet were wobbly, trying their best to support him as he followed George and Lucy from behind, walking to 35 Portland Row with a heavy heart. No words were exchanged on the drive home and no matter how worried Lucy’s eyes stare into him, he knew that she’s seething inside.

“You two go first,” Lockwood says, making the two stop their pace and stare at him with confused eyes “I have somewhere to be.”

George could hear the exasperated sigh Lucy let out and with one unsure smile, he took the source from Lucy’s hands and entered their home. Better to secure the relic from the upcoming war between the two, he thought.

“Lockwood,” Lucy starts “Not tonight.”

HIs lips pursed. Cursing that if Lucy’s talents were listening and touch, why is it that it’s so easy for her to read him like an open book?

“You need to rest.” She says again “ You can visit her tomorrow morning.”

“I need to see her tonight.” Lockwood whispers, his tone begging “I think I’m losing my mind, Luce.”

Lucy remains quiet, her expression softened as she stares into his vulnerable state.

“I killed him.” He says, voice breaking and eyes brimming with tears “I don’t know why I couldn’t just stop and think straight lately. All I could think about is finishing as many jobs, retrieving as many sources as possible, all in an effort to bury her, to have a minute of peace without her ghost haunting my mind.”

Lockwood’s last words came out barely as a whisper. His whole body shudders, closing his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see that pitiful look on Lucy’s face. He didn’t hear her approaching but he could certainly feel her arms embracing him, trying to calm him down in the middle of the road. It was soothing, the kind of warmth that would keep you sane for the time being, but no matter how tight Lucy holds him tonight, she knew that her friendly gesture wouldn’t piece his sanity back together.

I need to see her.

—-

The tapping of raindrops to her window pane was soothing. A cup of freshly brewed tea, her favourite cardigan hanging loose on her shoulders, and a half read book in her hand. The night was peaceful for her. After a long week of complicated tasks, working with Kipps’ elite squad, such serenity is surely what she needs.

But her comfort was abruptly interrupted at the ringing of her doorbell. Whoever the guest was, they're surely impatient enough to not wait for another second to press on the bell whilst banging on her door at the same time.

She clicks her tongue, frowning at the disturbance. She places her book down, “Coming!”

Perhaps her guest has trouble hearing because even though the trip from her kitchen to the front door didn’t even reach a minute, the person was still banging on her door loudly. At this point she was sure the rain hardly dampened the loud noise they were making.

“Good Lord, I said I’m coming!” She says angrily as she opens the door.

She certainly didn’t expect her guest to be him. He was standing by the door, drenched so wet from the rain that you can see his shirt clung tight to his skin. His eyes were reflecting the emotional and physical fatigue he’s in. His shoulders defeated, chin hung low as if he’s a second away from passing out.

“Anthony—,”

The boy gave into her and pulled her for a tight embrace, melting into her like butter on a pan. He hugs her close, burying his face to the crook of her neck. Her body warmth was so comforting. After all these painful months, Lockwood finally feels like he’s home.

The boy hasn’t spoken a word but she knew that something had happened. Something so bad that it shook the façade he held so strongly to the ground. It was one of those moments when you just knew. Like a silent secret connection you share with someone special. Because otherwise, there would be no chance in hell that Anthony John Lockwood would go all the way to her flat in the middle of the night when it is raining cats and dogs.

“Please tell me you’re here.” He whispers.

“I’m here.”

And just like that all hell broke loose for Lockwood. His breathing is now shallow, chest tight as if he was being drowned in a lake. His embrace on her loosen. His feet weakened, making him fall to his knees. His demons have finally caught him.

“Anthony, breath.” She says gently, kneeling to level with him “Breath with me, okay? Follow my counts.”

“I killed a man.” He chokes “I didn’t mean to— He sacrificed himself— I should’ve gone to Barnes— I can’t breathe.”

She tries to peel herself from him, to try and assess his condition better, but the moment she tries to pull away, Lockwood only tightens his hold of her.

“Anthony, you need to let me go.” She whispers gently “Let me help you breathe, please, Love.”

Reluctantly, Lockwood loosens his embrace and lets her pull away. His hands are now busy pulling his tie and opening the first few buttons of his drenched shirt. His mind was frantic. Never has he ever had such an episode before.

She begins to count, helping him steady his breathing. Five seconds in, five seconds out. Then four seconds in, seven seconds hold, eight seconds out with a whoosh. Once his breathing starts to get better, she asks him light questions. Five things he could see, four things he could touch, three things he could hear, two things he could smell, and one thing he could taste.

“I can smell tea.” He says between his pants “Are you making tea?”

She let out a small chuckle, relieved, “I did make tea. Would you like some?”

Lockwood nods.

“Let’s fix you a cup then.”

—-

Lockwood could feel his brain waking up, his senses coming alive as he smelled her sweet scent and felt the pressure of her body on his arms. He smiles. Sure they've cuddled more than one could possibly count, but never have they felt as intimate as now. Their bodies were pressed to each other, her head tucked close to his chest, and her arms securely encircling his waist. It was as if he could feel her radiating the kind of love he's been desperate about.

“Good morning.” She greets, he could tell that she’s smiling sweetly without opening his eyes “I know you’re awake.”

“I most certainly am not.”

“Then how can we converse now if you’re still asleep?”

Lockwood pulls her closer, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Alright, you’re breaking my ribs now.” She says with a chuckle “I have to run to the bakery and get us some food. You didn’t eat anything last night, you must be starving.”

“I’m fine.”

She clicked her tongue in disapproval, “Come on, Anthony, wake up.”

“Can’t I sleep for a few more minutes?” He asks, finally opening his eyes to see that her face was mere inches from him.

Lockwood gulps. She was staring at him tenderly. As if she missed him as much as he missed her. The corner of her lips were curved upward, making her look ever so beautiful. Even in the morning, perhaps especially in the morning, she looks the most stunning with her tangled hair and lazy sleepy eyes. A sight he would never get enough of.

“I’m gonna do something,” He whispers to her “If you don’t like it you can deck me later but please do it gently.”

Her brows knitted, smiling at his half spoken words.

With a loud beating of his heart, Lockwood leans closer to her, sealing their lips for a few seconds in a chaste kiss. It was an innocent one. The kind you give to your lover when you want them to know just how much you appreciate them and that is all he wanted to do. To tell her that he appreciates her, with a gesture that he hopes would explain better than words could ever do. All he wants to do now is just to let her know that.

Lockwood opens his eyes nervously, scared to see her negative reaction but to his luck, he could only see her smiling back at him. Like she accepted his message and is returning the feelings for him.

