#the will fitts book too

[thebirdandhersong]

gooooood GRIEF

[vryfmi]

book!l&co character lineup

finally finished extended version of my L&Co designs, based on their book descriptions! it took months, but im happy with the results

ID of designs + thumbnail-sketch under the cut

[image ID: two digital drawings of characters from Lockwood and Co books, done in semi-realistic style, black lineart and plain colour against grey background.

image 1: from left to right there are full body drawings of George Cubbins, Anthony Lockwood and Lucy Carlyle. George is standing facing left, slouching, he's looking at the viewer with indifferent expression. he's fat, light-skinned and has medium length fair hair. George's wearing round glasses, red t-shirt, baggy jeans, unzipped grey hoodie and sneakers. he has a grey sport bag in right hand and a black messenger bag across left shoulder. next to him there's Lockwood, he's standing half turned to right, he's facing the viewer with a gentle smile. Lockwood is paler than George, almost a head taller and slim with short, slightly wavy, black hair. he's wearing a grey three piece suit with white shirt underneath, as well as smart black shoes and a purple tie. on top of it is a black greatcoat. Lockwood stands with one hand in pocket and another resting on rapier's grip. the sword is in its scabbard attached to Lockwood's belt. furthest on the right is Lucy, she's standing half turned to right, head facing left with a curious look directed at the viewer. her skin is light and her hair is warm brown, slightly uneven and spiky with middle parting. she has a wide frame and is the same height as George. Lucy's wearing a baggy orange sweater, plaid grey skirt, black leggings and tall dark-brown work boots with iron patches. she's holding onto a strap of her rucksack that is on her right shoulder. there's also a belt on top of the sweater which holds her rapier.

image 2: from left to right there are full body drawings of Flo Bones, human version of the skull, Quill Kipps and Holly Munro. Flo is standing half turned to left, facing towards the viewer with a smirk. she's light-skinned with long dirty-blonde hair, and her face has smudges of mud all over. compared to previous pictures, she's almost as tall as Lockwood, but not quite. Flo is wearing long blue puffer jacket on top of her darker clothes that resemble one of fisherman's with mudded thigh-high rainboots. she stands with one hand in jacket pocket, one raising a brim of straw hat with a knife. said hat has a fishing hook stuck on its brim and two lavender stems attached to hat band. next to her is the skull in his human form. he stands half turned to right, slouching, hands in pockets, with head thrown back with a wide smirk across his face. skull is very thin and not really tall, he is tanned and freckled with spiky dark hair. skull is wearing ill-fitting clothes: a white old-timey shirt that is slightly too big and grey trousers that are too small and short. he stands barefoot. third from the left is Quill Kipps, he stand half turned to right, crossing his arms, head facing left with a look of annoyance. Kipps is short and slim, he has ruddy and freckled skin and short ginger hair. Kipps is wearing a grey leather jacket with Fittes logo on it as well as two medals, tight black jeans and chelsea boots. his rapier scabbard has a baldric type of belt. rapier itself has green gems on a hilt. finally, there's Holly Munro, she's standing half turned to left, head facing right with a gentle smile. she's pretty tall and slim with deep rich black skin tone and black shoulder length curls. Holly's wearing a white short lantern sleeve shirt with a blue dress with a cloth belt wrapped around and tied into a bow at the back, as well as low heel shoes. she has a light-blue scarf wrapped around her head. Holly also has white small earrings and beige nail paint. all of the characters have artist’s watermark at the lower right side of them./end ID]

bonus sketch

[allthornsnopetals]

Prologue: Stain the Parchment E. Bridgerton

Description: Flora Deluca -Lady da silva- is the pen pow and beloved author of Eloise Bridgerton. With her travels around the world, Flora finally travels to Mayfair London, in the hopes to inquire inspiration for yet another successful story, one in London, away from France and Italy with the aid of her pen pow. Unknowingly enbarking her romance mini-series.

:Master list:

"Miss Flora, you have received a few more letters from your readers, a lot more." Said Claudia, lowering a stack of folded and sealed papers, all written from the same sender.

Eloise Bridgerton: A new and quite fond reader of Miss Flora Deluca's novels, poems and volumes. She always wrote but Flora only ever read her letters, too busy to answer all her fan mail, especially Miss Eloise, who writes so often, she simply could not read them all.

But tonight is different, it's stale, cold and without excitement. Once left in peace, she began to sift through each written text, enjoying the character of the writer. She found amusement in every letter, all with a different perspective on love, marriage and romance. To simply put it, Miss Eloise is anti-love, which is ironic given, the reminder that Flora's genre is predominantly romantic.

But Eloise doesn't seem to mind, enjoying star-cross lovers, unrequited love, right person wrong time and general adventure. Adventures throughout France and Italy, Flora's mother lands. The more she read the more interested she became, intrigued in the young lady, who seems to have a gift for literature. Ideas racked her mind, ones of adventure, travels and new stories.

Without a second thought, Flora began to write to Miss Eloise of London.

Dear Miss Eloise Bridgerton,

I find your mind fascinating, intriguing and fresh. I like your take on the topic of romance and the rights for women. I do hope you put it to good use, for a woman like yourself has skill and potential. I am to travel to Mayfair London in four months, before the debutante season of marriage, for my father is to inherit his family estate there, and I am to start a new life in the Ton. By your letters, you seem to be a local, someone to show me around and help me to settle in.

I do hope to see you, perhaps get some ideas for a new story.

Yours truly,

Lady da Silva

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

"Eloise, you have a letter from... Italy?" Violet turns the letter in her hand, holding it out to her daughter with great confusion.

Eloise cracks her gaze from her book, eyeing the parchment, snatching and ripping it open. "From Italy? From whom?" Hyacinth inquires, trying to see the letter.

Eloise scowls. "From no one, mind your own. It is not your business." Said Eloise, shooing her little sister away with Benedict slumping himself beside her, also very excited.

"Is it from Lady da Silva?" He questions in a hushed voice, wetting his lips.

The two share a love for the author and artist, who illustrates her own books and covers. Both, sending letters frequently, but only one receiving a reply.

With a gasp, Eloise clarifies their suspicions, her grin far too wide for a typical letter. "She likes my mind, she thinks it's rather fascinating," She gloats with a smirk. "And she's moving to London!" She screams, jumping for joy with Benedict, like fools, sharing an embrace.

"I am to write to her right away!" She runs up the main stairway, leaving her family in silent confusion.

Dear Lady da Silva,

I am greatly honored to receive word from you and to be given the opportunity to aid you in your next book. I have plenty of ideas, adventures, character personality and genres. How about a heroine? A woman hero, who embarks on a quest, an adventure.

I cannot wait to finally meet you, to brainstorm with you, to work with you! Your novels are legendary here, in the Ton, enjoyed by all— yes, even by men. Genevieve Delacroix, the modiste introduced me to your books— surprisingly we mingle a lot, discussing your books over tea and fittings. She too, is quite the literature, she adores your poems, always quoting those of affection, frequently, must I add.

She would love to meet you. Oh, and my brother, Benedict, who found himself looped into our little book club— if you can call it that— and writes to you as well, but it seems you have only replied to my letters, which I thank you greatly, truly. You bruised his heart for only replying to me, forcing him to quote your latest publish: Irony is of the Heart. Your best work, if it means, he too, is quoting your work.

I can't wait to see you,

Eloise Bridgerton

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Time flew by rather quickly, sending letters, the two made a connection, forging a friendship by letter, staining their parchments, their minds occupied with the other. The two became pen pows, rather quickly, their letters becoming more intimate and personal, Flora was beginning to think she were already with her.

Sooner than she thought, she were in Mayfair London, unpacking her chambers, decorating and finding new furniture for her study. Once sat for the night, she wrote to Eloise, informing her of her arrival and her need for new garments. Marking a time to meet and unknowingly a new beginning.

[girlboss-malewife-gauntlet-melee]

locklyle (book) propaganda:

Lockwood is a homeowner at age 15 and he wanders around it drinking tea and charming people into giving him yhings. Lucy carlyle is a hotheaded aggressive and EXTREMELY powerful agent in his ghost hunting company. They both get shit done but in OPPOSITE ways. They have an interesting way of rejecting traditional gendered tropes- the sensitive dude and the bullheaded girl- that is both simple and INTENSELY complicated within their narrative, which i think qualifies them for the title.

she is the protagonist of the series, a once in a generation prodigy, the most powerful listener since Marissa Fittes, the list goes on. He likes to drink pulpy orange juice and strain it throught his teeth to pretend to be a blue whale

Imagine a buff kind of irritated teenage girl with a sword. No, shes even cooler. That's better. Now imagine a rich preppy guy. No, thats too much like Patrick Bateman. Think Artemis Fowl. Ok youtr there. Hope yhis helps:)

they are PERFECT for each other. she recognises the subtleties in his smiles and he allows himself to be vulnerable in front of her

resting 😒 face x resting ☺️ face. they both have swords and live in a house together (along with their other friend and a disembodied head, but that's unrelated)

Malficlark Propaganda:

Malfina is a sexy powerful demoness and Clark is just. Some guy. From Connecticut. Safe to say he knows a thing or two about good ol fashioned Connecticut hospitality and homemaking.

You know them, I know them, it's everyone's favorite demoness and blob man back to share their love with the world once again.

they're iconic

[ikeasupremacy]

im seeing quite a few posts here and on reddit about how anthony lockwood is like an old soul in the body of a teenager and like i kinda get it??

i mean he doesnt own a single pair of jeans what kind of 16 y/o is he. he drinks his tea without any sugar in it, he butters his wife's lucy's toast for her and he refuses to wear anything but a suit out on a job. he gave lucy his deceased mother's necklace "just to match her dress for the fittes party" and he lives in a fully mortgaged house and pays bills and even acts like a fully functioning adult under pressure, as seen in lucys description of him on like, every job ever

but the more stuff like this i read, the more im convinced these things are lockwood making himself seem more mature to l&co clients or to market himself to adults; he's a boy who grew up too fast, his entire family was dead by the time he was 14. he had to adapt really quickly to even just keep a roof over his head (hence why he acts so much older than he is)

i think thats where we get the iconic lockwood smile from, the one that just reassures you and makes u feel like whatever lockwood is saying is gospel. lockwood had to perfect it to induce that effect to earn adults trust, how else do u think hes running that agency without adult supervision.

lockwoods probably practised these mannerisms specifically to make himself seem more mature because hes had to be an adult in order to survive. i find the idea that hes just an old soul so cute but its more of like a deeply rooted coping mechanism to survive than a character quirk

but we dont really see that behaviour in lucy and george which i feel like is really exhibited by how george still likes comic books despite being so under pressure with all the research he does and how lucy connects so strongly with ghosts, her natural empathy levels are just wild when it feels like lockwood's empathy skills are more artificially made and/or pieced together to adapt

lockwoods inner child is probably crying 24/7. oh his poor mental health

[bella-rose29]

Idiot ~ Anthony Lockwood x f!reader

Requested by anon:

Hii I want to request Anthony Lockwood×fem!reader, with childhood bestfriends to rivals to lovers with the miscommunication trope, but also a happy ending with both of them being together. So the plot could be like, they were childhood best friends but then when Anthony's family died he later wanted to start the business, but she thought that he was out of his mind because she was scared about him being in danger, but he thought she just didn't think he can handle it so they got into an argument and she left. After that, they started hating each, later she joined Fittes as an agent, so he was even more angry. So they became rivals in the ghost hunting business. Then they got put on a mission later, and idk she gets injured and his like "who did this to you," but they're still enemies, even though the whole time there is sexual tension between them. This request is super chaotic, so just make your own plot with these elements, I guess. I'm not good at describing plots, I will be happy with whatever you write, but please let them have a happy ending and be together. Also, could you try to make this as long as you can because there aren't as many Lockwood fics as there should be.

I might have changed some bits a lil bit and probably spent way too long talking about their childhood, but hopefully this lives up to your expectations anon! (Please let me know if it doesn't though)

Word count: 9.5k exactly (holy shit this is insane i had way too much fun with this)

Warnings: swearing, violence, fighting, descriptions of injury, mentions and descriptions of Lockwood's family dying/being dead, major spoilers for the books (and the show), some stuff probably doesn't make sense (like at all), i might also have misremembered and made up some things but we'll go with it, Lockwood is actually kind of a dick for some of this oops, he gets better i promise, hospitals, mentions of being on morphine (for the pain), references to Lockwood being depressed, they're idiots in love.

Tag list: @anathemaloren, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss, @dangelnleif, @el-de-phi, @karensirkobabes, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @ran23sblog, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @wandamaximoffbae, @wordsarelife

As always, let me know here if you'd like to be added or removed from the tag list!

It was nearly 3am and Y/n L/n had had enough.

She was exhausted, weary, worn out, and pretty much any other synonym for the word 'tired', and she just wanted to go to bed, but Anthony Lockwood had other ideas.

"Give it here, come on!"

Y/n groaned, then half-heartedly chucked the bits of paper at her best friend from where she was lying on the floor of his living room. Jessica laughed, despite also losing to the 5 year old boy at Monopoly, and shook her head at his greedy smile as he counted the money. How he had ever managed to get the two of them to agree to play with him, Y/n didn't know, especially since she'd not really been paying attention when the rules were explained. But then she saw how happy he was at the idea of playing with the two girls, and Y/n knew she could never make her best friend sad.

She did really want to go to bed though.

Jessica Lockwood appeared to notice Y/n's droopy eyes, and quietly spoke to her brother, stifling a laugh at his pout when she told him they should probably stop.

"But we aren't done yet!"

"I know, Anthony, but you've definitely got the most money, I'm sure of it. You're going to win no matter what, so I think we should let Y/n/n go to sleep, yeah?"

"Oh..." he'd noticed his friend's demeanour now, and felt immediately bad for making her stay awake. "Alright then. Y/n/n?"

"Mmm?"

"You ready to go to bed? 'Cause Jess says I won, so I reckon we can go up now."

"Mkay," she murmured, too sleepy to answer in proper words. Going up to bed was a haze, and she only really woke up when she stubbed her toe at the bottom of the stairs (Anthony hadn't told her that was there, despite saying he'd guide her). She was sure she brushed her teeth, Jessica would have checked, and they were all already in their pyjamas, but the only other thing she remembered before dropping off completely was seeing Anthony's face on the pillow next to her, already snoring lightly.

~~~

Y/n couldn't remember most of Anthony's sixth birthday now, what with all the memories that came in between, but she did remember his joy at receiving her present.

He'd spent the majority of the morning since Y/n and her family went next door gloating about how he was finally six, and now he was old enough to do so much more than Y/n (who was still five). She'd rolled her eyes, laughing when he did victory dances all around the house, and laughing even harder when he fell over while doing one of the previously mentioned dances.

They'd run away and hidden in his room in the attic after collecting plates of cake, and Y/n made sure to pick up her carefully wrapped present on the way up. He'd noticed immediately that she was carrying it, of course, he was far too observant to miss it, and had demanded that she let him open it right then and there. Initially she'd refused, feeling shy and worried that he wouldn't like it, but he'd given her one of his secret smiles, one of the ones reserved specifically for her, and said "Please?" so sweetly she caved.

He placed the cake to the side, then spent a good minute unwrapping the gift, being oh so gentle with the paper in fear of breaking it. When he saw the item inside, his smile burst out, bright and blinding, and Y/n felt her own smile form on her face, pleased at his reaction.

"Do you like it?" Nerves were still coursing through her, but they left her body when he raised his head and met her eyes.

"I love it, Y/n/n," he whispered, lifting the picture frame all the way out of the wrapping. She'd convinced her parents to print the photo off, and then spent hours making a frame that would fit it perfectly, complete with lolly sticks and stickers, trying to make the best gift for the best friend she'd ever had.

The photo was the two of them the previous Christmas, bundled up in ridiculous festive jumpers and sat in front of the Lockwood family tree in the hallway, presents surrounding them. Their parents had insisted on a photo before they ruined the area with rubbish everywhere, and the two of them could barely contain their excitement. There was a slight blur to them, a testament to their energy, but their smiles were so wide and they were hugging so tightly Y/n knew it was the perfect photo to give him.

"Where did you even get this? I thought your mum hid the camera?"

Y/n giggled at his comically wide eyes. "I just asked her, silly. I did have to do some chores but I didn't mind, it was worth it."

She barely had time to move her plate of cake out of the way (she hadn't eaten any in the last few minutes, far too focused on Anthony's reaction) when he surged forward, bringing his arms around her in a crushing hug.

"Thank you," he said, although it was muffled since his head was pressed into her shoulder.

"Anything for you, Ant, anytime."

They stayed there for a while, just hugging on his bed and revelling in each others' presence, both knowing that Y/n had meant her words.

~~~

When Anthony had to fight his parents' ghosts, Y/n had cried.

He was crying too, since he'd seen them die less than a day ago and now he had to keep them dead, but seeing her best friend in so much pain had made Y/n cry harder.

Anthony was trying to push back the tears so that he could see, so that he could fight, and Y/n hated that he was doing this on his own.

She had been kept in her room by her parents, the adults being too scared for their daughter's safety to let her go and help Anthony, and she was watching him through her bedroom window. Despite the tears streaming down her face and the sobs racking her body, she could tell he was crying (or trying not to) because of the way he was hunched into himself, as if by making himself smaller he could make everything stop. His body was shaking too, heaving with silent cries as he fought off the two ghosts in front of him. Why they were in his back garden, Y/n wasn't sure, since they'd died on the road in an explosion a few minutes drive away, but she was only six, and didn't understand much anyway.

She wasn't sure how long she sat there, perched on the window seat with her gaze fixed on the boy next door, but she knew that it was far past her bedtime when he finally stopped them, and she woke up with her face stuck to the window, tear stains on her cheeks.

Realising it was light again, Y/n hurried to get dressed, tearing down the stairs and into the house next to them, knocking rapidly on the front door. It swung open a few moments later, revealing Jessica, who smiled sadly at the small girl in front of her and waved Y/n in.

"He's in his room," she said quietly, voice raw from crying.

Y/n nearly tripped countless times climbing the many stairs, and by the time she'd made it to the attic she was out of breath. Pushing his door open, and going up the last few steps (seriously, why were there so many steps?) she froze at the top when she saw him curled up under his bedsheets, shaking with near-silent cries.

"Anthony?"

She heard him sniff, the sound gross and snotty, and then he turned his body around to face her, and Y/n felt her heart break in her chest.

He clearly hadn't slept all night, eyes red from crying and lack of sleep, and he was struggling to keep back the fresh tears that threatened to break through.

"Oh, Ant."

Y/n rushed to the bed, climbing to sit next to him and pulling his head into her lap, brushing her fingers through his hair.

They sat like that for hours, long after Jessica brought up some toast for the two of them, and even when Y/n's back hurt from the headboard and her legs were numb from having his weight on them, she didn't stop stroking his hair, soothing him silently.

When he finally sat up, wiping his eyes and blowing his nose (Y/n made a mental note to put her clothes in the wash as soon as she got back home), she pulled him back in for a hug, both of them sat up this time.

"Thank you, Y/n/n."

She remembered the last time they'd done this, hugged on his bed while he thanked her, but this time it wasn't happy.

"Anything, Ant. Anytime."

~~~

"Ant, don't be stupid!" Y/n giggled, watching him climb the tree.

"I'm gonna get you an apple," he shouted, smiling down at her. "You're gonna love it, I promise!"

He'd just been reaching out for one, bright red and shining, when they'd heard a crash from inside his house, followed by a scream. They'd frozen where they stood, Y/n on the ground and Anthony in the tree, and then suddenly they snapped into action, scrambling to get inside and find Jessica.

They tore up the stairs (somehow Anthony had caught up to her, despite having been up the tree), and he pushed open her bedroom door just in time to see the ghost.

"NO!"

He moved before Y/n did, grabbing a spare rapier from the dresser and moving to fight, hoping to save his sister.

Y/n moved, but backwards, taking a step back out onto the landing, her hand on her mouth.

"Anthony."

He had pushed the ghost back, and was picking up a net.

"Anthony."

He had thrown the net over the broken pot, wrapping it up securely.

"Anthony," she said, eyes fixed on the bed.

"What?" His eyes were wide with terror as he turned to look at her, evidently scared that she was in danger, but when he followed her finger that pointed to the bed, he choked.

"No," he croaked hoarsely, and Y/n felt terrible for making him realise. "Jessica? Jessica please wake up. Jessica. Jessica, this isn't funny. Jessica, please. Jessica."

He kept on like that, repeating her name and asking her to wake up, but Y/n knew that she wouldn't. She moved again then, over to where he stood, rapier hanging limply in his hand. It had only been three years ago he'd lost his parents, why did he have to lose someone else that he loved? Pulling him into her, she let him sob into her shoulder (difficult, given his growth spurt).

Y/n knew at that point that she wouldn't ever leave him.

~~~

"You what?!"

