#lockwood oneshot

[gaintsnowflake]

𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄

PARING - anthony lockwood x gn!reader

ONESHOT - in which you stay up waiting for lucy and lockwood to get back from a job only to find them soaked and mad at each other.

TRIGGERS - mentions of death

A/N - angst and fluff | please mind any typos or grammar errors, i am my own editor and I may not be able be able to get everything | I really don’t know how I feel about this one, i hate it but i also like it, Lockwood may be a bit OOC, so I do apologize

WORD COUNT - 3.0k

masterlist

I WAITED for them to stumble through the door, regretting my life choices.

George and I were forced to stay home since George got caught pulling two all-nighters in a row for research and I was still on lockdown from a recent injury. The worst thing about it was, they were going against a type two, alone, in the middle of nowhere. I should be there with them, at least I would be able to provide some help. It would be much better than sitting here at three am awaiting their return.

Finally, I heard the door open, followed by a slam and another reopen. Within a few seconds, I hear Lockwood yelling after Lucy. Quickly, I run from my seat in the kitchen to the main hall, trying to see what all of the ruckus was, just when I went to look at them I was met with two soaked teenagers screaming at each other. Well, Lucy screaming at Lockwood. I paused for a quick second before all my body filled with rage, the idiot fucked up again, I know it.

"Anthony, what the fuck did you do?" I yelled, drawing their attention toward me.

Lucy just looked at me, her mascara running and her eyes watering before she gave me a slight smile. Lockwood on the other hand gave me his best guilty smile knowing that I would not spare him.

"He decided to push us into a quite disgusting lake trying to get away from our dear friend Mr. Sanders, isn't that right Lockwood," Lucy's voice was laced with anger as she turned between the two of us. "Not only did I have it handled, he made me lose the source I was trying to cover, only delaying the whole thing more. Also, the lake contains really big fish that we don't even know what they were. We could have gotten eaten."

"It was smarter than you getting ghost touched, you wouldn't have been able to cover it in time, I was trying to save you, Luce.  Besides we weren't eaten."

They looked towards me as I stepped towards Lucy. I endearingly rubbed her shoulder to let her know that I was there for her and turned away from Anthony, our faces not far from one another.

"Go shower, Lucy," I spoke softly, "I will handle Lockwood and once you get I'll make sure he apologizes and I will make sure he makes your favorite teas, how does that sound?" I waited for her to nod, which took her a second, she was probably sending death glares to Lockwood. Once she did I moved my hand and turned back to Anthony. "How about we go talk in the library, yeah? Wouldn't want to wake up George."

He responded with a quick nod before moving towards the library, Lucy stood still for a second. I slowly start to follow before I felt Lucy grab my arm, forcing me to turn toward her.

"I know you like to go easy on him, but give him hell for me, please? He deserves it this time."

I smiled and nodded before turning around to go do what I do best, solve the fights and make sure everyone is happy.

I turned towards her and gave her a big smile before continuing to meet Lockwood in the library. I closed the door to see him sitting in his chair, face in his hands, shaking his head. I could see the guilt through him.

"Do you wanna tell me what happened and then I lecture you or do you wanna split up the lecture tonight?" I asked quietly, walking towards him; Pausing in front of him, I ruffled his already messy hair and took one of his hands. 

"Can we split up the lecture, please?" His voice was shaky, he felt guilty. He looked me in the eyes briefly, just slow enough I can see that they were tear lined, before turning away. 

"You know what you did was stupid. You aren't fighting me on anything. I want you to know why it is stupid though," I started, sitting down across from him, keeping his hand in mine, I slowly played with his fingers, spinning the ring over and over. "You could have gotten yourself or Lucy more hurt. You don't know what was in that lake Anthony, and I know sometimes it's hard to believe but the living can be scarier than the dead, whether it was a fish or not. It could have injured you- don't even try to argue yet, let me finish. I know that there is probably a reason for your thinking but whatever it is doesn't mean you should disregard the fact that you could have gotten more hurt. Especially if what Lucy said was true about her nearly having the source.

"I know that you care about us, but I want you to think for a second, how would you feel if Lucy never was able to walk through that door again because you made the mistake of making her swim with the fishes, metaphorically and literary. You wouldn't have lost just her, but you would have hurt George and me in unbearable ways. Why? Because you didn't think? You rushed into it like you always do. I know that sounds selfish, but you know that everything you do is to save us three. To keep us safe. Now think about it again, you were able to save Lucy but not you? What if you died? I know that you think that isn't the worst option in the world, but it is truly terrible. Those thoughts aren't true and never will be true. We would have to live, hoping that maybe you just would walk through that door one more time with that stupid little grin you do after you get us a job that is way too difficult. We love you, Lockwood, and I love you Anthony, they don't want to lose you, or Lucy. Just how you wouldn't want to lose them. I can't lose you, you are my everything, Anthony, my everything."

His eyes met mine, finally, but a few of those tears escaped. I quickly slid from my seat and kneeled on the ground, I used my free hand to whip away the tears and caress his cheek and muttered a few soft, "I'm sorry." I know it hurts him for me to see him like this, so open and vulnerable, but at the same time, he knows I would never judge him for it and that I would always be there.

"You need to start thinking more. Not just move first, questions later. You need to think, even if it was for just a second. Sometimes that may not be the best option, but in some situations it is. But before I decide if this was one of these situations, can you tell me everything that happened?" I finally asked, giving him the ability to talk openly.

He waited for a moment, causing me to fear that maybe I was a little too hard on him. Nonetheless, he started talking, slowly making sure he didn't miss a single detail.

"The job wasn't difficult at first, just the average haunting. The mansion was large but we had been able to figure out that he died on the steps into the backyard, thanks to my amazing sight. We had heard that he was haunting some of the inside but also the backyard. Just as we were trying to figure out where his source may be, it was this fishing rod thing. He was huge into catching fish. The thing was there were about twenty of them. Fifteen inside, right beside the door, and the rest outside. After we had the ones inside covered, we stayed for a bit to make sure we had the right ones. We kind of assumed we did given that they were his expensive ones. But eventually, he turned up and boy was he mad. Lucy took the silver net and ran with it outside to make sure that she covered them and after I hit him with enough salt bombs I followed her. All of a sudden, while we were on his deck he came up behind us and I was out of salt bombs, Lucy was nearly done covering the source but I thought we wouldn't have enough time so I ran into her, pushing us both off the dock and into the lake."

After he finished he looked at me with a blank stare, his eyes widening, immediately realizing what he forgot to do, try using his rapier. This was surprising given that he nearly always remembers to use it and uses it when even not needed. 

"There it is, the reason why Lucy is mad. You didn't fucking use your rapier."

"Maybe you are right, maybe I didn't have to push us in. Oh god, I am such an idiot. I have to go apologize," He scrambled to apologize, running past me as I rose to stop him. 

"Lockwood," I called after him, trying to make him realize that she was still showering. "She is still in the shower!"

Before I could reach him, I realized the water wasn't running. I looked to see that Lucy was just staring confused at Lockwood who was frantically telling her that it was his fault and he sees that now, promising to be less reckless in the future. He was also giving her his best, "Please don't leave me because I just cried about this" smile. 

"It's okay Lockwood, I realized I was overreacting a bit. You were just trying to protect us. Which wasn't the smartest of ways, but you still saved my life at the end of the day. Now can we please just admit that we aren't mad at each other so we can go to bed?" She cut him off mid-apology, her voice getting more and more quiet till she yawned at the end. "

Yeah, yeah, I am not mad at you. Goodnight, Luce," He then turned towards me, "Thank you as always, I am going to shower and then head to bed, meet me in there."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm gonna talk to Lucy for a bit in the kitchen so if I am not in bed you know where to find me," I said as he gave me a quick peck on the cheek before walking away. Turning to Lucy I smiled, "How about we go talk for a few minutes and then you can head off to bed?"

"Okay," she muttered with a smile before heading to the Kitchen.

As we reached the kitchen, Lucy went to go sit in her chair as I reached up in the cabinets to grab four hidden donuts from Arifs. The others don't know but I also keep hidden ones for my private conversations with them after long cases or me scolding them to no ends. Georges and my first were missing as we had a long conversation as soon as the other two left about his sleeping habits, I kept it short but I still managed to get in everything I wanted to say over donuts and some tea.

I put her favorite donut lightly on the plate and mine on another before smiling and turning toward her. I closed the box and left it on the counter to make sure it seemed like it was empty and I would just throw it away after, that way she didn't go to check that spot and figure out my secret, given that as of now, she thinks that I run out and get them when I think they will be needed and not that I always have them, just in case.

"Want me to put on some tea?" I placed the plate down in front of her as I questioned, she shook her head no, allowing me to sit down across from her. "Are you not mad at him or did you just say that?"

"I am not mad at him, I know he was just trying to protect us, but there were just so many ways he could have, I don't know, just he didn't have to leave us soaking in the middle of the night."

"I get it and don't worry I lectured him on that," I paused as she took a bite of her donut, taking a bite out of mine as well, "He is sorry, truly, so I am glad that you can forgive him."

We sat there for a little, finishing our donuts in silence, once she was done she had gotten up to go put her dish away but before she got the chance I told her I had it. I quickly stood up and took our plates and went to go wash them off. I smiled at her and bid her goodnight as she said it back.

I was now alone, I had time to breathe, Anthony shouldn't be out of the shower for a few more minutes so I can just breathe. 

I began to wash the plates off lightly with water and a tad bit of soap before drying them off only to fill them with more donuts, this time it was Anthony's favorite and my favorite. I put them down in front of our normal seats, his at the head of the table and mine the next closest chair, brought as close to the age as it could.

I smiled and sat down, staring at the wall. Tonight was something and it may take me a few hours to recover from all the worry, but they are safe now at home. Everyone is safe inside of 35 Portland Row and my worries can subside for a bit.

"I should've checked here first," a voice whispered, his voice.

I turned to see him in a plain white T-shirt, quite similar to the stolen one I am wearing now, and some sweats. His wet hair is laying across his forehead and little drops of water were all across his body. 

He gave me his world-famous grin before I motioned for him to sit, which he did very quickly. Once he was sitting he started eating the donut, no shock, as he refused to eat before the job, against my wishes, stating he wasn't hungry. With his other hand, he rubbed my knee up to my thigh trying to find my loose hand. When he eventually laced our fingers together and started rubbing mine in a comforting way. He could tell I was stressed and worried, always seeing right through me.

"You know, you should become a therapist or something," he started a light friendly conversation, "since you always act like ours, why not do it for others and get paid."

"I can't know, I can't continue my education, I choose to be an agent, so that is what I am now," my smile faltered for a second as I wondered if I made the right choice all those years ago when I decided to become an agent.

"Well, then maybe you will just be the agency's therapist then, I mean, you already are, but that could be like your official role other than agent," He offered, in an attempt to raise my bad mood. 

"Yeah, that sounds good, I guess," I truly did make the right choice. Because if I didn't I wouldn't be sitting here with Anthony Lockwood, eating donuts at now four in the morning about to head to bed.

We finished our donuts with a few words exchanged. I stood up and collected our plates, I wasn't going to fully wash them, I would do that in the morning, well afternoon, when I woke up. So for now the plates will sit in our kitchen sink waiting to be washed.

Before I turned around I heard light scribbles coming from Anthony. I looked and rested my elbows on his chair standing above him as he wrote a short note to George explaining that they got home late so everyone won't wake up till afternoon. 

I smiled at him once again before taking his arm and dragging him from his chair. He followed me up to his room, slowly behind me as we were both exhausted and were probably going to fall asleep as soon as we reach the bed.

I opened the door to the dark room, not even wanting to turn on a light. I let go of Anthony's arm and navigated the familiar room, and crawled into bed. He slowly got in right after me.

He laid flat on his back and put up his arms, wanting me to lay on top of him. I happily obliged. My head rested on his shoulder titled to the side as he rested his head on mine lightly. One arm fell off him and the other wrapped around and began playing with his hair. One leg was in between his and the other was laying flat on the bed. His arms were tightly wrapped around me.

He slowly kissed my head before beginning to talk, slurring his words. His voice got quieter and quieter within minutes as his breath got slower. Eventually, he just stopped talking. The word felt as if it had stopped in this peaceful moment. I know I made the right choice when I choose to become an agent, he was the best thing to come out of this. As we lay here together, finding peace in one another.

His breath lingered on my ear as I lay across his body, the smell of his body wash and shampoo filled my nose. A smile played on my lips as I played with his wet hair, twirling a few strands over and over. His arms were wrapped around me, lighter than before as by now he has completely fallen asleep. His worries drifted away as his breaths became slower and slower. My worries were now gone as he was FINALLY HOME.

[websterss]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐌𝐄 — 𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓: Heyy! Could I request an Anthony lockwood x reader where lockwood gets injured on his side on a mission so at home reader helps him take care of it but he has to take his shirt off. Basically full of fluff

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒): A lil bit angsty with some fluff

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2,881

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader  

𝐀/𝐍: Hope you enjoy it! :) I added angst cause I couldn’t help myself. Anthony Lockwood screams angst lol.

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

“Can you stand at all?” Lucy gave a once over to the boy pressed up against a stone. Lockwood grimaced as he felt an ache course up through his rib cage. He faintly nodded a yes to lessen Lucy’s worry over him.

“I think I can manage.” He smirked to mask the pain he was in. “Though I could use a hand.” He reached up, eyes falling onto George. The curly haired boy met his hand and helped him onto his feet again. A muffled grunt didn’t go over their heads. One silent glance of communication was enough to agree to head on home. A home where you currently waited for the trio in. 

“Y/n is not going to be pleased about this.” George grimaced.

“So don’t tell her.” Anthony scowled with a grimace.

In a series of cases you would accompany them. The trio originally being a quartet, but after a case with a type two and a torn ligament. Lockwood thought best to keep you under house arrest, much to your chagrin, though you happily obliged to his wishes. Staying home at least until your foot is fully healed. That meant you weren’t allowed to apply pressure to your injury, thus preventing you from doing normal human things. You did your best to offer your knowledge and help out in terms of research, but you would much rather be out there in the field, another thing Lockwood was firm about, no forms of physicality. You hated being homebound, stuck staring at the small four walls of every room in the house, though you knew as much that Lockwood would have a cow if he so much saw you anywhere else but within the apartment. The bloke nearly panicked one day after you stepped foot outside to fetch the mail. Now you wondered how he would react once he knew about your rendezvous scales up and down the staircases. Your foot was far from healing at this point though you obliged. Wanting to keep the peace.

What seemed like a never ending wait, quickly vanished as the familiar twist of the doorknob got your attention from the living room. You hastily pushed yourself up to stand, hobbling towards the entryway. Your smile greeting your tired friends. Lucy reciprocates your smile, whereas George brushes past you with a curt nod, and Anthony…well he has yet to meet your eyes. You glance over at Lucy in hopes of an explanation, but she only further replies with. “It was our most difficult case yet. I’d give him some time.” You place your hand over hers that fell onto your shoulder in passing up towards her room. Your hand lingering on your shoulder. Tucking your neck in, as you subconsciously tether on your good foot. All your weight applied to your left side.

“Anthony.” Your voice rings out but it’s a faint mutter. Loud enough to dance in and out of his ears. You didn’t dare raise an octave. Too scared to break the silence with so much as a raise of your voice. “Ant-“

“Please.” He begs, shaking his head. Not in the mood to be lectured or frowned upon, he wouldn’t be able to bear it, seeing a frown on your soft features. He already got a glimpse of your worry stricken facade. He didn’t want to add on to your concerns. He didn’t need you to strain yourself over the horrible ache in his right side, not when you had your own injuries to worry about. His breathing becomes labored, his jaw clenches. The visible vein popping against his forehead makes your smile downcast.

“You’re hurt, Anthony.” You point out the obvious. You sigh, closing your eyes for what you knew was about to be a stubborn battle that was about to commence.

“It’s nothing.” His voice shakes, making his brave exterior falter. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Show me.” You gesture to the side he holds.

“I’m fine. No need to get over dramatic on me.” He straightens out with a smirk. His arms open wide for emphasis. “You have your injuries. I have my own. Goodnight, Y/n.” You roll your eyes, letting him brush past you slowly, then watch him ascend onto the second level. You wait a second then follow after him. Your slow thudded steps are not missed by him. He stops as he reaches the last step. Watching you hold the railing to support your climb. “What the bloody hell are you doing?”

“Wondering if you enjoy pissing me off.” You retort. You land on the deck with a huff. “Wow, that does not get easier.”

“Have you been practicing?” The realization hits him hard. His jaw drops, as two and two come together. You climb with ease, quite possibly faster than he could with his injuries.

“It was either I sit around all day. Or ascend the stairs. What do you think?” You pat his chest. Walking ahead and into his room. You turn back around to face the brute still gaping at you in the middle of the hallway. “Now show me!” You gesture for him to enter. He hesitates, but obliges. Coming into his room, and shutting the door behind him. He glanced up at you, waiting patiently for him to let you tend to his injuries.

“You really ought to just head on to bed. I’ll be fine.” He suggests, rather than fall vulnerable under your now narrowed annoyed eyes.

“And you really ought to know when to shut up.” You motion with your head to his bed. He averts his gaze, looking anywhere that isn’t your hard glare. He knows you mean well, but feeling the full blunt force he received when he fell against his ribcage. He didn’t want to imagine what his side appeared as if it’s caused him this much pain already. He didn’t want to burden you. See you in such pain. Your nurturing and caring stature is something he adores. You always look after others when you should apply such tendencies to your own self. You put others needs before your own, and right now, he knew after showing you how bad he was suffering, how much he was hiding, your mind would linger on this moment for a long time, until your mind occupied something new to dwell and overthink about. It’s why he’s so hesitant to even sit on the edge of his own bed.