“Alright, you deserve a few more minutes of sleep for that.”

He chuckles, pulling her back for another tight embrace.

“Anthony, I really need to get us some food.” She protests “You need to let me go.”

“Stop wiggling.”

“Then let me go.”

Lockwood groans but let go of her anyway. His brows furrowed in disapproval, lips pursed in an annoyed frown, and despite his growing disappointment that she won’t be joining his quick extra nap, he knew that she has a tight schedule for the day and keeping her late for her breakfast wouldn’t be the wisest thing to do.

She lets out a satisfied sigh, sitting on the edge of the bed before looking back at his sleepy self, “Promise me you’ll still be here when I’m back.”

Lockwood nods and hums in agreement. His hand searches for hers, still with his eyes closed, and plants a kiss on the back of her hand. He caresses it with his thumb before letting go gently, “I won’t go anywhere.”

If only Lockwood would open his eyes for a minute, he would’ve seen the bright smile on her face. How her cheeks were flushed and the lovestruck eyes she has for him. But he was busy trying to recompose himself. What he did just now has certainly burned all their bridges to the ground. He has never been this bold, never that fearless and taking the leap of faith for their relationship, and yet he did. He needs to process this before he could see her again.

How the universe seemed to have aligned their stars together now.

Lockwood heard the soft click of the front door closing when she left. He finds it hard to fall back to sleep now from all the adrenaline rush. His lips were still curved in a satisfied smile. He feels giddy. Like his body was supercharged and he could conquer the world now. Funny how she could turn his world upside down just with a snap of her fingers.

He now finds himself getting up from the bed and looking around her flat. He could see the pictures that were glued to the walls of her room in 35 Portland Row now decorating the sitting room. Even when she doesn’t live with him anymore, it soothes him to know that she brought a piece of their home wherever she goes.

He heard the front door knob twisting, turning to see it with a happy smile, “That was fast.”

But the happy face was soon slapped off of his face as he stared at the man standing. Kipps were mirroring his confused look, staring at each other with the silent question: what are you doing here?

And then it dawned in him. Lockwood looks down to the shirt he’s wearing, the one she let him borrow to get out of his soaked clothings. The plain white shirt that fits him right but is certainly oversized for her. Why would she have a men’s shirt?

“Kipps,” Lockwood greets with a lump growing on his throat “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“The same could be said for you.” Kipps said, his tone unsure but his usual smirk was decorating his face “Is she here?”

“She went to the bakery.”

Kipps nods, giving him an ‘ah’.

Lockwood bites the inside of his cheek so hard that he could feel the foul taste of blood from it. He should’ve known better. Why didn’t he think about it before? Why didn’t he see it? How could he forget that she was no longer his? Hell, she was never his to begin with.

“I, uh, I just remembered I have some things to sort out.” Lockwood says as he shuffles to gather his belongings.

“You’re going?” Kipps asks “Aren’t you going to wait for her first?”

“No,” He says, shaking his head “It’s something about work. Rather urgent, actually. She’ll understand.”

Kipps frowns, knowing that she would certainly not understand but nods anyway, “Right.”

With a forced smile, Lockwood pats on Kipps’ shoulder and finds himself out of her flat. He could feel his heart getting heavier with each step further from her. Like his heart was left there, on her bed, the moment he promised to wait for her to return. But what exactly could he do? He knew his place, even when he'd forgotten about it last night. He forgot and he was made to remember. She was no longer his.

She was Kipps’.

#anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood fanfic #anthony lockwood fanfiction #anthony lockwood scenarios #anthony lockwood imagine #anthony lockwood imagines #anthony lockwood fluff #anthony lockwood angst #anthony lockwood x you #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x y/n #anthony lockwood x oc #anthony lockwood scenario

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coffelovereco · 8 months ago

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‿︵‿. ݁˖ . ݁ ☕︎ . ݁˖ . ݁‿︵‿

. . . Ah, the fresh smell of warm coffee fills the office you walk into. A bitter but gentle scent, alongside it gives in a gentle cozy feeling to the prosecutors feeling you just walked into. The sight of coffee set by the table just comfirmed the welcoming scent. but.. the coffee wasn't the reason you got into the prosecutors office, was it?

The gentle ambience was broken by a familiar figure standing in front of the desk, grabbing a mug filled with coffee as he shook his head, glaring at you through his visor that showed the famous red strips. He raised an eyebrow, he hadn't been warned someone was comming up to his office, but despite that, he just seemed to smirk his confusion up.

“ Ah, What a suprise to see someone here. Would you want a cup of coffee? Don't mind the other one doesn't bite either. ”

It seemed like he meant no harm. His eyes then fell on the other 2 people there alongside him. Another prosecutor and... Is that a detective alongside the 2 of them? Perhaps it is. The other prosecutor seemed rather skeptical to speak. But the detective seemed to just stick his tongue out towards you.

[ End of beginning of the intro post. Prooced to the rest? ]

[ooc: Hello!! This is my first rp/ask blog! This also has my ocs so take note of the canon and noncannon that will be included.and i’m sorry if i act a bit ooc when doing the only cc here heheh- Also, This isnt only an Ask Blog, its also a rp blog! Similar go a hand of other ask & rp blogs! ]

About...

... Godot ☕︎ᝰ.ᐟ

𐔌 Goes by He/Him

𐔌 Main timeline is a Post-Prison Godot, so some stuff is diferent from his pre prison arc.

𐔌 Still the same coffee lover.

𐔌 You can ask anytime to speak to either Pre Prison Godot and Diego Armando, just do specify, cause or else main timeline godot will be used!

𐔌 Headcanons will be worked on at some point!

... Kimi Walker ᡣ𐭩ᝰ.ᐟ

𐔌 Kimi's been moved to his own blog!! now @walkingthedetective !

... Asher ☂︎ᝰ.ᐟ

𐔌 He/Him Pronouns

𐔌 his main timeline is the one after AJ. Although he has a version of himself back in PW, and a debut/younger version of himself aswell. You may make questions to those, just do specify to which one you asking when making him questions, or else main timeline will be used.

𐔌 theres an AU i’m working on where he takes over Miles’ role after Miles was murdered right after turnabout goodbyes before he left to go away. The AU's name is “SoulBond”. It’ll be better explained in a post in mods main acc.

𐔌 you may choose between which Au you wanna question, again just do specify which AU you’d like to speak with.

𐔌 He prefers Tea over Coffee but drinks coffee with godot in the office.

About the mod !!

𐔌 My main is @aa-ash3r !!

𐔌 You may call me by any of the following: Ash3r, Ash or Kimi. (I’m not oicky about any of the names!)