"I'm starting training," Anthony replied, not looking up from where he stood at the kitchen counter, buttering toast.

"But... but why?"

"Because," he shrugged. When he didn't expand on it, Y/n sighed.

She was worried about him.

He'd been vacant, hollow, since Jessica's death, and although he tried to smile and make everybody think that he was doing just fine, Y/n knew her best friend better than that. She saw the bags under his eyes, the lack of joy and mischief that used to reside in his gaze.

"Because what, Anthony?"

"Look, I'll be fine. This guy called Nigel is gonna train me, and then I'll be an agent, and I can keep you safe."

"I can keep myself safe, idiot," Y/n huffed indignantly, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair.

"I know, I just want to be extra sure that you'll be okay. And everyone else."

"We're nine, Anthony. You went to a funeral a week ago and already you're talking to agents?"

"Yes. I'd like it if you came with me, obviously, but if you don't that's fine too. I'm doing this anyway, with or without you."

That hurt.

They always did everything together, so why was he talking like this?

"Fine. I'll talk to my parents. You need protecting too, dummy."

She'd broached the subject that night at dinner, expecting them to say no.

"Are you sure you want to do this, darling?"

"Yep," she said, stabbing some peas with her fork.

Her parents shared a look.

"Alright. Just promise us you'll be careful, and you'll pay attention in your training, yeah?"

Surprise made Y/n jolt, sending peas skidding across the table. "I can go?"

"Yes, but you have to promise us-"

"I promise!" Her parents chuckled, shaking their heads in a way that reminded Y/n of Monopoly and a late night.

~~~

Training was horrible.

Everybody was mean to her, just because she couldn't run as fast as the others, or move as quickly with a rapier.

"Look at her, she's gonna die within minutes!"

"Nah, she'll never make it that long. On the plus side, if she's in our group we only have to run faster than her!"

"Won't be too difficult!"

Y/n scowled at the whispers, making her way over to Anthony. She huffed, plopping down on the bench next to him and glaring at the girls.

"What's up with you?"

"They're being mean about me. Saying I'll be useless in the field."

"Aw, Y/n/n, they're stupid if they think that. You'll be amazing, I'm sure." He nudged her shoulder with his, smile working its way onto his face. Y/n couldn't help but smile back; his was too infectious. "You'll prove them wrong, I'm sure of it."

After that day, Y/n worked ten times as hard on the practical elements, a new intensity coming into her training with the other agents. She sparred against Anthony when they got home, blunt rapiers clashing in her back garden while her parents cooked dinner.

Within a month, she could beat pretty much everyone she trained with, the only exception being Anthony. He'd shown a skill with the rapier from the very beginning, and his long body made him graceful in a fight. She'd nearly beaten him a few times, but then he'd had a fire light in his eyes and he'd push her back, focus deadly as he forgot everything but the fight. She grew scared in those moments, and had stopped trying to beat him, afraid that he'd forget who she was and hurt her.

~~~

When they were fourteen, Y/n broke her promise and walked out on Anthony Lockwood.

He'd started a business, his own goddamn agency, in his own goddamn house, and he'd wanted her to work with him. She barely recognised the boy that stood in front of her the day he asked her; he was a shell of the best friend she used to have. He was vacant still, and she just wanted Anthony Lockwood back.

"Please? It'll be so much better if we're working together! You can come and live here, and your parents are still next door so you're not too far away, and we'll go on cases together, and it'll be great!"

Y/n had shaken her head, fear creeping up her spine. He'd grown a death wish recently, and although he vehemently denied it, she'd seen how he didn't seem to care about his personal safety when on cases led by the trainers.

"Anthony, you can't do this, please. You're gonna get hurt," she pleaded, hoping he'd come to his senses. If he wasn't so broken, she'd say yes, gladly, and work with him as they had always planned they would. But he was broken, and this job could destroy him.

"What, do you think I can't do it?" His brow furrowed in confusion, and Y/n could practically feel his guard start to go up.

He'd never done that with her before.

"It's not that, I just don't want you getting hurt. You're my best friend, Ant, and I don't wanna lose you."

"You won't lose me," he'd raised his voice slightly, pushing off of the kitchen counter as he got defensive. "You've seen me," he swept an arm out, referencing the training missions. "I'm the best agent they've got, and we both know it. I won't get hurt. I'm too good for that."

Y/n scoffed. "Do you hear yourself, Anthony? Do you realise how arrogant you sound? Because that's gonna get you killed." She'd raised her voice too, to match his, and she jabbed a finger into his chest.

"Arrogant? You think I'm arrogant? I thought we were 'best friends'?"

"Why did you say it like that?"

"What?"

"'Best friends', like we're not. You did little finger quotes like it was sarcastic."

"You always do this! Make something out of nothing!"

"What?" Her eyes narrowed. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"You tell me! You're the one saying I'm gonna get killed when I'm the most skilled agent we know! Why can't you just trust me?!"

"Because you will, Anthony! You will get yourself killed, and I can't let that happen! You can't start a company, just join Fittes, or Rotwell!"

"Fittes? Rotwell? I'd rather eat my own foot than join one of them! You just think I'm not capable of any of this, don't you? You think, that because my family is dead, I can't do this, because I should be grieving instead. Well I have grieved, and if you don't want to stay, then you can leave. I don't want you here if you're gonna keep being like this. Come back when you've sorted your attitude out." He turned his back, busying himself with making a cup of tea.

Y/n stared at him, mouth open in shock and tears threatening to fall.

"Prick. You're the one that needs to sort your attitude, not me."

She left then, grabbing her bag from the chair and scribbling a 'fuck you, Lockwood' onto the paper cloth on the table.

~~~

A year later, Y/n was working a job, and was actually somewhat happy.

She'd joined Fittes after her argument with Lockwood (she stubbornly refused to call him 'Anthony' until he'd apologised to her), and had been put in Quill Kipps' team. He was nice enough, arrogant and conceited at times, but Y/n put that down to his failing Senses and the stress of being team leader, since he was alright the rest of the time. He was more like an overworked teacher on a school trip with a bunch of primary school kids, and the bags under his eyes really added to the image.

It was a minor threat, Type One ghost that was giving an old lady the creeps, but they'd been waylaid on their way back to Fittes by a group of ghosts in the park, and two figures struggling to fight them all. There had to have been around twenty to thirty ghosts (all Type Ones, but they were angry), and when Kipps wondered aloud who would be so daft as to take them on, Y/n sighed, knowing exactly who would do it.

The Fittes team had jumped in, using the remainder of their flares and energy to help, and Y/n found the source, securing it quickly and efficiently. Mass graves were never fun, and this one wasn't much better. Spreading the silver net over the area, Y/n stood, careful not to jostle it.

"We don't need Fittes coming in, thanks, we were perfectly fine on our own."

"Sure," Kipps snorted. "Because being completely surrounded by ghosts and nearly dying is being perfectly fine. Give it a rest, Tony. Go back to your house and leave the agent work to the professionals, yeah?" Y/n rolled her eyes as she got closer, but she couldn't help but agree with what her leader was saying.

Anthony Lockwood looked terrible.

She had no idea who the other boy was (although he did look vaguely familiar), but he at least didn't look like he was on death's door.

"Y/n?"

She raised her eyebrows (she still couldn't figure out how to raise just the one, despite practicing for hours).

"Lockwood."

He flinched, almost imperceptibly, but she knew him too well to miss it. Nobody else noticed.

"Why are you... Are you working for Fittes?"

"Yes." He wasn't getting more out of her, not until he apologised. Kipps was looking between the two of them, as was the other boy with Lockwood, both clearly confused.

"How do you know each other?" Kipps asked.

"We were-"

"We were neighbours. Didn't talk much outside of that." Her tone was bland, and her face nonchalant, and she turned to leave. "Has somebody called DEPRAC?" Ned nodded, waving the radio in his hand.

"Said they'd be two minutes. Should be here in a minute."

"Perfect. Can we get that tea now, Kipps?"

He hesitated, obviously still unsure about what was going on. "Sure. We'll drop the other Source off first though, yeah?"

They left, and although Y/n could feel Lockwood's stare on her back, she didn't turn around.

~~~

It was a month later that Y/n saw Lockwood again, and it was almost the same situation. Her team had been patrolling the streets, making sure the area was secure, when they'd seen magnesium flares going off. They'd rushed in, and Y/n had scoffed when she caught sight of the long black coat and flashy moves.

"Outta the way, Tony!"

The Fittes team had made quick work of the Type Two, bagging the Source and claiming the reward. Y/n felt a little bad about the money, but at the same time Lockwood needed to learn how to get control over the situations he put himself in if he wanted to keep the reward. He seemed to take on the cases that were ridiculously out of his reach, and if Y/n was speaking to him she'd guess that he was trying to prove a point.

She and her team were warming up in a cafe afterwards, one of the late night ones that opened specifically for agents, when Lockwood and his coworker walked in. The pair breezed past, and when the other boy had smiled apologetically at them and given Y/n a little wave, she remembered who he was.

"George! Wait, it is George, isn't it?"

"Uh, yeah," he scratched the back of his head, and adjusted his glasses on his face. "I wasn't sure you remembered me, to be honest."

"I knew I'd seen you before, it just took me a bit to remember where from. Also it was dark the last two times we saw each other, so that won't have helped. Anyway, how are you?"

They chatted for a while, George shifting the piles of paper he had in his arms.

"Do you need to put those down?" she asked after he readjusted them for what seemed like the millionth time.

"I should probably get over to Lockwood, actually. I'm pretty sure he's burning holes in my jumper right now."

"Oh, he's glaring at me, don't worry."

"Why would he be glaring at you? You're lovely," he questioned, confused. "I thought you were just neighbours anyway?"

"Yeah. We had an argument a while back. He was a knob."

"Oh. Yeah, I can see that he would be." George nodded in understanding. "I should definitely go and join him though. We've got all this to get through," he held up the papers slightly, and Y/n smiled up at him.

"Well good luck, George. See you soon?"

"Probably the next time you save us. Lockwood has a death wish apparently. Doesn't let me research for long enough," he complained, shaking his head as he turned and left. Y/n had been right. Lockwood was being reckless, and he'd get himself, and quite possibly George, killed.

She and her team were just finishing up, with Kipps paying the bill and her other teammates standing with him at the till, when Lockwood came over. Y/n had stepped outside, breathing in the cold night air, and when she heard the door she instinctively turned to look, expecting her coworkers.

"Oh. It's you."

"C'mon. Don't be like that, Y/n."

She snorted. "You know you're proving me right, right? You keep throwing yourself into situations you can't win in, and you're going to get yourself killed."

"I'm not proving you right," he started, frown forming on his face. He'd had another growth spurt, she realised. He'd stepped closer to her, out of the way of the cafe door so that other agents could enter, and now he towered over her.

"Yes, you are. Stop being a dick, Lockwood, and realise that you're going to get yourself seriously hurt someday."

"Since when was I Lockwood to you?"

"You know when."

"True. Lovely message, by the way. Great parting gift."

"Yeah, well you were being an asshole, and it felt fitting to write 'fuck you'."

He muttered something under his breath, too quiet for her to hear.

"Excuse me?"

"I said, 'Yeah, I bet you'd like to'," he repeated, louder this time, meeting her eyes with a smug smile on his face.

"Grow up, Lockwood."

"That's not a denial."

Y/n turned to him, looking him dead in the eyes. "Yes it is." She tried to sound threatening, but that was difficult when he was nearly a whole head taller than her. She was saved by her team coming out of the cafe, and she shoved her hands in her pockets, hunching her shoulders against the chill.

"You alright, Y/n?" Kipps asked, concern for his colleague appearing on his face.

"Yeah, fine. Let's go."

~~~

Those meetings kept happening, and it was beginning to frustrate Y/n.

Lockwood had started being more flirty, as if he actually enjoyed getting on her nerves, and the past year had been exhausting.

It was the same every time.

Y/n's Fittes team would be patrolling, or coming back from a job, or heading to a job, when they'd see two figures, or their flares, or hear their shouts, fighting an incessant number of ghosts. The group would jump in, joining the fight, and somehow Y/n and Lockwood ended up next to each other. She was certain he engineered it that way specifically so that he could irritate her with his comments, and that just irritated her even more. What he said was always the same thing, too.

"Do you come here often?"

"We have to stop meeting like this."

"What are you doing after this?"

When she told him to shut up and focus on the job, he'd ignore her, or answer with something just as bad.

"Make me."

"I'll stop talking if you join me later."

Both of those were said with smug smirks and winks, and Y/n went home to her crappy flat close to the Fittes building (she couldn't stand being near him after the argument) every night wondering what the hell had happened to her old best friend.

The last case had been particularly annoying.

The same routine had occurred, but this time there were three of them.

Y/n was surprised to see the girl, but as soon as she saw her fighting she decided that she liked her. She was feisty, and from what Y/n could tell, didn't take any of Lockwood's shit. She looked like the sort of person Y/n would be friends with, or at least get along with, like with George (they had limited contact outside of saving them).

But then the Fittes team had helped, and Lockwood hadn't come near Y/n.

She was glad in some ways, it meant she didn't have his incessant flirting in her ear, and she was glad, until she looked to see where he'd gone.

He was side by side with the girl, and they fought together like they'd been doing it their whole lives. For some reason it annoyed Y/n, despite the fact she'd sworn to block out any feelings for Lockwood other than annoyance and hate, and she grumbled the rest of the night. Kipps picked up on it, and questioned her.

"What's up with you? Surely you'd be happy that Tony left you alone?"

"Yeah, I am. It's something else, don't worry."

"Alright... well, don't let it get to you too much, yeah? We need you focusing on missions, you're too good at what you do."

Y/n nodded, flushing slightly at the compliment.

They made it to the cafe just as Lockwood and Co did, and Y/n bristled at seeing the three of them laughing together.

Well, at seeing Lockwood and the girl laughing together.

George she was just happy to see, he was always nice to her back when he worked at Fittes, and when they passed each other in the Archives or finished jobs together, and she didn't think she could ever be mad at him.

Lockwood and his new colleague, however, she could justify.

"Oh, hi!"

Ugh, she was nice. That made disliking her even harder.

"Hi," Y/n forced a smile, hoping it didn't look too fake.

"I'm Lucy," she said, coming closer to Y/n as the two of them trailed behind the others.

"Y/n. How long you been working with him then?"

"Uh, about a week? Do you... do you not like Lockwood or something?"

"What makes you say that?"

"You just... said 'him' like you wanted to rip his head off."

"Oh. Well, that's one thing I wanna do to him."

Apparently Lockwood tuned in to their conversation at that specific moment, because he turned around, smirk already in place.

"What are the other things you want to do to me, Y/n? I'd love to find out later. My place or yours?"

Y/n scoffed, pushing past him to join her teammates. Behind her she heard a thump, followed by a small "Ow!" Assuming that Lucy had hit him, Y/n smiled, and started liking the girl again. Maybe she wasn't as bad as she originally thought.

~~~

It had been nearly two years since Y/n had first met Lucy, and her second impression of the girl had stuck.

They'd saved Lockwood and Co far too many times since the girls had first met, but Y/n didn't mind. She enjoyed seeing Lucy and George (and Lockwood, but she wouldn't tell anyone that), and if getting involved and having to suffer Lockwood's chatter meant that the three of them lived another day, Y/n would gladly take that sacrifice.

Y/n and Lucy met up regularly in the down time that they both shared, either at Y/n's flat, or in a cafe or shop somewhere. Sometimes George came along, having snuck out under the pretence that he was researching at the Archives, and the three of them had lengthy chats about pretty much anything. Lockwood came up in conversation a lot, of course, given he was something they all had in common, but Y/n always steered away from the subject.

Tonight, however, she wasn't getting let off the hook.

"Why do you always do that?" Lucy asked, stuffing a chip in her mouth. They were sat on the floor of Y/n's tiny kitchen, take away boxes of food in front of them.

"Do what?"

"Whenever Lockwood gets mentioned you start talking about other things. Why do you do that?"

Y/n shrugged, eating some of her own food. "'Cause he's a knob and I don't want to think about him more than I have to?"

"He's always flirting with you though, and you always flirt back."

"Thanks for the observation, George. And I do not flirt back!"

"Oh you totally do, like earlier, right, he was saying something about how your uniform really compliments your complexion or something, and you look really good in it, and you said, wait, George, you take over, I need a drink," Lucy spoke.

"You said 'thanks, I look better without it', and winked at him. I had to physically push him out of the way of a ghost because he was stood staring at you like an idiot."

"He always looks like an idiot," Y/n mumbled, cheeks going red.

"George is right, he's actually gonna end up hurting himself if you two don't get on with it soon."

"He's at risk of death anyway! And get on with what?"

"Snogging," Lucy said, at the same time George said "Making out."

Y/n stared at her friends, hand pausing halfway to her mouth, chip in between her fingers. "What?!"

"Seriously, there's so much tension I could slice it with my rapier. Just stick your tongue in his mouth already."

"Lucy!"

The girl just shrugged. "We are seventeen, you know that right? I know people who've shagged at seventeen. I'm honestly surprised the two of you haven't yet, which is why you need to get on with it."

"That would be... no, that's too weird."

"Why is it weird? He's your old neighbour, you had an argument about something petty probably, and now he's flirting with you 'cause he's realised how hot you are. If he doesn't kiss you I will, just so I can say I kissed the hottest girl I know."

"Aw, thanks Luce. I'd rather kiss you than him, to be honest."

"The bar is low. He's punching."

"Definitely. You alright George?"

"I don't understand girls," he replied, having been quiet the last few minutes while Y/n and Lucy went back and forth. "What did you argue about, anyway? Because you've held a grudge against him for at least three years now and I have never known why."

"Was it petty?"

"No, Lucy, it wasn't petty." Y/n sighed, taking a break from eating. "He... We were fourteen, just finished all of our training, and he told me he wanted to start his agency."

"That is kinda petty though."

"Lemme finish. I don't know how much he's told you about his family," she paused, looking at the other two.

"Not much, but we know they're all dead."

"Yeah, and he showed us Jessica's room."

Y/n raised her eyebrows. He'd kept that room stubbornly locked since she'd died.

"Right. Well, a week after her funeral, he told me he wanted to start training to be an agent. We were nine, and he was definitely not okay at all. Anyway, we did it, and then like I said, when we'd finished, he told me he wanted to start an agency in his house and he wanted me to join him. He was still not himself, and I was just worried that he was going to end up killing himself. Hell, he'd almost hurt me a few times in training. We were the top two in our academy, so we ended up fighting together a lot. But he'd get... intense. Focused. But not in a good way. It was like... he saw anyone he was up against as a ghost, and he wanted revenge for what had happened with his family. We argued about the agency. I told him something about how if he did it he'd just end up hurt, because I knew him and I knew that he wouldn't think he had anything to live for. He took that to mean that I thought he was incapable, and he told me to leave and that I could come back when I'd fixed my attitude."

The three of them sat in silence for a few minutes, Y/n staring at her take away box in her lap, George and Lucy absorbing everything she'd told them.

"Fuck," Lucy finally said, breaking the quiet.

"Yeah."

"Wait, so you weren't just neighbours?" George asked. "You must have been closer than that if you knew him so well."

"Best friends. We're the same age, and our parents had lived next to each other since before we were born. Just made sense really that we were friends."

"Does he know? That you were worried about him?" Lucy questioned.

"Probably not. Should have guessed it though, given how close we were. I mean, he's seen me ugly cry at funerals, and they weren't even my relatives, they were his."

"Maybe you should talk to him? I know, I know, he needs to apologise for being a knob, but you were fourteen. I mean, it's three years on and he's still the mental age of a five year old, but talking might help?"

"Anyway, Lockwood's hopeless when it comes to women. Completely clueless," George added.

"How would you know?" Y/n frowned, not liking the way her heart clenched at the idea of Lockwood talking to other girls.

"Because he hasn't done anything about you, and you're probably the most amazing girl that's ever going to get a chance with in his life. Maybe he's intimidated by you."

"He's not getting a chance. Not like that. Don't look at me like that, Luce. If I don't kiss him that means I'm kissing you."

"Oh, alright then. I'm fine if you don't wanna make up with him," she replied, cheeky smile appearing on her face.