“When will you stop being so stubborn and ask for help?” You walk over to the corner of the room, collecting a small aid kit, you recommended Anthony keep, in times of need, and situations as such. He had the tendency to gain a few cuts and bruises here and there. Overworking himself, and hardly gaining any sleep.

“Why bother? You see right through me every time.” The corner of his lips lifts. Eyeing you carefully as you set the box beside him. You roll your eyes, bringing a vacant chair over in front of him to help you clean up his wounds. You scoot until your knees brush. You sigh once more, meeting his eyes that have yet to leave yours.

“You’re right. I do see through every bullshit attempt of feigning okay.” You nod. “Though I wish more than anything that you’d tell me instead. That you’d use your words instead of having to see pain written over your face. I wish you’d tell me, Ant.” Your eyes begin to water. As do his. He holds your gaze, letting his walls tear down to allow you a second of entry.

He nods knowing that he definitely lacks verbal communication. He nods because he knows how this all affects you. He nods because you're the only person who truly sees him. Who doesn’t push him, but encourages him to find his voice and let his guard down around you. A tear falls down his cheek. “It hurts.” He finally allows himself to admit.

You hastily nod, swallowing down the ache in your throat. You sniffle as you try to gain your composure. “Where?”

“It’s my side…” He grits his teeth. “I fell on my side.” He closes his eyes as you go to lift the bottom shirt. His hand quickly stops you from pulling the shirt upwards. “No, no, no. I don’t want you to see. If it hurts this much then it can’t be far from looking bad.”

“Anthony please.” You plead. “I need to see so that I can help you. Make sure you don’t have a broken rib or worse!”

He thinks about it before giving in. His grip on your hand lessens up. You meet his gaze for a brief second then slowly go to lift the hem of his shirt. You lift and lift until his mid section is revealed to you. Your audible gasp has him thinking the worst. You reach out to touch him but stop. “I-I need you to remove your shirt.” You clear your throat. Tears brimming your eyes again. Your teary eyes lift to meet his now concerned ones. “Can you remove it?” You don’t even need his answer, his injuries do look as bad as he says he feels. A firm shake of his head is all you need to help slide down his blazer past his shoulders. Once carefully removed. His shaky hands fumble with unbuttoning the buttons. You take over and start from the top to the bottom. Once you reach the last button, you halt your movements. The overly confident person you are diminishing in a heart heart. Your cheeks grow warm as you overthink about the compromising position you just put yourself in. A shirtless Anthony was not something you thought you’d encounter.

You undo the button and push the shirt open. His chest, now revealed and his bruising and cut now more visible. Your breathing comes out shaky as you go to grab a cloth and disinfectant spray. Your eyes fleet back to his chest, shamefully letting your eyes take in his build. Anthony was a sight that was always sure. Despite the bags under his eyes, and overconfidence, you can see past it all and gawk at his attractiveness. His ego was now surely boosted as his eyes crinkled mischievously. A smirk prominent on his lips as he watched you try and subtly avert your eyes elsewhere, like towards his injuries, but your gaze flickering between his own eyes and open chest has him finding this whole predicament amusing. 

“You’re bashful.” He teased, reaching forward to poke fun at your cheeks.

“I am not.” You scoffed at his accusation. You denied him, reluctant to let him see that he was winning and you were losing, very very badly. 

“You know if you wanted to rid me of my shirt, you only needed to ask.” His laugh broke the barrier, the evident grimace now apparent as he grunted about the pain he felt. He had to make a mental note to not shake of laughter, at least until he got better and his side wasn’t currently sore. 

“Keep laughing, see where that gets you.” You chuckled, yet the familiar twinkle in his eyes was now reflecting back at him. “Besides…who says I wanted to see you shirtless?” Your eyes fail you as you chance a look at his chest again, then to his knowing stare. You let your head fall wanting to avoid confronting him and your clear feelings for him. Though the slight lift of your chin by his own hand has you thinking that the feelings you hide might not be all so invisible to a certain someone. 

“I say.” His face inches closer, the warmth of his breath closer to your lips than you wanted. The smallest flicker down to your lips then up to your e/c irises does not escape you. Your breath hitches when he lets his head lean against yours. Heads now pressed together. His hand still lingers under your chin, never retracting or falling back down to his side. “I am so utterly grateful for you, Y/n. I don't know what my life would be like if you hadn’t walked into my life.”

“I didn’t exactly walk though now did I?” Your smile widens. Eyes crinkling at the corners as you pulled back to look at him. “More like fell.” You laugh, reminiscing over your first encounter with each other. Another one of your cases gone wrong, you fell backwards when Anthony had opened the door your back was pressed against. Two strangers meeting under a ghostly scenario. What more could perfectly describe your bond with one another? 

“You were scared that day.” He remembered. You nodded.

“I was…It was my first case. I was on my own till you showed up.” Your stomach flutters under his gaze. You fiddle with the cloth in your hands. “I’m glad you did though. You saved me that day.” You let out a breathy laugh. His eyes never faltered, never fleeting. His gaze was intense, wanting to remember every little detail about you. This life you all lived, nothing was ever truly promised, you and him weren’t so easily promised. Tomorrow could come, but there’d be the chance that you wouldn’t. He was so afraid of losing you. Losing the team, and ending up alone like how he was after his parents died. He was trying to hold onto you all until he couldn’t anymore. 

“No.” He denied it. “You saved me.” He adjusted himself into a better sitting position. Straightening up. You gave the faintest smile. Looking away in hopes to lessen your flustered state. You saved him, and he saved you.

“You okay? I bandaged up the wound as best as I could, but you’ll need another clean up tomorrow.”

He looked down to observe your masterful work of art. He nodded reassuringly that he was okay. “Nothing a few pain meds can’t fix.” He joked, but saw you hesitate. “I’m okay. The pain isn’t as bad anymore.”

“Sure?”

“I promise. You’ve cured me.” He beamed.

“I wouldn’t go as far as that but I do try my best.” You began gathering the mess you made and all the opened wrappers.

“No, you are the best doctor anyone could ever ask for.” He placed his hand over yours stopping you from cleaning up after yourself. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me everytime I bandage you up Lockwood.” You reminded him. You’d help him any day given, no questions asked. “I want to help.”

“Thank you for everything you do for us.” For me, he wanted to say. You rolled your eyes and gathered up all the trash. You moved the chair back to stand and was stopped by Anthony’s grip on your wrist again. “You okay?” Your brows furrowed, looking down at him. He strained himself, using your arm for support to stand up to his feet. His breath shuddered as he stood silent for a second. “Anthony you okay?” He nodded in response. Then he grew flustered himself. You opened your mouth to speak again but clamped it shut when he leaned forward. His lips pressing a soft gentle kiss against your cheek. Your eyes widened in surprise, and your breath hitched in the back of your throat. Your dilated pupils met his own that were widened in shock of what he had just done. Your grip on all the trash loosened causing all the scraps to fall and float towards the bottom. “Oh I uh-” You scrambled, bending down to collect all the trash. Anthony raised a hand to rub the back of his neck subconsciously. He did not expect you to react this way. 

“Sorry here let me-”

“No it’s okay I got it-” You waved him away. Though as you rose to your full height and he lowered closer to the ground, your heads budded against each other. You both groaned, touching the areas that collided. 

“I’m so sorry-” He began, grimacing as the pain in his side returned.

“It’s fine!” You reassured him, rubbing your aching headache.

“No really. I shouldn’t have kissed you. I caught you off guard and I-” He was then cut off by your own lips. You pulled back in haste. Eyes widened in shock. You reacted impulsively and your mind said to kiss him, so you shut him up. “Oh…” He was the speechless one this time. 

“Sorry-” You began. He held onto your shoulders, shaking his head to reassure you. 

“No, it's fine. I just didn’t expect it.” You nodded in response this time.

“I’m gonna go now…” You answered lamely, gesturing with your thumb to the door. “Let you get some rest.” You took a step away only to be stopped once more. The tug on your forearm causing you to turn back around to face him.

“Stay.” The four lettered word caused your heart to skip a beat.

“Stay?”

“I want you to stay.” He muttered softly.

“You want me to stay?” You breathed out softly.

“I do. Please stay…If you want to of course!”

“I do.” You nodded surely.

“Okay.” His smile grew, tugging your arm to lead you closer to him. 

“Okay.” You breathed out a laugh as you continued to let him tug you closer. 

[vi-trying-to-survive]

Don’t Tell

Anthony Lockwood x f!Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What ? Why ?”, his eyes went wide.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Definitely”, he was nodding his head.

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

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

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

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

He frowned, “I-”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[d0wnb4df0rf1cm3n]

Let me

Anthony Lockwood x F!Reader

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

Word Count: 3.4K

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Which led you to your current predicament.

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

Sergeant Bowers.

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

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

It was peculiar.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So?"

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

"Yeah. We probably should."

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

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

"I don't understand?"

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

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

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

"14, actually."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

fin.

[ghostlystyles]

𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓 𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆

anthony lockwood x gn!reader

anthony lockwood can definitely be a drama queen

request: Hi, could you do an Anthony Lockwood x reader where the reader is extremely exhausted and ends up passing out during a mission and Anthony gets really worried about the reader? Thanks :D

tessa’s notes: thank you anon for sending in the first request i’ve ever gotten, i hope this is what you had in mind :)

warnings: fluff, swearing, blood, sleep deprivation, fainting, a bit of angst?, canon typical violence, comment if i missed any <3

word count: 1,5k

— YOU OPENED THE door of 35 Portland Row in the middle of the night for what had to be the twentieth time that month and saw a middle-aged couple standing on your doorstep. “Lockwood & Co?” the man asked. “Yeah, that’s us. How can we help you?” you yawned, leaning against the open door. “Our house is haunted and it’s keeping us up at night. We figured you might be able to help us.”

You led the couple towards the kitchen and made them a cup of tea. “Oi, get up! There’s people here!” you called and not long after your three friends joined you at the dining table.

“So, tell us about what’s haunting your house,” Lockwood started, placing his ankle on his thigh. He wore a black, graphic jumper, joggers and his hair was messy. Although liking it, you’d been begging him for months to lose the suit every once in a while and usually midnight was the only time you got to see it, so you couldn’t help but grin.

“Well— we don’t know. We know there’s two but we’ve never seen them, only heard,” the woman explained. “And what did you hear?” you asked, leaning your head onto your hands with your eyelids heavy.

“Just— knocks on the walls and, we constantly have this feeling of crippling anxiety and fear and— we always feel like we’re being followed,” the man answered in detail. “Okay, that sounds like a Type One, so you don’t have to worry. We could get the job done tomorrow evening.”

“We actually don’t have a place to stay, we assumed you could just get it done right away.”

“That— okay. It might be possible, but it will cost significantly more as it’s extremely last minute.”

“That would be great, thank you so much. Money’s not an issue, we’ll pay you any reasonable price.”

“I’ll have to discuss it with my partners, if you’ll excuse us,” Lockwood nodded professionally as the four of you got up and walked into the corridor.

“What do you guys think?” he asked. “I think I could do it, they’re only Type Ones,” Lucy shrugged. “Well, I’d prefer it if I had time to research, but I guess it could work,” George added, rubbing his eyes. “And you, Y/N?”

“I— yeah, sure. I reckon I just need a coffee and then we can get to work,” you yawned, leaning against the wall to support your legs. “You sure? You’re not sleeping well as it is and you’re starting to look like a ghost yourself,” Lucy frowned worriedly. “A friendly ghost, I hope, but it’s fine, it’ll earn us some good money,” you joked. “I really don’t think that’s a good idea, Y/N, we should just tell them no,” George added. “Yeah, are you really sure? We can wait until the morning. We don’t owe those people anything,” Lockwood pitched in. “Yes, Lockwood! I promise it’s fine! It won’t take long anyway.”

— THE FOUR OF you slowly entered the house that belonged to the couple. “Lockwood and I will take the upstairs, you take the downstairs?” you whispered as you looked around cautiously. “You two gotta stick together, huh?” Lucy nudged you playfully. “Oh, fuck off,” you rolled your eyes with a smile. You always got the same response, but it just made sense. Lockwood had excellent Sight, and you were a pretty good Listener, George was average on all talents, but Lucy was an outstanding Listener.

“Does everyone have all their stuff?” Lockwood asked, with his hands in his pockets and you all nodded. “Okay, then let’s stop fucking around and get this done.”

Lockwood quickly walked up the stairs and you followed him, frankly a lot less quickly, as your limbs felt heavy on your body. “Y/N! You coming?” Lockwood stopped at the top of the stairs when he noticed you weren’t next to him anymore. “Yes, just give me a moment,” you muttered, stifling back another yawn. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Lockwood asked once more, his face coated in worry. “Yes, Lockwood, how many times? Just, stop worrying about me for a second!” you grumbled as you strolled further onto the first floor.

“I— Jesus, I was just making sure you weren’t gonna faint or something,” Lockwood muttered, slightly taken aback. "Wait, shh—," you whispered as you covered Lockwood's mouth with your hands. "I hear something."

You closed your eyes and focused, so you could hear the sound better. You heard the soft shuffling of bony feet and echoing sighs, but you couldn't quite tell where it came from. "I'm pretty sure it's a Stalker," you concluded. “Where is it?” Lockwood asked. “I don’t know… I can’t tell,” you said, you squeezed your eyes shut, but it felt like your head was stuffed with cotton. Likely because of the sleep deprivation, but you’d never admit that, of course. The two of you started walking in the direction of one of the rooms and warily looked around. You closed your eyes, but you’d lost the sound of footsteps.

“I think we chose the wrong direction,” you muttered and Lockwood nodded in agreement. You walked out of the room and back into the corridor, when you were suddenly overtaken by dizziness and a sick feeling. You halted for a moment and took a deep breath, but the feeling didn’t go away. Instead, black spots started filling your peripheral vision and slowly spread their way to the center of your gaze. “Lockwood… I don’t feel so good,” you trembled, before everything went black.

“Y/N!” Lockwood exclaimed as he heard your body collapse with the ground and he rushed over to you, cradling your face in his hands. “Y/N?” he croaked as he brushed your hair out of your face. After about half a minute, your eyes fluttered open and you saw Lockwood’s face hover over you. “Hi,” he gave you a watery smile and his expression shifted from anxious to relieved.

You slowly sat up and immediately felt like vomiting, as your limbs were aching and your head was pounding from the fall. “Hey, hey, slow down,” Lockwood whispered tenderly, “how are you feeling?”

“Everything hurts,” you said, when you felt something warm dripping down your cheeks. Lockwood’s gaze slightly shifted and he gasped when he saw the huge gash across your nose bridge. “What happened?” you winced, feeling the wound sting. “I don’t— you must’ve hit your head on the banister or something,” Lockwood worried with wide eyes, “we should take you to the hospital, that probably needs stitches.”

“No way! I’m not letting someone sew my skin like it’s a piece of fabric!”

“It’ll be okay, I promise. George, Luce and I wil be there the whole time and besides, it’s gonna leave one badass scar.”

— A TRIP TO the hospital and a fuckton of stitches later, Lockwood was carrying you bridal style down the streets of London. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone get this injured on a Type One mission,” Lucy chuckled. “Be nice to me Luce, I fainted and smacked my head into a banister,” you laughed, hitting her shoulder. “I suggest we all just listen to me next time, because I get really scared when people faint,” George sighed. “Oh, you should've seen Lockwood, Georgie. He looked at me as if I was dying.”

“Look, in my defence, I didn’t know what happened. For all I knew, you could’ve had a knife in your back and were slowly bleeding out,” Lockwood scoffed. “I’m just kidding, it was very sweet of you,” you reassured him as you patted his cheek. “You’re always so dramatic,” Lucy smiled, as she nudged Lockwood with her shoulder and he gave her a side-eye. “Anyway, when we get home, you’re going to bed and you’re not coming out of there until I say so,” Lockwood started, looking down at you, “and I’m going to find those people and try to rake up the price by a lot, so we don’t have to open the door in the middle of the night again.”

“That seems like a good idea, I’ll go with you,” George said and Lockwood nodded approvingly. “Why did it take me nearly perishing at the hands of a fucking banister for us to realise that taking clients in the middle of the night is a terrible idea?” you laughed loudly, throwing your head back. “Aha! So you do admit that you very nearly died and I have the right to be concerned about you and your well-being!” Lockwood exclaimed as he slightly swung you, making you scream and tightly hold onto him.

Lucy caught George’s gaze and shook her head with a smile, “we really should’ve waited until the morning.”

[downbadf0rficppl]

let me

Anthony Lockwood x F!Reader

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

Word Count: 3.4K

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

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

Repost

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Which led you to your current predicament.

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

Sergeant Bowers.

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

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

It was peculiar.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So?"

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

"Yeah. We probably should."

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

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

"I don't understand?"

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

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

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

"14, actually."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

fin.

buy me a coffee

[shadowbriar]

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

[cameronspecial]

A Glowing Reminder of Her

Pairing: Anthony Lockwood x Reader

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Mentions of Death, Blood and Home Invasions.

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.1K

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N has been by Lockwood’s side for as long as he can remember. She was there when his parents died, when Jessica died and when he started Lockwood and Co. But who will be there for him when he loses the last part of his old life?