𐔌 It/Mutt/They/he pronouns !!

𐔌 only NSFW i allow in this blog is towards the characters & Ocs, and it cant be too much NSFW as it may make me uncomfortable and i wont answer it at all.

𐔌 Any & All Interactions with any character despite fandoms are always welcome! Its genuine fun!

𐔌 Please specify to who you are making your questions towards, this includes basicly any specific timeline or AU you might see going around this blog

𐔌 i also run @thegoofyactor, @snackoo-science-detective, @thesweetest-dollie & @thatcriminalattorney :D

—·— End of the Log. —·—

#ace attorney #ace attorney ask blog #ace attorney rp blog #rp blog #ask blog #roleplay blog #roleplay #prosecutor godot #godot #ace attorney godot #aa godot #aa oc #oc #ace attorney oc #Asher smiths #aa Asher smiths #Ace Attorney Asher #asks open #diego armando

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why-raven · 2 years ago

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nigerrimus noctis — the blackest night.

a pinned post I must write when I should be in bed at night an introduction long overdue forgotten somewhere in my queue

— poem by @why-raven

UNUS — ONE: INTRODUCTION.

about the curator.

Raven; he/they pronouns. 30+, Asian, Aroace.

Writer, poet, roleplayer; multi-genre and multi-fandom experimentalist.

Photographer, graphic designer; in love with gothic architecture and dark academia.

I have a Ko-fi page if you wish to support me and my content!

about this blog.

Main account; all follows, likes and asks will come from here.

Multi-fandom; currently 90% FFXIV, and 10% everything else (ex. other games, anime, dark academia).

Usually runs on queue; may post manually out of the blue, but don’t count on that to keep tabs on my activity here. Updates will be sporadic.

Ask is open; anon is off until further notice.

18+ only; may contain dark and mature contents, some NSFW, etc. All warnings are always indicated visibly at the beginning of post/before Read More cut.

around tumblr.

@etheirysnoir — ffxiv only; muses, writing, lore, rp, aesthetics.

@writeraven — fics & poetry; multi-genre & multi-fandom.

@arcanum-bibliotheca — writblr; notes & resources, personal archive.

@xivacademia — gpose gallery; scenery, cosplay, 4-koma.

@ffxiv-photographers — ffxiv virtual photographers community.

other links.

Ko-fi (whyraven) — buy me coffee to support me and my content ☕

see under cut for taglist and disclaimers.

DUO — TWO: TAGLIST.

All my blogs use very specific themes for tagging. Here, it’s based on Latin, generally divided between tenebris (“dark”) and lucis (“light”).

Tags preceded by em dash (—) are not included. These are often used as personal notes only.

tenebris — mine.

impt. Blog updates; ex. pinned, taglist, housekeeping.

musings. Lore and character notes.

writing. My writing; ex. drafts, poetry.

gallery. Virtual photography and graphic designs.

answered. Ask replies.

thoughts. Personal analysis and opinions on subjects of interest.

academia. Aesthetics.

reblog. Self-boosting.

ooc. Anything else that doesn’t fit into the above categories.

lucis — others.

boost. Signal boosts to support other creators in the community.

meta. Others’ lore and headcanons.

writing. Others’ writing; ex. gift works to me, stories that I like and enjoy.

gallery. Others’ screenshots and fanarts that I like.

asks open. Ask memes; including prompt lists. Will reblog from the source wherever possible, unless it’s a deactivated account.

answered. Others’ responses to my asks. Will also reblog as a small act to show support and appreciation for their characters and creations.

ooc. Others’ viewpoints on general topics that I can relate to.

archive. General reblogs of things I like.

TRES — THREE: DISCLAIMERS.

“the blackest night” by @why-raven.

All OCs, writings and edits by me unless otherwise stated.

Do not claim or re-post any part of this blog as your own.

I do not consent to have my content fed through AI.

Please give proper credit to the rightful owners.

All fandoms belong to their respective copyright holders.

I only own the creativity I put into my works.

Reblogs are directly from the original source, where possible.

For full credits, please check via the desktop version here.

#tenebris; impt #— pinned #— taglist #[ 2025.05.13 ]

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fo-submissions-cafe · 2 months ago

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I need a black coffee. It's one of those nights. I mean, I wouldn't wish to bore you with such conversational topics, you're just doing your job I mean, who am I to complain at your place of work...

Alright, you're pulling my leg here. My boyfriend has been... Well, to put it as lightly as I can, a wreak. As much as I admire his abilities to comfort me and all that stuff... I don't know how exactly to do all that. I mean, I'd like to help him but, I just don't know if he wants the uh, lackluster help I could give him in comparison to his own. I suppose I'm just stuck and I just need the energy to think of something to do for him.

- 🧩🎥

(btw ooc but i saw that anons r supposed to have a group name if they're all from the same person so this tag, ☕💣, + 💻💙 are all from me, the same person under uhhh,, let's go with the Stary eyed lovers maybe mwehehe idk i've never done all this)

here, a black coffee for you, it takes a bit of time to know what your partner needs but just asking what you can do to try and help out, just trying and being there to listen is always enough even if it's lackluster.

I know from experience myself, friend ^^

|| ❔💐 ||

#f/o submission #f/o positivity #yumeship #selfship

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demetria-wayne · 1 year ago

Note

💍 RING — does your oc have any piercings? do they want any (more) piercings?

🎶 MUSICAL NOTES — what type of music does your oc like? do they listen to music very often?

🔱 TRIDENT EMBLEM — can your oc swim? do they enjoy swimming?

🌈 RAINBOW — what is your oc's sexual orientation/gender identity? what pronouns do they use?

🐈 CAT — does your oc prefer a wide circle of friends or a few close friends?

🍃 LEAVES FLUTTERING IN WIND — what is/was your oc's favorite subject in school?

🍎 RED APPLE — where was your oc born? do they still live in/around their place of birth or do they live somewhere else? how do they feel about their birthplace?

🤍 WHITE HEART — what are three of your oc's neutral/questionable traits?

💙 BLUE HEART — does your oc have any cool/special powers and/or abilities? how are they with magic, if it exists in their world?

🎂 BIRTHDAY CAKE — when is your oc's birthday? how old are they? what are their sun, moon, & rising signs (if known)? what about their tarot card, ruling planet, & ruling number (if known)? do they fit the typical traits of these sun, moon, & rising signs?

🍔 HAMBURGER — is your oc good at cooking? are they good at baking? which one do they prefer?