They left the topic alone after that, moving on to other subjects, but Y/n couldn't help but think about the boy with a death wish.

~~~

It was only a week after her evening with George and Lucy that Y/n had to help save Lockwood again (it was so ridiculous she was almost entirely convinced he came unprepared just so that he could see her).

"Miss me, darling?"

"In your dreams, Lockwood," she shouted back at him, dodging a Type Two. She gritted her teeth as she hit the ground, jagged rocks digging in and pain shooting through her side. Rolling, she stood again, panicking for a moment when she realised she'd dropped her rapier.

"Here you go, darling," Lockwood said, appearing out of nowhere with her rapier. "Do I get a reward for returning your belongings?"

"Yeah, you do, actually," she replied, getting close enough to him she could feel his breath on her face. "You get to not be stabbed by me. Duck." He did, almost immediately, and Y/n threw a flare at the Spectre behind him. Lockwood popped back up, somehow still smiling despite the utter carnage surrounding them.

"If I got hurt, would you visit me in hospital?"

"Yeah, to finish you off."

He laughed, and Y/n turned away so he couldn't see the blush rising on her face at the sound. As she did so, she caught a glimpse of something that definitely wasn't dead rummaging around where she had thought the Source for the cluster was.

Relic men.

"Lockwood?"

"Yes, my love?"

"Relic men, over by the Source. What are we gonna do about them?" She hadn't taken her eyes off of the two figures that were crouched by the oak tree, afraid that if she moved her gaze they would run off. When Lockwood only cursed, she panicked, wondering what was wrong. Normally by now he would have charged in to the fight, all guns blazing. Why wasn't he doing that now? Had he suddenly realised that she was right? Because this was really terrible timing if he had. "Lockwood?" Her voice had gone up in pitch, fear making it quiver. Relic men were nasty, and a lot harder to deal with than ghosts. Ghosts she'd been trained for.

"We're surrounded by them. They're blocking all reasonable exits."

"Shit. Okay. What about unreasonable exits?"

"What?"

"You said they're blocking all reasonable exits, yeah? So what about the unreasonable ones? Could we get out anywhere else?"

"Uh... there's a gap in the fence over there," he pointed. "But that would mean letting them have the Source. It's too powerful, we can't let that happen."

"Ugh, okay, hang on. Go and tell the others, just in case they haven't noticed."

"What about you?"

"I'm keeping an eye on these two, make sure they don't get away. I'll try and get closer, but there's a lot of Type Ones in the way."

"You'll be okay?"

"If I die you can take me on a date."

"That's... what? That doesn't make sense."

"Take it or leave it, Lockwood. Get a move on."

He left, casting a last look over his shoulder at her before disappearing into the night to find the others. Y/n felt unease creep up her spine, and she gripped her rapier tighter, her other hand hovering over the remaining flares in her belt. The relic men were still digging, and a few of the ghosts had noticed the disturbance now, moving over. Y/n frowned, a thought occurring to her.

Relic men waited until the ghosts were gone.

So what were they doing here, now? Why endanger themselves? Before she could think on it further, she felt the air shift behind her and ducked to the left just as a fist appeared in the space her head was in mere seconds ago.

Shit.

She pulled herself back up, readjusting her grip on the rapier and taking a quick glance over to the tree. Seeing the two relic men still there, Y/n whipped back around, ducking again just in time to miss the next punch. The man pulled out a knife, the edges jagged, and a wicked grin came over his face. Y/n gulped, then parried his attacks. He was relentless, swinging and then swinging again immediately after, never letting up on her. It was all she could do to keep her arm upright and strong enough to block him, and the ache in her side from hitting the ground earlier was turning into a throb that wracked her body with pain. The relic man noticed the weakness, and his grin grew wider, broken teeth showing. He became even more frantic in his attacks, and Y/n felt herself stumbling backwards over the grass. The floor was uneven, and she tripped, crashing onto her back. She got her rapier up in time to hold off the relic man's knife that had carved a path through the air to cut through her head, but he was stronger than her, and his blade was edging closer to her face. He was only using the one hand, and Y/n realised a split-second too late that his other hand was reaching for his belt, where a second knife was strapped. Her eyes widened in recognition briefly right before he plunged the blade into her side, and she let out a scream.

The pain was all-consuming, and it took everything in her to keep her rapier up, the shockwaves coursing through her body. She took a hazy note of the fact that he hadn't pulled it out yet, which was good, but her vision was blurry, which was not so good. At least if the knife was still inside her body then she wasn't losing too much blood. Her grip weakened, and she saw the other knife jolt towards her face before it disappeared, the man being flung backwards into the bushes in a flash of light. Lucy appeared, hair wild and filled with leaves, her own rapier in hand. She crouched down, pressing a hand to Y/n's cheek and checking if she was okay.

"Threw a flare at him, should knock him out for a while. LOCKWOOD! HURRY UP! Sorry, I told him to get his ass over here just now, but he's stuck with some ghosts, and they're-"

"Lucy?"

"Yeah?" Her voice was hopeful, glad that her friend was conscious enough to speak.

"Please stop talking."

"Y/N!"

She winced at the shout, and Lucy moved over to make room for Lockwood. Y/n rolled her eyes at the cuts on his face, and the gash on his arm. "You can't help yourself, can you? Gotta throw yourself into danger headfirst."

"Shut up. Can you sit?"

"Did you just tell me to shut up? Anthony Lockwood, do not tell me to shut up when I could be dying."

"Y/n, please, don't do this. Can you sit?" His voice was insistent, desperation seeping into his expression, and his glare was convincing enough that she tried to sit up. The pain in her side was too much though, and she ended up half-slumped against a tree. "Who did this? Y/n? Who did this to you?" His tone was lower now, with something dangerous in the background.

"Lucy hit him with a flare. He's over there somewhere." She waved in the general direction she'd seen him disappear in. "Anthony, where are you going?" He froze, looking down at her from where he now stood. The full moon was behind him, and he looked otherworldly in the silver light.

"Lucy will stay with you, okay? Just hang on. I'll be back in a minute. Don't die on me now, Y/n/n." He softened a little at the last part, trying to convey a million emotions in a few words.

"Wait, I'm staying here?"

"Yes, Lucy." And with that he left, stalking in the direction Y/n had pointed him in.

"You alright?"

"Brilliant, thanks Luce," Y/n replied, and then she promptly passed out.

~~~

A soft beeping woke Y/n up, and the harsh light above her and the sterile smell in the air immediately told her that she was in a hospital.

That didn't explain the warmth in her left hand though.

Blinking as she adjusted to the bright light, she turned her head to the left, and had she not been drugged up on painkillers she would have reacted much more quickly and jerked away.

But she was drugged up on painkillers, so instead she just stared at the boy asleep in the chair next to her bed.

Anthony looked peaceful when he slept, he always had, but he didn't look particularly comfortable right now. His right hand was holding her left, and he'd managed to pull one of his long legs up onto the chair, bracing his forehead on his knee while his left arm dangled off the side of the armrest. Yeah, he couldn't be comfortable like that. She squeezed his hand lightly, but he didn't wake. A nurse came in, and upon seeing Y/n awake, smiled.

"Your boyfriend must love you a lot. He hasn't left your side since you came in. Rode in the ambulance with you too, which he wasn't meant to. Paramedics said he was very insistent and needed treating anyway, so they let him. He's been really worried about you." Y/n was on too much morphine to fully comprehend what was going on, and her brain had stopped working properly at the word 'boyfriend' anyway.

"Oh," was all she said, and the nurse smiled, going through her checkups. Y/n drifted in and out of consciousness for half an hour before Anthony woke up.

He blinked a few times, just as she had, stretching like a cat, long limbs going everywhere but never removing his hand from hers. His grip only tightened, and when he saw her watching him with a small smile on her face, he returned it.

"You're awake."

"No, I'm dead," she deadpanned. "Obviously I'm awake, idiot. If I died I'd have to go on a date with you."

He frowned. "Would that really be so bad?"

"Yeah. You should be going on a date with me, not the other way around."

He laughed lightly, more an amused exhale than anything else. "You are so drugged up right now."