Y/N’s day starts off like any other day. She wakes up cuddled into Lockwood’s arms with his soft breath tickling her face and her head somewhat buried into her neck. She slowly untangles herself from him as to not wake him up and makes her way downstairs. She flicks on the kettle and begins toasting bread for everyone. Eventually, George arrives in the kitchen to make the rest of the components for a full English because it is always a mess when Y/N is left in charge of anything but toast. One by one the other members of the family enter the kitchen lazily. Before Lockwood sits down beside Y/N, he places a soft kiss on her lips then foreheads like he does every morning. Breakfast goes smoothly with the sound of laughter reverberating throughout the house. 

The cleaning of the dished goes relatively fast and Y/N gently takes one of Lockwood’s hands to lead him upstairs to their shared room. Once the door closes, a big smile appears on the girl’s face and she gently leans up towards Lockwood to give him a kiss. He is quick to respond, kissing her back slowly while bringing his hands to her hair to pull her in closer. The pair continue to kiss for a few minutes until they hear banging coming from the door. “Stop kissing you too. Lockwood, you need to get ready before we are late to meet our client. Also, Y/N, Lucy is going out for groceries so tell her if you need anything,” George yells from the other side of the door. Lockwood pulls away from Y/N with a chuckle, but not before giving her one quick peck on the lips. “Okay, George. I’m getting ready,” Lockwood announces, knowing that George won’t leave until he responds. 

Lockwood is almost ready when he stops in front of Y/N for her to tie the tie she chose for him today. She smiles at him, showing him the purple tie in her hand. Lockwood looks confused as he has never seen that before, “When did you get that one?” “I got it yesterday when I was shopping for more supplies for the agency,” she informs him whilst tying it for him. “Ahh, that explains it. I like it. What are you planning on doing on your day off, my little sapphire?” “I’m probably just going to get some laundry done then read my book. I just want a lazy day today,” she tells him, giving him one final kiss on the lips. She walks downstairs with him to the front door to see everyone off. Y/N closes the door after Lucy, Lockwood and George are out of her sight. 

——

Y/N is putting away laundry in her room; lost with her head in the clouds. Maybe Lockwood and her can go bowling for a date this weekend. This causes her to not hear the glass shatter downstairs or the creeping of feet up the stairs. By the time she hears the creak of the floor behind her, it is too late. The intruder is shocked to see Y/N and in a panic shoots her then flees the scene of the crime. A cold feeling trenches the girl and a surprised look is found on her face. The only thought going through her mind is to apply pressure on the wound and the worry that Lockwood had returned home without her knowledge, which would also make him in danger. A sudden feeling of tiredness washes over her so she lies down in bed. Blood stains her finger a shade of red. Unfortunately, Y/N didn’t think about calling for help and by the time she thought about it, she is already unconscious. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay with you longer, Lockwood. She thinks while drifting off to the never waking sleeping. 

——

Lucy returns home after a few hours with the groceries; however, she is immediately alarmed upon seeing the kitchen door open, surrounded by broken glass. She drops the bags to run upstairs for Y/N. Seeing the girl on the bed instantly causes Lucy’s face to go pale. She goes to check Y/N pulses and feels sick when she feels nothing. How is she supposed to tell Lockwood the person he loves is no longer with them? How will she manage to live alone with the boys? Lucy snaps out of her thoughts as she realizes she needs to call DEPRAC to help with the tragic scene. 

——

The first thing Lockwood and George notice is the multitude of DEPRAC vehicles outside 35 Portland Row. Panic sweeps into Lockwood once he remembers Y/N was home alone and he quickly runs into the house without a care for the DEPRAC agents trying to stop him. He is almost to his shared room, but Lucy grabs him before he can go the rest of the way. “Lockwood, you don’t want to go in there,” she warns as she pulls him into a tight hug. The sight of the blood on her hands confirms what he does not want to admit is true. If Y/N had only been hurt, then DEPRAC wouldn’t be here and she would’ve insisted on seeing him to provide him reassurance. “No, I have to see. Lucy, I have to see her. Please,” the boy pleads to the girl, struggling to get out of her arms. 

“I promise, you don’t. We should go wait in the front room while DEPRAC cleans the room.” 

“What happened? Tell me it didn’t hurt her. Tell me it was an accident.” 

“Why don’t we sit down first?” 

Lucy guides Lockwood to sit on the couch and again takes him into her arms. “She was shot, Lockwood. I’m sorry, but by the time I got home, she was already gone.” “Oh god, no,” Lockwood cries. He couldn’t believe this is happening. He would rather be dealing with countless nightmares that he could wake up from in her arms than have to continue this horror show. George has made his way into his house quietly as well and sadly sits beside his heartbroken friend. He isn’t sure what to do; however, he tries to comfort his friend by awkwardly patting Lockwood’s back. 

——

*A Few Days Later*

The usual quartet, now forever turned trio, has just returned from Y/N’s funeral. Lockwood really wanted to read a speech during the eulogy, but he couldn’t bring himself to talk about his little sapphire as if she isn’t there anymore. He feels as though he disappointed her by not saying anything, even though he knows it is not true. “I’m going to go change into something more comfortable,” he mumbles sadly. “Okay, I’ll make us some tea,” Lucy says, she worriedly watches him ascend the stairs.

Lockwood removes his suit jacket and belt while staring out the window. His hand reaches to try to remove his dress shirt; however, his tie is blocking the way to the top button. He forgot that Y/N is no longer here to undo his tie. She used to love helping him with such domestic acts like that because she felt bad for not being able to cook for him. He always insisted it was okay that she couldn’t. The purple tie in his hand reminds him of the last blissful morning he got to spend with her. He wish he knew it was going to be the last one or else he would’ve sent Lucy with George to meet the client and spent the day with her. At least, he could’ve been there to protect her. He goes to put away the tie in the drawer and a twinkle of blue on the dress catches his eye. It is the sapphire necklace that first belonged to his mother and then to Y/N. It is a reminder of the time he gave it to Y/N.

——

Y/N and Lockwood had been dating for a couple of months now. After years of pining, George had finally had enough and confessed the pair's feelings to each other for them. Lockwood knew she was who he would spend the rest of his life with, even though they had only been dating for a few months. Y/N was taking photos in the garden when Lockwood approached her with his hands behind his back. Y/N smiled and took a candid picture of her boyfriend. “What do you have behind your back?” she questioned, lowering the camera away from her eye. “A gift for you. You have to close your eyes first,” he teased, moving behind her while she did as instructed. 

He placed the necklace around her neck before he clasped it in place. Y/N opened her eyes when she felt the tap of his fingers on her shoulders. She saw the necklace and squealed in delight at the beautiful sight, “Lockwood, I love it! Thank you so much!” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pecked his lips. “You’re welcome, my little sapphire. My dad gave it to my mom and now it is yours because I love you.” Y/N blushed at the words, “I love you too.”

——

It had been the first time either of them said those three words. Being faced with the memory causes his eyes to tear up. Further looking at the blue shine of the necklace brings another memory to mind that makes more tears start to slowly roll down his cheeks.

——

The soft sound of the music coming from his room is what first caught Lockwood’s attention. He nudged the door open to see Y/N was dancing without a care in the room. Lockwood smirked and leaned against the door frame to watch the performance. A slow song started playing and this was Lockwood’s queue to step in. He grabbed both of Y/N’s hands and gently brought her closer to his chest. She smiled up at him and kissed him. “Hello my little sapphire,” he whispered in her ear, swaying with her in his arms. He continued to hold her hands as she stepped to the side and spun around. Her back is placed against his chest and he brought the held hands onto the sides of her hips.

“Lockwood,” he hmmed in acknowledgement, “why do you call me your little sapphire?” He beamed down at the girl and brought a hand up to the necklace sitting on her collarbone, “Because, sapphire symbolizes heaven and you are my little slice of heaven on Earth.” This caused Y/N to smile gently and continued to sway him with her. 

——

Lockwood is now full-on crying and he decides that it is better to just go to sleep because a headache is starting to form in his brain. He finished getting ready so he can lie down in his bed. However, before he can close his eyes to sleep, he notices the Y/N-shaped glow found on her side of the bed. This causes him to sob even worse. This reminds him of when they both shared a bed for the first time together. 

——

Y/N stood awkwardly at the door as she watched Lockwood fluff the pillow, looking a little lost. “So should I just come in?” she asked, walking closer to him. “Uh, yeah. You can sleep on the inside, so I’m closer to the door,” he said. Y/N climbed into bed, wearing one of his sweaters, then he scooted in so that they are facing each other. Their noses were almost touching and she could feel his breath on her face. “Well, this isn’t awkward at all,” she joked after a few minutes of just staring at each other. 

Lockwood laughed, “No, totally not. But it’s nice being this close to you.”

“It really is. How was your day?”

“It was pretty boring. George and I spent most of it in the archives and he was very insistent that I stop helping him after the third time I made a dirty joke about something I read. How about you, my little sapphire?” 

“That sounds like something you would do. It was good. I baked some muffins, but I hid them so you animals wouldn’t eat them before breakfast tomorrow. It’s blueberry, your favourite,” she giggled. The night was spent in whispered conversations and laughter rather than actual sleep. 

——

Lockwood shakes himself out of the memory and tries to turn his brain off so he could get some rest like Y/N would want. However, how could he do that while he tries to cuddle into the side of Y/N’s death glow? Lockwood realizes that no matter how many times he changes his sheets or cleans the house in an attempt to remove any trace of Y/N, everything will be a glowing reminder of her. 

[lewkwoodnco]

Timeless (Lockwood x reader)

A/N: inspired by Timeless by Taylor Swift! A mix of angst and fluff, and the ending is a little awkward but I just haddd to end that way

She had had an exhausting couple of weeks - there was so much she didn’t understand about Lockwood, or what she felt about him or why. It was becoming more and more difficult to go on cases, even the simpler ones, because of how dangerous Lockwood made it for himself, no matter how cut-and-dry the case was. She’d feel this wave of nausea wash over her every time she saw him absent-mindedly step out of their salt circles or leave the iron chains in a corner.

It was that same nausea that was beginning to creep up on her now. They were about to go on a case and it had sickened her to hear George go on and on about the murderous ghost they would be meeting. Lately it had begun to feel as though a Lurker lived in the floorboards of the house, filling her stomach with leaden dread. Her nerves pushed her feet out of the house, screaming for an escape from the doubt that hung in the still air of the house.

She didn’t want to wander far; her friends would worry, but there was this cosy shop just a few doors down from Arif’s. It seemed completely unassuming, a little dull even, but there was something beckoning her from the shelves cluttered with antique vases and memorabilia of years past. It was a dusty little box with a smudged label, and there were photos inside them. Some blurry, some with a faint, barely-there tinge of colour, but there was one photo that made her breath catch in her throat.

There was a black-and-white photo of her and Lockwood sitting on a too-soft love seat on the porch of an old house. She blinked, and now it was just a normal photo of some random couple again, like the rest of them. But for a minute she was sure that, for some reason, it was Lockwood’s twinkle in that man’s eye and her smile lines around the woman’s lips. The longer she stared at it, the more differences she found: the man’s knees weren’t as knobbly as Lockwood and the woman’s feet were definitely smaller than hers, but this sense of warmth and familiarity grew. She had never seen this couple before, and she would probably never again, but at the same time she had this feeling that she knew everything about their lives, or the important part anyways. She could feel the warmth enveloped between their hands, the kind of warmth she got from Lockwood’s hands. The crease in the man’s eyes, the tilt of the woman’s head, the way their limbs slotted in place like two perfect puzzle pieces made for each other…it seemed so natural, so ordinary that she would have been inclined to reserve her awe, if it weren’t for the magnetic love radiating from the picture. The photo just barely captured the love the couple shared, like how there was precious little left in her life not consumed by Lockwood.

There was another photograph, much more formal, of a woman standing in a shirtwaist dress reminiscent of the 1940s, gazing into her lover’s eyes. The way they looked at each other, like they had the kind of love that needed no answers from unanswerable questions. It didn’t matter whether or not “The One” existed, or even if they’d live long enough to find out, but they had a quiet, resolute kind of love, and that was all they needed. It ached the way they made it look so simple, so natural, to love and to hold the way she never dared to, even in secret. They weren’t fearless, but they were brave enough to love now, while they still had time, and it was enough. She, on the other hand, was only brave enough to love from afar. She read every one of his newspaper clippings on the wall, like watching him grow up through a scrapbook, traced the words he wrote on their thinking cloth, and prayed to gods she didn’t believe in that he would somehow turn out alright. In a way, nothing had changed since then- the world was still so full of terror and the looming threat of decay; but for every heart that stops, another beats on.

She pulled herself out of the photos, looking around at the other antiques polished within an inch of their life, which held a sense of age that couldn’t be polished away. But it wasn’t weariness she felt as much as the contentment of a life lived well and lived fully. Her gaze shifted and she spied the shopkeeper - though, of course, he appeared as an apparition of a greying Lockwood, his weathered face alight with the same spirit today. And for once, she was able to feel something other than fear. Hope. Courage. The resolve to see him like that herself, but only decades down the road. Then, it will be their photos collecting dust in a flimsy cardboard box hidden away in the life they had the courage to build together.

A shadow glimmered against the frosted glass of the shop and the real Lockwood stepped into the shop with a soft jingle of the door, faintly smiling.

“I didn’t know you liked antiques?”

“I don’t, not particularly, but…something in my head said ‘stop’… so I walked in.”

[gaintsnowflake]

Hi,can you write Anthony Lockwood x reader,in which they take care of a baby (the child is the reader's niece), and George jokes that they should make their own, and Lockwood picks up on this idea. Thanks in advance 😊

𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐉𝐑

PAIRING : Anthony Lockwood x fem!reader

ONESHOT : in which george has the brillent idea to joke about you and lockwood having a baby while watching your niece

TRIGGERS : none

A/N : I hope you enjoy this, if this isn't what you were hoping for, please dm me and I will do write it again or if you want an extention. This was a little bit of a struggle to write, but still thank you so much for this request! Please ignore any spelling and grammar errors, this is not proof-read!

WORD COUNT : 1.1k

masterlist

A CRYING baby is loud and obnoxious. The constant attention it needs gets quite annoying. The diapers smell terrible and so does the formula put in the body. I mean, what do they put in that stuff? All and all, an eight-month-old baby is not supposed to be in a psychic agency run by teens. Yet here we are.

It was Saturday, and Anthony and Lucy just got home from a small shopping trip. We had a few days till our next case, it was a slow month. But I can tell you that they were not expecting to hear two voices coming from the kitchen, especially since George is at the archives.

"I am not sure," I muttered, my hand running through my hair as I sat back. "I love you, I do, I love her too. But this is a psychic agency, we have work to do."

"Please, y/n, it's just a few hours," My sister argued quietly as the baby in her lap was fast asleep.

I heard Anthony call my name as he and Lucy pushed the kitchen door open. I gave them a quick smile with tired eyes. They looked between my sister and me, confused as to what is going on.

"Hi love, hi Lucy," my voice was still soft as I was trying not to wake the baby.

"What's going on here?" Anthony asked, his eyebrow raising as he looked at the sleeping child.

"My sister here is just asking if we could watch my niece for a few hours, I was just telling her-" 

"Of course, we can!" Anthony cut me off, leaving Lucy and me shocked as we just looked at each other.

"What?" Lucy was the first to question as she stared at him dumbfounded.

"Don't worry ma'am, we can watch your child for a few hours. No issues at all," He ignored Lucy. and gave my sister his typical grin.

"Anthony," I warned sending glares into the side of his head.

"How long will you be gone for? Will we need to feed her or anything?"

I rolled my eyes and sat back, this was going to be a long few hours.

--

It's been nearly three hours since my sister left us with the baby. Currently, she is sitting by Anthonys's feet in the lounge, giggling away as he plays peek-a-boo. George had just returned home and was now watching with Lucy and me as we watched him become soft around the kid.

"How long has he been playing with her?" George whispered to the two of us, not looking away.

"About a half hour..." Lucy replied.

"Alright Lock," I walked forward to the two of them. "It's around ten, so we should get ready to feed her."

Anthony only nodded and played for a few seconds longer with her.

"Anthony," I scolded quickly, not wanting to deal with a crying baby.

"You wanna go get a bottle?" He cooed at the baby before scooping her in his arms, spinning slowly. 

Before I could say another word, Anthony was walking out with my niece in his arms, in a flying motion. He started to make a "br" sound as he forced his way through the door and to the kitchen. George and Lucy once again gave confused looks.

"Okay then," George mumbled before we all followed him to the kitchen to see him struggling to fill to get the bottle.

"You want help, Anthony?" I asked him, suspecting a no since he always refuses it.

"Yeah, that would be wonderful," He smiled at me before stepping back to go sit down at the table and play with my niece a bit more.

"Did you just accept help?" Lucy asked just above as she sat down across from him, her eyes wide. 

"Well we wouldn't want this cute little girl going hungry now would we?" He started to coo at the baby halfway through the sentence bouncing her on his lap.

"God Lockwood, you've gone soft for a baby," George mumbled sitting down as well, leaving me to get the bottle for the baby. "Always thought y/n would make you crack, but no, it was her niece."

Once I was finished preparing the bottle I handed it to Anthony and let him feed my niece. Slowly I sat down next to him and brushed the hair off his forehead before looking down at the baby in his arms. I gave her a quick kiss on the forehead before putting my attention towards the table. 

"Oh laugh all you want, you act like you guys don't like it when I am not focused on everyone getting worked done," Anthony joked, rolling his eyes.

"You're right, maybe we should let your niece stay over more often," George commented, taking off his glasses to wipe them.

"I will say, it is nice to be around a baby, they can be fun," Lucy added to the joke.

"It would just be easier if you just made one," George joked, not knowing where it would start.

"Made one? George, what the fuck?" I asked him.

"You know, little Lockwood Jrs," He continued, laughing with Lucy.