☕️ HOT BEVERAGE — does your oc prefer coffee, tea, hot chocolate, milk, water, or some other drink? how do they like to take this drink (ex. coffee with milk, hot chocolate with whipped cream, a specific kind of tea, etc)?

😊 SMILING FACE WITH SMILING EYES — what are your oc's career/general life desires? what do they want to get the most out of life?

Ooc answers:

💍- Yes, in fact Demetria does have one piercing in her nose, a nostril. No, she doesn't want more piercings (for now).

🎶- Don't really have a certain type of music, as long it is not very slow, Demetria would like. She only listens to music when very bored or when drawing.

Examples of musics she likes:

🔱 - Yep, Demetria knows how to swim. So-so, depending for what exactly is the purpose.

Like testing her abilities? Nah, she doesn't like being doubted.

Saving someone? Then she kinda likes it since it's for a good use.

🌈 - Demetria is bisexual and her gender is fluid, so non-binary but identifies more as a female. Pronouns are she/her/they/them.

🐈- Just few close friends. She is more introvert.

🍃- Her favorites subjects are Arts and Physical Education.

🍎- In a lab in the LOA. They don't live even close to where they were born, they live in the Wayne manor/Gotham. She hates the place she was created.

🤍- Being sometimes humorless, know-it-all and self-destructive.

💙- Powers? No. Abilities? If it's count, she knows how to mimic someone's voice and accent perfectly as well their signature. How they feel about magic? She doesn't mind very much, because she already dated a magic user in the past. But she knows how it can be very tricky.

🎂- October 9. They are 15-17 still getting sure for it. Idk honest.

🍔- Yes, she is very good cooking and baking. She prefers to cook, feels more tradicional.

☕- They prefer hot chocolate milk. No specific way, can be anything as long she can drink it.

😊- It might sound very strange for a person in Gotham but.. She wants to become a psychologist. If possible she wants to keep drawing and sell some of them? As long all she do is for hobby and not work.

#ooc post #ask game #ask game answers #batfam oc #batsibling oc #dc rp blog #gotham oc #dc oc rp #batfam oc rp #gotham rp

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ahogedetective · 2 years ago

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Good mooorning, everyone! And Happy 5 years since I've began writing Shuichi~! I can't believe it's really been that long!! And I'm so happy for it, writing Shuichi has never stopped being fun for even a second!! I've met so many new and wonderful friends and even some of you that I've known for years, are still here with me!! I'm so glad!! I love you all and I hope we will all continue being friends and writing partners together~! I'm telling y'all, you all are the main reason I will always love Shuichi and will never stop writing him!!! He's my baby boy forever and ever, okay!! Here's to another year I'll enjoy writing him with you all~! I hope you're all having a fantastic day!!! ☆

#*bear hugs you allll!!!!* I LOVE YOU ALL SM!!!! 💖#You and your muses!!! And so does Shuichi hehe~#also how funny National Coffee Break Day is also today.... 🤔#GVBCHC you know Shuichi gon be celebrating it!!!!!#And to my fellow coffee enjoyers here take a moment to relax with a cup of coffee too! ☕#📚 || out of truth bullets;; {ooc}

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brewedawakeniing · 3 years ago

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First, I want to start by, I love the concept of this group and the admin team has been so great to me, as have the other members! I think life has just been too busy upon joining, so I'm struggling to throw myself back into things, because I feel out of place? I guess and so that results to me just distancing myself and making myself question / hesitate about throwing myself back into things. So I’ve been debating leaving the group but I really don’t want to?

So, and I definitely don’t mean this to guilt anyone because this is all entirely on me and my life being so busy as of late ( it will continue to be busy at least up until Tuesday ) but I’m hoping after that, things will quiet down and I’ll have to write. But, does anyone have any tips or advice on how to throw myself back into things? Or want to plot / chat muses ! Anything, really. 🙈

#hellmouthfm ; ooc #☕ ⠀ … ⠀ ( ooc. ) ⠀ › ⠀ out of coffee.#hopefully this doesn't come off the wrong way ? because i genuinely just want advice / tips maybe ?

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wexarethewalkingxdead · 3 years ago

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(from betaofthedead) ☕ - Do you prefer coffee or tea? Perhaps neither, or both? // ⚖ - Opinions on the fandom your muse blong to? // W - What do you do for a living?

Munday Meme Extraordinaire - Send me a symbol and I’ll answer ooc - @betaofthedead

☕ - Do you prefer coffee or tea? Perhaps neither, or both?

Coffee. Mostly iced. I absolutely cannot stand tea. No matter how sweet or whatever it is flavored with, it always tastes straight up bitter. And I’m not about that life.

⚖ - Opinions on the fandom your muse belong to?

Well, I’m not really involved in the fandom in the strictest sense. I mostly just hang out here on my blog and interact with the people that I have threads with. There is a lot of cliques in the fandom and some of them aren’t that nice. And shipping in this fandom sometimes starts World War 3, and I’d rather just have fun that always have something causing some kind of fight within the fandom and among fans. I’m a ship and let ship kind of person unless someone is nasty to me first. And even then, I’m going to just block and move on. The Walking Dead is where I blocked someone one social media for the first time. Because this lady’s husband cheated on her with a younger woman, she hated (and I mean hated) Beth/Emily because it got in the way of her shipping Carol and Daryl and she saw Beth as some kind of threat to Carol when it came to Daryl, and that was a level of yikes I wasn’t at all in the mood to deal with. So I blocked her. Imagine hating Emily because her husband cheated on her with someone young like Beth/Emily. It was the first time that I realized that sometimes the people in fandoms aren’t at all dealing with things in a mature fashion, and she was in need of some serious help.

W - What do you do for a living?

I’m a stay-at-home mom/wife. And technically, I am disabled so I couldn’t work the jobs I used to work before I quit. My Psoriatic Arthritis made it impossible to sew (which is what I used to do at my precious jobs)

#.maildrop #betaofthedead

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shadowbriar · 2 years ago

Text

Anthony Lockwood - I Love You So

Pairing : (F/M) || Anthony Lockwood x TouchGifted!Reader Word Count : 5.7k. Damn I’m on fire this time. Warning : Mention of blood and injury. Angst. Possible OOC as I haven’t read the books. Not proofread. Synopsis : The ambition they’ve nurtured for years finally start to create a space between them, straining their relationship that turns what once were friends into colleagues. Notes : Inspired by The Walters - I Love You So. This song is very Lockwood coded for me, I recommend listening to it while reading. Please help and try to save Lockwood & co by using the hashtag #SaveLockwoodAndCo on social medias and don’t forget to vote for them on National Film Award 2023. You can check my friend Paulina’s tweet to see how. If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕

Her fingers trace the writings on the thinking cloth, lips unintentionally curved into a smile whenever George's silly comment or Lucy's mocking remarks were visible. Their early bicker about their planning process replays in her head. She's always been one to easily record information in her head, no further recall or revising needed for her to proceed with their plans, but given her troublesome nights lately, supposed a late night go over with a cup of tea would be a brilliant idea.