"Yep," she replied, popping the 'p'. His thumb was stroking across her hand, and Y/n wondered if he knew he was doing it.

~~~

"Ugh, do I have to live at yours? What's wrong with my house?"

"You live on the fifth floor and there aren't any lifts. You were also specifically told not to climb too many stairs."

"Yeah, but your house has almost as many stairs as my apartment building, so what's the difference?"

"The difference is that I can look after you here, because I live here. Don't touch that, it's still healing, and- ow!"

"Oh shit, sorry. It looks healed."

"Yeah, well you're not the only one that got stabbed, alright? Here, let me get the door."

Anthony sprung up the last step, fishing the keys out of his coat pocket and unlocking the door. Y/n followed behind, wincing when the movement up the stairs put pressure on her wound. She'd been in hospital for two weeks once she'd woken up, and had been told to stay at home until she was properly healed. Anthony had taken on the role of carer immediately, and the nurses had all mentioned (multiple times) what a good and loving boyfriend he was, looking after Y/n the way he was, despite his own injuries.

Neither of them had denied it.

Once inside 35 Portland Row, Y/n took a look around, and was surprised to see that it had barely changed in the last three years.

"Right. Tea? I think George has just put the kettle on."

"Anthony?"

"Yeah?" His smile was tentative, clearly not wanting to scare her off when she'd just started calling him by his first name again.

"Please don't make me sleep on the sofa. Because that looks like the same one your parents got when we were four and I remember how uncomfortable that one is." She pointed to the sofa in question, and he shook his head.

"No, you're not sleeping there. What sort of a boyfriend would I be if I let that happen?" he joked, and Y/n felt her heart flutter at the idea. "You can sleep in my bed, alright? It's only one flight of stairs, which will hurt, but it'll be good for you to get the exercise in, make sure you're healing properly."

Y/n frowned. "Where are you sleeping if I'm in your bed?" She half expected him to say that he'd be right next to her, but he smiled softly again.

"Sofa. No, don't look at me like that, I've slept in worse places."

"What worse places? Ant, you've got to look after yourself! God, you're gonna give me a heart attack one of these days."

She started making her way up the stairs, huffing from the effort. She was tired, despite having spent just over two weeks lying down, and it was already late in the evening.

"It doesn't matter, alright? Just... let's just get you to bed, okay?"

"You're sleeping in a bed, and that's that."

"You are so stubborn sometimes."

"So are you!" She made it to the half landing, and hobbled over to the door she remembered being Anthony's. "You still in here?" At his nod, she pushed the door open, going over to the bed and sitting on the edge. "Seriously, this bed is big enough for the both of us. I'm not letting you sleep on the sofa, Ant. It's super uncomfortable."

"Won't that be... I don't know. Won't that be weird?"

"Why would it be weird?"

"Because we haven't... we're not... you don't like me and I'm scared you're going to murder me in my sleep."

"You... what? Uh... okay. I'm not gonna murder you in your sleep, Ant. One, that's completely dishonourable. I would do it while you were awake so that you could look into the eyes of your killer. Two, I do like you, I just also need you to apologise. For what you said."

"You want me to apologise? I was just defending myself, because I was hurt by what you said. You made out like I wasn't capable and that stung, because you'd always been my biggest supporter."

"Oh for fuck's sake, Anthony. I wasn't saying that at all. I was worried about you because you weren't yourself after Jess died. You were... I don't know. You weren't you, and it freaked me out when you said you were starting an agency, because it's a crazy thing to do! You sort of became a shell of my best friend, and disappeared, and I was worried that you would die and I would lose you because you wouldn't care about living anymore. I know that you are perfectly capable of fighting, and you're one of the best swordsmen I've ever met, but you're an emotional wreck, Ant."

He was quiet for a bit, staring into space as he thought about her words. Y/n sighed, lying down on the covers and closing her eyes.

"I'm sorry." She felt the bed dip next to her as he sat down. "I'm sorry. I said some horrible things to you and you had every right to leave. I don't have an excuse for what I said, and if you want to leave tomorrow morning then I'll help you move into your flat again. But I just... I'm sorry, Y/n/n."

Y/n sighed again. "I don't want to go. I've missed it here," she admitted. "And yeah, you were an idiot and an arse, but you're my idiot, alright? You have a lot of grovelling to do as well." He nodded rapidly, and a secret smile spread on his face, one of the ones he showed her and nobody else.

"Your idiot?"

"Yes, Anthony. My idiot." They smiled at each other, soft and gentle. A thought occurred to Y/n, and her brow furrowed. "What happened after I passed out in the park? All I remember is you looking murderous and asking who stabbed me."

"Oh, right." Anthony looked away, blush creeping up his neck.

"What happened?"

"He's not coming after you again, if that helps. Or anyone. DEPRAC completely purified the area."

Y/n gaped at him. "You killed him?"

Anthony shrugged. "He hurt you, badly, and you could have been killed. If Lucy had been a second later..." He trailed off, eyes clouding over slightly.

"Ant?" Y/n pushed herself up into a sitting position, wincing at the stab of pain that shot through her in protest.

"Hmm?" he turned to look at her, and his eyes went wide when she slid an arm up around his neck.

"Lucy and George think that we need to make out."

"They, uh... they what?"

"They think that we need to make out."

He swallowed thickly, eyes flickering between hers, trying to figure out what was going on. When he spoke, it was in a hoarse whisper.

"What do you think?"

"I think we should listen to them. They're normally right about things. What about you?"

"Uh... okay?"

Y/n hesitated, suddenly unsure.

"Ant, do you want to? Because if you don't that's totally fine, I just assumed that you felt the same as me, and we were both fine with the hospital thinking that we're dating, and I genuinely really like you, and I probably love you-" she was cut off by his lips on hers, slightly chapped but still soft.

"I do want to, I'm just hopeless around girls, especially the ones I've loved since I was about ten." He'd barely pulled away, his nose brushing the side of hers, breath fanning over her lips.

"George was right about that too, then," she murmured, kissing him again. "He said you were hopeless with women."

"Thank god. I thought he knew I've been in love with you for years."

"Oh you're in love now, are you?"

"Started about seven years ago, but sure." He pushed forward again, bringing a hand up to cup her cheek as he kissed her softly and slowly.

"Is that why you flirted with me?"

Anthony flushed, nodding slightly. "In my defence I am completely hopeless with pretty girls, and I wanted to know if there was any chance of you sharing my feelings."

Y/n kissed him again, short and sweet. "I love you, Anthony Lockwood. Just look after yourself more, yeah?"

"I love you too," he replied. Y/n prodded him in the side.

"And?"

"And I'll look after myself more," he said, smiling. "Anything for you, anytime."

They kissed again, for longer this time, exploring each other and being mindful of their injuries, and Y/n thought she could happily spend eternity wrapped up in his arms

"You're definitely not sleeping on the sofa," she said when they paused for air a while later.

"If you say so," he smirked, wiggling his eyebrows. She smacked a hand against his chest, face going red at his implication.

"Not like that, idiot."

"Your idiot," he smiled, pure joy on his face as he pecked her lips.

"My idiot," she replied, mirroring his grin.

[lewkwoodnco]

Hii I want to request Anthony Lockwood!fem reader, with the song I Can See You, where they are rivals kinda like him and Quill, and she hates him because his annoying, and he just likes to flirt with her to annoy her. And they get put on a case together by DEPRAC, and I don't know you could make some scene like from Lockwood&Co season 1, where he and Lucy where discovered by the relic man and his wife, I don't remember their name, but like something similar, where he is willing to do anything just so they don't hurt her. Also, could you put a dagger to the throat scene in somewhere, where the reader is holding a dagger to his throat, but all he can think about is kissing her. Obviously, you can make the plot so it suits the song. I hope you could write this as long as possible because I love long fics, and your Lockwood fics are just amazing!!

I Can See You - Lockwood x Reader

A/N: Had a bit of writers' block with this for a while, but I think it's one of my favourite works yet. TW slight suicidal and death mentions, spoilers for the ending of the second book in the series. 5.9k, enjoy!

Lucy Carlyle was currently looking back and forth between Lockwood and the leader of one of the teams from Fittes. Both of them were just staring intensely at each other in silence, expressions inscrutable. The Fittes agents watched their leader apprehensively while George was practically beside himself with glee.

"George, who's that?"

"Y/N L/N. Lockwood's had a bit of a thing for her for a while."

"Bit of a thing...?"

"They hardly agree on anything. Makes for some very entertaining cases, if dangerous. I've put money on her setting his coat on fire within five hours."

Lucy opened her mouth to ask more questions, but George shushed her impatiently.

"Look what the cat dragged in."

"Nice to see you too, Y/N.”

“Can't say I return the sentiment, Andrew.”

“Charming as ever, I see."

Barnes had sent them a letter a few hours ago, requesting their immediate assistance on yet another DEPRAC misson. That was nothing new, and neither was them being partnered up with a team from either Fittes or Rotwell. But a boyish glow had washed over Anthony as he skimmed the letter; he looked pleased enough to start humming. George didn't have as intense of a reaction, but his eyebrows had disappeared into his hair and he hadn't wasted time dawdling like he usually did. And now this stand-off. Strange.

“At least the papers get my name right.”

“I’d rather your lips get my name right."

"Oh, fuck off."

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

There was a small kerfuffle as her teammates lunged to hold her back as she tried to launch herself at Lockwood.

"I take it back. Fuck you Lockwood, you and your agency can go to hell. Oh, hi George. Did you get my biscuits?"

"They were lovely. This is Lucy, by the way. New recruit."

"Hi Lucy. I like your boots."

"Thanks. I like your belt."

"Really? I got it for a really sweet deal."

"Well, while we're exchanging compliments," Lockwood began all too innocently, unperturbed by her glare, "I really like your jumper, Y/N."

A curious silence followed as she stared at Lockwood, trying to figure him out. Next to Lucy, George inhaled sharply as realisation struck. "Now that I think of it, might be best to lower it to three hours."

She finally broke the silence, but she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of falling for his only seemingly innocuous bait. "Right, well, I don't care. I hate it, in fact."

"Really?" He had the gall to raise his eyebrows as if genuinely surprised. "Hmm. I suppose you're right. It would look better on my bedroom floor."

She was too flustered to come up with any clever sort of response, only this choking sound that was a cross between a scoff and an expression of disgust. It was only because it was completely uncalled for, she reassured herself. Why would she want to know anything about his bedroom, floor or otherwise? She suddenly became aware of the murmurs running through her team and she rallied her senses as best she could.

"In your dreams, Lockwood."

"Ass-kisser."

"Rule-breaker."

"Goody-two-shoes."

"We're starting!" Barnes hurried in, so she had to settle for giving Lockwood a very dirty look. "Well, not much to it this time. We're missing source, a pair of opera glasses, recovered only a few hours ago."

Barnes holds out a file and Lockwood and her both lunge for it, but she's just a fraction quicker. Feeling unusually smug, she takes her time smelling the paper, flicking the page, glancing at the ghost of the competitive smile on Lockwood's lips.

"...we think it's more likely that they're still inside the house they were found in, but it's always possible that they've already been stolen-"

"Wait, a poltergeist?" She was holding the file open to the second page. "Inspector Barnes, you can't be serious!"

"You'll manage. Reports don't point to it being particularly vicious, and visiting the house is more of formality. We don't expect the source to still be there, buy we didn't check for hidden walls or flooring." One of Barnes' assistants leaned forward to whisper in his ear, and he nodded. "I have to go. Find the source."

With that, Barnes left, and the two teams stepped forward to absorb the space he left, Lockwood and her facing each other directly.

"Well then, to the house we go."

"Are you crazy? With a poltergeist? That's a suicide mission."

"But isn't that what Inspector Barnes said?"

"I don't know what kind of agency Lockwood & Co. is, but at Fittes we address our superiors with respect."

"If the source is at the house, we won't have to deal with Winkman. Case closed."

"My team would rather deal with Winkman than a poltergeist. Case open."

"No, your team wouldn't think that if they had actually dealt with Winkman before, like we have. Case closed."

"But-"

"Look, you do not want to deal with Winkman. Trust me on this."

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The air in the house was stale, and the creaky floorboards made her jump while the wind howling through some draft kept her on edge. In short, the worst kind of house to deal with a poltergeist. The corridors were so narrow, shrouded in darkness except for light from the ghost lamps filtering through the cracks in the ceiling, and everything smelt like death. They were walking in a single file, Lockwood and her at the end, just to make sure no one got left behind. Of course, that also meant that she had no respite from his incessant chatter, his warm breath tickling the nape of her neck.

"Would you quit it? I'm trying to Listen."

"We'll be fine. I happen to have the-"

"The best Listener in the country, yes, so you've mentioned. A few billion times."

"Aw, cheer up. I'm sure you're not half bad either."

"I'm perfectly cheerful, thank you very much."

"Then I wonder what you're like when you're actually all wound up."

That was her breaking point. She needed to assert herself if she had any hope of being even remotely civil towards Lockwood on what was beginning to look like a very long case. She spun around, pulling out her dagger and pushing the flat of the blade against Lockwood's neck while the rest of the party continued on, oblivious.

"Still no rapier? Y/N, you're going to get yourself killed. That butter knife of a weapon isn't going to do anything to a ghost."

"Listen, Anthony, I'm here to do a job, not entertain your charades, and I'd like to do so with as little casualties as possible. But if you don't stop, I think I can make an exception for you. Stay out of my way, and I'll stay out of yours. Are we clear?"

She revelled in his stunned expression, mouth ever-so-slightly agape, finally receiving his full attention. But as the glow of her satisfaction faded, she felt a lump growing uncomfortably in her throat, suddenly aware of the simmering hunger in his gaze, completely unable to tear her eyes away. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but she could have sworn he ever so slightly licked his lips, and unbidden images of what they could, or would, do if they were alone flashed in her mind's eye. She felt rather than imagined his mouth pressed unyieldingly against hers, his hair in her fingers, their bodies pressed impossibly close to each other.

She inhaled sharply, blinking, unknowingly withdrawing within herself, her dagger resting on his collarbone rather than his throat. Lockwood's expression was back to normal, insufferable and aggravating as always, but there was a slightly less arrogant tilt to his head now.

"If you wanted me up against a wall, all you had to do was ask."

"I'm not even...going to deign you with a response to that. It's scarring to just think about." Not her best, but it was all she could force out without giving away the need bottled up inside of her. But she could see in the way that he wasn't quite meeting her eyes that he felt it too. That moment had permanently shifted their relations. From professional, if slightly hostile, to something far more intimate. It made her dizzy with want, or fear - she couldn't decide.

One of her teammates had stopped at the door at the end of the corridor, hand hovering over the doorknob. Lockwood squeezed past the single file, barely brushing against her, razor-sharp focus on the door. She hated the way her cheeks flushed at the slightest of his touches. He became a totally different person when he was working: dedicated, professional, capable, and the Fittes-agent in her couldn't help but find that efficiency desperately appealing. But it was more than that. As big as his ego was, he clearly didn’t think much of his casual nonchalance or confidence, and there were these increasingly frequent moments where she would be possessed by this sudden insanity to wrap her arms (rather than her hands) around his neck.

Months of suppressing and denying feeling anything other than despisal towards him certainly didn't help matters. It made her feel unstable, like she didn't have proper control over what she would do or say when she was around him. Kiss him, kill him, push him over a bridge...She spent half of her time with him enraptured and the other half trying not to think about him. She bit the inside of her cheek. There was something about his daring, his ability to throw himself in the direct line of fire that made him so dangerous, so addicting.

The boy at the front stepped back, relieved, as Lockwood pressed his ear to the door. He started turning the doorknob.

"Lockwood, don't, you can't hear a poltergeist. He's probably heard us by now but he hasn't done anything yet. Don't be foolhardy. It could be a trap."

"I don't think it's a trap."

"You don't know it's not a trap. We need to think about what to do next."

But it was too late. Lockwood swung the door open. In an instant, the floor heaved, then gave away, and suddenly she was falling through the air.

"Lockwood, I fucking hate your guts!"

Out of nowhere, she felt herself being grabbed by the waist and then almost immediately slammed into a wall. There was this awful ringing noise in her ear, but at least she had someone to hold onto.

"Please, save the dirty talk for the bedroom."

She groaned, wishing it was literally anyone else, trying to block out the warm feeling of his body pressed against hers.

"That's twice I've saved you now, by the way."

All she could manage was an incomprehensible scream which made Lockwood wince, not realising her lips were on the shell of his ear. Strangely enough, despite her panic, she felt oddly grounded by the feel of Lockwood's rough coat desperately clutched in her hands and his annoying yet normal quips. It was a new sensation. Plastered against her mortal enemy, and yet it was the only thing keeping her breathing? The intimacy of how she was wrapped around him made her breath hitch, and the anxiety it induced was enough to drive her back to the present.

Looking down was nauseating, and looking up was somehow worse. Lockwood had wound a loose wire from the ceiling around his knuckles, and it was digging a cut into his palm. She felt her grip loosen as her head spun, but the arm around her waist tightened. She felt a brief flicker of peace, or maybe hope, and then the ceiling started to crumble.

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

The last bits of debris were still falling when she came to, but she could have sworn she had blacked out in fear for a moment. She couldn't feel any broken bones, only a heavy weight on her hip. She blinked away the blood and dust and saw the weight take the form of Lockwood.

"Well. I didn't know you were so scared of heights."

Lockwood didn't like admitting fault, and she didn't like admitting weakness. It was such a silly thing to be afraid of, but and when all Lockwood did was push her to the precipice of territories unknown, she didn't know what to do with the fear running through her. Didn't know what to do, except lash out.

"Get off. Get off.”

"Geez, take me out to dinner first." She finally snapped.

"This is all your fault!" She yanked him towards herself by the lapels of his coat, yelling at him through tears. "That's twice you've put our lives in danger, idiot. I told you it wasn't worth it, that we would be so much better off at Winkman's, but you just had to go for the more dangerous option. You just had to open that door. Anthony Lockwood, you're a professional show-off. What if someone on my team died today? You'd just skip on home while I would have to live with that grief for the rest of my life. You don't know what it's like to see someone Ghost-touched in front of your eyes and being completely and utterly helpless."

The lines on his face hardened. "Y/N, if the worst thing to you is death, you won't stand a chance against Winkman."

"What do you know? You've demolished an entire house. Face it Lockwood, everything you touch gets destroyed."

He was finally out of smartass quips. She felt small just saying that. She knew it was too far, and under-handed, but she was just so mad she couldn't help but spit fire. Why did he have to be so reckless? Didn't he realise his luck would only last him so long?

She felt an awful prickling at the back of her eyes, and she tried to convince herself that no one noticed the rough edge to her voice. "I think it's best we go our separate ways." With a heavy heart, she turned, her team tiredly following her, no one pulling her back to stay this time. Feeling the floor fall beneath her feet and seeing Lockwood grasping for life with his fingertips was too frightening for her to stay, and if that meant she was a coward, so be it.

Too much of a coward to even look him in the eye.

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

Her team decided to stop for supper before tackling Winkman, not that she managed to eat much. The events at the house sat like lead in her churning stomach as she turned the memories and images in her head, until she felt numb. It was either that, or acknowledging that she just might be the worst person in the entire world. Distantly, she heard her team discussing their plan of attack at Winkman's, and suddenly her mouth was forming words her brain wasn't aware of.

"I'll go. No point in all of us going, we wouldn't be stealthy enough. Besides, I'm responsible for all of you. Contact DEPRAC if I'm not back in 12 hours." With that, she stood up and left before she could properly hear her team's protests.

As she drew nearer to Winkman's, she heard repeated dull, echoing thuds of metal hitting metal. She crept up cautiously with her hand on her dagger, then visibly relaxed when she saw it was just Lockwood hammering away at the lock.

"Oh. It's you." Apart from a glance, Lockwood acted like he didn't even hear her, or know her, with an impassive expression. A part of her was angry, but another part knew it was what she deserved.

"You're lucky it was just me. That dagger's not scaring off anyone." She fumed. Did he have to be so antagonistic? Why couldn't he be nice or just civil like a normal person?

"The dagger works perfectly fine for me. I have no trouble scaring anyone off."

"Yeah, I can see that." His voice was so rough with hurt and resentment that she instantly regretted everything she just had to say. She opened her mouth to apologise, but was interrupted by the final clang of Lockwood's rapier and the thud of the lock falling off.

"Lockwood, I'm really sor-"

"Save it. Somehow, that's still not the most frustrating thing about you."

Her mouth dropped open, and it was a good few seconds before she spluttered and found her voice again. "Frustrating? ME? Are you out of your mind?"

She felt her back slam against the aluminium door, not much different from how she had cornered Lockwood in the house. Lockwood's arms caged her in, but he didn't make her feel nearly as claustrophobic as her emotions did, threatening to claw their way up her throat. He was impossibly close, breath ghosting over her face, overwhelming her senses, and she felt every rational thought scatter in her brain, like loose marbles. His voice was gravelly, almost tender, and she didn't trust herself to speak.

"What would you do..." She didn't resist the arm snaking around her waist, nudging her closer. "If I held you like this..." His other arm reached into her scalp, sending a shiver down her spine, cradling her head and exposing her neck in a way that made her feel too vulnerable. His breath tickled her ear, threatening to snap every single one of her highly-strung nerves, mouth just a few inches below her temple. "...and kissed you?"

For a few short seconds, all she was aware of was her distracted, erratic heartbeat and the feel of Lockwood all around her. She felt her legs losing circulation and her knees threatened to buckle at any moment. He pulled back, cold air rushing in to take his place and sting her scarlet cheeks. Her answer must have been written all over her face, making Lockwood laugh sardonically.

"But no, Y/N L/N is too good, too proud to be involved with anyone beneath her. So she'll deny and push down any sort of feeling or passion," he spit that word out with such vehemence, "Like she's some saint, too holy to meddle with mortal sins like love. No, no, so in your perfect, sensible words, let's just stay out of each other's way." Even though they were her own words, it stung to have them thrown back in her face with such malice. Lockwood started on one end of the warehouse, and she started on the other end, sifting through the hoards of trinkets as if on autopilot.

"I wasn't kidding before. It really is dangerous to carry a dagger instead of a rapier. You'd be ghost touched before you realised."

Lockwood's voice floated above, somewhere beyond the walls of junk. Her hands trembled as she continued, guilt gnawing away at her, fixating on the feeling of his hands on her.

"And just so you know, if someone on your team died, whether or not it was because of me, I would very much care. I don't think I would be able to live with myself."

She groaned internally, the beginnings of a migraine spreading through her temple. Why did he have to be so complicated? "Which is why," he continued, "you should go back. I've handled him before, and I can handle him again. You're way out of your depth here."

"I've been an agent nearly as long as you have. I'll be fine. Just focus on finding the glasses so both of us can get out of here."

"No, you won't. Trust me on this. Leave."

"Lockwood," she began irritatedly. She was so very tired. Why did Barnes ever think they would make a good, or even functional team? "I mean it. Stop being an ass and just look for the glasses, okay? Lockwood? Lockwood?"

She crept around the aisle, peeking from behind a tapestry. Her vision was limited, but she could see enough. Lockwood was kneeling, talking soothingly to this little boy of about five. There didn't seem to be anything obviously hostile about him, but something about the scene deeply unsettled her. Suddenly, there was a flash of electricity at Lockwood's neck, and he slumped forward. She bit her lip to stop herself from screaming, tasting blood.