I wanted to tell George to stop, that he didn't know what he was starting. Before I could, I felt a breath on my ear, I turned a little and looked out of the side of my eye to see Anthony inching closer to my ear, preparing to whisper in it.

"You know, I don't think that is such a bad idea now..." He started, sending chills down my spine.

"Anthony," I warned him again, moving slightly away from him.

"Come on, love, wouldn't it be great," He continued, this time louder so that George and Lucy could hear. "Imagine a little me running around! Rapier and all!"

"Anthony, we are not doing this," I put my head down in my hands, my elbows resting on the table supporting my arms and now head.

"I think it's a great idea," he poked at me with his free hand.

"What do I have two annoying angsty boys to deal with?" I huff, not looking up at him. 

"Oh you know you love me," he was right, I loved him through it all and I always would.

"Yeah, sure I do," I joked back, sitting up to give him a slight push, but not enough to knock the bottle out of the baby's hand.

We continued to go back and forth, George and Lucy making a few jokes as well. We all just kept playfully arguing at the idea of LOCKWOOD JR.

[websterss]

𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐎 𝐔𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 — 𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓: okay so i’ve thought about sending requests your way and my mind came up blank except for a reversed-roles kinda thing for lockwood & co, in which that scene from the last episode where lucy goes to george to save him from the crazy lady (forgot her name) with the bone mirror, instead it’s reader but she doesn’t handle it as well as lucy and pass out or something (your choice, i just want angst) and although lockwood has been shot in the shoulder, he doesn’t care. all he cares about is if reader is gonna be okay 👀 (i just want some good ol’ angst written by you so i can die a little bit inside but also thrive in reading your writing 🥺🫶🏼)

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒): angst, some fluff at the end

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4,214

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader    

𝐀/𝐍: Hope you enjoy it!

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

You didn’t quite know how you three had managed to end up locked in an underground cellar with Pamela. You couldn’t so much as put the fault onto George. He had put his sole faith and trust into their supposed friendship. He was too swayed by what he thought were good intentions, only to realize they were nothing but sick twisted purposes. Purposes that were going to put so many others at risk. 

“Please!” George begged. “Lucy, don't he’ll kill you.”

“Don’t you dare look, and whatever happens this wasn’t your fault. This was my choice.”

“Lucy, don't you dare.” You groan after having been jostled and shoved to the ground as George had. 

Lucy just turned to you, her features softening as she whispered with pure sincerity and concern in her voice. Her soft-as-the-sky eyes glowed in the darkness like twin lanterns and with a little sigh she replied, “…I have to.”

"No. You don't. We all get to make choices, and I'm making mine now." You walk up to her and hit her with the hilt of your rapier.  You hold your breath as she falls unconscious. You're quick to drag her over to George where he remains on the ground. "S-Shield her eyes, and whatever happens...don't look." You nod firmly at George.

George didn’t hesitate, shielding Lucy from the horror unfolding before them, but couldn’t help looking back to you. He seemed both concerned and terrified at the same time. “Lockwood won't like this!"

"He'll get over it!" You take your place in front of the mirror. Eyes flickering back and forth between Pamela and the covered mirror.

The air around you feels thick and oppressive. You feel sick and dizzy as the sense of impending doom and horror fills your body with a paralyzing chill. You look at the mirror, at Pamela, and the thought of what is to come sears across your mind.

You take a deep breath. With shaking hands, you await her response. “Tell me everything you see, what you feel, and what you hear.” She yanks a pin out from her hair. Then points the recorder towards you. “Every detail.” She says as a final word, then yanks back the cloth. You turn around immediately, feeling a rush of air and suction claw on the back of your hair and shoulders. “Look, look, look. Damn you, look!” Pamela exclaims.

You gasp as you reach forward, grabbing the silver-glass jar, the skull, and hold it out behind you to look at the mirror in your place.

"If you can talk to it, tell me what it says.”

You groan, closing your eyes tightly, trying to fight off the urge to look into the horrid mirror. You growl as you yell back to the damned skull. "Talk...Take it all in and tell your master what you see." Lockwood and George, even Lucy had been astonished when you all discovered that you could also communicate and hear the type three ghost. Your heart plummets as you hear the skull begin to wail.

“No, no, no, this isn’t right! Something’s changed!” Your breath shudders upon the information he has given you. “They’re trapped!”

“What? What? What is he saying? Speak, girl Speak!” Pamela grips her recorder tighter.

“It says something is wrong!”

“More!”

“It’s a trap. We have to destroy it!” You begin to whimper as it all grows to be too much for you to handle. You hold your breath as glimpses of your past flash in your mind. Stills of your parents before your tenth birthday. Finding them ghost-locked after coming home from Fittes. Horrid wretched flashes and faces of previous visitors you and the boys were called on to take a job about. Being pinned by a type two. Your breath grows cold upon being nearly ghost-locked yourself. But the one vision that struck you the most, that made you lose your grip on making it through this was seeing yourself hold Anthony in your arms as his eyes were milky, his brown irises glazed over white and still. You could see yourself crying and begging him to come back to you. Your eyes shot upon with a startle. You could feel yourself loosen your hold on the jar before you took it down with you to the ground. All you could hear was a faint yell of your name before you slipped into the dark void that clouded your mind.

“Y/n!” George hadn’t even hesitated to get onto his feet to tackle down the stand holding the mirror. 

“No!” Pamela cries out. George ran back over to where you lay unconscious. His hands were still tied behind his back but he still attempted to check for your pulse. He visibly relaxed as he came to feel your pulse thump against his skin. 

“You’re alright, you’re alright now...Lockwood will come soon and it’ll all be over soon.” He flinched, looking over his shoulder as he heard shuffling to his right. Lucy groaned, clutching at her head as she pushed herself off the ground. 

“Blood hell...” She complained, but one look at your unmoving body had her scooting closer to the two of you. She reached forward, brushing a few strands out from your face. Her palm resting against your cheek. “Is she...” She raised a brow at George. Thinking the worst of the worst. Your death at the hands of Pamela.

“No. She’s alright. Assumed the mirror struck her energy a bit. It was too much for her to handle.” 

“Lockwood is gonna-”

“Kill us.”

“I was going to say put her on house arrest but sure let’s assume the worst reactions possible. 

“Before we arrived. He practically begged her to run off and call DEPRAC. She was top priority...” Lucy muttered to herself thinking back on what Lockwood debriefed before they came to face Pamela. 

“Top priority?” George questioned. “Y/n?”

“Before we left, he mentioned how the mirror came close to being our second priority. I asked him out of curiosity what the first priority was. He didn’t answer me.” Lucy looks down at you with a new sense of understanding. The bond you and Lockwood shared was one like no other. Two souls brought together by unfathomable circumstances. Orphaned from the same cause, the same path that lead your loved ones to be unalive. To halves that made a whole. Who understood what was put at risk every day you stepped out into London’s busy and haunted streets. You both knew the sacrifices that were the hardest to make, but you both took them on over Lucy and George having to. The little family you both found yourselves, you put your whole lives and trust into. You were everything to one another, and that was a risk in itself. “Lockwood is going to have our heads...” She breathed out in realization.

“I think he knows that already.”

“What?” George gestured behind her with a grimace. Lockwood was standing a few feet away, clutching his shoulder. His eyes rotated from Lucy and George and onto your unmoving form. 

“Shit...” Lucy swallowed nervously as he let his rapier clatter to the floor. 

“Is she?” Lockwood swallowed his words down, not having the stomach to contemplate whether you remained with them or if you had finally joined alongside your parents and his. Lockwood took a few more agonizing steps towards your motionless form, his expression looking both exhausted and afraid. His fingers reach out but fall back down to his sides. He was only thankful you couldn’t see him tremble, as he held back on the urge to break down crying.  

“She’s okay...swear it.” Lucy nodded, a timid smile on her face as her eyes watered. 

Lockwood's eyes began to water from the sight. For an agent, death would be nothing more than a common occurrence. However, this was a different scenario, as a few tears streamed down his face. Before he could take another step forward, George finally free from his zip ties, carefully lifted you in a gentle motion, trying to prop you upwards. Lockwood hurried forward then, hands trembling as he grabbed your shoulders and pulled you into a seating position. Your head lulling sideways at an uncomfortable angle. Lockwood's eyes darted all across your form, desperately hoping to find some kind of response from you.

"She took on the mirror...It was too much for her to handle. She fainted from it." George filled him in on what occurred.

Lockwood's breaths grew out of rhythm as he kept your body in place, trying to keep his hands from shaking. His fingers trembled at a furious pace as he placed his hand against your neck, needing to feel for himself for a pulse. To reassure him that you weren’t taken from him. It was a moment that felt like hours had passed. He spoke. “Did she look at it?” They could hear the panic in his voice.

"N-No. She used the skull." Anthony glanced over to where the type three ghost swirled around, displaying its very much livelihood. He wished the same for your state.

Lockwood's sigh of relief was palpable in the atmosphere. He withdrew his head from your shoulder and pressed his head gently against yours, his eyes closing shut. The only thing keeping him from losing it was the slight thump against his fingertips on your neck, it had his entire demeanor relaxing. Though it didn't calm his nerves. "She'll be alright," he promised George, who seemed to be on the verge of panic himself. "She'll be quite alright." He muttered softly as though the tiniest change in his tone would cause him to fall apart. 

Lucy was at a crossroads, her instincts screaming at her how badly she wanted to rush into Lockwood's arms to comfort him at this moment, but she had her priorities straight. You had taken her place. This wasn’t out of the ordinary for you and it angered Lockwood because you never stopped putting yourself before others.

"She knocked me out and took my place. I wouldn't have let her if I knew-" Anthony retracted from you and looked over to Lucy, having her own breakdown.

Knowing of your bond, she knew what losing you would do to him. The last thing she wanted was to add any more stress to his plate and his already heavy heart. “I know. It’s alright Luce...” Lockwood gave her a firm nod. He then turned back to you. Lockwood was staring at what you referred to as your imperfections, a freckle here, a scar against your temple there, and the crease in your brows, to him they were what made you simply perfect in his eyes. He couldn’t help the frown on his lips, the frown on your own lips not sitting well with him. Had you fainted in pain? Were you still in pain? It didn’t shake him as badly as your closed eyes did. He wanted nothing more than to peer into them again. Find a home in them once more. He willed and hoped them to finally open so that he could see that you were alright. 

He lied, your pulse hadn’t been enough, he needed to see you awaken for him to even function correctly. He needed his mind to think about anything else, something else so he asked.

“What marvelous object did she acquire this time...” He scoffed. “My first encounter with her was with the end of an umbrella.”

"The butt of her rapier," Lucy said. "Shit hurt..." She rubbed against the side of her temple.

“A rapier?” He breathed a small laugh. “I see you weren’t quite original this time...” A small smile appeared in Lockwood's eyes as he leaned forward again. His hand lowered to wrap around your fingers, all the while as he carefully placed your head upon his shoulder. His other hand brushed against your cheek, making note of your temperature. “Her hands are getting cold.”

"Is that bad?"

“Y/n. Can you hear me?” He lifted your head from his shoulder. “Her circulation is slowing. Our time frame for waking her up is shrinking.” It's always an internal struggle for him to remain composed, but he had to be strong for the lot of them.

"Where did Pamela go?" George began panicking. He grew weary seeing her hunched over the broken mirror.      

“Leave her, George!" Lockwood let out his frustration at the situation. “She’s not our priority right now.”

“You stupid boy. You broke it!” Pamela whined.

Lockwood turned to look back at Pamela, who was whining about the broken mirror as Lucy’s attempts to bring you back to consciousness were becoming more futile. Lockwood’s patience was wearing thin, and Pamela’s words were doing nothing but adding fuel to the flames.

“We need to go! Now!” Lockwood urged the two of them. As he was already attempting to pick you up, especially with his bad shoulder still bleeding out. The exhaustion hadn’t yet reached him, his adrenaline running rampant. 

Lockwood's words were cut short as he stumbled, dropping you to the ground. His bad shoulder had given way to the exhaustion that now began to consume him. He was losing his grip on everything. “Lucy...” he was pleading now. 

“We’ve got her, let’s go!” Lucy assured his panic, and swung your arm over her shoulder, George taking your other arm.

“Don’t drop her…” Lockwood barked out, as he struggled to maintain a standing position. The exhaustion finally started to take hold of him as his knees buckled beneath him. With his body starting to tremble and lose its grasp, he let out a deep groan, his breath shallowing from the physical exertion.

"Go!" Lucy ordered out of frustration. She admired his concern and care about you but not when their lives were currently on the line and a crazy bitch was staring into the mirror she tried forcing them to look into.

He didn’t want to allow any room for arguing.

-

Anthony had fallen unconscious as the lift back up. His body lay next to yours as George, Lucy, and Kipps adjusted the both of you. The last thing Anthony recalls was lightly pressing his hand on top of yours before he succumbed to the exhaustion that ransacked his body. He felt as though a train drove right into him, though at least now he could say he’s faced down the barrel of a gun and lived to tell the tale. You’d find it humorous. You always thought highly of his jokes and gave him a laugh when most never bothered. He’d give anything to hear you bubble out of joy. See you double over from the loss of air in your chest. He’d give anything...everything.

After the paramedics patched him up and reduced him to an arm sling, he hung back as you lay on the gurney behind him. He twisted in his seat, keeping a watchful eye on you, waiting, willing the universe to spare him and have your fingers twitch, or have you shift around. He needed some peace of mind.

Though the universe was not kind, your body remained lifeless in a state of deep slumber. Lockwood’s heartbeat grew heavier the longer he waited on the back of the ambulance, his mind flooded with the worst-case scenarios. That this would be the last time, that that smile of yours that could charm anyone with ease would be lost. If he was to lose you, then he had nothing left. Nothing and no one. His hand continued to shake as he felt himself become more and more of a wreck. He couldn’t breathe...he wouldn't be able to breathe...and he knew he’d whole himself in his room if you didn’t-

“Will the Mrs live to see another day?”

Anthony looked over at Inspector Barnes. He gestured to your stilified state. He had hoped his joke would upturn the tension but if presumed he hadn’t after Lockwood scoffed and rolled his eyes, adverting his gaze away and back where they longed to remain, solely on you.

“What’d the paramedics say?” He asked again.

“She’s alright...Nothing we couldn’t figure out ourselves. The pressure from the mirror exhausted her to the point of fainting. She’s stable...she’s surpassed every checkup they ministered with flying colors...”

“Yet...” Barnes trailed off.

“They don’t have the slightest clue as to why she won’t wake up. They already tried to but...” Lockwood didn’t want to say it out loud, but speaking it into existence confirmed his worst fears, that even though your vitals were good, and your body reacted well to the fluids they gave you, something was seriously wrong, if not physically, then mentally and that scared him more than anything else. “I have this inclining...”

"Lockwood-" Barnes began.

“I know what you’re going to say. Have hope. Remain optimistic as we’ll continue to observe her, monitor her vitals, hell test her blood. But what good will that do when we’ve done it already…” He paused, the exhaustion growing with every passing moment. “What if she never wakes up?” Lockwood’s breath shudders.

“You both know of the risks–“ Barnes tries to reason.

“We’ve been in the business of risk exposure for years. We don’t expect ourselves to survive from the first encounter. But this–this feeling...” Lockwood’s voice was breaking. He couldn’t keep himself contained any longer. “I’m aware!” Lockwood snaps, his voice breaking, his eyes reddening. “All too aware, but if I’d known this would happen I’d…” His thoughts trail off, unsure of what to say anymore. His eyes kept darting back and forth between you and Barnes. He’d succumb to begging. He would. Just to see you move a little. Any kind of movement. Just one would be enough to quell his panic. 

“Taken her place?” A small knowing smile reached Barnes's brows.

Lockwood couldn’t bring himself to deny it. He took a deep breath, as he spoke in a hushed and gentle tone “I would hand myself over to death without question. Any given day.” He didn’t hesitate. “I’d rather she lose me, than I her. So yes, I’d have taken her place.” Barnes's eyes slowly flickered past his shoulder with an easing smile. He looked down to the rubble. 

“Over my dead body-” Anthony had never turned his head faster. He instantly froze. The relief that had started to wash over him at seeing you had given way to embarrassment. His own injury was forgotten. You sat up and your eyes landed on him. “Hand yourself over to death, or you mad- What the hell happened to your shoulder?” 

“That would be my leave...” Barnes pointed to his left and swiftly left the two of you.

“My shoulder? Oh, it…I was shot.” He answered as simple as that, it contained no other details, nothing to ease your concern, which led you right into interrogating him.

“Shot?” You were taken aback by his nonchalant reply. “What do you mean, shot?” You exclaim. 

“Nothing worth troubling yourself about. How do you feel?” There was an air of tension between the two of you, where everything had become so fragile. After everything that had happened, a simple statement or action would break the illusion. You were awake and animated, and giving him a piece of your mind. It didn’t feel real in the slightest.

“I…” A wave of exhaustion was still coursing through your body, a result of the exhausting ordeal that you had just undergone. The ordeal had exhausted your body so much that your brain shut down. But your physical exhaustion also masked the emotional exhaustion you were feeling. You felt out of your element; overwhelmed by everything that was now around you. Everything felt unfamiliar to you, as though you had been transported into an unknown dimension, one where your mind felt trapped. Anthony’s ghost locked body in your arms. “I don’t know...I couldn’t wake up.”

"I know- The paramedics tried everything and-"

It was impossible to say what you did and didn't remember. But from what you recall, the events of the evening were a blur. "The mirror..." You attempted to scoot closer to him. Your hands grazed against Anthony's hair. Your eyes caught sight of his shoulder, wrapped in bandages and the sling that secured it together. Was it bleeding? But it wasn’t your primary focus. You just needed to feel him. “There were so many faces, so many faces.” You breathe out a gasp. Your eyes watering. “I saw you...”