“Trouble sleeping?”

She looks up, welcomed by smiling Lockwood who's leaning by the kitchen door, “Something like that.”

“Why didn't you come to the library?”

“Wasn't in the mood for a late night quarrel with you.”

She shot him a playful smile, earning a light chuckle that didn't sound like it was heartfelt. Just enough to let her know that he understood her sarcasm.

Lockwood steps in, pouring himself a cup of tea and sitting across her. She could feel his eyes trained on her, taking in every detail and admiring it as he wouldn't do it during the day. For whatever reason that might be, she wasn't sure. But it wasn't like he ever professed any feelings for her. For all she knows he might just be spacing out and planning something in his head completely unrelated to her.

He calls her name.

Not looking up to meet his eyes, she hums, “Hm?”

“We're good.. Aren't we?”

No, no we aren't, she thought. He might not notice it but the distance growing between them has been eating her alive. She wasn't sure when it started nor what exactly is the cause for her invisible wound, but something's changed between them. He would be there in the morning when they eat breakfast, would be there when they watch their late night show on the telly, but Lockwood has been anything but a friend to her. He's turned into a stranger she hardly recognise. There was a wall between them, one she couldn't climb nor break through, and it's maddening that she couldn't fix it or talk about it.

Because what exactly changed? She doesn't know.

“Of course.” She faked a smile, feigning her most believable tender tone “What makes you think we're not?”

Lockwood opens his mouth before closing it again, sealing it with a smile as if he thinks it would be better to entertain her lies, “Nothing. Just wanted to be sure.”

She nods, looking back down to the thinking cloth.

“Will you join me tonight?” He asks again, nervousness bleeds through his tone. This wouldn't be the first time he asks her to sleep with him, just to hold each other until the sun rises, but for some reason it feels much more nerve racking than the countless previous. Perhaps because for the first time, her answer might not be pleasant to his ear “We can discuss further about the plan. Maybe my rambling can help you drift to slumber.”

“Not tonight, Anthony.”

It's taken her every willpower to not look up and take her words back. She can imagine the disappointment in his eyes when she hears him let out a sigh. She's avoiding him now. Perhaps scared to actually feel the distance between them when she lays on his bed, no longer feeling the safety of his embrace.

“Alright,” He mutters as he stands and pushes his chair “Don't stay up too late, we need you sharp and alert for tomorrow's job.”

Again, she only replies with a nod.

When the doorknob lightly clicks, she lets out a breath she wasn't even aware she was holding. Her eyes now avert to the door, where he was standing just a few minutes ago with that proud smile and tired eyes. He looks the same, the very same Anthony John Lockwood who'd caused them numerous troubles on the field, the very same Anthony who's ego seems to inflate whenever a rapier is at hand, the very same boy she's been madly in love with for years.

There were moments when she thought that the water flows both ways. When he would hug her first after winning a fencing tournament, or when he would hold her after a terrible nightmare, or simply when he would give her freshly cut toasts for breakfast. The little things one would not notice as something sentimental after years of growing up together. But she does. She notices.

Perhaps had even taken things too seriously when it might just mean nothing for him.

She lets out a sigh, running her fingers through her hair and rubbing her temples gently. It might just be nothing, she tries to convince herself, it might just be the stress of work for both of us. With the agency's growing popularity and demands of clients that never seem to end, perhaps all her troubles were just caused by it. That nothing is wrong between her and Lockwood, that there is no distance, no space between them.

—-

“Another massive win for us, I might say.” Lockwood says as the squad enters 35 Portland Row. His arm was around her shoulder as support, dried blood littering his left cheek from the early action of the mission, but neither the ache nor wound on his temple seem to wither his satisfied-self “The papers are going to have to write about us this time.”

Lucy groans as she tidies their rapier to the stand, “Keep me out from them, please.”

“Oh, but you're the star of this agency, Luce!”

Lucy dismisses Anthony's remark as she proceeds to ascend the stairs, visibly in desperate need of a warm shower.

“I wouldn't want to be involved too, thanks for asking.” George sarcastically commented with eyes still studying the locket they retrieved from the site. An ancient relic that would be his source of research for the weeks to come “You two would be enough of a punching bag for them to pick on.”

Lockwood turns to her as George retreats to his room, a happy grin still etched on his face, “Looks like it's gonna be us two again.”

“We can worry about the press later. You have a wound to treat first.” She replies as they begin to walk deeper into the house “And don't keep your hopes too high, Anthony. DEPRAC has a tendency to stomp on our dreams.”

Wincing slightly as he rests himself on the sofa, Lockwood watches her leave the room to get their med kit and a basin full of water. He could never get tired of this. Walking home after a successful mission, her tending his wounds that wouldn't be there if he would just suppress his impulsive-self, and listening to her scolds about how he acts like he's got nine lives on his sleeves.

But when she returned with her kit, the nagging that he's braced himself to face never came. She remained quiet, eyes locked on his wound. Not even a second spared to look into his eyes.

The cleaning process felt like a blink of an eye. Before he knew it she was already fixing the bandages back to the aid bag. His wound was cleaned, a thin layer of healing ointment lacing it. All done in silence, no lectures.

“Try to keep the wound dry when you shower, alright?”

Lockwood blinks. Nodding at her words as he tries to digest the silence they're in.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“I don't think so.” He answers.

She flashes a smile, standing from her seat. Without another word she exits the room, carrying the basin that is now slightly red from his blood and the aid bag. She spared no other glance at him. Silently returning the medical kit to the cabinet before entering her room and locking it shut.

Perhaps today isn't a big win after all.

—-

Having Lucy in the company has exponentially boosted their success. Such brilliant talent has brought them more accomplishment that it was getting troublesome for them to finish one mission to another. Lucy was truly Heaven sent, in short. The saviour to their dying agency and she could never thank her enough to revive Lockwood's dream back to life.

She understands the importance of Lucy's gift for their team and how the company is at it’s golden moment right now. Sure she and Lockwood are two of the most gifted agents there are, but with Lucy in the crew, the quartet was unbeatable. And it is obvious that Lockwood is determined to reap as much advantage as possible.

“I'm going to the grocery shop, anyone needs anything?”