She turned away as the woman who had shocked him dragged him off. Her heart shifted into overdrive. She looked around blurrily, fighting back tears, shoving down the panic and bile rising in her throat. She had to save him. No, she had to find the glasses first. Then she would come back with reinforcements. It was only logical. But what if it was too late by then? She clumsily searched the little cartons, making more noise than she would have liked, breathing shallowly as she desperately fought the panic attack hovering over her.

Maybe it was just her heightened anxiety now that she was alone, but she felt the hairs on the back of her neck prick up. She spun around and was badly startled by that same boy - Winkman's grubby gremlin of a son. Oddly enough, it grounded her enough to stop spiralling. "What are you looking at? God, you're so creepy. Quit it with that smile, your cute act won't work on - oh."

And it was just as those words fell from her lips and the world turned black that she realised her horrendous, absolutely awful mistake.

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

When the world came back into focus, she felt terrible. Every joint in her body was screaming for relief and her sore muscles ached. Once she had adjusted to the blinding light, she felt the rough floor against her cheek, heard voices around her; one behind her and one in front. She felt...distant, somehow, but she was sure one of them was Lockwood's...so the other had to be Winkman's.

She shifted her fingers as much as she dared, heart in her mouth for fear of being caught at any second. The muffled voices continued miles away from her, as if she wasn't even in the room, one of them becoming increasingly agitated. What was Lockwood even doing? Couldn't he see that she was awake?

She blinked imperceptibly, and the blood roaring in her ears finally died down. Her head hurt and her senses were too stimulated to think straight, but she managed to pick out Lockwood's voice eventually.

"I'm telling you, I don't know her. We're not even from the same agency."

"Is that so?"

"She might not even be an agent, I don't see a rapier on her." She felt a stab of annoyance and then overwhelming relief. Her other hand was stuck beneath her, but if she could just wriggle it around enough - yes. She still had her dagger. Her fingers closed over the handle, waiting for the right time to strike.

"Then you won't mind if I..." Winkman trailed off, and her glow of happiness was immediately extinguished by the feeling of a cold barrel pressed against her skull. It took all her efforts to not openly panic. She closed her eyes tighter, bracing for the pull of the trigger as she heard the gun click.

"Don't!" Lockwood's voice reverberated in the dingy room, startling everyone.

"So you do know her."

"I don't, I just think that she shouldn't have to die when she hasn't done anything wrong. She just got caught in the middle of this. Please, she can't tell you anything. Just let her go."

"How would you know? Fittes uniform...looks like some higher-up. She probably knows something of value, and I could probably force it out of her," he pressed the gun more insistently into her skull, "if not out of you."

Her mouth was dry as her heart hammered against her chest. She was going to die here, she could feel it. Suddenly, she heard Lockwood speaking in a rush, breathless, and she felt her heart sink.

"Fine. I know her. And I know she doesn't have anything you want. But I do. Whatever you want to know- want to do, do it to me, I'll tell you everything. You can kill me, I'll never see the light of day again, and no one will find out. No one will come looking. Just let her leave, she won't breathe a word of this to anyone else, I promise."

She could feel Winkman consider his words, and after a moment or two, she felt the barrel being lifted from her head. That was all she needed.

With her free, outstretched hand, she grabbed the barrel, hoping and praying Winkman's finger wasn't on the trigger. Her prayers were answered, and she jerked the rifle upwards, which punched him in the jaw. His grip loosened, and she turned the rifle on him, slipping Lockwood her dagger with her other hand to cut himself out of his restraints.

"Take one step towards us, and I'll shoot." Winkman was right where she wanted him, because there was nothing more terrible for a man as selfish as him than dying, missing the chance to enjoy his spoils. Her voice was calm and belied the rage simmering underneath her. How dare they hold Lockwood hostage like that? They were going to pay, and she would make sure of it. She was so furious, and all reason had been thrown out the window by that point.

"Actually, I don't need a reason to blow your fucking brains out." She raised the rifle, taking aim, just about to pull the trigger, when she felt Lockwood's hand on her shoulder. She didn't even turn to look at him, but she immediately felt the anger bubbling within her flow out, replaced by the gasping relief that everything was going to be fine.

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

She kept the rifle trained on the couple as best as she could with her trembling hands as she and Lockwood slowly backed away, then broke into a sprint, rifle tossed to the side halfway through. When they had finally run far enough into the city, they stopped at a bench underneath a ghost lamp, and for several seconds there was only the sound of their panting as they struggled to catch their breaths.

"I think," she began breathlessly, "that's the third time you've saved my neck." Lockwood looked at her from the corner of his eye, and she smiled so earnestly that they couldn't help but laugh. Their laughter swelled in the silence of the night.

But the laughter was temporary, just like their relief, and once they fell silent, the tension from earlier returned and occupied that vacancy. She pulled out a mini first-aid kit and started cleaning up his cut, which looked grimy and almost definitely infected by now.

"What was that, at Winkman's? You were practically begging him to kill you."

He didn't respond, and his eyes had taken on a dull sheen. It confirmed everything she needed to know.

"I...I guessed, a little...never would have thought it true."

It was like talking to a mannequin, except for the occasional wince when the rubbing alcohol stung. She didn't even recognise her own voice. It hurt to think about her being more attached to Lockwood's life than he was. The vigour with which she bandaged his cut grew with her words.

"It...It feels weird when you say things like no one would come looking for you. Your friends care about you so much. George would burn down the Archives if it meant saving you-" Lockwood groaned at the idea. "-and yes, he will bitch and moan about it for probably years on end, but if it meant you sticking around? He'd do it in a heartbeat. And I'm sure Lucy is no different either. I don't know how you got this weird idea that we'd just move on with our lives if you disappeared, because we wouldn't. Lockwood, people care about you, so stop being an arse and just let them."

"Even you?"

She paused, pretending to focus on the ointment. Opening up was as difficult as cracking a walnut open, but it was a bit too late to avoid all this. "I get restless if I don't see you in the papers for a while, whether it be for burning a house down or actually getting a job right. And every morning when I pick up the paper, I hope...I hope i don't see your obituary. So yes, Lockwood, I would hate it if you were dead. Who else am I going to butt heads and dream about making out with?"

Lockwood sat up, suddenly very interested. "Relax, it was a joke, just trying to breathe some life back into you. There, you're all done."

He fidgeted, looking down at the blood bleeding through the thick layers of the gauze bound almost a little too tightly to his palm. In the pale yet weak light of the ghost lamp, he suddenly seemed years younger, someone just like her. Someone who may have been a rival, but first and foremost, was an equal. She felt this sudden pang inside her heart. She dropped her voice, as if saying it a little louder would make her feelings for Lockwood all the more real.

"I didn't mean, what I said, earlier." Lockwood waited for her to continue. She had said a lot earlier. "About you being...destructive. I guess I was just furious that you had me a wreck when you weren't even trying all that hard. I'm such a mess, Lockwood, you have no idea. My dagger?" she pulled it out with some difficulty, wiping away the grime on it with her sleeve, her bloody face staring back at her. "It's just because I suck at using a rapier. I'm not even middling, I suck so bad it's not even funny. Stop!" Lockwood's mouth was twitching at the corners and when she finally looked up, looking like a cat left out in the rain, all because she couldn't handle a rapier, he lost it. "You know, you wouldn't be laughing like this if you actually saw me-" That just made him laugh even harder. She shook her head, waiting for him to finish.

"Y/N," he began, once he was done laughing. "You really are better than any medicine." He interlocked his fingers with her, raising her hand to kiss the back of it. "You can't handle a rapier yet, so what? I'll teach you. And then you'd need loads and loads of practice before you could get anywhere as good as me."

"I'm not done." He threw his head back dramatically. "I have a list!"

"Of course you do."

"I heard that." There was something infectious about his teasing smile, but its warmth was fading fast as she unpacked a memory she had shoved into the corner of her mind. She didn't like thinking about it too much, it made her too hopeless. Even now, she felt waves of despair crashing over her. "I didn't mean to fly at you like that earlier. It's just, my mum's been ghost-locked for a few months, and I'm not having the easiest time dealing with it."

She felt Lockwood still next to her, hating yet craving his sympathy. It had been so hard to wake up each morning, put on her suit, and go about her life while fighting the very real fear of never speaking to her mother again. It was like a long, drawn-out death that repeated every day. He wordlessly pulled her in as she sobbed into his chest, unravelling at the seams. If it was anyone else, she would have been mortified, but with Lockwood...it was different. It always had been.

"I understand," he murmured into her hair, "my sister was Ghost-touched in front of me. "If I had cared a little more...she might still be alive today."

That just made her sob even harder. How did he stand it, her hurling every insult in the book at him, when she didn't know the first thing about him? She don't know how long she cried, long enough to release months' worth of pent up grief, but Lockwood didn't show a single sign of wanting to let go. She wrapped her arms around him as she calmed down. She never wanted to let go of him.

"I never thought you were beneath me." Her voice was muffled as she spoke into his chest. "You own a property in central London, for God's sake."

"Not much else, mind you."

"If anything, I would have thought myself beneath you." She finally peeled her face off his shirt to see him raising his eyebrows with mock innocence, and she nearly shoved him off the bench. "Gosh, not like that. You're like a walking...sex...maniac. Is that all you ever think about?"

"When I'm around you? Most definitely." She groaned, but for the first time, she allowed herself to laugh too.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you had a crush on me."

"Lucky for you, I don't know better, and I can say I do." They sat in comfortable silence, enjoying the first respite in what had been a very chaotic night.

"I still can't believe Irene's been Ghost-locked."

"Irene? Have you been...corresponding with my mother?" Lockwood shifted awkwardly, jerking his head up.

"Do you hear that? Is that Barnes?"

"Lockwood."

"Yes, that's most definitely Barnes."

"Barnes isn't even here! Lockwood. Lockwood!"

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

She was sitting in the waiting room outside Barnes' office. It was morning now, and the room was filled with a pleasant warmth. She had already given her account of the events while Lockwood was being stitched up by the paramedics, and now she was waiting for him to finish his report after her head was bandaged up.

The door opened with a soft click, and Lockwood stepped out wearily, the exhaustion finally catching up to him as well. He smiled weakly. Even after a long night she sat with perfect posture, legs crossed neatly, looking the paradigm of innocence with hair gleaming like honey in the sunrise. It was maddening to Lockwood. He could never get enough of her little intricacies.

"You have no idea how much I've hated your necktie. It distracts me so."

"It's not a necktie, it's just a tie. You'd know that if you weren't so pretentious."

She grinned, reeling him in by his tie, pressing a small kiss to the corner of his mouth. She pulled away, walking out of the waiting room where the rest of her team was waiting.

They had discussed it on the way to DEPRAC's headquarters. The papers would have a field day if they caught wind of their relationship, and they would spin it and twist it in every which way. The less negative press they got, the better.

"I'd lose my job."

"Come work for me."

"Does your insurance cover ghost-lock of family members?"

Lockwood swore.

Now, he reluctantly followed her out, where George and Lucy celebrated him being in one piece. They turned to leave when she spoke up across the lobby.

"Lockwood."

Both agencies froze, watching uncertainly. George hopefully wandered towards the fire extinguisher. "I'd absolutely hate it if I needed your agency's help on our next case."

"I'd hate it even more."

"Good to see we're on the same page. Fingers crossed I never see you again."

She quirked the corner of her mouth, and Lockwood had to purse his lips to keep from smiling. Lucy looked back and forth, as confused as she was at the beginning of the case, turning to George.

"What was that about?" George groaned.

"Never mind that, you have no idea how much money I've lost..."

[givemea-dam-break]

please, could you write something were the reader is part of kipps crew and lockwood is like obsessed with her. anytime they encounter he goes out of his way to be nice to her and kipps finds it so weird because she is like is best friend or sister even. that would be so cool! also love the new things you’ve posted earlier!!!

a/n: of course! I love this idea, and thank you so much, I'm glad you enjoyed them :) this is a mix between the books and the show (not overly obvious though)

warnings: language female reader (few pronouns used)

part two

"Seems like we've saved you again, Tony," Kipps says smugly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Maybe if you did your research properly, we wouldn't need to come and clean up your mess."

George Karim scowls. "Not all of us can press a button and have everything we need right under our fingers."

"Besides, you didn't save us," Anthony Lockwood, the face of Lockwood and Co, says. "We had it all under control."

You break off from Kat's side, inspecting the damage around the park, and make your way over to Kipps. "If by under control, you mean you were surrounded by fourteen Wraiths with very few salt bombs or magnesium flares left to defend yourself with, then yeah, you had it under control."

"(name) -" Lockwood blinks, then plasters on that smile of his. "How nice to see you."

Against your better judgement, you smile. "You seem to be making a habit of us saving your asses. I hope it's not some excuse to see Kipps' pretty face."

Kipps, your team's supervisor, frowns at the pair in front of you. Off to the side, Bobby Vernon is instructing a few other Fittes agents, disposing of the source of the horde of Wraiths. Kat, as blank-faced as always, stands on the other side of Kipps, and Ned Shaw... Well, he's somewhere. Probably glowering at some poor child.

"No, I can assure you, Kipps' face is the last thing I want to see on a case," Lockwood says, sending a charming grin your way. "It's perhaps even scarier than the Wraiths."

You laugh softly, earning a glare from your supervisor. It's hard suppressing your smile.

"I expect we'll see you more this week, Tony," he says. "It seems that without your little Listener, you're getting even worse than before."

George bristles, fists clenching by his sides. "We were doing perfectly fine on our own. Now, if you don't mind, we'd better be on our way."

Lockwood straightens. "You're right, George. But, first, we need our pay."

"Oh, no," Kipps says. "No, see, we secured the Source, so, by DEPRAC rules, the commission is ours."

"You can't be serious," Lockwood says. "This was our case."

Kat, face void of any emotion, says, "Well, it's ours now."

George moves a step closer, knuckles white with tension, but Lockwood pulls him back, murmuring something in his ear. Angrily, Karim storms past you and out of the park.

"Best be off, Tony. Don't want to stay out too much later. I'm not sure we can be bothered saving you from more ghosts."

Lockwood ignores him, casting his gaze on you. "See you around, (name)."

You smile again. "See you, Lockwood."

And, then he's gone, striding off to catch up with George. You watch him go, curiously, until he's past the hedge line of the park and faded into the darkness of the night.

"Stop it."

You turn to Kipps, frowning. "What?"

"Stop looking at him like he's God's gift to the world," he grumbles. "He's an idiot, and he's the competition unless you've forgotten. Stay away from Lockwood - it won't end well."

Nodding, you cast his words aside immediately. It only makes you want to know him more.

"I'm serious, (name). You're like a sister to me, and I can't afford for you to get sidetracked and then hurt because of him."

Too late, you think. You have most definitely gotten sidetracked.

--

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

Scrounging around in your bag, your heart is pounding and your face feels hot with embarrassment. You can't find your purse, and there's a big long queue of people behind you, waiting for their turn to order with expressions of irritation. God, you want to melt into the floor and die. Someone groans behind you, their frustration seeping into your bones.

"Oh, my god, I'm so sorry. Just give me a minute -"

"Here you go," a voice says, and an arm reaches out beside you, passing a twenty-pound note to the cashier.

You take your coffee from her hand and shuffle out of the way quickly, breathing a sigh of relief. "Thank you so much. If I can find my purse, I'll pay you back."

"No, no, you're fine." That voice... Something about it is familiar.

Looking up, your jaw goes slack. "Lockwood! Oh, hi. How are you?"

His mouth splits in a grin. "Hey. I'm good. I'd ask how you are, but judging from how red you are, I think I can guess."

"I'm so sorry you had to pay, just let me -" You begin searching in your bag again, but Lockwood's hand closes over yours, halting the movement. Sparks run up and down your arm at the touch.

"(name), it's perfectly fine. My treat."

Your worried expression softens. "I can't thank you enough, Lockwood."

"Don't worry about it." He hesitates for a moment, eyes flickering over your face. "Do you want to come back to Portland Row with me? Chat over some doughnuts, maybe?"

Despite Kipps' warning, you want to accept, but you can't, as much as it pains you.

"I'm sorry," you say. "I've got to get back - we've got a case to get to in a few hours. I was just getting some sort of caffeine to energise me beforehand."

He looks a little disappointed, but he's still smiling. "That's alright. Maybe another time?"

You grin. "Sure. And, thank you, again, Lockwood. Really. You saved me from melting into a puddle of embarrassment back there."

"It hurt to watch," he jests. "Should I prepare my gear at home, just in case Lockwood and Co have to come save you Fittes lot for once?"

Laughing, you say, "No, but thanks. No offence, but I think we're a little more qualified for this job than you are, Lockwood."

There's a pause, one in which he only looks at you, smiling. Then, "Call me Anthony."

--

Before you lose confidence, you knock on the pale blue door before you.

Portland Row is quiet, despite it being mid-afternoon and summertime, but you don't really mind. With the sun beating down on your back, and a warm breeze that smells faintly like cut grass, you couldn't be more relaxed even if you tried.

The door swings open, revealing the face of George Karim, who doesn't seem overly pleased to see you.

"What do you want?"

You're taken back a little by his forwardness. "Oh, I just thought I'd come nip round and pay you guys a visit. I brought a bunch of doughnuts and biscuits and stuff from Arif's." You hold the box in your hands a little higher.

"George," a voice calls - Lucy Carlyle's, judging from the pitch. "Who is it?"

"(name), you know, Fittes agent? Kipps' crew?"

"I've brought treats from Arif's," you say over George's shoulder. "I come in peace."

"Oh, for god's sake, George, let her in!"

This time, it's Lockwood - Anthony - who speaks. He opens the door wider so that he and George are standing shoulder to shoulder in the frame. His wide smile is dazzling, and, as usual, his clothes are crisp and clean, as if he put them on right away after being ironed and hasn't moved in them lest they crease.

"Hey, (name). Thanks for bringing food."

He nudges George out of the way and gestures for you to come inside, which you do albeit cautiously.

The house isn't what you expected at all. With three teenagers living there, you assumed it'd be rather modern, but the wallpaper is old, and all sorts of decor and memorabilia hang on the walls. Masks, photos, and the likes. Straight ahead, Lucy Carlyle stands on the stairs, dressed in a comfy top and shorts, and despite the tension between your agency and theirs, she smiles at you before hurrying down the stairs and disappearing into what you assume is the kitchen. George follows her, frowning.

Deftly, Lockwood takes the large box of sweet treats from your hands.

"What's the occasion?" he asks, leading you down the hall to the kitchen.

"It's just a thank you for paying for my coffee the other day," you say. "Also, I wanted to see you, and I figured George wouldn't let me within ten feet unless I brought goods."

Lockwood laughs. "Well, you're right about that."

The kitchen isn't the largest you've seen, but it's cosy. Lucy is clearing space on the table which, oddly enough, is covered in a white tablecloth full of scribbles and writing. George is boiling the kettle over to the side, four mugs set out in front of him, though one is considerably smaller than the rest.

You can't blame him for not liking you. Although Kipps is like your brother, you know that he goes too far sometimes, and he's never been particularly nice to Lockwood and his friends. You're a part of his team, so their dislike for Kipps - or George's, at least - has extended to you.

"Please, sit," Lockwood says, gesturing to one of the seats.

Smiling a little awkwardly, you sit down as he separates the contents of the box onto different plates. Lucy takes the seat next to you, plucking one of the doughnuts straight out of the box and smiling.

Lucy has never had the warmest personality, or so you've heard, but the doughnuts have seemingly put you in her good books. That eases your discomfort a little.

George sets cups of tea down on the table before sitting down himself, just as Lockwood does, too. They all take their pick of the treats, grinning and chatting away.

"So, (name)," Lockwood says. "How did your case go the other day?"

Lucy raises her eyebrows. "You're keeping tabs on Fittes now?"

"We ran into each other a couple of days ago," you explain. "We stayed and caught up for a little bit."

George frowns. "Is that why you took so long getting back from your shopping trip?"

Lockwood sips his tea. "Yeah, I suppose. Anyways, how was it?"

"Fine," you say. "Some lady was murdered by her son a few decades ago, wanted revenge on the family - you know, the usual."

"Please tell me Kipps got a little injured," George says.

"George!" Lucy hisses, but something in her eyes tells you she doesn't feel much different than he does.

"Unfortunately for you, no, he didn't. Since he's just our supervisor, he stays within an iron circle and shouts orders at us."

"Surely that must get annoying?" Lockwood says. He's watching you carefully, and you can feel your ears growing hot under his gaze. "Having to take orders from someone who can't even see what's going on."

You shrug. "Yeah, it does, but there's not much we can do about it."

"Maybe, you could work with us."

Everyone seems to freeze when Lockwood says that. You slowly look up at him from the pastry you were just reaching for, your face the definition of pure shock. Lucy, bless her, just sits with another doughnut halfway to her mouth, eyes a little wide. But George, oh, George. It takes all your strength not to laugh at the expression of unadulterated surprise, mixed with a little bit of anger, as a biscuit hangs from his mouth.

"What?" you all say simultaneously.

Lockwood only grins wider. "I think it'd be a good decision. If we have one extra agent, it means if we get overbooked, we don't end up with one agent per case and can double up. And I don't think it'd hurt for Lucy to have some female company in the house."

"You can't be serious," George says.

"I am. So, (name)?"

The words are hard to find. "Uh, I mean, shouldn't you guys all talk about this together? I don't want to just be barging in, you know? Besides, I'd need to talk to Kipps, and that'll go down about as well as a magnesium flare in a forest."

"For once," George says, "I agree with (name)."

"Oh, come on." Lockwood waves his hand nonchalantly. "She's an incredible agent, and she'd fit right in. I don't think there's much to discuss."

In all honesty, you feel flattered that Lockwood is offering you a position within his company, only because you admire him so much. Fittes, and just about all of the big agencies, are too bureaucratic, in your opinion, and extremely controlling over cases. Lockwood and Co have free rein, within the rules set out by DEPRAC, and aren't hindered by supervisors or massive amounts of paperwork, all because he had the confidence to split off and set up his own company.

"Let's not rush into any decisions," you say, standing slowly. You don't want to move too quickly and elicit the rage of Karim. "I think I should probably head off. Enjoy the food, and, uh, have a good day."

Smiling awkwardly, you make your way out of the kitchen and hurry to the front door.

Footsteps sound behind you and, as you open the door, Lockwood says, "Wait."

You turn, sighing. "Before you say anything, Lockwood -"

"Anthony."

"Anthony, thank you for the offer, but I really think you should talk to Lucy and George first. I can't just accept without them wanting me to, and that's if I can accept."

Lockwood leans against the doorframe, looking down at you with those dark eyes of his. God, they've got you hooked.

"I will. I just - You're wasted at Fittes, stuck following the orders of someone whose Talent faded years ago."

You give him a look, but it's half-hearted. "Kipps basically raised me, alright? But I get it. Again, I appreciate it, but speak to the two of them first and then I'll consider it."

That seems to be a good enough answer. His smile is blinding. His hand briefly brushes yours, and your breath hitches.

"Give me a call in a few days," you say, "and we'll see where we're at, yeah?"

"Will do."

"I'll see you soon, Anthony."

If possible, his smile only grows brighter. "Likewise, (name)."

As you leave, you can still feel the brushing of his hand on yours, a sensation you hope will never fade.

[why-what-no]

💕 My Valentine 💕

Pairing: Anthony Lockwood x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None, Idiots in love

Notes: Damn, didn’t think I’d get this done by the time Valentine’s Day ended. But I did, which is awesome

Summary: Lockwood told his team that he will ask out the girl he likes on Valentine’s Day, making his best friend realize that she’s in love with him. But while she thinks her heart is now broken, she may come to find that he feels the same as her

Valentine’s Day never brought many strong emotions to (Y/N). It was a holiday, one but she acknowledged but never really celebrated. Romance had never really been a part of her life, too caught up in ghost hunting to notice, she it didn’t really matter.