“Me?”

"You were ghost-locked. I had lost you..." Your breath hitched.

"It wasn't real. I'm not going anywhere anytime soon. It wasn't real." Anthony reassured, pressing kisses against your temple.

"But what if it was...What if what the mirror showed me becomes true?"

He paused, taking a moment to contemplate your concerns. Anthony had already spent the evening playing out the worst-case scenarios, but to hear you state them verbally had somehow made them more palpable. However, a small part of him was curious whether you saw your future by the mirrors doing, or if it was just an illusion to break you mentally.

"Then I'll make sure that doesn't happen." He whispered. His voice was tinged with emotion. His hands reached for yours and intertwined his fingers with yours. A sign of his promise to you.

“You can’t promise that-”

Anthony looked down at your hands, his eyes flickering between them as he attempted to focus on anything other than the overwhelming amount of emotions swirling within him, the emotions threatening to consume him whole. So he focused instead on your hands being intertwined with his, and the sight warmed him in a pleasant way he hadn't felt in many months, as the thought of possibly losing you had him filled with dread.

He leaned over and kissed your knuckles. “Did you not hear my declaration of my love for you?”

“Oh, the one where you give yourself to death- Like hell!” You yank your hand out of his with a scoff.

“Hand myself over–” He corrected you. “I’d hand myself over to death.” He continued.

“I’m about to hand you a right hook.” You throw a playful punch to his bad shoulder, forgetting his injury and rippling with regret instantly. “Oh!”

“Ow.” He groaned. “What’s the big issue?” He laughed softly. “What’s wrong with giving up my life for yours?” He teased. “You know I’d die for you.”

"You don't have my permission." You mutter softly. Bringing a hand up to brush back his hair.

As your hand brushed back his hair, Anthony couldn’t help but smile at the small gesture. He grabbed the hand you used to brush back his hair and lightly kissed the back of your hand again. “If I wanted to I would give myself over to death this very instant. I’d do just about anything for you, you know.” He replied. His gaze was now fully on you. His eyes were a deep amber, shining like two gemstones.

"And that's what scares me the most." You hum.

“It shouldn’t.” He scoffed with a smile. “Besides, I thought you valued my loyalty.” He raised a brow playfully.

"Yes. When I'm not there to defend my word. That’s when I put my whole faith in your loyalty to me...but when death comes knocking. I don't want it." Your eyes soften.

He looked away briefly, then back at you with a teasing smile. “I wouldn’t give my life to save just anyone, you know.”

"Oh, I'm aware." You fight back an amused smile. He noticed it though, he caught the smile that you attempted to mask. You were never able to conceal much around him, and that was all right. He liked seeing your emotions on full display. You were your truest self when you let your guard down around him. It made you all the more adorable that way. “And you?” He asked. “Would you give yourself to death for me?” He teased, but you knew he was serious.

Your smile widened for a moment before you caught yourself, and answered without taking a beat. You would allow him to know your fears, for the fear of seeing him suffer on your behalf was the worst feeling one could endure. That was something you hated the thought of. You didn’t quite see yourself as the more vulnerable one out of the two of you. Deep down Anthony conquered his inner demons through you, shared his past, his troubles, and confessed his deepest fears to you. You’d help him without any hesitation. You would do anything for the bloke, even if that meant going as far as sacrificing your own life for the sake of him getting to keep his, you would do it, and you’d do it in a heartbeat no less.

“Any given day.” One glance into your eyes and Anthony knew. He knew you would keep that promise till death tethered on whose hand to take. When? Well, you’d never truly know for sure.

Content with your answer, he leans in and kisses your cheek softly. You relax into his touch, your lashes brushing down on top of your under-eyes. He pulls away with a stupid grin. His eyes filled with want and mischief, your favorite combination.

[vi-trying-to-survive]

Public Displays

Anthony Lockwood x f!Reader

Warnings: None, this is pretty much fluff and only fluff :) 💖💖💖

Summary: Lockwood and Y/N have to pretend to be a couple for a case, which is hard for her, but things are more complicated than they seem, as usual 💖💖💖

A/N: I hope you guys like this one :) 💖💖💖 It's a little longer, but also I love the fake dating trope a little too much :') 💖💖💖 Also so sorry if updates are unpredictable and slow :’) 💖💖💖 Hope you have a great day 💖💖💖

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"Lockwood are you really sure this is necessary ?", she frowned, sinking deeper into her seat.

Why did they need to pretend to be couple for this ? He was known to love elaborate plans, but this seemed a little much and slightly unnecessary. Alright, maybe the problem was partly because she really liked him, but how could she not. He always had her tea ready, just the way she liked it. He made her laugh, not cute little giggles, the ugly one that had her in tears on the ground, snorting. He cared about everyone in the team, more than he cared about himself sometimes, and definitely more than he let on. So, it was hard to not like him. She did hide it though, buried so deep, as to be sure that no one would ever know. Someone smarter and braver than her would have told her to just tell him how she felt, but it was easier this way, the pain of rejection would be agonising. Not just because she'd lose him, it may as well be like losing Lucy and George as well. She would rather live in denial all her life, than give up her only actual family. What could she say, she was a pessimist.

"I'm positive", he grinned.

George put down his book, nodding his head, "Public displays of affection do make people uncomfortable"

"Not helping", she groaned, letting her head drop into her hands.

"What ?! I'm just stating the obvious", he frowned, looking around the room for an air of support. The room was silent except for Lucy, giggling in her seat. Clearly this was amusing to her. She shot her a wary look, a silent plea for help. She only shrugged her shoulder, popping another biscuit into her mouth. She cursed under her breath.

He took a seat next to her, a hand on her shoulder, "Don't you trust me Y/N". She did trust him, that wasn't the problem. She didn't trust herself.

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"Lockwood, slow down", she gasped, unable to keep up with him. He was practically dragging her behind him. Their hands were interlocked, and she was only too aware of how her hand slotted into his, like pieces of a jigsaw. She was terrified. Her palms were sweaty. What if he could notice how sweaty her palms were. She muttered an apology as she bumped into another passerby, looking down on the ground.

He didn't slow down, only shook his head with a smile, "Sorry sweetheart, you are just going to have to walk faster".

She was taken aback, but kept walking. "I- Don't call me that", she sighed.

He squeezed her hand little, "What? It's part of the act, we are playing a couple".

"You are so annoying", she rolled her eyes. She hoped that he wouldn't look back and see the blush that coloured her face.

"But you love it sweetheart", he laughed and she couldn't help but laugh too.

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"You know we need this to be believable right ?", he sent her a pointed look.

"This is completely believable", she raised a brow, gesturing to the couch that they were both seated on. She was playing dumb, well aware of the distance between them. It was supposed to be a reality check of sorts, that she was hoping he wouldn't notice, but he was being sharper about this than she thought.

He chuckled, bringing a hand to her waist, pulling her towards him, "You could come a little closer ?". She pressed her lips together, as her contingency plan fell to pieces. Well shit. "You're so stiff", he repositioned her arms around him, allowing her head to rest on his shoulder, before replacing his arm around her.

"There this isn't so bad is it", he sighed, sounding a little too pleased with himself. He was warm and comfortable, with the faintest scent of lavender and bergamot. She let herself relax, as much as she could at least, settling in next to him. He was all to aware, a smug smirk plastered on his face. This was bad.

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She found herself in a predicament. She had to create a distraction. The best way would be to act like a couple, but that would only make it worse for her at the end of the night. Chancing a glimpse at the shadowy figure in the corner of her eye, she groaned internally. She knew what she had to do.

"Hey", she turned towards him,

His eyes met hers, "Yes ?'.

"How is that you always manage to look so good ?", she giggled, pulling him closer by his tie. She brought her palm to his cheek, he leaned into her touch. That was weird, but she kept going. She wasn't risking her sanity the whole day just for the case to end up in failure. She moved in closer, their lips only meeting, separated by a few millimetres. She could feel his hot breath on hers. Her heart pounded faster. How had this become a part of her job ?

His face turned red, "I um- I-".

The figure moved past them, and she thanked every higher power in existence. She pushed away from him, taking a step back. His tie dropped from her hold, "Okay they're gone".

Only then could she truly appreciate how flustered he had actually gotten. He looked like he had run a kilometre. She laughed, "Are you blushing ?". It was rare, which is why it was such a treat. At least if anything, at the end of this day she could say that she made the Anthony Lockwood speechless.

He fixed his gaze on the ground, running a hand through his hair, "I- I um- No".

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"They're coming out, we gotta go", she hissed, tugging at his arm. How had she not come to the realisation that this would end up with them in a sketchy alley, that was lit up by a sinister glow and wet with something she hoped was just rain water. This was disgusting, but the stakes of their lives was a bigger priority than hygiene, and still everything she endured today would all be for nothing if they were dead at the end of this.

He ran a palm across his face, "No there's not enough time".

"They're gonna know we were eavesdropping", she chewed her bottom lip. Her eyes flitted back and forth, searching for an escape, but all she could see were walls, nothing to climb, no hole to squeeze threw. Nothing. How could there be nothing ? They always made it out ? He always had a plan.

She looked at him, a sinking feeling burning a hole in the bottom of her stomach. "I- I know what to do", he sounded unsure.

At least he had a plan, and a plan was better than nothing. She winced, shrugging her shoulders, "Well whatever it is you're gonna have to do it quick".

In one swift movement, he had shoved her against the wall, his body pressed up against hers. She was breathing heavily, trying and failing to look anywhere else. It was probably not a great look, but when he put his lips on hers, her mind went blank. He tasted sweet, like honey. He was gentle, not like that she had imagined. It was soft and hesitant, messy and awkward. Still through all that it felt different, less like a daydream, more real.

He pulled away, she gasped, "That was-".

"I'm sorry, they’re gone now- I didn't mean to-", he began, hands up in surrender. Cutting him off she grabbed the collar of his shirt, connecting their lips again. He was taken aback, but he caught on soon enough, his hands moving to her waist, tugging her closer against him, almost suffocating her. It would be a lie to say she didn’t enjoy it though. Her fingers were tangled in his hair, leaving it sticking out in different ends. She felt warm all over and desperate, clinging onto him, but in the moment she didn’t care.

She pulled away breathless. He looked out-of-breath, yet he still seemed to be watching her closely. She turned her gaze to his, searching his eyes for a sign, something to tell her that he felt the same. He gave her a soft smile, “Can- Can we do that again ?”. She laughed.

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The door swung open. Her eyes travelled to their interlocked hands. He scratched the back if his head sheepishly and she looked to the ground.

"So, how was your date ?", she took a step back, letting them in, with a teasing grin.

Her eyes were still trailed on the floor, letting him lead her in, "We um-". How would she be able to describe it ? Where would she even begin ?

"I knew it", she shook her head knowingly, arms crossed.

She was confused. "What ?", he wondered, tracing patterns on the back of her palm.

“You two kissed”, she pointed out, but before he could respond she was already marching up that stairs, “George you owe me 10 quid”.

Maybe she wasn’t as great at hiding her feelings as she thought ? She tilted her head to look at him. His hairs was ruffled with a tired smile on his face, her hand still secured in his. Turning to her, he raised a brow, probably feeling her stare. She just smiled back.

"You two kissed", she pointed out, like it was written on their foreheads, but before he could think of a response, she was already marching up the stairs, “George you owe me 10 quid”.

They were silent. Maybe she wasn’t as good as hiding her feelings as she though she was. She tilted her head to look at him, a ruffled with a tired smile on his face, she felt a sense of comfort. He turned over to her, probably sending her stare, she just smiled, content.

They were silent. She felt her face heat up. Was it that obvious to everyone else ? Maybe she wasn’t as incognito as she had thought ? And maybe that wasn’t so bad she thought, as she looked at him, ruffled with a tired smile on his face. She felt a a strange sense of comfort and couldn’t help but smile too.

[captainsophiestark]

Witch's Intuition

Mason Lockwood x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries

Day 2 Prompt: "Don't worry, I got you."

Summary: What if Mason Lockwood had somebody who cared about him when he came to town, somebody who could keep him from his canon fate? Alternatively, I really love Mason Lockwood and the show didn't do him justice, so I wanted to. Reader is described as a girl.

Word Count: 10,445 lmao

Category: Angst, fluff, humor

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I sighed and stared straight ahead, hands still gripped tight on the steering wheel as I tried to psych myself up to get out of the car and go inside.

Damon Salvatore, my best friend in the entire world despite my better judgement, had asked me to come to a barbecue that Jenna Sommers was hosting. Her connection to Damon was ridiculous and confusing, and the entire barbecue was just a front for Damon and our mutual friend Ric to try to get a feel for the newest supernatural creature in town. And he wanted me here to help.

Mason Lockwood, the newest supernatural in question, had apparently gone to high school with Jenna and had recently returned to Mystic Falls. Damon felt confident he was a werewolf. As a witch, I knew for sure he was a werewolf, but absolutely no part of me wanted to get involved in the supernatural drama by telling him.

I should've known staying out of it would be impossible as long as Damon Salvatore remained my best friend.

At the sound of a knock on my window, I jumped so hard my head hit the roof of my car. I whipped around to find the werewolf I'd been thinking about standing outside my door, looking at me with a grin as he gave a little wave. I mentally cursed myself, then shoved open my door and climbed out.

"Hey," he said, giving me a bright smile that made butterflies explode in my chest. "I didn't realize you were coming to this, too."

Mason and I had met about a week ago at the grill, when he'd come over to the pool table and called winner on my game. I won, and we quickly hit it off the bat over the course of our first game, enough so that we ended up playing two more. He still didn't know I was a witch, and we'd only hung out a handful of times so far, but I still found my heart racing when he looked at me like he was looking at me now.

"Damon dragged me," I replied. "Although, I actually am excited to get to know Jenna a little better. And... others, at this party."

"Others?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. The grin took on a more flirty edge, and I couldn't help my heart speeding up a bit.

"Yeah, others. Other than Ric. I already know him."

"Okay," laughed Mason, fully throwing his head back as we started heading for the house together. "And I guess 'others' doesn't apply to Elena or Caroline either?"

"No, I know them too. I've heard all about the high school angst and then some."

"Did you tell them how much better it gets after graduation?"

"Oh yeah, I covered all the existential dread and challenge of trying to figure out what the hell to do with the rest of our lives."

"Okay good. As long as they know."

Mason and I shared a smile as we reached the door and he opened it for me, motioning for me to go ahead. I smiled, and we held our eye contact a few beats too long to be casual. Damon was going to kill me when he got here.

We quickly found Jenna and Elena in the kitchen, and I chatted with Elena a bit while Mason and Jenna caught up. I'd only gotten to Mystic Falls a little after the Salvatores, having graduated from college three years ago. At first, I'd come back to try to track down and record witch history, since so much of it was based here. But it didn't take me long to get sucked into the bullshit Damon and Stefan had found themselves neck-deep in as soon as I arrived.

For the first time, with Mason, I didn't totally mind it.

Within a few minutes of arrival, Mason decided it was time to go hunting for shot glasses and alcohol. Jenna pointed him in the right direction, and then he turned to me with a lopsided smile that made my heart stop in my chest.

"Come help me?"

"Sure thing."

I followed Mason through the house, leaving Jenna and Elena in the kitchen while we waited for everybody else to show up. He ducked into a closet, and I hovered just outside.

"Let's see here... Jenna's trying to be a responsible adult nowadays, but I bet I can still find where she stashed her old shot glasses..."

"I've spent too long finding cool shot glasses that I like to ever shove them all away in a closet forever," I mused, leaning against the door frame. Mason chuckled.

"I know what you mean. I've got different ones with the patterns of every surfboard I've ever owned."

I nodded. "That's nice, but I've got you beat. I've got supernatural-themed ones. For witches and vampires and werewolves."

Mason paused his searching to turn around and give me an appraising look. I shrugged, giving him a sheepish smile. He shook his head, but to my relief, he was smiling too.

"I should've realized you knew, with you being Damon's friend," he said, turning around to continue searching.

"Hey, I'm a born and raised witch. I knew about the supernatural long before Damon Salvatore ever came into my life, and I recognized what you were before he did too. Vampires have shittier senses than witches."

Mason snorted a laugh, then, pausing his search and half glancing back at me again, asked, "Did you tell him about me?"

"No. Damon can be a little... dramatic. I had no interest in him starting up a fight with my new favorite pool opponent."

Mason nodded, and thankfully, I caught a small smile on his face again.

"...You use some of that magic to cheat at pool?"

"Ha! That's also a no. I'm just a better player than you."

"Or maybe I just let you win," he said, turning to hand me a nice bottle of vodka that he'd dug out of the closet, a grin on his face.

"We can pretend that's what happened if you really want. But we both know the truth."

He sighed, then turned back around to grab the shot glasses he'd finally managed to find, shaking them to show me triumphantly.

"I guess we're just gonna have to go back to the Grill soon so you can teach me your ways."

"...It's a date."

Mason grinned and shot me a wink, then led me back through the house to the kitchen to rejoin Jenna and Elena. Elena, understandably, left when we started doing shots, and it wasn't much longer before Ric and Damon showed up. Jenna hated Damon, and after a few moments, Damon made it clear he wasn't going to be particularly friendly to Mason. I tried to ease the tension, but clearly, this barbecue wasn't going to be as fun and relaxing as the first ten minutes had been.

It didn't help that, every time I shared a moment with Mason, judgement absolutely radiated off of Damon. Lucky for me, I'd had a few years of practice ignoring those looks from him.