It was a lazy Sunday morning. George making notes on the thinking cloth, Lucy trying to listen to their newest source, and Lockwood leaning on the kitchen set with his brows furrowed, clearly in a deep thought.

“I'll come with you.” Lockwood says as he picks up his coat “George, you said we need more teabags, right? Anything for you, Luce?”

The girl shakes her head, looking rather annoyed to have her focus broken from his question.

“I can go alone, it's not going to be a huge shopping trip.” She says as Lockwood comes to her “Really, Anthony, you can just stay and help brainstorm the plan.”

“I'm coming,” He insists with a light chuckle “What is it with you? Are you avoiding me or something?”

Yes, she wanted to say, I'm going out to have a breath away from you.

Lockwood opens the door, gesturing to her to come and ignoring her lack of answer, “Come on then.”

With a last smile and wave of goodbye to George and Lucy, she follows Lockwood's step outside of the house. The wind was blowing gently, sky clear and blue, the very perfect weather for her to take a stroll yet her mind couldn't help but to overlook such perfection and worry about the body walking next to her instead.

Lockwood's hands were buried deep inside his pockets. He was looking down to the cobblestone, as if there was some invisible stepping for him to step on. The creases on his forehead are a clear indication that his mind is occupied elsewhere. Almost as if he was mirroring her.

“So, uh,” He begins, trying to break the ice between them “What do you need from the shop?”

“Just some snacks and sweets.” She answers “You?”

He shrugs, “Maybe just a pack of gum.”

“Right.”

Lockwood nods, turning his gaze back to the road.

For someone who loves to brood in silence, Lockwood has always had her as an exception. She's the only person he could let his chatter-self loose, expressing all the most trivial thoughts he has, knowing that she would indulge them with a welcoming commentary or simply a warm laughter. The kind of laughter that makes you feel seen and heard. Her kind of laughter.

But after all her evident effort to turn him down, asking to be paired with George on their missions, declining his invitations to spend the night in his room or the library, and the most recent no-scolding-moment when she tended his wound, Lockwood couldn't help but to feel pressured on finding a topic to talk about.

“So what do you think about our last job?” He asks, forcing a happy smile as she turns to see him “A rather brilliant achievement, don't you think? With Lucy in our team, I'm certain our agency can be big in no time. Hell, we might have to start rejecting clients soon, can you believe it? We're lucky to have found such gifted talent-”

“Lockwood,” She cuts in, making him wince at the use of his last name instead of his first “Can I ask you a favour?”

He blinks, “Anything.”

“Let's not talk about work until we get back home, okay? Can I ask that of you?”

“Sure,” He nods “Of course, no talking about work for the rest of our shopping trip.”

She flashes a smile in gratitude, locking their arms together as a means of apology for stomping on his light. He smiles at her, a genuine one, before patting the back of her hand and continuing their walk to the grocery shop.

—-

The trolley wheels through the aisle as she scans for the particular brand of chocolate. She would certainly need a big bar of it along with a pint of ice cream tonight. For once after what seems to be forever, she finally cracked the code. The cause of space that has been growing between her and Lockwood has been found. What is left now is to find a way to solve it and to tell him about how they need to separate their lives with the job.

When he first told her about his dream of having his own agency, she was ever the most supportive and kind. Dropping her brilliant achievements at the academy, she was the first or perhaps second agent of Lockwood & co. Their talents were more than enough to ever become the elite team if they were in another agency, but since the company was still on its baby roots, finding clients was rather challenging. Things were getting better when George joined and even more brilliant now that Lucy is part of the team. She would have never expected his dream to be in the way of their personal lives.

Everything is just work, work, and work now.

“Fancy seeing you here, stranger.”

She turns to see the man, a wide smile plastered on his face. Almost as radiant as his yellow leather uniform, “Quill, hi!”

“Oh, it's been forever.” He says as they share a hug “Are you here alone?”

“Lockwood,” She replies “He's wandering around but with you here, I'm sure he'll pop up in no time.”

The two chuckles at her commentary. Lockwood and Kipps were always the cause of her nightmares back in the academy. The two boys could never seem to act civil, always bickering and hostile to one another, but when she's alone with either of them, they would act the most gentle as if she was someone they love dearly for.

A different kind of love from each of the boys, of course.

“How are you?” She asks, her expression turns to slight worry “Is it getting any better?”

Kipps smiles painfully, “Barely holding on. We've got to make most of what we have, don't we?”

If there were no bad blood between the two she would have offered Kipps to join the agency years ago. Having known him for years and to see just how brilliant he was, the way his techniques were always showcased whenever they have a fencing duel, it is no wonder that people hold a big expectation on his shoulders. He was promoted as supervisor in no time due to his proficient skills but with his talent slowly weakening, he needed someone to help patch this rather embarrassing fragility.

“Have you given it a thought?” Kipps asks with a gentle tone “I heard that Lucy girl is of great help for your team. Do you think you could finally help mine instead?”

“Quill–,”

“Kipps,” Lockwood says as he circles his arm around her shoulder, showing a rather possessive manner at the sight of them “What are you doing here? You're not stalking us, are you?”

Kipps snorts, making a disgusted face at him, “This is a public space, Lockwood. Don't flatter yourself.”

Understanding that their time has come to an end, Kipps flashes her a smile and walks away. He knows that Lockwood wouldn't give them another second to talk so unless he'd want him to know about his persisting issue, it was best for Kipps to find himself out of the scene.

“What did he want?”

“Nothing, we just had a chat.” She lied, pushing Lockwood's arm off of her shoulder and continued to wheel the trolley.

“About what?”

“About nothing of your concern.” She replies “You might never see him as one but Quill's a friend of mine, Anthony. We were just having a friendly conversation.”

Lockwood frowns at her dissatisfying answer. She's keeping something from him but whatever it is, he knew that poking about it now would be the recipe for a nightmare. Her sour mood hasn't watered and it would be wise for him to just let her be.

Besides, it wasn't like she'd leave him. Not for Kipps of all people.

“Can I ask you something?”

Lockwood turns to her, a loving smile decorating his face, “Anything.”

“How are you, Anthony?”

He frowns, “Splendid, how are you?”

“No, I mean, how are you?” She repeats, sighing in frustration to convey her true meaning “I don’t know anything about you outside of work anymore. What music do you listen to now? What book do you read? Do you even read still?”

Lockwood remains quiet, waiting for her to continue with her words so he would understand better.

“I live under your roof, see you almost 24/7. You’re the first person I see in the morning and the last I would bid goodnight to, yet I feel like I don’t know anything about you anymore.”