Until this year, when waking up on Valentine’s Day brought her nothing but misery.

She had been living at 35 Portland row for half a year now, officially at home in their old agency. Her fellow agents were practically family, and she loved each and every one of them dearly.

But there was one in particular that…

Lockwood and (Y/N) had hit it off almost the moment they met. It was like they clicked perfectly into place. He quickly became her best friend, rarely seen without her.

It got to the point where nearly everyone they met thought they were a couple. His arm slung over her chair casually when they were eating out, faces almost touching when they were pouring over a book researching together, more inside jokes than Lucy and George could keep up with. So it wasn’t surprising when they got the occasional “So how long have you been together.” or “You’re such a lovely young couple.”

The two would always correct whoever said those things, brushing it off with a laugh. They always said that they were just friends.

Just.

Friends.

That was all.

And it was all they were.

Until the day before Valentine’s Day, where they were all eating lunch and George brought up Valentines. Lucy told them that she had asked out a girl who worked at Fitte’s, while George talked about having a movie night with a fellow researcher.

But what had shocked all of them was when Lockwood causally mentioned that he planned to ask a girl he liked out on Valentine’s Day.

“Wait, what?” (Y/N) asked, mouth agape. She knew she should be happy for him, but… “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

Lockwood looked nervous for a second before composing himself. “Slipped my mind.” He told her. “Honestly it didn’t even seem that important.”

“I…” She was honestly offended that he had forgot to tell her. She told him everything, even the most menial things. But did he not do the same? Was she just realizing this? And he always acted like he cared about the non important things she told him. But did he even really?

George looked back and forth at them before cutting in. “Well, good luck on that, mate. She’s a lucky girl.”

Lucy was looking at (Y/N) with… well, if (Y/N) didn’t know any better, she’d say it was pity.

That night she lay in bed, trying to figure out why this news made her want to cry so badly.

Obviously, she knew that Lockwood wouldn’t completely abandon her and their friendship for some girl. He was better than that. And if he really liked this girl, then obviously she would make him happy. And (Y/N) also wanted him to be happy. So logically she should support it. Logically…

Logically…

And then the realization hit her. Making her feel like an idiot.

All that time denying any feelings for Lockwood, saying that they were just friends. She wasn’t just sad that he hadn’t told her that he was asking a girl out, she was sad that it wasn’t her. She was sad that she couldn’t spend Valentine’s Day with him. Hand in hand, certain that the man she adored the most loved her.

Her feelings for him were strong than she had thought.

***

So Valentine’s Day morning, she woke up to the feelings of love and heartbreak all at once and for the first time in her life. Not the ideal start to the morning, and the thought of facing Lockwood now terrified her.

Although (Y/N) was too embarrassed to admit it, her main plan for the day was avoid him. She convinced herself that it wasn’t out of cowardice, but kindness. Lockwood already had a girl that he was interested in. He didn’t need her falling over herself for him. (Y/N) wanted to let him be happy away from her.

Self sacrifice had always been in her nature, just as it was for Lockwood. Although for both of them as well, self sacrifice was usually a cover for self destruction.

So she barely spoke to him over breakfast, choosing to sit between Lucy and George instead of take her usual place beside Lockwood.

Honestly, it surprised all her friends, but they chose not to speak up about it.

After breakfast, she got up to go to the library but Lockwood stopped her in the hall. “Hey, (Y/N).” He sounded nervous, breathless like he had just been out for a run, even though she knew he had done nothing of the sort. “I have something I need to ask you.”

That terrified (Y/N), thousands of terrible possibilities in her head. Plus, being this close to him was making her head spin. “Um, I’m busy right now.” She blurted out. “Ask me later.”

He seemed disappointed. “But…”

She used the moment to make a quick getaway. Ashamedly hiding in her room all day. Not wanting to face him, to think of him spending the day with another girl.

Until finally, she couldn’t take it any more. Disgusted with herself for running away and tired of lying to herself and to Lockwood, she stood up. Reaching for her door and opening it, only to reveal that Lockwood was on the other side.

His hand was up as if he was about to knock on the door, as shocked as she was about her sudden appearance as she was for his.

Their confusion both worked past their fear, because they blurted out what they wanted to say at the exact same time.

“Please don’t go out with her today.”

“Will you go out with me today?”

(Y/N) and Lockwood both froze, trying to process what the other one had said.

“What?”

“I…”

“What did you say?”

Perhaps the holiday wasn’t going to be so awful after all?

Lockwood took a deep breath. “I realize that this might not be the most romantic way to ask.” He chuckled apologetically. “But will you be my Valentine?”

“But… me? I thought… you said you were going to ask some girl?” (Y/N) could barely understand what was happening.

Chuckling at her obliviousness and confusion, Lockwood stepped closer. Beginning to regain his usual confidence. “It’s you, love. It’s only ever been you.”

As she began to smile, he continued. “I finally understood it a couple of weeks ago after I realized how happy I felt when people mistook us for a couple. Knew I wanted it to be real.”

(Y/N) nodded slowly, not totally certain that this wasn’t a dream. As if she had been ghost locked without knowing and was in whatever the comatose version of heaven was. “I want that too.” She softly told him, making him grin.

And while his grin was soft and small, he was inwardly delighted. Mentally wiping sweat from his brow at the relief he felt.

He always thought (Y/N) deserved the best in love, far better than him. He couldn’t believe that she would even give him the time of day, much less accept his proclamation of love. But she was there in front of him, staring up at his with these eyes filled with love and it almost made him want to weep with joy.

He felt whole.

***

When they got home right before dark, grinning from their date and hands linked together, George and Lucy let out noises of celebration when they saw them.

“Finally!” Lucy exclaimed. “You fools finally realized what the rest of us had known from the start.”

“Ha ha ha.” Lockwood shook his head indulgently. “If that is the case, then that begs the question: why didn’t you just tell us if you’re so bloody perceptive?”

“We did! You pigheaded stubborn idiots wouldn’t listen.”

“Yeah. And that’s not even the real question.” George spoke up, looking directly at Lucy. “The real question is who wins our bet.”

“What?”

“George and I had a bet.” Lucy explained, trying to hide a smirk. “If you of you asked the other out before Valentine’s Day, he got 20 quid. If you two did it after Valentine’s Day, I did.”

“But we didn’t think he would ask you out ON Valentine’s Day.” George grumbled. “Which was admittedly an oversight.”

“I say I win.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Well, hold on…!”

As the two of them playfully argued in front of (Y/N) and Lockwood, she look the chance to look up at her love. “I think it means that we win.” She whispered to him.

“Oh, absolutely.” He laughed quietly, looking at her softly. Leaning down to give her a gentle Valentine’s Day kiss.

[samthetrekkie]

I feel like I've abundantly established that I don't think the tos movies are the best ones ever made and this one was especially wild to me, but I still do have a soft spot for all of them. I never leave thinking "oh, I didn't like that", even if there were entire scenes were I was like ??? and/or second hand embarrassed. (think, uhura dancing naked, them thinking the alien on the planet is literally god). but then sybok asking when the pain began and spock goes "this is the scene of my birth" was way too funny to me (sorry spock). and the turbo boots scene in the jeffries tube was also really entertaining in a slapsticky way.

the general plot was a bit strange, but it actually reminded me of og tos episodes. at the same time, that's not necessarily a good thing… I liked the shore leave scenes, even though they were a bit long considering how short the movie was. it also reminded me of those old, unauthorized tos books (even though I've never actually read any of those) where they recycle typical tos episodes, but make it a little larger and filled with some non-canon info, like the random pairings. I do think scotty and uhura are kind of cute though! it came out of nowhere, but it kind of makes sense to me. (why do they call each other by their last names though?) and then cut to chekov and sulu in the woods bickering like a couple. makes sense as well. but why are these people serving on the same ship in the same positions again after they've become really high ranking officers? I think it actually made a lot of sense in wrath of khan that e.g. chekov was a first officer on a different ship and spock captain. but considering this, it makes a lot of sense that some (all) of them are bound to date each other at some point. it's like going to class with the same people for 8 years.

I surprisingly liked spock leaning more into his human side and being emotional than usual. it makes sense in my head that, after he was reborn, he kind of saw how short life was and that there was no need to keep up a facade at all times, but still not lose his identity. similar to seven in picard, I am always worried about autistic-coded characters changing their personality heavily after a while, but with spock it feels quite natural and it even worked with seven in the later picard seasons. I just think it's all about the balance. like I enjoy those characters being more comfortable, especially around friends and loved ones, but they shouldn't change entirely how they are and still seem "reserved". and I think leonard nimoy especially did well in that, even if this script gave him some out of character lines I think (like the "damn you, sir!"). have I already mentioned I think leonard nimoy is the best actor in tos…?

speaking of spock's rebirth and rethinking, I do see him being more open with kirk (I almost wrote jim, but that feels weird) and they had very much a married couple vibe in this movie. even the little maritial crisis in the brig was there. so I'd like to think kirk finally made a commitment :) and while there were not too many one on one scenes with these two, the next to last scene was more than one could wish for, spirk-wise. their intense eye contact and "please captain, not in front of the klingons" while standing extremely close to one another and kirk grabbing spock. like I've seen so many posts that shatner denies there was anything between kirk and spock, but the way he played kirk, I mean come on. I'm sure there wasn't a direction in the script that said "kirk stares lovingly up at spock". but he fully did in this scene! we have proof! and kirk holding on for dear life to spock as he rescues him with the turbo boots in the jeffries tube was also something. I mean of course you need to hold on, but kirk was embracing spock with a closeness different than mccoy did. (but then there is this strange thing with mccoy, where I keep thinking: is he third wheeling or is this a three way relationship? I somehow can't see mccoy fitting in with kirk and spock's romantic vibe and I don't see him in an erotic way in general but… tumblr is giving me ideas...)

a very long winded post to say: superfluous, but overall enjoyable movie. while watching, I also suddenly had flashbacks that this was the first (!) piece of star trek that I had ever (consciously) watched. it was on tv when I was like 10 and I kept zapping away and was surprised when it was still going and was like: isn't this supposed to be a tv show? and my dad, who grew up watching tos, had no memory of there ever being star trek movies in the 80s. he also had never heard of pretty much any star trek shows after tos at that point, so he was living under a rock, apparently. anyway, some of the scenes of this movie were really etched into my mind and I honestly think one of the subconscious reasons I wanted to watch tos was to get context to these scenes! (of course besides me wanting to watch all of star trek from the beginning.)

[iamfitzwilliamdarcy]

Thinking about how Kipps is everything an adult supervisor should be and it’s those exact reasons he cannot live with himself being one... this was just supposed to be a post of contrasting block quotes and it’s still mostly that but I added a bit of commentary/context:

“The adult supervisors had zero psychic sensitivity and, since they were mortally afraid of going anywhere near an actual Visitor, never ventured far into a haunted zone. Instead, they hung around on the sidelines, being old and useless.” 

- Lucy in The Creeping Shadow

Kipps, meanwhile, during the Guppy escapade:

“The one exception was Kipps, who sat cross-legged in the kitchen, drinking hot chocolate and reading a newspaper. He didn’t have sufficient Talents to do psychic exploration.”

(emphasized because he’s actually in the home, none of Lucy’s adult supervisors have ever done that -- also he’s staying out of the way) 

Later, he makes an official suggestion in his capacity as Fittes observer, but when the actual psychic kids reject it, he goes along with their plan anyway. Not only that, they’re actively trying to draw out Guppy and Kipps helps: 

“Lockwood inserted his crowbar into a narrow space between a countertop and the cupboard below.  ‘Kips and I will start,’ he said. ‘The rest of you keep watch”  ....After a bit, he moved back and let Kipps take over with the mallet.

And then :

“We have to go and help him, Kipps,” I said.  Kipps didn’t seem to have moved since Lockwood had left the room. His face was white. He gathered his wits. “Yes. We must. Come on.”

He doesn’t end up having to do anything because George finds the Source a moment later but he’s willing! He can’t see the ghost but he’s gonna go help Lockwood fight it! 

I don’t have my copy of Screaming Staircase with me to double check so I’ll edit this later-- I can’t remember if Lucy asking Jacobs to come into the house and offer advice is in the book or a show addition, but it’s such a contrast!!! 

And then, of course, these are all the reasons that Kipps ends up resigning-

“I just had a realization,” he said when we were on the train and rocking slowly through the south London suburbs. “After the Guppy job. I mean, there we were-- in a house possessed by a wicked and powerful entity, and you all were running around like madmen-- fighting, screaming, being fools-- but dealing with it... I was just a fifth wheel. I couldn’t see it, I couldn’t hear it... I was too old to do anything useful. And that’s what being a supervisor is: it’s a life of sending others out to fight and die. I’ve known that for a while, but it took you to make me realize I couldn’t bear to continue with it.... it was probably another dumb decision... like agreeing to come along with you today. Lockwood says he wants my expertise, but I’m not sure what I can contribute aside from standing around like a fence post. Maybe I can make the tea.” 

which like wow! The acceptance that he no longer has Talent, that his leadership can no longer continue to the way it used to -- which is exactly what an adult supervisor should do -- be there for input, listen to the psychic kids, advise and support-- it’s what Kipps does !  

we very frequently see Kipps actively engaged with his Team in Whispering Skull and Hollow Boy- obviously he has a Prideful streak, he’s pompous and makes mistakes, but we generally see him trust his team and do his best as a Leader. Again, don’t have my copies with me so can’t make the point further in those books, but also remember the reason he falls into hot water with Fittes in the first place is he goes a little rogue-- and the reason for that is because none of DEPRAC or the other Adults know what’s going on with the Chelsea outbreak, and, in the wake of his agent’s death, Kipps doesn’t want to lose anyone else to arbitrary nonsense (there’s something here in direct contrast to Marissa but maybe I’ll expound more in another post) -- instead, he trusts a Talent he actually knows and makes the best choice for his team members 

Which is all to say-- Kipps is a good adult supervisor, but the system isn’t made for good adult supervisors 

[bobbys-not-that-small]

So I just found out that the "quillon" is the crossguard of a sword, and I was like, "ha ha imagine if Quill is short for Quillon", a nice little sword pun for a guy who is canonically an excellent fencer.

But like, now I really want to know Jonathan's "etymology", if you will, of Quill Kipps' name.

Because in my non-metaphorical two minutes of googling, I found out that the book Kipps by H.G. Wells is "a rags-to-riches study in class differences, and the novel's chief dramatic interest is in how the protagonist negotiates the intellectual, moral and emotional difficulties that come with wealth and a change of social status".

The musical Half a Sixpence, which is based on Kipps is described as being about "an orphan who unexpectedly inherits a fortune, and climbs the social ladder before losing everything and realising that you just can't buy happiness".

I just... that just sounds a little bit too close to Quill Kipps, who has fast-tracked to a senior role at Fittes despite only being in his early twenties, but who then realises he's losing his talent and quits, pretty much losing everything he's worked towards. That's a pretty big change of social status and presumably loss of wealth, given he works extra jobs on top of Lockwood & Co cases (though yanno, London living is pretty pricey).

[girlboss-malewife-gauntlet-melee]

I AM SO SORRY ITS BEEN MONTHS

ANYWAY

PROPAGANDA

LOCKYLE

Lockwood is a homeowner at age 15 and he wanders around it drinking tea and charming people into giving him yhings. Lucy carlyle is a hotheaded aggressive and EXTREMELY powerful agent in his ghost hunting company. They both get shit done but in OPPOSITE ways. They have an interesting way of rejecting traditional gendered tropes- the sensitive dude and the bullheaded girl- that is both simple and INTENSELY complicated within their narrative, which i think qualifies them for the title. she is the protagonist of the series, a once in a generation prodigy, the most powerful listener since Marissa Fittes, the list goes on. He likes to drink pulpy orange juice and strain it throught his teeth to pretend to be a blue whale

Imaginea buff kind of irritated teenage girl with a sword. No, shes even cooler. That's better. Now imagine a rich preppy guy. No, thats too much like Patrick Bateman. Think Artemis Fowl. Ok youtr there. Hope yhis helps:)

they are PERFECT for each other. she recognises the subtleties in his smiles and he allows himself to be vulnerable in front of her

resting 😒 face x resting 😊 face. they both have swords and live in a house together (along with their other friend and a disembodied head, but that's unrelated)

SCULLDER

this is the slash your mom was into

[writeradamanteve]

Anthony Lockwood Examination Post

So much of the deleted scenes have been such a delight, and many of them I’d wished they’d kept, this montage with Lockwood included, but when I first saw this scene, my heart did hurt.

I looked at this exact snapshot and saw the face of depression.

He’s lying in bed with his eyes open, and we know he doesn’t get enough sleep. He is willing himself to get up at that very moment, and when he does, it’s routine for the next hour it takes him to prepare:

He gets out of bed, puts on the same clothes, and when he’s staring at the mirror, he puts on his face—not makeup, but—: that disarming smile, that sparkling charm, and the bold confidence.

He steps out of his room and gives that unopened door one flight up—a pedestal, really—a half-expectant look:

Any minute now she’ll walk through that door.

Then

Oh, right. She won’t. She’s dead.

And he moves forward, as he always does.

He files that hurt away as he joins George and Lucy at the kitchen, thinking about the many ways to grow the business, outsmart Fittes, and get bigger clients/more prominent cases.

He makes plans, giving safety and caution a cursory thought. His agents are smart, they are good at what they do. George will tell him if there’s anything they need to know. Lucy’s razor sharp intuition, conviction, and more than adequate skill with a rapier bolsters his confidence on the field.

Then when they’re all there, fighting for their lives, that little voice he had ignored all this time will ring in his ears and the rare panic attack would consume him. When he staves off the panic attack, regret would inevitably settle in when the danger was passed.

Lucy is the one that either pulls him together or vehemently calls him out, and then he couldn’t bear it, having her angry at him.

There’s something about Lucy that propels him to do better. George does not have this immediate effect because George doesn’t storm off and he never turns his back on Lockwood. Lockwood knows George will bend a long while, and Lockwood knows just enough when to appease George to snap him back. Lucy is not as patient. Lucy does not hesitate, because Lucy knows that her hesitation once got her friends killed and that was not going to happen again.

The danger of dying does not scare Lockwood as much as it should, at least not in The Screaming Staircase/The Whispering Skull/Lockwood & Co. Season 1.

He was, until Lucy, too reckless. Lucy has managed to talk him down to “just reckless enough”. She also impressed upon him that he had a responsibility to stay alive because if anything happened to him, she and George would be devastated, and if there was anything that motivated Lockwood more than winning a case at all costs, it was to spare Lucy and George any suffering. He could not bear the thought of Lucy or George getting hurt, especially because of him.

Before Lucy, he was numb, his ability to truly love dormant, but she woke him up, and I’ll tell you exactly when Lucy first punched a hole through that barrier.

In the Netflix series, I think it was the possession scene, and there were about dozens of moments where we saw it happen over and over again, but IN THE BOOK, The Screaming Staircase, it was after the well was exploded in Combe Carey Hall.

I knelt by him, brushed the ash from his forehead.

His eyes opened. He looked at me with a clear, unclouded gaze.

I cleared my throat. “Hi Lockwood…”

Awareness returned. I saw bafflement first, then gradual recognition.

“Oh… Lucy.” He blinked, coughed, and tried to sit up. “Lucy. For a moment I thought you were… It doesn’t matter. How are you, Lucy? You’re okay?”

This scene, knowing what I know now, is exactly the moment Lockwood remembered what it was like to be loved again. He thought she was you-know-who, and then he realized she wasn’t, but oh, it wouldn’t be the last time Lucy would remind him what it was like to be loved and looked after.

Lucy knew it, too, in her bones, even if she didn’t identify it, and—poor George, he saw it. He even said he saw it.

I stood abruptly. “Yes, I’m fine.”

George was watching me through cracked spectacles. “I saw that.”

“What?” I said. “Saw what? Nothing happened.”

(Lucy, so guilty)

“Precisely. Where was his slap in the chops? Where was his firm shaking? There’re double standards at work here.”

Ah, George.

So Lockwood isn’t exactly suicidal. The danger is there, but he won’t perform the act for its own sake, he just, until the events of the Bone Glass, convinced himself that his priorities were: defeating Visitors and Lockwood & Co. besting everyone else.

It was an easier focus than the dread of losing the people he cared about, yet again.

Thankfully, Lucy and George are setting him on a different journey.

So in a way, George is wrong. Lucy does slap Lockwood awake, just in a different way.

[thewordswewrite]

In the Spirit of Helping

Pairing | Anthony Lockwood x Lucy Carlyle

Summary | Lucy has been alone most of her life, having found solace in a single friend long lost she grapples with being taken care of again. She must learn how to hold on and be held.

Or five times Lockwood looks out for Lucy and one time she looks out for him.

Warnings | mentions of suicide, canon typical violence

W/C | 9.6k

A/N | I’ve loved Lockwood and Co. since middle school (I’m in college now) and I even have my first book signed by the author so this is a long time coming. The show really captured the books and I hate Netflix for canceling it so I decided to give us a little more than we have. -smoe<33

AO3 | Link

Donations | Link 

One.

It’d been a tough case. Child Type-Twos were always difficult for them but Lucy tended to take it the hardest. Her listening was sensitive and her heart just a tad too big for the job.

While the team had been fighting off ghosts, Lucy’s senses had been overwhelmed by the cries of children. She almost couldn’t hear the boys calling her name over the cacophony of noise. Her own voice had soon joined the begging, hot tears streaming down her face to accompany the desperation. The memory of hands grabbing at her, holding her down; she just wanted it to stop , stop–

“Stop!” She yelled, thrashing around at imaginary hands. “Please leave us alone!”

Muffled cries of, “Lucy!” rang out from her left but she’d already dropped to the ground, holding her head in her hands.

Hands tugged at her shoulders, real ones this time, and she panicked. “Get off me!” She lashed out and the smooth metal of her ring caught Lockwood’s cheekbone, splitting it.

Lockwood took a second to compose himself before he approached her again, hands out and placating as if she were a wounded animal. 

“Lucy, it’s alright,” She noticed suddenly that she could hear the comforting lilt of his voice with no interference “George got the source. They’re gone.”

The ghosts had all been tied to the same source: a stuffed bear stored under the floorboards. Lucy threw up while Lockwood held her hair and George called DEPRAC to come to retrieve the source as well as arrest their employer. Lucy couldn’t help but stare at Lockwood as they rode home, the gash on his face tidied up by a medic but there all the same.

Her eyes bore into his–guilt and anger rotting her insides but incapable of feeling it. She couldn’t feel much of anything on the ride home, just a vague sense of what she did and what had happened. She was numb and it was only when Lockwood had finally broken their eye contact that she registered they were back at Portland Row. Languidly, she exited the vehicle, her rapier loose in her hand and a blank expression on her tear-stained face.

Lucy found herself sandwiched between two boys, George in front, keying open the door, and Lockwood behind her, his hand hovering over the small of her back. Her things fell unceremoniously to the ground the moment she stepped in the door and George jumped.

“Christ, Lucy, you could at least–”

“I’m going to sleep,” she announced and sidestepped an indignant-looking George.

“Lucy, how about we all have a cuppa and–” Lockwood didn’t bother to finish his sentence as Lucy was already up the first flight of stairs and working on the next by the time he managed the first half.

Lucy’s legs felt like iron, her body forcing its way to her room through the difficulty. She’d lost control again. She saw the way the boys looked at her: George and his sideways glances, Lockwood with a pity that gripped her heart and tugged every time she so much as frowned. How could she not though? Every day they experienced more than any person should in a lifetime and they were only children, no matter what Lockwood insisted.