He'd told me today was a fact-finding mission, after all. And I was finding facts that pointed me towards liking Mason.

"I'm just saying, it doesn't take that long to set up Guitar Hero-"

"I will leave the party, Jenna," teased Mason, shooting her a smile as he plopped down on a loveseat in the living room next to me. "What else do we have? And by that, I mean literally anything else."

Jenna chucked a pillow at him, which Mason leaned into me to duck. I cackled, continuing to ignore the hell out of Damon staring at me from across the room.

"How about charades?" asked Alaric, bravely standing between Jenna and Mason even as Mason grabbed another pillow and cocked his arm back to throw it. "Or pictionary?"

"Pictionary sounds good to me!" Damon chimed in with an eagerness that made me incredibly suspicious. "I'll go get the board."

Low and behold, a few rounds later, Damon was using it to make ridiculously obvious werewolf references at Mason. The one silver lining was that Mason was as irritated with him as me, so we bonded a little as we gave him deadpan answers for things like Dances With Wolves as a pictionary clue. Jenna, the only one in the room completely out of the loop, also helped immensely by criticizing Damon's art every chance she got. I loved him, but he absolutely deserved every dig. Besides, his ego could take it.

After many rounds of various party games (although not Guitar Hero, at least not yet), we made our way to the table in the kitchen for some dessert. Elena and Caroline had left, which just left the adults. If Damon hadn't been dragging Mason into a pissing contest, it would've been the perfect party.

Alas, instead, Damon decided to continue to poke the bear, so to speak.

"Mason! Why don't you start us off," Damon said, bringing the pie to the table with a silver serving knife and setting it down directly in front of Mason. I sighed and rolled my eyes.

Mason looked at Damon, then turned the pie until the knife faced away from him before grabbing a slice with his bare hands. Damon and Ric shared a triumphant look.

"What?" said Mason, a slight edge to his tone as he stared right back at Damon. "I apologize. I'm an animal."

I shook my head, turning my attention to Jenna instead of the two of them staring each other down as she joined us at the table.

"So Mason, you and Jenna never dated?" asked Ric, apparently trying to break the tension between Mason and Damon. A valiant effort, but knowing Damon, I doubted he'd succeed.

"She was always lost in Logan Fell-land," Mason replied. Jenna huffed a laugh.

"Oh, my first mistake. Mason was a catch. He had girls lining up."

"Really?" said Damon, that fake-friendly tone in his voice that I knew meant trouble. "Huh. I always pegged you for a lone wolf."

"I'm sure I wasn't half the lady killer you were," Mason shot back without missing a beat. I snorted into my drink, completely failing to keep a smile off my face. Mason cut his eyes to me, the edge in his own smile fading for the briefest of seconds, before he looked back at Damon and raised his glass in toast. "To new friends."

He and Damon didn't take their eyes off each other once as we all clinked glasses and cheersed. When Damon kept doing his stare-down and looked ready to keep it up for the duration of pie, I kicked him under the table as hard as I could. He turned to glare at me, but their stare down was broken, and with Jenna's increasingly tipsy help we managed to turn things back into a mostly-friendly barbecue.

As the night went on, I found myself getting a new best friend in Jenna, with each joke she made and wink she shot in my direction when I sat particularly close to Mason. We moved back into the living room, sprawling on the couches with another round of beers. Jenna was much, much tipsier than I was, but I was having enough fun that I decided to lean into it more than I actually felt it. We cackled together as she told high school stories about Mason, then cheered like maniacs together when she finally pulled out Guitar Hero, against the protests of Mason and Ric.

"Alright, I'm gonna need another drink if we're really doing that," Mason sighed, a smile on his face all the same. He stood and headed into the kitchen, where I knew Damon was. I wanted to ignore it and get my literal groove on with Jenna, but I couldn't. I stood with a sigh and moved to follow him.

"Go get him girl!" Jenna called after me with a little 'whoop'! I whipped around, face burning, but she just grinned at me and winked. I shook my head, but found myself grinning back as I turned and left the room.

By the time I got to the kitchen, I could already hear Damon and Mason talking. Rather than interrupting to immediately change the topic or insert myself into the conversation, however, I decided to listen in. That way I could gauge just how hostile Damon and Mason were being to each other, and react accordingly.

"Come on, man, you don't think I know what this barbecue is about?" came Mason's voice.

"How do you know about me?" Damon, demanding, any of the fake-friendliness gone. "Your brother was completely clueless."

"It doesn't matter. I'm not your enemy, Damon."

"You tried to kill my brother." I fought back a scoff. That was a stretch, and we both knew it.

"That was a mistake."

"Really?"

"There was confusion. I couldn't chain myself up in time." Their voices had started coming closer, but I stayed put. "I have no control once I shift."

"What, no obedience school?"

"I'm serious. Let's not spark some age-old feud that doesn't apply to us."

"You expect me to believe that you're in Mystic Falls planting peace trees?"

"I lost my brother. My nephew lost his father. I'm here for my family."

And with that, I'd heard all I needed to hear. Damon, my best friend, as usual, was the aggressor. Thankfully, this time, it sounded like Mason might've made an argument that convinced him. We had bigger problems than one generally chill werewolf, after all.

I left, returning to Jenna and Ric and Guitar Hero. She smiled at me, clearly thinking I'd had a conversation with Mason I hadn't really had, and I leaned into it as she passed me a plastic guitar. Mason returned to the room a few moments later, followed by Damon. I ignored them both as I pretended to shred, and to both their credit, they cheered me on.

The rest of the party was a blast, with Mason much more relaxed after his conversation with Damon and Damon finally dropping all the stupid wolf jokes. Jenna and I acted ridiculous and had the time of our lives doing it, and whenever I wasn't shredding the imaginary guitar, Mason and I leaned against each other, laughing and talking the night away.

Finally, once I'd sobered up more and the sun had long-since gone down, and Jenna and I had finished half the songs on Guitar Hero, we wound up the party and all headed home. Damon stayed a moment longer to talk with Ric, so after giving Jenna a goodbye hug, I headed for my car without him. To my delight, Mason came with me, walking me to my car.

"You know, you're a little too good at Guitar Hero, I think," he said, bumping his shoulder into mine as we walked. I chuckled.

"And you're a little too ridiculously set against that game," I teased back. "What's the matter, you don't like fun?"

"I don't like watching Jenna butchering Black Sabbath. Watching you was... a little more fun."

I paused as we reached my car, smiling up at Mason with a glowing feeling in my chest. He smiled back at me, leaning against the front panel of my car.

"It was great getting to know you better tonight," I said, smiling at him and stalling the moment I'd actually have to leave. He grinned at me.

"You too. And I'd love to keep getting to know you better. Maybe at Volunteer Day tomorrow?"

"I was already planning on going, but it'll be much more fun with you there."

"Great." He flashed me a heart-stopping smile. "It's a date."

I was practically floating as I drove away, replaying the end of the night with Mason in my mind over and over again. The last time I'd felt anything like what I was starting to feel now... well, it hadn't ended well. I'd gotten Damon as a best friend out of it, which was a net positive no matter how much he annoyed me sometimes, but everything else had been an absolute nightmare. For the first time in three years, I found myself wanting to risk the heartache and get close to somebody in a non-friendship way again.

I'd been staying with Stefan and Damon since I got to town, and I expected a long lecture about 'flirting with the enemy' from Damon when I got home. But, blissfully, the house was empty. I wandered upstairs and fell into bed, thoughts of seeing Mason tomorrow letting me drift off with a smile on my face.

I should've known nothing in this town, in this world of supernaturals, could ever go that smoothly.

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

The next morning, I woke up bright and early, unusually excited about Volunteer Day. A certain werewolf definitely had something to do with that, but thankfully, neither of the Salvatores was around on my way out to grill me about the grin on my face.

I'd gotten Mason's number last night, so I quickly shot off a text saying I was making a pre-volunteering coffee run and asking if he wanted anything. I took my time heading to my favorite coffee place, and the line was long enough that I waited at least ten minutes, but I didn't hear anything back from Mason.

I tried not to let it get to me as I ordered my usual, then an iced latte for Mason. Hopefully he would like it, and if he didn't, then at least it wouldn't go to waste, since I was always down for an iced latte.

I ended up arriving a little late to the event, but I wasn't complaining too much, since it meant I missed Carol Lockwood's speech. I scanned the crowd for Mason, then smiled when I noticed him under a newly-built picnic awning. Instead of smiling back, he looked away like he'd barely noticed me, continuing his conversation with Sheriff Forbes. I frowned.

I caught up to him walking away from the picnic awning, not too far into the newer part of the park that we were supposed to be fixing up today before its official opening. He walked quickly, and was apparently pretending not to notice me.

"Hey. Hey, Mason!"

He stopped and turned around with a frustrated sigh, his hands on his hips. The coffees lowered in my hands a little, and part of me suddenly wanted to run back the way I'd come from.

"What do you want?" he asked, none of the warmth or flirtiness from yesterday in his voice.

"I... brought you a coffee..." I said, holding it out to him slowly. He just stared at it. "Is something wrong?"

He huffed a humorless laugh. "That has to be a joke, right?"

"No, actually, it's not," I said, my temper flaring. "You're acting like a dick and I have no idea why, so-"

"You have no idea why?" He looked at me like he absolutely didn't believe me, and I just stared right back as I shook my head. Slowly, the anger fell from his face, to a more cautious confusion. "You don't know where your best friend, who you live with, went last night? Or what he did?"

"Oh God," I shook my head and dropped Mason's gaze, muttering to the leaves more than to him. "I knew I should've been worried when he didn't come home last night. Why can't he ever be out late for normal reasons?"

I sighed, shaking myself out of my thoughts and steeling my resolve as I looked at Mason again. The anger, at least, had gone from his face.

"I have no idea where Damon went or what he did last night," I said. "But... I feel like I should start by offering an apology on his behalf anyway? Maybe in the form of this iced latte I brought?"

Mason huffed a laugh and looked into the tree line, but I caught a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. The relief washing through my body almost took me to my knees.

"Yeah, alright," he finally said, taking a few steps closer and taking the latte from me. He looked me up and down as he sipped it, holding my gaze for a few long moments afterwards. I didn't look away once. "Damon stabbed me with a silver knife last night."

My eyes went wide, and a second later, dropped to Mason's chest to scan for any lingering sign of injury. Thankfully, he seemed to be fine.

"I thought... I thought you guys made peace last night?" I finally asked, meeting Mason's eyes again once I was satisfied he was healthy.

"I thought so too. But apparently Damon doesn't want peace. Stefan started the morning out with a little extra threat today, too, to try to keep me from getting revenge."

I sighed heavily, closing my eyes and shaking my head. I could feel a headache coming on.

"I'm so sorry, Mason," I said. "Ugh, I wish you would've told me when it happened. Or that Damon would've mentioned his stupid little plan, or Ric-"

"Why? You think the Salvatores would listen to you telling them not to come after me? You think Damon would listen to that?"

"Damon is... well, he's a lot of things. But if I talk to him, he'll back off."

Mason raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I don't understand how you're friends with him. Except maybe a dangerous level of delusion. He doesn't care about anybody but his own agenda. I've barely known him a day and I can already see that."

I pinched the bridge of my nose, debating my options. I had some very good reasons for trusting Damon as much as I did, but I wasn't totally sure I wanted to get into them, especially not with someone I'd only recently met. But that someone was starting to become important to me. I sighed, then knocked back the rest of my iced coffee. Decision made.

"Alright, listen. I don't owe you an explanation or a justification of my relationship with Damon. But... I like you. A lot. So I want you to know, so you can maybe understand."

Mason nodded, his expression thankfully more curious and open than anything else. We moved a few more feet away from the rest of the volunteer activities happening behind us to sit on a bench together, and I tried not to let our proximity and touching knees distract me.

"Okay, so, in college... I dated this guy."

"Don't tell me it was Damon."

I made a face. "Uck! Never."

"Okay, good," Mason laughed. "Sorry, I promise that'll be my one and only interruption.

"Honestly, it's probably better that we got that cleared up right away. I love him very much, but I would absolutely never date him."

"Good."

Mason held my eyes for an extra second, a little bit of that flirty behavior returning, and I felt heat rising to my cheeks. I cleared my throat and tried to refocus.

"Anyway, I dated this guy for a while. He wasn't Damon, but he was a vampire. I'm a witch, as you know, and I was raised knowing about my powers and everything else, so I knew a good amount about the supernatural world. I actually had class with him—his name was Andy—my freshman year, and we sat next to each other. I clocked him as a vampire immediately, and I don't think he was used to that.

"I wasn't sure about him at first, what with the whole vampire thing, but... we saw each other a lot. Same classes, all that. He was always nice, and funny, and when he eventually asked me out, I said yes.

"I'll skip to the important part, but basically, we dated for three years. By the time we were graduating, I'd fallen head over heels in love. I knew what he was, I knew the thought of 'together forever' brought a lot of problems we'd have to work through, including whether I could stand to stop being a witch and whether I could live with the curse of immortality. But... I knew we'd figure it out, together. I was convinced he was the love of my life."

I took a deep, shaky breath, trying to brace myself for what came next. This was only the second or third time I'd gone through it in the few years since it'd happened. Mason, to his credit, stayed quiet, letting me take my time.

"Right around graduation, when we were supposed to be doing ridiculous Senior Week activities and getting rid of the last of our assignments, taking pictures and getting ready to walk... all the supernatural drama and danger you can imagine came crashing down on our heads. Brought to our doorstep by Andy."

I shook my head, angry at myself as much as at Andy as the memories replayed, as vivid as the day they'd happened.

"He'd gotten involved in some ridiculous scheme with some other vampires, trying to prove some lore was real or something, and they needed a powerful witch. Without asking, Andy had volunteered me. When I didn't want to help, he threatened me, and left me to the wolves—no pun intended, sorry—left me to the vampires when they tried to force me to help. Damon stepped in and stopped them.

"Don't get me wrong, I know it was a completely selfish move," I said, finally looking at Mason again. His eyebrows were furrowed, and he moved a little closer, stopping just short of putting us shoulder to shoulder. "He wanted to stop the plan and the ritual and the spell, it had nothing to do with helping me. But once Andy and everyone around us was dead... I just fell apart. Damon, for all he acts the bad guy, didn't ditch me. I've asked him a couple times and he always brushes it off like it was nothing, but... he saved me in more ways than one that night. Since then, we've had each others' backs. It's kind of a weird friendship, but he's put his own life on the line to protect me more than once since then. I've done the same. I trust him completely, for the things where it really counts."

Mason sighed through his nose, looking away from me finally to stare at the ground. I watched him, watched his eyes dart around as he thought, until he met my eyes again.

"I get it. The people that pick you up and carry you through stuff like that... it's a special kind of bond. If you have that with Damon... I get it." We held eye contact for a few more moments, a wordless heaviness passing between us, and then Mason grinned. "So, what you're saying is I count as the important stuff for you?"

I bit my lip and looked away, fighting a smile and quickly losing to it.

"I... yeah, I guess I am saying that."

Mason and I laughed and worked together for a while longer on our various cleanup duties, until he told me he needed to go do trash duty in the woods, since the Sheriff had asked him to. I gave him my empty latte cup as a start, watching him with a smile as he walked away.

I tried to busy myself with volunteer work, the thing I'd actually come here for today, to keep my mind from running wild about Mason. I only half-succeeded. I hadn't felt anything close to this for somebody since Andy, and it scared me and thrilled me at the same time. The needle pinged back and forth between the two, but when Mason came back out of the woods looking rumpled, guilty, and glancing over his shoulder, it jumped all the way to scared.

"Mason?" I called, hurrying over to him. He shook his head, trying to duck past me again, but when I put a hand on his arm he stopped. "What happened?"

"Y/N..."

"Mason, what happened?" I pulled my attention from him, quickly scanning the gathered volunteers and then doing it again. Damon and Stefan were nowhere to be found. "What happened?"

Mason met my eyes and hesitated. Then, finally, "They tried to kill me. In the woods. They surrounded me, and Damon told me he'd give me a running head start before they ripped my heart out of my chest."

Immediately, my eyes darted to the woods behind Mason, scanning for my best friend. Ready to stop him. Until Mason continued.

"They're not coming back."

My eyes snapped to his again. "Explain."

"I told the Sheriff what they were. She's taking care of it."

I sprang back from Mason like touching him had burned me. He winced, but didn't do anything else.

"Are you kidding me? After everything I told you, everything we talked about?"

"I didn't have a whole lot of choice, between them and death. Besides, I told the Sheriff before I talked to you."

"Mason, you should have told to me! I would've talked to them, I would've made sure they didn't go after you if I knew it was such a pressing thing! We could've figured out the issue with the Sheriff together! What were you thinking?"

"I'm sorry. But it was kill or be killed-"

"This! This is why I hate this supernatural shit!" My voice had risen to a yell, but I didn't care. We were far enough away from everyone that they probably still couldn't hear me. And what did it matter, anyway? The Council already knew. "This is why nobody ever finds any lasting peace or happiness in this stupid, ridiculous world. Everyone is so fixated on revenge and killing anyone they feel even remotely threatened by. If you'd come to me, I could've kept you safe. Instead, you might've just gotten my best friend killed."

My voice broke on the last word, and I pushed past Mason and started for the woods before he could catch me crying. Unfortunately, he caught my arm before I could get away and turned me to face him, immediately dropping his grip when I tried to pull away.

"I am sorry. I really am. But I didn't know they would follow me into the woods. And they were ready to kill me. When I saw the Sheriff's people over Stefan's shoulder, it seemed like my only way out. I'm sorry."