“That’s not true.” He argues, still not understanding the severity of their discussion “You know everything about me.”

“Do I?”

“Don’t you?”

“Stop turning my questions to me, Anthony. You know I don’t like it when you do it.”

His chuckle breaks, now pulling her for a tight hug, “Is that what you’ve been worrying about? That you don’t know me anymore?”

She remains quiet.

“If there is anyone that knows me down to my fibre, it would be you.” He continues, patting her head gently to soothe her “I mean, I suppose I have been too occupied with work but that doesn’t mean that you don’t know me anymore. We still share our meals together, watch our favourite shows and spend most of our time together. You’re still the one friend that knows me best.”

“I suppose,” She gives in “I’m just worried that this whole ghost hunting thing is burying our reality because I genuinely can’t draw the line between work and our lives anymore.”

“Well, our life is the agency, is it not?”

She shrugs.

“Hey,” Lockwood calls, breaking the hug and cupping her face to look into her eyes “You know me. I’m not a stranger to you, alright? You know what my current favourite jam is, what kind of tea I enjoy at the moment, and what colour of socks I wear the most. We’re still the same people as we were five, ten years ago.”

She smiles, nodding as she melts into his sweet words, “Alright.”

—-

"Anthony, I don't like this."

The group puts down their bags as they arrive at the mansion. Examining the place from the outside, she can already tell that whatever is waiting for them inside isn’t anything close to what they’ve encountered before.

“It’s still a couple hours till sunset but the energy is already this strong.” She told him, her senses heightened in fear “We’re not equipped to fight such a visitor, Anthony. Best we go back, rethink our plan, and maybe ask for assistance.”

“From who? Kipps you mean?” Lockwood asks with a bitter expression. He rubs his nose, a habit he does whenever he’s trying to tone down a brewing exasperation “Look, we’ve been through this a hundred times. The plan is foul proof, I can assure you. By this time tomorrow we’ll be crowding the sitting room, watching whatever unknown movie George picks to enjoy.”

“This isn’t about your ego or old feud with Quill, Anthony. There’s nothing wrong in understanding your limit and drawing the line. No shame in dropping a job we’re not capable of.” She tries to reason “Think about our safety.”

“You’re safe,” He insists, placing his hands on her shoulders for assurance “Nothing bad will happen to any of us. I’ll keep an eye for you, I promise.”

Not giving her another second to argue, Lockwood walks away and begins to help Lucy fixing the metal chain. The inside of her stomach flips when the wind blows. She knows that even for people who aren’t gifted, the atmosphere the mansion offers is nowhere close to the word homey. There’s something dark and cold, peeking through the windows and she could feel it in her bones that none of them four is strong enough to battle such power.

She walks to George and begins unloading their equipment. Her brows furrow at the sight of a strange item. A circular ball that looks like their salt bomb, only that it is heavier and bigger in size.

“Careful,” George says as he takes it from her hand with care.

“What is that?”

“A new bomb.” He answers “It has salt, lavender, and some other chemical thing inside that would explode from sudden force. Throw it to the floor and whatever visitor we meet would evaporate to thin air.”

“That doesn’t sound very safe.” She mutters, turning her eyes back to the mansion “I hope we don’t have to use that tonight.”

She looks back at Lockwood’s direction, trying to ease her worry by repeating his words in her head. Lockwood knows what he’s doing. They’ve been through the plan a hundred times, just like he said. Nothing will go wrong tonight. Everything is collected and under control.

—-

“Make it stop!” Lucy wails, closing her ears tight with her hands “Please, make it stop!”

“George, give us the chains!” Anthony yells as he tries to calm Lucy.

George quickly runs to their aid as she tries her best to fight the ghost with her rapier. She might not be the best there is, but she’s neck to neck as good as Lockwood and that should give her friends enough time to cast more protection for Lucy.

It hasn’t even been two hours since they entered the mansion and already the plans they came up with burned to ashes. This is more than just a case of an old abandoned house. The amount of type two occupying the building is enough to tell them that their client hasn’t been truthful. This place must have witnessed a mass murder, perhaps a cult sacrifice, to hoard this much energy.

“We need to find the source.” She says as she battles the ghosts “I can’t use my talent while fighting these ghosts.”

As if on cue, Lockwood came and began to fight the ghosts. He turns to her for a brief moment, “Go. I’ll protect you.”

With a nod, she walks away from her spot, running to the other side of the room. She places her hands to the walls, trying to get a clearer picture of what they’re dealing with.

The sound of screams and crying begin to fill her ears. There was so much pain and sorrow. This mansion has seen the worst of human acts, inflicting as much agony as possible to innocent lives. Her consciousness was slipping away, drowning in the torment that she is sensing and if it wasn’t for Lucy’s scream of cry acting as her tether to reality, she would have sunk in a ghost-lock condition.

“The blade,” She says as she finally gets the idea of their source “The source is a blade. An old one with a gold handle and Latin engraving.”

“Great work,” Lockwood praises her, his prideful smirk tugging on his face “George, prepare the chain net. Be ready to cover it.”

“How exactly are we going to find it? It’s pitch black here.”

Lockwood chuckles, “Well, use your flashlight, why don’t you?”

The three of them now begin to scour the place whilst fighting the ghosts coming in their direction. The screaming in her head gets louder as they come closer to the source, almost deafening her physically. Her stepping was getting unstable. Energy and focus drained out of her with every bead of sweat layering her skin.

“Stop!” She yells, dropping her rapier as the cries become unbearable “It hurts, please stop!”

“Oh, no,” George, who was closest to her, now kneels down and tries to bring her back to consciousness as he lightly taps on her cheeks.

“George!” Lockwood calls, panic seems to finally sink in as he watches her wail in pain “The source must be close, try to find it. I’ll protect her.”

Nodding, George begins to crawl away and look for the damned blade. His hands found what seems to be an old cabinet and began to rummage through. With very limited lighting and no idea of what the blade looks like, searching for a piece of steel through a locker full of metal items feels fruitless.

Scanning from one drawer to the other, George lets out a satisfied chuckle as he finally finds what they’re looking for. But before he could take it out and cover it with their chain net, a handful of ghosts headed his way.

“George, watch out!”

In the heat of the moment, George throws the chain net to the drawer, hoping that it would land and cover the blade, before throwing the new bomb to the ghosts.

To their luck, the chain net did fall on top of the source but due to the close proximity and the lack of understanding of just how big the explosion the bomb would produce, George was thrown out of the wall from the impact. Bits of broken wood scratch his skin and there was a big gash on his forehead.

George was unconscious.