More than anything Lucy was angry . Angry at her mother for pushing her into this line of work, angry at DEPRAC for letting kids do this job, and angry at Fitts and Rotwell for profiting off the backs of dead agents. Her hands clenched as she made her way to the bathroom overwhelmed with how dirty she felt. The eyes that stared back at her in the mirror were as dull as her mousy brown hair and the freckles that scattered her cheeks and nose were muddled by smears of mud from her fall. Tear streaks were running down her face as she scrubbed at them furiously, the too-cold water making her feel raw. Grey water swirled down the drain, taking the dirt and magnesium dust with it. 

Lucy noticed the hair on her arms had been singed as she removed her dirtied clothes similarly littered with burns and tears. The sensible blacks and blues of her wardrobe left much to be desired, George being the only one to stray into yellows and oranges but paying for it whenever he came out on jobs and ruined his clothes. The steam of the shower began filling up the small room, giving Lucy a reprieve from her reflection as the mirror fogged up and she stepped inside the scalding water.

As she scrubbed her body and massaged her scalp, Lucy felt the anger and sadness slip away from her, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion. Tears mixed with the spray of shower as Lucy silently let out the day. She was just wrapping a towel around herself when a knock echoed from outside the door.

“Luce?” It was Lockwood. “Lucy?”

Heaving a breath, Lucy wrapped her towel tighter and exited the bathroom just as Lockwood climbed the rest of the way up the stairs. Lockwood was now staring up at her, surprise coloring his face and a blush starting to burn his cheeks. Lucy didn’t have it in her to be embarrassed around Lockwood like she always seemed to be, instead staring down at his red-tinged face.

“Is everything okay?” He asked, taking a step back down the stairs.

It took a second for her to respond, deciding whether to lie or voice a truth she hadn't dared to think on. “No.”

“Wha-” Lockwood blubbered, not expecting her answer and bounded up the last three steps to her room and walked over to where she stood. “Luce, what’s going on with you?”

“Honestly, Lockwood,” Lucy began, tucking a wet strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m tired.”

Lockwood grinned, a look of relief flooding his face as he spoke, “Well, a good night’s sleep-”

“No, Lockwood!” She turned around exasperated. “I’m tired of being an agent, I’m tired of risking my life, I’m tired of being tired!”

When Lucy turned back to see the stunned boy behind, her she immediately wished she’d kept her mouth closed. His entire demeanor shifted, eyes not quite meeting hers and Lucy wanted to take everything back.

“Lockwood…” Her mind flashed to him telling her, “everything ends and everyone leaves.”

Lockwood gave her a rueful smile, his arms flailing helplessly at his sides, “I wish you didn't have to do this either. And you don’t but I’ll be here for you…George too–the both of us–if you decide to stay.” 

Lucy was suddenly all too aware that she was still only in a towel when she felt herself fluster at his attempted cover-up. “It was just a long night, I didn’t mean it. I’m not going anywhere”

They stood in silence for a few minutes, not looking at each other but she didn’t think Lockwood was convinced by her words. Lucy looked to the skull, its swirling green face taunting her as she wracked her mind for a way to tell Lockwood how much he meant to her when a yawn tore its way up her throat, breaking the moment. “You’re tired, I’ll let you go to bed.”

“Anthony…” She pleaded, not knowing what she would say if he stopped and he nearly did before he must have thought better of it.

“I want you to know, you mean a lot to us and we’re always going to be here for you,” He seemed put off by his own admission but added on assuredly, “I would be sorry to see you go.” 

Lucy wasn’t sure what she was feeling as she watched Lockwood walk down the stairs. She knew the boys meant something to her, they were all she had left; her mother never meant much to her, and Norrie ghost-locked back north was likely never to wake up. They were all she had and by some strange feat, that was enough.

Two.

Lucy’s eyes snapped open, her body stiff and cold as she lay staring up at the dark ceiling of her attic room. There was a quick moment where she felt the echo of being trapped in ghost-lock but when she realized she was aware of her surroundings, Lucy’s stomach dropped. For many, nightmares were the worst of it, but for her , as the dreams ended the terror of real life began. At least in her dreams, she could do more than just watch.

Her breathing began to quicken uncontrollably. Realistically, she knew none of what was happening was real but the panic clawing its way through her chest and into her lungs didn’t give much leeway toward logic. Lucy felt herself break into a cold sweat as a shadow moved at the edge of her vision. Ghosts glowed, she saw them every day; they didn’t exist as the void she was experiencing, hell even shades were different than this. Lucy felt a scream bubbling in her throat, waiting to be let out but she was locked still. Her body was not her own, a mind inside an unwilling vessel that was intent on destroying her.

Her muscles ached as she strained against them, trying to force any part of herself to move or latch onto reality, her anchor being Lockwood's necklace but to no avail. Quicker and quicker she was losing oxygen to her heaving, her hands begging to grasp at the invisible noose around her neck that was tightening by the second. She lay there, choking on the air that she was able to inhale into her burning lungs when suddenly, her finger twitched. Another and then another came to until her body shot up out of the bed and a scream found its way out of the lump in her throat.

Once again her vision was clear and the shadow was gone but the fear that had only just consumed her still lingered in the air, electric, leaving her paranoid. Tears pricked at Lucy’s eyes, not out of fright but frustration; she hadn’t slept well in weeks and she was growing weary of the constant fatigue she lived with. Between the nighttime cases and overall lack of sleep, she was at her wit's end.

Lucy pushed the heels of her palms into her eyes, willing the tears to stop until she could swing her legs from under her blanket and take the first tentative step out of bed. The dusty hardwood was cold on her bare feet and creaked quietly under her. She didn’t like to walk around at night, knowing that the noise could be heard throughout the house but given that she’d already been screaming, if anyone was disturbed they’d already be awake. She glanced at the dull green glow of the skull on her window ledge and grimaced.

Grabbing her sweater from where it sat in her laundry basket, Lucy pulled it over her head, not bothering to worry about the two-day-old tea stain that marred the front. It was her favorite sweater, often smelling familiarly like lavender and anyway, she had no one to impress at three in the morning. Her hand found the reassuring iron of her doorknob and cursed the house for being so cold; the older construction did not lend much insulation for the chilly weather that plagued London almost year round. For good measure, she hurriedly grabbed the knitted throw blanket George’s mom made off of her bed and wrapped that around herself as well.

She began to descend the stairs, being as quiet as possible, her hand gripped the railing and supported her as she skipped the loose stair that always creaked when anyone stepped on it. The landing was home to three doors, two inhabited and, she could only hope, undisturbed . Her eyes slid past George’s but she lingered on his despite her resolve not to. Shaking her head, Lucy continued down the second flight until she reached the ground floor.

Just as she was going to enter the kitchen, the sound of the stove lighting stopped her. Had she woken one of them? Her heart rate picked up and she couldn't decide who she’d rather have awoken. 

With a deep breath, Lucy pushed open the door and saw the clear outline of Lockwood reaching to grab a mug from the cabinet. She tip-toed in but accidentally knocked into a chair, startling the boy. 

“Oh, Lucy , it's you,” Lockwood smiled, a defensive hand still clutched to his chest.

 “What are you doing awake?” She asked but her voice was unprepared and it came out strained. She knew he needed the sleep just as much as her.

“You know, had to use the bathroom then decided on some tea.” He shrugged, gesturing to the kettle on the stove, mug in hand.

Lucy squinted her eyes in suspicion, “That’s my mug.”

Lockwood’s gaze flitted to the object he was holding and scoffed. “Well, it's hardly yours. Everyone shares these!”

Despite the feeling in her gut, he wasn’t lying; Everyone did share the mugs but that one in particular was different. That mug was the one she had bought specifically for herself after she discovered she was two gulps deep into George’s toothbrush cup. After that, she was deadly clear to never touch it, and to her knowledge they never did. Lucy felt a flare of annoyance, they knew that was her mug and here Lockwood was using it as if it was his, as if–

Her stomach dropped when she finally remembered why she was down here in the first place. That was her mug.

“I woke you up, didn’t I?” Lucy sighed.

Lockwood’s head dropped, “Looks like you caught me.” He set down the mug. “What was it this time?” 

“Nothing specific, just shadows.” Lucy rubbed her arm trying to comfort herself and took a seat at the table. “Doesn't help when your brain won't listen to you. I know it’s not real but I can’t stop it.”

“I’m sorry.” He smiled in remorse.

Lucy shook her head and stood, letting the blanket fall from her shoulders. “Nothing to be done.” She moved around the boy, blindingly aware of their height difference when she had to strain to reach another mug. One for him this time. “What are you having?” She opened the tea drawer and pulled out an Earl Gray for herself.

“Just black is fine,” He said from where they kept the biscuits.

They met in the middle, Lucy with two cups of steaming tea and Lockwood with the chocolate-coated biscuits they saved for special occasions. Lucy raised her eyebrow in question and Lockwood shrugged.

“Don’t tell George and there won't be a problem,” Lockwood smiled and sat down across from her.

Lucy put the cups uneasily down, sloshing a bit of hers over the edge and burning herself slightly in the process. She hissed through her teeth and stuck the afflicted finger in her mouth. “You know he’ll notice,” She warned, noticing Lockwood’s eyes caught on her mouth.

“Yeah, but that’s a problem for later.” Lockwood chuckled, eyes flitting back up to hers and shooting her a grin before snatching a biscuit from the open sleeve and grabbing his tea.

They sat there for around half an hour just talking. Lucy nearly had forgotten what led them into this position at all and a warm smile donned her lips when Lockwood walked up the extra flight to her room with her to, ‘make sure you get there safely’. Her room felt warmer and she wasn't as afraid to fall back asleep with the lingering promise that he’d be there if she needed him.

Three.

Lucy felt extravagant. Because of their recent press and subsequent jobs, she could afford a new dress that hadn’t seen the bottom of the Thames. It was red and satin and showed more skin than any outfit she’d ever owned. When she had decided on it, the woman at the boutique exclaimed, ‘ If you're going to go red you must go red’ which scared her at first but when she pulled out the matching red heels and a brand new tube of red lipstick she listened to the voice in her head that was telling her to trust this woman. Lucy thanked the other side every day that she did. 

After an appointment at the salon, she snuck up to her room past a cooking George and oblivious Lockwood to finish getting ready for the party. Normally she wouldn’t get so worked up over some company fluff but this one felt different. Before, no one bothered a second glance at her, except maybe Quill, but tonight, after a freshly printed front page issue interview about her abilities, she intended to make a good impression.

Lockwood had pushed her to do the interview despite her protests, ‘ Think about the publicity, Lucy! What it could do for the company, Lucy!’ and so she agreed because Lockwood looked so hopeful, so proud . How could she say no? So now here she was, slipping on a black trench and tying a blue scarf around her freshly curled hair like a woman grown instead of one just barely leaving her childhood all the while trying to ignore the snide comments of a disembodied skull that lived in her room.

With one last look to make sure nothing would be ruined between her room and the party, she ventured downstairs. The boys were standing by the door looking impatient and she rolled her eyes.

“Let’s be off then,” She tried to sound nonchalant but she knew they would open their big stupid mouths and ruin this for her.

“Is that you, Luce?” George sputtered, sounding on the edge of hysterics. She couldn’t look at Lockwood so she walked right past them and out the door to the taxi. As she passed, she could see George shrug and take a deep breath.

Of course, the boys were both dressed in basic black suits and to them, this was nothing new but tonight was undiscovered territory for her. She still refused to look at Lockwood throughout the ride and she didn’t know if the silence was a good thing or if the ice slowly forming over her heart was a bad sign.

It wasn’t long before they reached Fitts and were exiting the taxi. Her heart thundered in her chest as they got closer to the door because that meant she couldn’t hide behind the shapelessness of her coat. Lucy had always been conscious of her body, having grown up with six sisters, it was hard not to compare. The woman at the boutique had said she looked beautiful and she trusted her before but now she was starting to think the clerk just wanted to make a sale. Her heart was in her throat when she finally took off her scarf and unbuttoned her jacket to reveal the full effect of her outfit. 

“Christ, Lucy, you look like a proper girl!” George exclaimed and Lock still hadn’t said anything .

She felt like she was on display for the world and all she wanted to do was catch the eye of the tall boy standing at her side. Lucy took a chance and looked at Lockwood. To her surprise, his gaze wasn’t on her but instead on the familiar necklace that lived around her neck. As if caught, Lockwood's ears went pink and he finally met her eyes.

“You look amazing, Lucy,” And he said it with so much sincerity both in his voice and in his eyes that she could do nothing more than believe him.

Her voice was small when she found it. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” He said as if it was mad she expected any other answer.

She saw George look between them and shake his head. “I’m going to find the food.”

“I think I’m going to go to the loo,” Lucy’s smile was tight and Lockwood just nodded.

She looked around as she walked through the sea of people, noting many sets of eyes on her, and began to shrink in on herself. Quill’s eyes alone were easy enough to avoid but it seemed as if everyone was looking at her. Lucy quickened her pace, remembering the path she used last time they’d been at Fitts but an artful step right into it stopped her in her tracks.

“I believe we haven’t met. I’m Jonathan Davies, and you are Lucy Carlyle of Lockwood and Co.” The man held out his hand and in good taste, Lucy could not refuse.

“Charmed, but I apologize. I don’t believe I’ve heard of you, Mr. Davies?” Lucy asked as more of a question than anything else. It was Lockwood after all that kept up with this kind of thing.

“Please, call me John. But I don’t suppose you would have. I’m a part of the Fitts research team,” He looked it too, old and pale; probably from being cooped up in the library. Lucy made a mental note to apologize to George later for the thought. His smile was too gummy and his breath smelled of champagne. She wanted to leave . “And might I say you look gorgeous tonight, nearly a woman you are!” The comment made her smile waver.

“Not too near, though. Still a good few years away,” Lucy tried to joke but the comedy was lost in her discomfort.

“Oh, don't be like that!” The man bellowed. “I’m just trying to give you a compliment. You’re maturing and it looks good on you. What’s so wrong with pointing it out?” Mr. Davies bellowed and he was getting closer.

Lucy shivered and began looking for outs; her adrenaline strung her out like she was on a case and her mind was switching to fight-or-flight. Lucy did not tend to lean towards flight. She nearly had the thought to hit the man when an arm looped itself through hers and she jumped.

“I believe I owe Ms. Carlyle here a dance. Isn't that right, Luce?” The arm and the voice belonged to Lockwood who held the older man’s attention while she paused to collect herself.

“Yes! He promised me my first one of the night. You understand, of course?” Lucy tried to come off as apologetic but surmised she failed by the look on Mr. Davies’ face. Lockwood nodded to the man and as they walked away, arm in arm, she inclined her head to speak lowly. “Thank you.”

“Always,” Lockwood smiled and pulled her so she was in front of him. He took her hands and at her confused glance chuckled. “I believe I owe you a dance.”

“Oh, you don't have to,” She said, nervous as he wrapped her arms around his neck and fit his hands at the curve of her waist.

Now he smirked, smart-looking just like she hated. “But I promised you your first one.”

“You are being a right arse right now, Anthony Lockwood,” She warned, feeling teased. Lucy was vulnerable around him, stripped bare and out in the open. Now more than ever in that bloody red dress.

His eyes crinkled around the edges and the smirk turned into his mega-watt grin. “And you are looking absolutely breathtaking tonight, Lucy Carlyle.”

“Oh, sod off!” Lucy exclaimed, but her cheeks warmed and suddenly she was red enough to match her outfit.

They danced for a minute or two and she took the time to look past the boy’s head and calm down. She figured he could feel her pulse from where her wrists were touching his neck, by how hard her body was trying to pump the blood back to her brain so she could maybe form a coherent thought. She was suddenly pulled from her stupor when Lockwood spoke.

“I do mean it though. You look better than every other person in this room. I didn’t even know what to say when I first saw you,” His voice was low and only for her.

And here she was, Lucy Carlyle standing in a room full of people whose eyes were all on her and she didn’t notice in the slightest. The only ones that mattered to her at that moment were Lockwood’s. His eyes, and his hands, and his necklace all on her .

Four.

“And who might you be?”

The old woman before them was quite kind looking in Lucy’s opinion, though her pale skin and white hair made her look almost like a phantasm which unsettled her–not to mention the biting tone of her words. Lucy was not fond of the older generation that remembered a time before the dead came back, their holier-than-thou attitudes at the problem they thought they should be exempt from. Lockwood on the other hand was all smiles and unwavering confidence, making him ready to take the lead as always.

“I’m Anthony Lockwood and this is my associate, Lucy Carlyle. We’re Lockwood and Co.”

The woman seemed unamused with the both of them, eyes instead searching for something behind them. “And where’s your supervisor?”

Lucy let out a small huff at the question. More than a few of their cases had been booked by clients ignorant of their status as lone agents ignoring that small detail in favor of the lower-than-average rates they needed to provide to stay in business. Lucy didn’t see why supervisors were needed at all, the bumbling adults just got in the way of their work. It’s what drove her out of her hometown and into the gangly arms of Lockwood and George in the first place.

The rain beating down on their shared umbrella was slowly beginning to drip onto Lucy’s right shoulder and she scowled, silently cursing Lockwood for not bringing his own. He was always trying to be the perfect gentleman, Lockwood, yet he always managed to fall short in some way despite his efforts. Lucy took a moment to compose herself, shutting her eyes and standing closer to Lockwood to try and get out of the rain.

Lockwood’s face fell a millimeter before he went to correct her but Lucy butted in, annoyance evident in her tone, “No supervisors ma’am, just us . You said you’ve just moved in and were feeling uneasy?”

The woman gave her another once-over and looked to be getting ready to slam the door in their faces before a man appeared behind her with a coat in his hand. “Edda, would you just let the kids in so they can get to work?” The man was soft in a way his wife wasn’t but a permanent crease had made a home between his eyebrows though it had been the only plane of his face that hadn’t seemed to possess a wrinkle before.

“These are unsupervised children you’re letting into our home.” The woman’s face twisted as her husband helped her into her coat and handed her her own umbrella before she swatted him away. “Get off me!” The coat was an ugly shade of puce that had Lucy wrinkling her nose unconsciously and wishing she’d never accepted the job.

“These agents are here to do the job we’re paying them to do. You head to the cab, I'll let them know everything they need to.” The woman pushed past Lockwood and herself, forcing them apart and out into the rain despite Lockwood thrusting his arm towards Lucy to try and keep her dry. 

The man, whose name they learned to be Morton, told them how his wife had become agitated since moving to the house, the loud bangs they heard at night, and the ice-cold temperatures that seemed to move from room to room. Morton was distraught, insisting his wife had never been like this before they moved and that she was ‘a lovely woman. Truly.’ To Lucy, it sounded like a shade or lurker giving off residual emotions from their death which was–what she supposed–Lockwood had insisted: a quick case involving nothing more than a few harmless specters lurking around the property, no need to bring George.

Lucy and Lockwood were given a quick tour by Morton who walked with a slight limp in his left knee. Lucy tried to focus on the man’s limp rather than the incessant squeak of Lockwood’s shoes every time he took a step. Lockwood insisted on having his dress shoes resoled rather than just getting a new pair even with the extra cost and Lucy had laughed at the quirk merely days prior but now she was grinding her teeth. Finally, leaving them in the living room, Morton bid goodbye and headed out to his awaiting wife while the two agents got to work.

After setting up a home base in the living room, they’d searched all around the house but produced nothing. Lockwood was unable to see the faintest glow and Lucy couldn’t even hear a whisper. It wasn’t often both of their gifts failed them, the remnants of death often wanting to be heard rather than stay quiet as they had for generations before them. It wasn’t until Lucy got to the kitchen and lingered near the door that let out to the back gardens that she heard the distant cries of a woman. She ran a tired hand through her hair, fingers pulling at the roots at the notion of searching out in the downpour.

“Lockwood?” Lucy called out, “I think the source might be outside.”

She only had a moment of hope that Lockwood would call it a night before he rounded the corner, his eyes filled with elation. “Let’s hop on then! You first.”

As she turned, Lucy couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the look on Lockwood’s face. Of course, he would have fun trudging around in the rain. As soon as Lucy stepped outside, a gust of wind whipped the hood off her head and plastered her hair to her face. Lucy’s shoe– not her rain boot– squelched in the mud under her feet. Lockwood and her rooted around the garden of the old couple’s estate, pulling back thorny rose bushes that dug into her hands and trying to listen over the hammering of rain. Lucy felt her irritation boil over from where it had been growing in her chest when she managed to slip on a slick rock and end up hands first in the mud.

“I can’t believe you put us in this situation!” Lucy yelled over the pounding rain, “Really, Lockwood, it's like you don’t care about me at all!” She felt something solid in the mud and squeezed it tight in her fist, desperate for an outlet.

She didn’t bother looking over her shoulder, trying to work on grounding herself through the object in her hand, the grooves of the metal, the familiarity. Honestly, where did he get off on making her miserable during every case? He made her feel trapped. With a deep breath, Lucy closed her eyes and tried to clear her thoughts, focusing instead on trying to find the source and getting out of there.

“G-get….”

Lockwood’s unintelligible voice interrupted her from behind and she huffed.

“..out”

“Out where?” She tried asking.

“Hus…band”

“Your husband? What happened with–” Lockwood’s voice interrupted again and she snapped. “ Oh , would you bloody shut up, Lockwood? All you ever do is talk!” She screamed whirling around to look at him only to see that the scene had changed.

It wasn’t raining anymore, or even night at that. Instead, the garden was blooming with life. The trellis were bountiful with pink roses and light shone through a giant willow in the corner of the property. Across from her stood a handsome-looking man much older than herself. And she was afraid.

“All I ever do is talk?” The man asked deathly slow.

Lucy was sure she had no clue who the man was but her mouth was already moving. “Yes! You keep me trapped in this house, I have no friends, and you don’t even listen to me!” She was crying now and the man, her husband , stalked towards her.

“You listen to me woman, you belong to me now. You are my property !” Dolly’s breaths were heaving out at an exceptional rate. “Do you hear me? Mine!” Her husband was gripping her arms, his face mere inches from her own.

“Let go of me!” She pleaded, “ Please !”

“Listen to me, Dolly! Dolly!”

She felt herself slipping away, air caught in her throat. Dolly was frantically scratching at her husband's arm, trying to get him to release her through any means.

“I’ll love you, I promise –”

“Lucy!”

Lucy’s eyes snapped open to see Lockwood wrenching her hand open and snatching something from her clenched fist. Her lungs flooded with life, making her cough as her knees hit the ground; she was unsure when she even stood up at all but Lockwood was immediately at her side.

“Lucy, are you alright?” His shaky voice floated through the rain.

Any previous grievances she had against Lockwood had vanished the moment she looked into his eyes. “What happened?”

“You found the source,” Lockwood opened his hand and revealed a rusted locket covered in mud. Lucy went to touch it but Lockwood jerked his hand away. “Better not.”

Her mind went back to how she’d treated him since they stepped foot on the property and she winced. “Lockwood, I’m so sorry I–”

“No! Luce, it wasn’t your fault.” Lucy was poised to retort but there was a pure and unabashed look of concern on his face and she realized it had been a while since she’d seen his megawatt smile.

“She hated him,” Lucy started, “He told her he loved her and trapped her here…she killed herself.”

Lockwood looked concerned. “I think we should head back to Portland Row.”

They finished up at the house, contacting the elderly couple to tell them that the source had been found and disposed of at DEPRAC. The cab ride home was so quiet; whether from Lucy’s embarrassment because of her treatment of Lockwood or because he was hurt by her words she was unsure. It wasn’t until they were putting their gear away that Lockwood spoke again.

“I hope you don't feel… trapped here.” Lockwood was facing away from her when he broke the silence. “Especially not by me .”

“Lockwood, no .” She rushed to his side trying to meet his eyes with her own. “No, no, no.”

He finally looked at her and his eyes were sunken in, his face as sullen as she felt. “I know it was the ghost…but you were begging me to let you go. You were pleading that I let you leave, telling me you–you loved me and that you’d do anything if I would just let you go and I–”