I took a deep breath, giving him a curt nod before turning again and taking off into the woods, hoping against hope I could get to Damon and Stefan before it was too late. Things had gotten so out of hand, so fast. All I could do was focus on putting out one fire at a time, and hope we all came out of this alive.

I started at the Lockwood cellar, but found it empty. The floor had fresh blood on it, though, and with a little magic I traced Damon and Stefan back to the Salvatore Boarding House. That felt like a good sign.

I pulled into the driveway and sprang out of my car, slamming the door to the house open. I could see Caroline passed out on the couch, which didn't entirely make me feel better as I sprinted up to Damon's room.

I slammed the door open without bothering to knock, only to come face to face with my best friend, unharmed, shirtless, and staring at me like I was insane.

"Don't you ever knock?" he demanded, sounding exasperated as he pulled his shirt over his head. A hysterical laugh bubbled out of me, and I rushed over to hug him.

"You're one to talk," I shot back, wrapping him tighter in my embrace as I did. After a second, his arms came around me too and squeezed back.

"What's wrong?" he asked. I shook my head.

"I thought... I thought you might be dead."

"Well, I'm not." Slowly, gently, he pulled away. He grabbed my arms, looking intently into my eyes for a few long moments. "I'm not. Alright?"

I nodded, the adrenaline fading and leaving exhaustion in its place. I plopped down on his bed as he moved to shut the door.

"Can't have you getting me all sappy in public and ruining my reputation," he explained. I huffed a laugh, but quickly sobered as he sat next to me. I watched him, neither of us speaking for a minute, until he raised an eyebrow. "So... was that it, or...?"

"You can't go after Mason anymore."

"What?" he cried, shooting up and glaring at me. "What the hell are you talking about? He tried to kill me today. The Sheriff is in our basement right now while we wait for the vervain to work through her system because he exposed us. That mutt is dead."

"No. Damon, no," I said, standing too as I spoke. A strange calm had washed over me, and I met Damon's wild eyes with it. "Not Mason."

"Oh, gross. Really? Him?" He raised his eyebrows and narrowed his eyes at me. "Besides being a werewolf, he's a surfer. Are you serious?"

"Damon, come on. Just let it go. Just this once, end the cycle of revenge. You stabbed him, Stefan threatened him, he exposed you to the Sheriff, you tried to kill him, he tried to kill you. You're even, sort of. Just let this one go."

"How about, instead... I kill him?" The inappropriate brightness in his tone usually just made me roll my eyes or sigh while still sort of endearing him to me, but not this time.

"No! Damon, I'm not joking! This isn't some stupid thing where you can just turn around and break promises and it's fine! I never draw a line in the sand, but I am this time! I haven't felt anything close to this, not once, since Andy. And I am not going through anything like that again! You were right the first time. I'm glad you killed Andy, you saved me doing it. But I don't ever want to live through that again. This time is different, he's different. And I know I haven't technically known him very long, but just... please. Not Mason."

Damon held my stare for a few long, long moments, assessing. I stared right back, leaving every single thing I felt clear as day on my face, an open book for him to read. Finally, he sighed and rolled his eyes, in that exaggerated way he did whenever he gave in.

"Fine. I promise I won't kill Mason."

"Or try to kill Mason?"

"Yes, alright? If you're that convinced he's different... then fine. This one's different."

I flung myself forward and wrapped my arms tight around his middle before he could stop me. He grunted and grumbled, but hugged me back after a second anyway.

"Thanks, Day."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just get out of here and get some sleep before someone catches me hugging you, alright?"

I pulled back with a grin. "Deal. Softie."

Damon narrowed his eyes at me, but I just cackled and bounced out of the room. It had been a long, stressful day, but things were looking up. Tomorrow, I'd talk to Mason. And this time would be different.

I passed out in bed as soon as my head hit the pillow. Today had been a long, emotional day, and I still had a few supernaturals to talk to tomorrow, since Stefan needed to be looped in too. I'd need all the rest I could get.

I got up the next morning a little later than I'd planned to, then dressed quickly to head over to the Lockwood's. I was helping set up for the upcoming masquerade ball, and I needed to talk to Mason. After getting coffee, of course.

As I headed down the stairs, I heard voices from the living room. I listened more closely as I approached, and I heard Damon say something like "this changes things" before they stopped at my arrival. I found Damon and Jeremy both looking at me like I'd interrupted something.

"Good morning..." I said, slowly reaching to retrieve my keys as I stared at them both suspiciously.

"Good morning," said Damon, flashing me a smile that didn't reach his eyes as Jeremy gave me a little nod.

"Everything okay in here...?"

"Completely."

I narrowed my eyes, glancing from Damon to Jeremy, then finally sighed.

"Alright, I have places to be and not enough willpower to involve myself in whatever this is. Just... don't do anything over the top stupid, alright?"

Both boys just gave little signs of acknowledgement as I slowly backed towards the door. I kept waiting for one of them to break, or for some obvious thing to jump out and catch my attention, but nothing came. I reached the door and finally turned my back on both of them, just hoping I wouldn't regret it.

I never got a moment of peace in Mystic Falls. Witch history and best friend or not, I might need to ditch this place sooner rather than later. Damon could come visit me somewhere with less supernatural drama.

This time, I only got one iced latte at the coffee shop before heading to the Lockwood's. As soon as I parked my car, I started scanning for Stefan, so I could talk to him and get him on the same page as Damon. The last thing I needed was the calmer Salvatore brother ruining the progress I'd made.

Thankfully, it didn't take me long to find him, or to convince him to leave Mason alone. He'd apparently only gotten on the same page as Damon about killing Mason after Mason had made a few threats of his own, and he said if I believed peace was still an option (especially one that I could sell Damon on), then he'd be happy to support me.

That left me with one last supernatural to work things out with. I had to do a few laps of the venue to find Mason, even though it was sort of his house. I finally managed to track him down outside, by a big pond a little distance away from the rest of everyone. He gave me a small smile when he saw me coming.

"What? No coffee for me today?"

"Coffee is only for people who haven't tried to kill my friends in the last twenty-four hours." The smile immediately dropped off Mason's face, his whole demeanor sobering.

"Look, Y/N-"

"Lucky for you, that timer expires tomorrow," I continued. "So... if we get roped into a third volunteer thing in three days, you can count on coffee for that."

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth again, this time a little more cautious.

"Does that mean we're okay?"

I took a deep breath, then nodded.

"As I'm sure you've noticed, Damon and Stefan are alive. I've talked to both of them. They both agreed to drop it. The three of you have done a bunch of mutual threatening and murder-attempting in the past forty-eight hours, and Damon understands that this is one of those important things he can't just brush off. They're willing to make peace, and actually mean it, from now on. For me. Can you do the same?"

Mason frowned and looked away, his eyes scanning the grass, pond, trees, and everything else while he thought. He shook his head, presumably to himself, then finally met my eyes again. He squared his shoulders, and through all of the emotions I'd experienced from him since I'd met him, he'd never been this serious.

"Yeah. Yeah, I can do the same. I don't want to get killed by a vampire, or get mixed up in trying so hard to kill one, let alone two. If they back off, for real... I'm happy to do the same."

I smiled, not as bright and full of joy as the first few times Mason and I had spent time together, but just a little ray of hope shining through after the storm I'd just weathered.

"Thank you."

He nodded, then that easy smile that had gotten a special place in my heart so quickly returned.

"So... this masquerade stuff, there's a ton of people here to help with it. Do you want to go for a walk instead?"

"I'd love that."

We took our time doing a full lap around the pond at turtle-speed, laughing and talking the entire time. We eventually did rejoin the rest of the workforce, but I didn't mind it as much as I thought I would. We sorted masks and hung decorations together, which made it better. Mason even gave me a better introduction to his nephew, Tyler, who I'd only vaguely known before.

"Hey, pay attention," teased Mason, nudging me with his shoulder as we stood together, untangling a frankly ridiculous amount of lights with Tyler's help.

"I can't," I whined. "I'm falling asleep at the wheel. One coffee isn't even close to enough caffeine to wake me up."

"I could go on a coffee run," he suggested. I turned to him with wide eyes and an exaggerated gasp.

"You would be my hero forever."

He laughed. "Alright, alright, I'm on it. I'll take any excuse to get away from these lights. Ty, you want anything?"

"Sure. Black coffee."

"Alright. I'll be back in a few."

I smiled after him as he jogged up the lawn, only looking away when he finally disappeared from sight. As I turned back to the lights, I found Tyler staring at me with a raised eyebrow. I cleared my throat.

"You really like him, don't you?"

I sighed. "Yeah. Yeah, I really do."

Tyler nodded, first to me then to himself, as he returned to working on the lights. I watched him for a minute, then continued.

"I know we don't actually know each other that well, so this might be over the line, but... I can tell he really cares about you. He talks about you a lot. I think he'd walk through fire for you. And I think he'd want you to know that."

Tyler glanced up at me, jaw tight, but he nodded all the same. He muttered a "thanks", and then we went back to our work, mostly in silence except for long strings of expletives for this Gordian Knot of a light string.

The glowing happiness in my chest kept me going without the coffee for a while, until I started to notice just how long it had been since Mason left. Tyler had moved on due to frustration with the lights, and now stood across the lawn, but Mason was nowhere to be found. Even if the line had been out the door, he should've been back by now.

I scanned the crowd again, looking for a few specific people and only finding one of them. Stefan was still here, but Damon and Jeremy were conspicuously missing. I started walking to Stefan, picking up the pace when I noticed Bonnie missing too.

"Stefan," I said, my heartbeat pounding in my ears as I tried to keep my panic under control. "Where is Damon?"

"Listen, you have to stay calm, alright-?"

"No, not alright! Where is Damon? Or, actually, no. Where is Mason?"

"He's dating Katherine. Bonnie touched him, and she had a vision about him. He's got the moonstone, and he's with her. He's been lying to all of us. Things have changed since this morning."

"Things have- fuck. That's exactly what Damon was saying to Jeremy this morning," I shook my head, mentally kicking myself for not putting the pieces together faster. "Where are they, Stefan?"

"Did you not hear me? He's working with the enemy-"

"Stefan Salvatore. I will ask you one more time, and then it'll be my turn to cross some fucking lines. Where. Are. They."

Stefan watched me for a moment, considering. Then, finally, he said, "They're at the boarding house."

I barely waited for him to finish his answer before I took off running. My lungs burned as I raced through the people swarming around Lockwood Manor, towards where I'd left my car. Apparently, Damon had decided that Bonnie's vision of Mason and Katherine, whatever else it meant, gave him a pass to change the rules. To break the promise he made to me last night. Which meant, if I didn't move fast enough, I might never see Mason again.

I flung myself into the driver's seat of my car, then took off for the Salvatore Boarding House. I barely managed to stay on the right side of 'safe driver', and made it there in record time. I screeched to a stop in front of the house, and as soon as I stepped out of my car, I heard Mason scream from inside. My heart dropped to my feet as I raced forward, flung the door open, and rushed inside.

I could see Damon hovering over someone, presumably Mason, in a chair with it's back to me. Jeremy hovered off to the side, looking horrified but refusing to do something or leave. I shoved past Jeremy roughly, flinging out my arms and using a burst of magic to send Damon flying into the nearest wall and away from Mason.

"What is WRONG with you?" I cried, raging at Damon, feeling an anger like I'd never felt towards my best friend before. "Did everything we talked about mean nothing to you? I know you have some crazy need to do everything the violent way, and I've never let it get to me before, but you've also never backstabbed me before! How could you do this to me?"

"You don't understand-"

"I understand perfectly."

With one last shove of my magic at Damon, I whirled around to look at Mason. He was bound to a chair from the dining room, covered in his own blood, a hopeless, broken look in his eyes. I tried not to break with him as I dropped to my knees and started working to untie him.

"It's okay, it's okay," I said, talking to keep myself calm as much as to keep Mason calm. "Don't worry, I got you."

Mason didn't respond, and I spared a glance up at him to see him watching me, his face contorted in pain. I did my best to speed up, but it was harder to work the ropes and chains with how badly my hands were shaking.

"He's in love with Katherine," came Damon's voice from behind me. There was no fight or victory in his words, and I still trusted him enough to leave my back to him, even as I ignored him. "He told me himself before you came in. He doesn't love you, he loves her. Like every other poor sucker she's brainwashed and ditched over the years."

I huffed a breath through my nose as I finally managed to remove the last of Mason's restraints, then stood to face Damon. He was still a good distance away, not threatening, just watching. Posture relaxed, face pressed into a concerned frown. Jeremy stood over his shoulder, watching us like a tennis match.

"Is that supposed to make me willing to let you torture and kill him?"

Damon shrugged, an insufferable look that I knew very, very well crossing his face.

"This isn't a joke, Damon. Just because you get some new information doesn't mean everything we talked about last night ceases to be important. You should have talked to me. Like a rational person! Not done... this," my voice broke a little on the final word as I pictured Mason again, those empty eyes that had been so full of light and joy before. "Tell me something. If I hadn't shown up... were you going to kill him?"

Damon looked away, and I had my answer. I snorted, then turned to help Mason stand, slinging one of his arms over my shoulder. He was incredibly heavy, and he wasn't strong enough to be much help either, but I could manage.

"I would've been doing him a favor," Damon finally said, calling after me as I helped Mason limp towards the door. "I've been where he is. I know what it's like to be lost in Katherine land. There's no hope for him."

I just raised my middle finger back at him as we continued to the door. I didn't look back as the front door shut behind me and I loaded Mason into the passenger seat of my car, then climbed into the driver's seat. I started the engine, but just kept staring straight ahead, a thousand different thoughts and noises racing around in my mind all at once. I tried to focus on one, to process things slowly, but I couldn't. So, I forced all of it out, instead keeping my eyes locked on the road ahead and pretending nothing else existed. I could do that, just long enough to get out of here.

Mason didn't speak, move, or make a sound for the entire drive back to the Lockwood house. It wasn't the safest place for him, but I didn't know where else to take him. I stayed silent, too, focusing entirely on trying to fight the wave of everything threatening to crash over me in the middle of evening traffic.

Thankfully, when we got back to the Lockwood house, all the volunteers had gone. I helped Mason out of the car, then continued to be his crutch as we limped through the front door. He broke his silence long enough to point me towards his room, and I helped him up the stairs and through the door. As gently as possible, I helped him ease down on the bed. His super-healing would fix the physical injuries fairly quickly all things considered, but Damon had spent the afternoon torturing him. That wasn't as easy to get past.

"Are you okay?" I finally asked. I knew it was a stupid question, especially with everything else floating around in my head, but I needed to know what he'd say. To gauge how close he might be to okay.

Mason sighed and ran a hand through his hair, refusing to meet my eyes.

"I'm fine. Or at least... I guess I will be."

I nodded. "I'm glad." And I meant it.

Mason huffed another heavy, heavy sigh, then finally looked up at me.

"Thank you. For saving me."

"Yeah, of course. I... I'm sorry I was wrong. That Damon went right back to... that."

Mason waved me off, rubbing the back of his neck and staring holes in the carpet. The silence hung between us, and I took a shuffling step backwards before deciding I couldn't leave without a few answers, even if Mason clearly felt like shit.

"Is it true?" I asked, still hovering by the doorway. Mason flinched, and I knew he knew what I meant, but I continued anyway. "What Damon and Stefan said... are you with Katherine?"

Mason grimaced and ducked his head, not meeting my eyes. I took a few more steps across the room towards him.

"Mason. Please answer me."

He huffed a hollow laugh, then looked up at me, pain written all over his face.

"I'm sorry."

I shook my head. This time, it was my turn for the hollow laugh.

"I'm so, so sorry. I was trying to help her. I... I love her. Or at least, I did... I thought she loved me too..."

"Katherine doesn't love anybody," I spat, my voice full of venom. "I watched Damon wrestle with that realization for a few years. Did she ever tell you? She played him and Stefan against each other, dated and toyed with them both in 1864. Escaped from being trapped with twenty-six other vampires and never looked back, all while she let Damon chase after her, knowing full well he was trying to find a way to save her from a trap she wasn't in. For almost a hundred and fifty years. She's ditched and killed and betrayed everyone she's ever been with, Mason. Think about that long and hard before you really decide to stick with her."

With that, I turned on my heel, the first tears starting to fall as I wrenched the door open. It slammed closed again before I could get through it, and I turned to find Mason standing before me, one arm extended to keep the door shut. He looked torn and pained, even more so when he noticed the tears I failed to hold back.

"I need you to know... it was real. I wasn't... faking it, or whatever, all those times we hung out. I... really do like you." I scoffed, but he continued before I could tell him off. "It's just... Kath was there for me after I triggered my curse. My friend kept coming at me, trying to beat me up because he thought I was sleeping with his girlfriend, which I wasn't. I pushed him too hard, and he fell, and... and he died. I killed him. That same night was the first night I transformed. Kath was there for me then, and for every minute after. She's... my Damon."

"Ha!" I shouted, shoving Mason's chest and pushing him back with all the force I could muster. He stumbled back more than a few steps, apparently still weak from whatever Damon had done. "Don't you ever, ever compare them. Damon sucks, and does bad things that hurt the people he cares about. Don't think I don't know that. But the difference is, he actually has people he cares about.

"And before you go running back to Katherine, after I saved your life, you should really think Mason: Katherine wants the moonstone. You got her the moonstone. If she knew you could get it for her, then what might she have done to make you want to get it for her?"

Mason shook his head, slowly at first and then faster and faster.

"No. No, she can't compel me. I know she can't."