—-

Opening the keys to 35 Portland Row with a tired yawn, she put down her scarf and hung her coat by the rack. She’s been staying at the hospital for days, only returning home to take a shower and bring a new set of fresh clothes for George. Her body was aching. The scars on her skin from the previous mission are still fresh and hurting but none of it compares to the fatigue of worrying for George’s being.

The terror from that night still haunts her. How her head was filled with wails one moment to complete silence and darkness as George successfully covers the source. She remembers scanning the floor with her hands to find her flashlight, trying to get some light to understand their situation better, only to be completely frightened by the sight of George, lying unconscious with blood pooling around him.

“You’re home,” Lockwood greets, a relieved expression evident on his face.

She nods, not giving him an answer as she walks past him.

“How is he?” He asks as she gets to the stairs.

“Still unconscious but his vitals are stabilising.” She answers “You'd know if you visit him yourself.”

“I want to, but I need to finish the report and paperworks.” Lockwood reasoned, following her behind like a lost puppy “Lucy's out at the library to do some research about our next mission. With George at the hospital I think we'd need more time to make our plans.”

She rolls her eyes, fist balling as she tries to hold in her anger.

“I was wondering if you could go to the DEPRAC office on your way back to the hospital and drop the locket? Inspector Barnes called and-”

“Anthony!” She yells, finally turning to face the boy who's now pale from her sudden outburst “Are you even hearing yourself right now? Sending Lucy to work on our next job, asking me to stop by the DEPRAC office, you being busy in your little library, do you not even care in the slightest for George? He's lying unconscious at the hospital for a work I've told you to drop about!”

Lockwood remained silent. His expression is hard and unreadable.

“I've told you that we didn't have the equipment nor skills to do the job. I've told you that the visitors are much more powerful than the ones we've faced before. I've told you to at least ask for help for the task and yet you've dismissed it all and look what it's brought us, Anthony!”

“Yes, but we did it, didn't we? We secured the source.” Lockwood answers with feigned optimism, giving her his unsure smile as he steps closer “We took a hit, sure, but it's not like George didn't know what he was getting himself into.”

She blinks at his words. Now taking a step back away from him as she tries to digest his answer, “Is that what you're going to say when each of us falls?”

His expression softens, “You know I would never let anything hurt you.”

“Yet here I am.” She argues, her poison laced smile evident “Hurt and wounded.”

Lockwood was at a loss of words. He remained silent, staring at her with his pleading eyes that silently screams for her to drop this and forgive his faulty words. But his silence served as nothing but a mere slap to reality for her that Lockwood was just a boy with a naive dream and no understanding of the risks he's committing the team to.

“I thought this was all I wanted.” She says with a volume just above a whisper, a pitiful smile plastered on her face as she tries to keep her tone steady. The cracks of her breaking heart is visible through her expression “You're everything I want, Anthony.. But I can't deal with your ambitions anymore.”

Giving him no chance to explain, she retreats to her room and slams the door, leaving him defeated in the hallway. The house feels colder now somehow. As if the silence wasn't enough to weigh his guilt even more. Lockwood knew that he messed up but never had he imagined that he'd ruin things this far. Especially not with her.

—-

Days have been slightly better now that George's discharged from the hospital. The kitchen is once again filled with their chatter but not nearly half as much laughter as before. The nightmare of wounded George still haunts her days and torments her at night. She would never be able to work with the squad as she did before. Something has changed in her and there's no turning back now.

Lockwood on the other hand has tried every possible way to talk to her but with every chance he makes to pursue her, she just has a hundred more ways to turn it down and avoid him. Her silent treatment was driving him nuts and it would be an understatement to say that he's desperate to fix it.

Now sitting in his study room, Lockwood turns to the door as he hears a light knock. She peeks inside with a slight smile, the most he's gotten after their fight a couple weeks ago.

“Can I come in?”

“Have I ever said no?”

She nods, stepping inside the room timidly. A piece of paper in her hand.

“What is it?” He asks with a warm smile, hoping that this would be the start of their reconciliation “What can I help you with?”

She looks down to the letter in her hand, sighing before handing it to him, “I wanted to give you my resignation letter.”

Lockwood stares at her blankly, not moving from his chair.

Gently, she reaches for his hand and hands him the paper. Lockwood's eyes were glued on her, trying to catch any trace of jest from the words she uttered. He prays for all gods out there to let this be a joke. Some cruel prank she's pulling on him as payback for his dickhead move for the past months. But as the ticking of the clock in the room grew louder, her playful smile never appeared.

“Why?”

“Anthony–”

“I promise to do better, I swear it.” He begs, standing from his seat and carelessly putting the letter away “I'll make better plans, I'll calculate each and every possibility there is and I'll listen to you better. Any input you have, I'll highlight it and make it work. Please, just– Don't leave. Don't leave me.”

She had to look away from his eyes before her fortress crumbled. Lockwood knows just when to put those big puppy eyes out and win her heart. But there's just so many times she could spare herself for him. There's just so many chances she could give and no matter how much she wishes and prays that this time would be different than the last, she knew that the damage done would still leave scars on them. An invisible one that could only be healed with time and space.

“Please,” Lockwood begs, seeming on the verge of tears “Name your price. Anything, please, just say it.”

“What I want you cannot give, Anthony.” She answers with a bitter smile “Because if you could, I know you would have given it to me years ago.”

“Just name it, please. Do you want a rise? Do you want to switch rooms? Do you want your name to be the agency's name? Because I can do that. We can just change the company's name to yours.”

A tear escapes her eyes. She knows that he was being genuine, that he was willing to give up anything to make her stay. But even with all he offers to give, Lockwood still couldn't see the one thing she desires of him.

And it's crystal clear to her now that he could never give the one thing she needs of him.

Placing her hands to his cheeks, she cups him gently and smiles, “You're going to be a brilliant agent, Anthony. Lockwood & co will be the best agency there is, I know it. I believe it.”

“Then why are you leaving?” He asks with a defeated tone “Why won't you be here with me?”

Because you won't love me the way I love you, she thought.

“Please,” Lockwood pleads “I can't lose you too.”

Pulling him for a hug, his dam finally breaks as sobs begin to echo in the room. He holds her tight, afraid that she would disappear if he loosens his embrace just a little. He would miss the sweet scent of her shampoo, the warmth of her body when he needed some comfort after a terrible nightmare, and her joyful laughter that always seemed to drunken him in bliss.

If only he would tell her exactly how he feels.

“You'll never lose me, Anthony.” She whispers to his chest, listening to his heartbeat before they part “I'm yours, always.”

↠ If You’re Going to Break My Heart

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