"Sure. But I bet she could compel your friend. I mean, did you ever figure out why he thought you'd gone after his girlfriend? Or why he wouldn't listen to you or to reason, just came at you until you were forced to defend yourself? The best way to make you do her dirty work for her was to give you a vested interest in getting the moonstone. What better way than a ray of hope to try to break your new curse?"

Mason sat down hard on his bed, head in his hands and shaking. I opened the door again, never taking my eyes off of Mason, my heart shattering in my chest.

"Think long and hard about the truth and who you can actually trust, Mason. Following Katherine will only lead you down a road of pain and death."

With that, I turned on my heel and walked out of the room. This time, nobody stopped me. And I didn't look back.

I got in my car and drove, no destination in mind, trying to process. I'd been falling for Mason, hard, and he'd betrayed me. Damon, who I'd always been able to count on, had done the same. Everything had come crumbling down in less than an hour.

I didn't go back home, to the Salvatore house, until sunrise the next morning. I'd stayed out all night, wandering aimlessly with my car, driving around and slowly working through everything. And when I walked through the doors of the boarding house again, I'd found a new clarity.

"Hey." Damon stood in the hallway, arms crossed and looking concerned. I gave him a weak smile.

"Hey."

"...Everything okay?"

"No. No it's not. You crossed a line, Damon, and even if you never crossed it again... the supernatural drama just doesn't stop. So I'm done with it."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm leaving. I'm leaving Mystic Falls, and everything that comes with vampires and werewolves and even witches, before it destroys me. It's not worth it. I booked a flight to San Diego on my phone a few hours ago."

Damon tried to convince me to stay, but I wasn't hearing it. I'd made up my mind, and now, I wasn't changing it. He hovered as I packed my bags, my anger still simmering but fading now that I'd spent time processing. By a little after noon, I was ready to go.

"Are you sure I can't convince you to stay?" Damon finally asked as I stood on the threshold of the house, my bags already loaded into the car.

"I'm sure. I meant what I said, Day, I'm done with this stuff. But I'll make you a deal."

"...And what kind of deal would that be?"

"Don't kill Mason, and you're welcome to visit me any time."

Damon scowled. "All that, and you're still protecting him?"

I shrugged. "I'm over it, all the death. And I think Mason might be having a wakeup call of his own now. Just... please, Damon. Consider this a second chance. Don't kill Mason. Or torture him, or hurt him. No matter what you learn, or how the circumstances change. He's off limits."

Damon just looked at me for a long, long moment before finally nodding, slowly.

"Fine. And if he asks where you went?"

"You can tell him. I don't think he's gonna chase me all the way to San Diego, especially not if he's still hung up on Katherine like you said he is. And like I said... feel free to come visit. Or call whenever."

Damon nodded once, lips pursed in a tight line. I gave him a smile and a little salute before turning and climbing into my car. I took one last breath to steel myself, then turned the key and left Mystic Falls in the dust behind me.

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

Two and a Half Months Later

I smiled from the porch of my new house (really closer to a shack) on the beach as I sipped my morning coffee. Watching the waves crash over the shore in the early morning light had become my routine, and I swear my blood pressure had dropped beyond belief as a result.

I hadn't had any supernatural visitors yet, but I knew it'd only be a matter of time. Despite everything, I hoped it would be Damon. There were a lot of things I didn't miss about living in the same sphere as him every day, but it had been nice to be so close to my best friend, even if he was a jackass a lot of the time.

Once the sun was a little higher in the sky and my mug was empty, I went back into the kitchen. The house had a thousand projects, and I'd only just started on the first one or two. I'd been doing those mostly by myself too, with little magical help, and it was nice. I could feel a little bit more of myself in this place with every change I made.

I set my mug in the sink and started to grab eggs out of the fridge when I heard a knock on the door. I wandered over to open it, then stopped dead when I saw who was on the other side.

Mason Lockwood. Iced latte in hand and a sheepish grin on his face.

"Hey," he said, holding out the coffee as a sort of offering. "I, uh... I hope it's okay that I'm here. Damon told me where you'd moved to, and I figured he'd never tell me if it wasn't alright with you. Even then. Honestly, I half expected to open this door and find an axe murderer or a random old man."

Despite myself, I snorted a laugh, and a small smile tugged its way onto my face. I reached out and took the coffee.

"It's good to see you," I said, and meant it. "I'm glad you're okay. Honestly, I think Damon probably sent you here as proof that he didn't kill you. I told him that was a condition of him being invited into my house."

This time, a small smile made its way onto Mason's face. We just looked at each other for a few minutes, hopeful smiles and an electric energy snaking between us, until I finally cleared my throat and took a half-step to the side.

"Do you... want to come in?"

Mason smiled, somehow still looking slightly pained.

"I... can't." I raised an eyebrow, and he rushed to continue. "I'd love to, for the record. It's just... I might've dragged Tyler out of Mystic Falls with me. And he might be waiting in the car."

For the first time, I glanced over Mason's shoulder to see Tyler sitting in the front seat of Mason's Bronco, arms crossed as he pointedly didn't look at us. I laughed.

"That's why it took me so long to get here," Mason continued. "You were right about Katherine. About everything, really. When I ditched her... she compelled a friend of Tyler's to get him to trigger the curse. Like she did to me."

My eyes widened in horror, and I took a step forward to rest my hand on Mason's arm before glancing over his shoulder again.

"Oh my God. Is he okay?"

Mason shrugged. "As okay as he can be. We're figuring it out. But I needed to stay to make sure he was okay, and that Katherine and the other supernaturals didn't get him killed. A lot went down after you left, but... we made it. So did Damon and Stefan. But we needed to get out, so I convinced Carol to let me take Ty for a little while."

I nodded. "I'm glad you did. Do you guys have a place to stay?"

"Yeah. I actually got a place down the beach from here," he said, blushing a little as he glanced away and rubbed at the back of his neck. "We just got into town, and I might've dragged Tyler here first without warning."

I laughed, then stepped fully out of my house, shutting the door behind me. Mason smiled, and my heart raced at our newfound proximity. I decided to let that impulse win and leaned up to give him a soft kiss on the cheek.

Mason looked shocked as I pulled away, then grinned a wolfish grin (pun intended) as he swept me into his arms and kissed me, for real. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back, hard, completely indulging for a few long seconds before pulling back.

"Tyler's in the car," I said. I was a little breathless and smiling like an idiot, an expression Mason shared.

"He's fine, I left the window cracked."

My laugh was muffled as Mason leaned in and kissed me again, but this time I pulled away fairly quickly.

"I love that you're making vague dog jokes now, but I really don't want him to have to just sit there while we make out on my porch. Let me help you guys get settled in your new place, and then maybe we can go on a real date tonight?"

Mason beamed at me, pulling me close to his side and resting his forehead against mine.

"Sounds like a plan."

He gave me one last peck on the lips, then took my hand and tugged me down the stairs after him. I laughed, feeling freer and lighter than I had in a long time, as I opened the back door of his car and Mason hopped back in the driver's seat.

"Hey Tyler," I chirped. "It's nice to see you again."

"Yeah. Hi."

I caught Mason's eye in the rear view mirror, fighting and almost failing to hold back a laugh. His blue eyes sparkled like the ocean on a beautiful, clear day, and somehow I just knew we were at the start of something special and wonderful. Call it a witch's intuition, but I felt good about what the future held for me and Mason in San Diego.

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

TVD Taglist: @elenavampire21

[ghostlystyles]

𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐙𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆

anthony lockwood x gn!reader

lockwood is really just a lovesick teenager

request: Could you do a Lockwood X reader where they are getting ready for the gala at Fittes and Lockwood sees reader in the dress for the first time?

tessa’s notes: this was the fic that i didn’t save properly when i was nearly done, but it turned out alright so we vibe

warnings: honestly just pure fluff + lucy and reader are close friends :D, comment if i missed any <3

word count: 0,9k

—“OKAY, LUCE, WHAT do you think of this?” you asked, turning around to face the girl who was reading a book on her bed. “That definitely looks like you’re going to a funeral,” she replied. You turned back around to look in the mirror and sighed frustratedly, “well, considering what we’re about to do, I might be in a few days. I agree, though, it looked fine in the shop but this is terrible.”

“Well, you have one more, don’t you? Try that on,” Lucy suggested, looking up from her book. “Good call, give me a second,” you spoke, walking back to your wardrobe and pulling out the other dress. It was a red silk dress that reached your ankles and the woman in the shop had specifically told you it would look great on you, so you had high hopes.

You slipped into it and turned around to face Lucy again. “What about this?” you questioned as you twirled around. “Oh my god. You look so good!” Lucy gasped, throwing her book to the side and jumping off the bed. You looked in the mirror and tugged on the dress to get it in place. Lucy was right, you looked undeniably beautiful. “Yeah, this is definitely better than the funeral dress.”

“Can I do your makeup now? Please?” Lucy asked, as she held up her basket of makeup products. “As long as you don’t stab out my eyes or make me look like a total idiot, sure, go ahead,” you replied, sitting down at Lucy’s desk chair and she got to work. She put some eyeliner on you, stuck a line of gems alongside it and finished it off with a bit of highlighter and a tinted lip balm. “There. You look so pretty.”

“Wow, Luce! I’m impressed, thank you!” you exclaimed happily, as you tilted your face to look in the mirror from a different angle. “You’re welcome,” Lucy said in a singsong voice, while you grabbed the stuff you needed to do your hair. “Are you nervous?” asked Lucy. “‘Course I am. We’re stealing this extremely rare book from Fittes’s library, which, knowing us, may very well get us killed, and we’re supposed to act ‘casual’ around the other people, of which I’m sure there are going to be lots. Also, those people are going to treat us as a couple, because why else would two people go to a ridiculously fancy gala together? So yes, I am a tad nervous,” you ranted quickly.

“Yeah, all of those are very valid. But why does it bother you so much that people are gonna treat you like a couple on a date?”

“Well, it’s not a date, is it? Do you know how hard it is to act like and be treated like a couple with someone who you have genuine feelings for but aren’t actually dating?”

“I think you’re allowed to treat it like a date. At least a little bit. He asked you to go with him, no? He could’ve asked me or George, but he asked you.”

“Luce, that was literally a 1 out of 3. I was probably the best option for the occasion or whatever.”

“No, N/N, he already called me an asset and I think he still feels guilty for that. He wouldn’t do something like that again.”

“Okay, fair enough, but still. Just because I could hypothetically treat it like a date, doesn’t mean he is. It’s bloody embarrassing if it’s one-sided.”

“Y/N!” Lockwood called from downstairs, “are you almost done? I’m pretty sure our taxi is gonna be here in a few minutes!”

“Yeah, just a second!” you responded, as you took one final glance at yourself in the mirror. “Do I pass as a posh person who genuinely has business being at the Fittes gala?” you questioned. “Definitely. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were rich and probably a part of Penelope Fittes’s inner circle without a doubt,” Lucy reassured you. “Okay, great. Well, wish me luck, then,” Lucy gave you a quick hug and you then walked downstairs.

Lockwood was waiting for you by the front door and he looked star-struck when you descended the stairs. “Wow, Y/N— you look—”

“Stunning? Gorgeous? Charming?” you joked and Lockwood laughed softly. “Dazzling, honestly,” he finished his sentence, making you feel warm and fuzzy inside. “Why, thank you. You look very pretty yourself,” you replied with a smile. “I really wish I could kiss you right now,” Lockwood whispered. Your stomach flipped upside down and you did a double take. “Did you just say what I think you said?” you questioned with your eyes wide open, “because if you did, I really wish the same.”

Lockwood wasted no more time and he grabbed your face between his hands, pulling you close. He placed his lips onto yours into a soft kiss which made your insides completely melt. You pulled apart far too quickly for your liking and you both broke out into a huge grin. “Hey, that’s half your worries gone! Now all you have to do is steal the book, it’s gonna be a breeze!” Lucy yelled from halfway up the stairs. “Okay, Luce, that is enough stalker behaviour for today. We’re leaving,” Lockwood deadpanned, as he entwined his fingers with yours and dashed out the door. “Good luck, lovebirds!” you heard Lucy laugh before pulling the front door shut.

[archiveoftara]

Are you okay?

Tag : @hufflepuff1619

AU: My first request one shot fic. I hope I did justice. Reader's first case and Lockwood makes sure the reader is alright. Hope you like it!!

"Are you okay?"

You looked at the boy, standing at the door, concern painted all over his face.  

"I'm fine." You hid your nervousness. 

You were sitting in the living room of an agency called Lockwood and Co. Involuntarily shaking your knees. Your mind was running a thousand miles per second. This was your first case, it's normal to be nervous. 

You got this job last week. You came from a small town with nothing but a rapier and a dream. You first discovered your talent when you were seven years old. 

You were playing in the field with your friends when you touched a tree and saw a man hanging from it. That's when you discovered you have talent.

Also, It was a horrifying thing for a kid to see but it intrigued you, instead. Since then, you wanted to be an agent. 

Anyways, it's almost time to leave for work. Lockwood calls your name, breaking your train of thoughts. 

"Hi," Lockwood muttered.

"Hey.." 

"are you..okay?"

"I'm okay but I'm nervous." 

"I could tell. It's normal to be nervous. I was too, when I got my first job." 

Really?"

He nods, not leaving your eyes. You gave him a smile. You don't have a choice but to be confident. You don't want to lose this job

"Ah home for tonight." George sighed while settling the bags. 

"We still have half an hour in our hands. Fancy some tea?" You asked. You received some enthusiastic nods as a response and made yourself to the kitchen.

You pop the kettle and settle on the counter. You closed your eyes and touched a few items in the kitchen, looking for some clues.

"Find anything?" Lockwood peeks inside the kitchen.

"Not yet" 

When you opened your eyes, you found Lockwood making tea and handed you a cup. You sipped your tea, content with the warmth it gives to your heart. One thing you love about Portland Row is the tea. Lockwood makes the best tea but you can't reveal this to anyone. If George finds out he will be pissed off, he takes pride in his culinary skills.

"Shall we?" Lockwood gives you his hand.

"We shall." 

It was harder than you thought. The visitor is strong and fast for some reason. You and Lockwood are trying to fight off the visitor while George and Lucy are looking for the source.

"WATCH OUT." 

You dodged and swung your rapier on the Ghost. "Lockwood, I don't think there's only one visitor." 

Before he could process you pushed him to the corner and threw a salt bomb on the ghost which was standing behind him. Lockwood was startled for a moment but he regained his composure.

Soon, both of you were fighting off the visitors in such ease, it's like a dance routine. It's like you both are meant to be together. 

"WE FOUND" 

You heard Lucy from across the room.

"Take your time to secure it, no pressure." With a dash of sarcasm you swung your rapier for the last time. It was gone. The visitors disappeared, the room went quiet. You can only hear your heavy breathing. 

You tried to stand but you fell on your knees, you felt a sharp pain in your waist. You touched it and felt warm blood oozing from your wound. 

"(Name),are you okay?" Lockwood gave you his shoulder, pulling you off the floor.

"I don't remember how..i hurt myself." 

"Don't talk right now. I'll patch you up, hold on." 

You're back in your room, sitting in your bed watching Lockwood practically running around the house. Looking for a med kit. You shook your head in exhaustion. 

"Lockwood I'm fine." 

The rustling stopped for a moment, you thought maybe he left and went outside the house but you were met with heavy footsteps.

"Fine?" 

You looked up with your droopy tired eyes. You saw Lockwood taking a seat in front of you.

"You're far from fine." He grimly said. "May I?" He gestured to your shirt. Silently asking to remove it. You nod in response. 

He helped you take it off, he didn't meet your eyes and you also felt the wall beside you looked interesting. He silently cleaned up your wound, muttering in his breath. 

You felt the tension inside the room so high, you might die from lack of oxygen. "You scared me." 

You looked at him in astonishment. "Lockwood.."

"If you say 'fine' one more time, I won't talk to you" he huffed. It made you smile. 

He's so cute

"I'm sorry. I should've protected you better."

"It's not your responsibility to protect me, Lockwood" 

"It's my name written on the door. It's my responsibility to protect my employees" 

You couldn't figure out why the word 'employee' hurt you a little. 

After patching you up, he sat beside you. 

"You saved me but I couldn't protect you. I'm sorry." He looked so guilty it broke your heart.

"I'm sorry. I'll be more careful next time" you gave a reassuring smile to him. 

You both remain quiet for a while, silently enjoying each other's company. 

"Does it hurt?" 

" Yeah a little, but I'll be alright soon. I think I'll just lay down a bit." 

"Oh yes, yes." He helped you lay on the bed. He tucked you in, literally. You blushed at his actions. 

"Are you really fine?" 

"Lockwood for the love of God, I am fine. Please don't worry so much." You cried.

"I..was just making sure you're okay. Jesus." Nonchalantly, he replied. 

He got out of your room and closed the door only to open it again. 

"Are you okay, name?" This time he's just annoying you. 

You threw a pillow at his face but before it hits him, he shuts the door and laughs mischievously. You smiled to yourself and went to deep slumber.

[lockwood-fic-recs]

my heart's on fire & the flame grows higher

by menina123 on ao3

Rating: T | Category: F/M | Relationship: Lockwood/Lucy

“Yes, I suppose it is just the two of us,” Lockwood said. “We can’t reschedule on this late notice. Everyone else will just miss out on the fun then, won’t they, Luce?”

“Yep.” Lucy’s mood instantly brightened at the idea of an adventure with Lockwood, and she smiled at him.

After the rest of Lockwood & Co. backs out at the last minute, Lucy and Lockwood escape to a cottage in the countryside for a celebratory Christmas weekend on their own. Christmas activities ensue (and yes, there's obviously only one bed).