“I don’t feel trapped here, I promise. You mean more than anything to me,” Lucy’s heart stuttered at her slip-up. “You and George both.”

Lockwood’s eyes flicked to the necklace sitting prettily around her neck and Lucy’s hand flew to it instinctively: a loan she was still indebted to him and went to take it off, her still-cold fingers fumbling with the clasp but he stopped her, gently grabbing her wrists.

“I want you to know the necklace wasn’t–wasn’t whatever that locket was to them,” Lockwood’s hands released her, his fingers tucking a loose strand of hair behind Lucy’s ear then trailing a path to the sapphire that sat in the middle of her chest. “My father… it was important , and I just wanted you to know you’re important to me.”

Lucy smiled, “I know.”

Five.

A shiver rippled through Lucy’s body in the London rain as the week loomed over her like the storm she walked through. Long nights with back-to-back cases–all too small to send more than one of them–had Lucy disheartened. She pulled her blue coat tighter to her body and stuffed her hands under her armpits in order to get some semblance of feeling back in them. Her tights were ripped, her hair soaked, and above all, Lucy was hungry. It took one smell of buttered croissants swept across the street by a gust of chilling wind for Lucy to cross the street and make her way into the warm cafe.

“No weapons!” The clerk shouted as soon as the bell jingled on the door, not even bothering to look at her.

Lucy’s eyes immediately welled up with tears knowing what was coming. “I-I’m sorry, can I leave it at the door?”

“Let me be more clear: no agents .” The man’s sneer was accompanied by multiple sets of cold eyes looking at her from around the room.

It was something she was unaccustomed to but common in London. Though agents were often looked at with a strange sense of gratitude and more often pity in the country, Lucy noticed it wasn’t the same in the city. People thought them unsightly: the children with sunken, pale faces who were typically only out at night mimicked the sight of the dead they were employed to rid the world of. Though somewhere in her head she could understand the adults' aversion to her, in the moment she could feel little more than resentment for the life she was sacrificing to give them the security they themselves could not provide.

Lucy chuffed on her way out, slamming the door and knocking the bell off of its hook in the process. Not bothering to wipe her face, she blinked away her tears and let them drown in the rain as she walked on towards 35 Portland Row.

It was night, and raining, and she was alone. But she was an agent, and Lucy knew how to defend herself. Therefore, in the face of her reservations, she turned down an alley she knew was faster than the main road despite the absence of street lights . She could handle a few shades and lurkers on her own.

The rain was coming down harder then; her mind had wandered to the doughnuts on the counter that sat untouched when she’d left. Lucy was so caught up in imagining the argument between her and George when she inevitably saw her jelly-filled missing from the box that she didn’t notice the man that slank from the shadows until she bumped into him. 

Lucy ducked her head in apology and attempted to skirt around the man, “Oh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t–”  Then suddenly his hands were on her with a grip that told her this was no mistake.  Before she could utter another word, the sharp edge of a knife sucked the breath from her lungs.

“Give me everything you’ve got,” He ordered, voice low and eyes darting behind her at the lit street.

Lucy tried to seem unwavering, after all, it wasn’t the first time she was at the wrong end of a blade and likely not the last. “I haven’t got anything,” Her voice shook and she silently cursed herself.

“How bout’ I take a look for myself?” He hummed, his hands skimming over her body, drifting across her waist, going lower, lower…

“ Please! Help– ” Lucy yelled but his hand was quick to cover her mouth and let the knife start to dig into her side. She thrashed around, trying to free herself from his grasp while screaming into his gloved hand in any attempt to get help. 

It wasn’t until she managed to land a well-placed elbow that Lucy was able to escape his grip. “You bitch .” The man sagged over but as Lucy moved to run, his hand wrapped around her jacket and a knife planted itself in her stomach.

She almost didn’t register the pain at first until the man wretched out the blade. The feel of her blood oozing from the wound was stark in contrast to the chilling rain and she shivered. Lucy’s hand moved to the wound and logically she knew she was going into shock; George warned them about it enough should they ever get injured on a case but now she couldn’t think back to even a second ago. 

The man looked from her wound to her eyes and sneered. Step by step he retreated deeper into the alley while Lucy stumbled out into the road, clutching her side. Her breathing was ragged as she frantically searched for anyone to help her though she knew the streets were clear because of the rain. Lucy knew she shouldn’t have looked but when she caught a glimpse of blood she couldn't help it. She felt close to hysterics; the blood wouldn’t stop and her teeth were chattering, from the rain or something else she didn’t know. She needed to get to a shop, somewhere that had people . Lucy’s vision was darkening around the edges as she stumbled towards the yellow lights of a restaurant two buildings over. She just needed to get there.

She needed to…she needed…she

- - -

It was the beeping that woke her, but the weight in her hand that made her open her eyes. The lights were blinding as Lucy struggled to open her eyes and the ringing in her ears made it hard to focus on the muffled arguing around her. She heard one final shout and the sound of a door closing before she attempted to move. A gasp tore itself from her lips when she tried to sit up. Her body ached and her mouth was dry but all she could do to ground herself was focus on the worried voice needling her brain.

“Luce? Can you hear me? Luc–” 

Lucy cut off the voice with her own raspy words, “Would you shut up?”

Her eyes finally adjusted to the lights and she saw the lanky outline of Lockwood standing at her side. Any other time she was woken up to the sight of him, Lucy was more than often annoyed but somehow, with the beeping of machines accompanied by the smell of alcohol in the air, he was a welcome comfort.

“Lockwood,” She breathed out a relieved sigh, studying his face. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, his eyes sullen, almost bruised looking, and his skin somehow more pale than normal. “What happened?”

“Let me find a doctor.” His hand found hers again, only giving it a light squeeze before leaving the room in his search. 

Lucy took the time to look around the room and spotted a vase full of orange and yellow flowers adorning the bedside table as well as a lone strawberry frosted doughnut left in a box meant to hold a half dozen. Based on that alone, she knew both George and his mother had visited at some point but as she looked towards where Lockwood had been it was as if he’d never left at all. His jacket was crumpled on a chair in the corner, with his tie folded neatly atop it and, given his appearance earlier, she could only assume he’d slept there.

Finally, she decided to give attention to the dull ache in her stomach and lift the blanket covering her lower half. Between the wires and tubes hooked up to her from all directions and having to wrestle with the gown they stuck her in, the endeavor was all the more difficult than necessary. When Lucy finally got a look at her bandage-covered abdomen she felt ill.

Her stewing was interrupted when a man entered the room, Lockwood hot on his heels. “Hello, Ms. Carlyle. I’m Dr. Stroud, I’ve been your physician since Monday night and–”

“Wait, what day is it?” Lucy coughed and Lockwood was quick to offer her a water which she gladly took.

“It’s Wednesday morning, Luce,” Lockwood supplied in a small voice. His eyes wouldn’t quite meet hers and she grew nervous. The angry blinking of the clock on the bedside table read 4:23 a.m. and she suddenly understood Lockwood’s state of disarray.

The beeping which she’d previously grown accustomed to had begun to quicken and she felt a sweat break out. “How bad was it?”

“Based on our limited knowledge Ms. Carlyle, we suspect it was a robbery.” Lucy nodded along, trying to grasp at the last thing she remembered. Shadows of a dark alleyway and the flash of a knife swirled in her mind but when she tried to imagine his eyes her head began to hurt.

“I remember a man and a knife…it was raining?” Lockwood’s hand found its way into hers once again and his thumb stroked the back of her hand soothingly. She motioned for the doctor to go on and kept her grip on Lockwood’s hand firm.

“You suffered a deep puncture that grazed the top of your liver and you lost a lot of blood. Luckily you weren’t out there too long before someone found you and called an ambulance.” The thought of herself bleeding out in the street forced Lucy to shut her eyes. “We’d like to keep you the rest of the week to monitor but considering you’re up and talking, I’ll leave you to sleep.”

Dr. Stroud left the room with a tight smile and Lucy looked at Lockwood. She’d been there for days unconscious, and Lockwood had been there at her side.

“How is–”

“You were… gone, Luce. You were white and cold and– you put me as your emergency contact ?!” He was incredulous, his grip tightening almost uncomfortably as tears welled in his eyes.

“Who else if not you?” She felt a lump rising in her throat. “My mother didn’t show last time and I’m not close to my sisters. You and George are all I have, you’re…” Lucy trailed off not sure what she wanted to say but knew it was too soon.

“Lucy, when I got that call…George and I rushed to meet you at the hospital. For days I’ve sat here and all I could think about was what if you hadn’t ended up in the road? What if you were in the alley and no one found you? What if–” Tears fell from his eyes and his voice failed him.

“What if I never came to London? What if I had gotten accepted to Fittes or Rotwell? But that’s not what happened. I’m here.” Lockwood brought her hand to his lips and all Lucy could do was watch. She, all at once, realized that it wasn't just her, wasn’t just Lucy who felt like the boy in front of her was her whole world, her whole future.

“You’re the one in the hospital bed, I should be comforting you ,” Lockwood laughed shakily and took a deep breath. “Luce, I need you to know that, no matter how far in the future, no matter the distance, I’ll always be there for you. You’re my family now…if, if you want.” Lockwood’s smile was unsure, hope gleaming in eyes.

Lucy sniffled, her emotions finally having caught up to her and smiled back, “ We’re family .”

Plus One.

The case had been cursed from the start. The day started out boiling hot, and Lucy’s usually protective extra layers were stuck to her skin by sweat but now, four hours into the case, a cold front blew in and a massive wind storm had been shaking the house all night. They were constantly unsure if the noises were ghosts or the storm and trying to use her listening had been all but useless.

They had been hired by the city to clear out a long-time vacant house, previously belonging to the lone heir before he mysteriously disappeared. It was uncertain if there were any ghosts on the property and the city wanted to sell so, there they were. She heaved the backpack up higher on her shoulder and a voice piped up.

“Watch it there, you drop me and I’ll kill all three of you.” The glow of the skull brightened on the walls around her. She opted to ignore it and kept on walking through the house.

“Alright guys, let's do one more sweep of this floor and I suppose we can call it a night.” Lockwood scratched the back of his head and George stifled a yawn.

“Lockwood, there’s been nothing the whole case and besides the disappearance, George couldn’t scrounge up anything about anything that would lead to a haunting,” Lucy was aching for a shower and she was tired of carrying around the skull all night because George insisted they bring it but declined to carry it because, ‘ only you can hear it, Luce. It would be a waste for me to carry it. ’ “Let’s just go home.”

“We will…just after we check the ground floor one more time, I–I have a feeling something is wrong.” He seemed more sullen than usual but Lucy attributed that to a boring case and long night.

“Whatever you say. I’m going to check the kitchen.” George walked off without a second thought and she let out a sharp laugh under her breath at the irony.

Lucy headed out, leaving a distant Lockwood in the living room and opted to traverse the dining room once again. The room sported a crystal chandelier, dust-ridden with time and fine silver and china still at their places around the table. Her eyes scanned over the room and she imagined herself in another life entertaining a slew of guests with not even a thought of The Problem on her mind. But then she crashed down to reality and realized that this was as close she's been in her life or ever will be.

“Lockwood, you seeing anything?” Lucy asked, despondent. With every look, the house was more ornate and lavishly furnished than she could stomach, obvious signs of wealth making Lucy grind her teeth.

“ You see something, northern girl?” Once again Lucy ignored the comments and continued on, simply huffing to herself rather than dignifying the skull with a response.

Of course, Lockwood failed to answer as he typically did when he was in the field and she sighed. With hesitance, Lucy trailed her fingers along the objects in the room, trying to detect any fleeting emotion or noise that could be connected but it was to no avail. There was absolutely nothing in this house that any of them could detect and Lucy was almost glad for it. A quiet night in a nice house was a relief that she needed, plus, they were getting paid, ghost or not.

Rolling her eyes, she trailed off to where she knew George was lounging in the kitchen and found him sitting at the dusty table gorging himself on the biscuits and tea they brought.

“Save some of those for the rest of us, huh?” Lucy chastised, snatching the package out of his hands. She took a seat across from him and took two for herself.

“Tell him he’s getting too fat not to share,” The skull laughed and she dropped him to the floor unceremoniously. “Watch it!” 

“C’mon Lucy, there's nothing in this house and you know it! Might as well sit and eat while Lockwood fumbles about.” He emphasized his point by grabbing back the biscuits.

“Where is he anyway?” Lucy stole the thermos as well and shot George a challenging look when it seemed he was going to protest.

George waved off absently, more focused on the food before him. “He was going on about checking the perimeter. I just talked to him.”

“I wish he’d take a break every once in a while. Between the three of us, I’m the only one with a normal work-life balance.” She chuckled leaning back in her chair and using the skull to prop her feet on.

“Yeah…normal.” George’s eyebrows furrowed and she threw her half eaten biscuit at him in retaliation.

The skull chose that moment to pipe up again, “There isn’t anything normal about the lot of you.” This time she kicked over the jar and George screeched on about being careful with the Type-Three.

Bored with the situation and ready to leave, she decided to round up Lockwood and get them on their way. “Lockwood’s been gone a while, I’m going to go check on him.”

Lucy stood to leave and she made it just out of the kitchen when a chill shot through the room and her breath became visible before her. She turned back towards the kitchen and locked eyes with George.

“George, I think–” She was unable to finish her sentence when the double doors slammed shut separating them from each other. Without thinking, Lucy grabbed the brass handle with her bare hand and yelped. The metal was so cold it burned her, the skin ripping where it froze to the door. Lucy bit her lip, almost drawing blood at the action and took her handkerchief to press over her hand.

“Lucy, what’s happening?” George yelled from the other side of the door. 

“I don’t know! See what you can find. The source has to be in the house somewhere for this to happen!” Lucy yelled back, still pounding on the door.

George sounded hysterical, his laugh high pitched and disbelieving. “Lockwood’s never gonna shut up about this after we get out of here!”

The wind began to pick up even more, blowing through the open front door and through the house. Lucy’s hair whipped in front of her face as she tried to focus on her listening. There was little more than the faint whisper of a man she hardly was able to make out.

Cliff…the cliff.

Lucy glanced outside, the doors still banging in the wind and made her decision. “Stay in the chain circle! I have to find Lockwood, you stay safe!” She yelled to George and turned for the front of the house.

Lucy drew her rapier with her good hand and made for the front door which was left wide open and banging in the wind. Using her forearm to guard her view, she creeped outside looking every which way for an incoming attack while yelling for her friend.

“Lockwood? Lockwood, where are you?” She tried to scream over the storm but her words were literally lost to the wind.

As she made her way further outside, she nearly tripped over something on the ground, the metallic clang catching her attention. When she picked it up, she held Lockwood’s rapier in her hand and felt her heart rate spike at the discovery. Lockwood was somewhere out there with no weapon and a ghost preying on them in a windstorm.

In the distance, she saw a figure moving farther and farther away in the direction of the ocean, a figure she could only assume was Lockwood. Her steps were quick yet strained against the storm and she was forced to sheath her rapier as it was getting too difficult to hold. She was closing in quick, just across the field and getting closer to the cliff's edge by the second, but he continued on.

“Lockwood!” She tried once more but still he seemed to be unable to hear her. “Lockwood, stop !” Her feet were moving faster now, breaking out into a sprint beneath her. She understood his unresponsiveness then, and the sudden activity once Lockwood walked off. He was ghost-locked . She was flying then, racing up the hill to meet him, the grass slipping under her feet and the wind doing all it could to knock her over. He was steps away but his cadence never faltered–the same one, two , of each foot–and she silently thanked the universe that, if nothing else, ghosts were consistent.

Her hands did one final reach as one of Lockwood’s feet went over and she grabbed the collar of his jacket, heaving him off the edge and back into her. Lucy wrapped her arms around his middle so as to not let him escape and began to yell, an action she was regretting as her voice began to go hoarse.

“Lockwood, please , you have to snap out of it! It’s me Lucy!” She felt him strain against her arms and held tighter, thinking he was still trying to throw himself off the edge.

“You think I could forget you, Luce?” Lockwood’s words tumbled out, unsure and attempting to be comedic.

“Lockwood?” She gasped out, wiggling out from under him to get a look at his eyes. When she was met with the familiar warm brown she’d grown to lo– she finally breathed a sigh of relief. “What happened?”

Lockwood’s eyes searched her own before looking away, a habit he seemed unable to break, and spoke. “He was all alone. No family, no friends, no one left.”

Lucy’s chest constricted in understanding. “Anthony…”

“He killed himself. Right here on this cliff.” His words seemed to choke him and she couldn’t help but bring her hands to cup his face.

“I need you to know that you are not alone,” Lucy brought his forehead to hers and he breathed in sharply, his pulse under her fingertips quickening. “I’m right here.”

His own hand found their way to hers, holding on as if a lifeline and he nodded. “You’re right here.”

When Lucy pulled back, she locked eyes with the boy before her again. They were softer this time but darted down to her lips in a flash. Her cheeks reddened when she noticed as did his in turn. Before she could think to do otherwise she surged forward, Lucy’s lips capturing his in a chaste kiss. It was a bit off and they were both chapped from the wind but it still had her heart pounding in her chest.

The boy before her had gone from stranger to family in the short time she’d known him. Him and George had become more to her than her family had ever been and for that she was eternally grateful. He had taken her in, given her a job, and protected her from everything a gangly teenager could manage. She loved him.

Lockwood’s eyes widened and he gasped. “Lucy–” His hands tightened atop hers and he leaned back in, kissing her slowly, reassuringly.

“You’re it for me.”

[wordsarelife]

—the moment i knew

pairing: quill kipps x lockwood!reader

summary: quill and you were a lot closer once, before everything suddenly changed and he was not there when you needed him most

warnings: canon typical violence, angst (with a happy ending)

note: this had been in my drafts for way too long, the ending is kinda meh and i kinda hate all of this so..

"look out, y/n!" kat called and you jumped to the side at the last second, before the ghost could touch you

"thank you" you called towards the girl and continued to try and fight the ghost off. that seemed to work for a while, until it didn't.

"quill!" you called out. the boy had his back facing you, searching through a stake of books at the table. "quill" you repeated "i need you, please" the wail screeched and you jumped aside once again. there was only so much you could do, until it would be able to come close enough to touch you

you continued to fight as much as you could, stepping back when the ghost charged at you once again. you stumbled over a piece of furniture and quickly made contact with the floor, losing your rapier in the progress.

"shit" you exclaimed and watched in horror as the ghost came closer and closer to you "quill" you called for the boy once again, but he was still much more concentrated on whatever he was doing "quill"

the ghost outstretched his arm and— darkness

you shrieked up in bed, forehead drenched in sweat, once again being awaken by the nightmare there replayed itself in your worst nights.

you got out of bed, changing into comfortable clothes. the walk down to the kitchen was quiet, only filled with the chatting of your friends.

"morning" you smiled, entering the kitchen and sitting down next to your cousin, anthony lockwood himself.

"morning" your friends chimed

lockwood noticed the stoic look on your face, just how he noticed about everything that you did. he was always concerned of your well-being, especially after your almost death a year ago, while still working for fittes.

the moment he had heard what happened, he showed up at your doorstep and talked you into joining his newly founded agency. at least he could have a look over you.

he hated kipps even more, after what he did to you.. or more precisely.. didn't do.

"it's the nightmare again, isn't it?" he muttered and you nodded softly

after you joined the agency you had resigned to only do researches, helping george and mostly staying away from cases, your trauma being too much for you to handle that again.

lockwood was glad that you decided to stay away from fighting ghosts, but he was concerned either way. you had always loved working in the field and never were scared before facing a ghost. that all had changed and in some moments, anthony thought he didn't recognise you anymore.

"we'll talk about it later, yeah?" you asked to stray away his eyes from your form. lucy and george watched curiously as you leaned back in your chair and slowly started biting down your sandwich.

"you look tired" noticed george and you nodded

"the traffic was too loud, I will try to catch some sleep later" none of your friends said anything about the obvious lie. they knew it was your way of telling them to just drop the matter. they all shared a glance, before returning to the topic they had been discussing before. a new case that had just revealed itself this morning.

"i think we should take a stop at the library" george suggested

you smiled at that. "oh yeah, we haven't gone there together in forever!"

the rest of the group nodded, happily accepting the shift in your mood and continued eating. after breakfast you cleared the table and took your stuff, heading to the library.

you stood in the middle of two rows of shelfs, a few feet away from the table the group had sat down at. you could hear lockwood's faint voice. he sounded... angry?

you collected all the books you needed in your arms and went back to the table. the last thing you caught was what lockwood had to say, before you arrived. "y/n will be back any minute, i want to see you gone by then"

you looked up and caught kipps' eyes across the table. he looked at you, interest in his features. you hadn't seen much of each other in the past year, always keeping away from places you knew the other person could be.

"quill" you greeted neutrally

"y/n" he nodded

"what did I tell you?" you could feel lockwood's anger bubbling.

"i'm sorry" quill shook his head "i wasn't aware that you had bought the library"

lockwood rolled his eyes. "we haven't. but here are a few tables where we wouldn't have to see your faces"

quill ignored him completely. he stepped next to where you still stood and took a glance at the books you held in hand. his face was so close, that you could feel his breath fan over your neck. if you had moved your head, you probably would've kissed.

you knew that quill didn't do it to anger you. after all he was mostly searching for your forgiveness. the letters he send you never stopping. lockwood didn't know about that, and you would never tell him, because in his eyes quill didn't deserve one second of your attention, while you were only mere seconds away from breaking and forgiving him.

quill only did this to anger lockwood, but you knew he was concerned about you. you just get yourself back in a position where you were dependent on that concern.

"leave them alone" lockwood bellowed and quill grinned, resting his hand against your waist and giving it a gentle squeeze. you looked at him and you could see the sincerity in his eyes.

in your head, you had forgiven him a long time ago. you were still distanced and hurt, but you knew that he hadn't done it to hurt or potentially kill you on purpose.

it were still the same feelings that made it hard for you to stir away from the boy. in his letters, he had talked about those same feelings he harboured, not that lockwood would let you out of the house without lucy, george or himself, so there wasn't a chance to pursue anything.

and you weren't even sure if you still wanted it.

he stepped away from your body, and something in you was sad at the warmth that left with him. but that was the weak side of you, the side that would read his letters and cry itself to sleep or that would sometimes even answer them. you had to get over him and you had to do it fast.

the next morning you all stood in front of the house that you had spent the whole day before researching. lockwood had just parted you in two teams, this was the first case you would join again, after the incident.

but before you could walk in, a deprac van honked and came to a halt next to you. barnes stepped out and greeted you all with a warm smile and the look of his eyes that clearly said 'i have to do this so just accept it'

you all looked at him questionly, but before he could explain, why he was even here, the back doors of the van opened and quill kipps, followed by his team members stepped outside.

"oh hell no" lockwood said loudly, but you knew that barnes couldn't do anything against it.

"sorry, tony" quill shrugged his shoulders and looked absolutely everything, but not sorry

"hey" said kat, before she hugged you in greeting, bobby and ned following

"hi" you smiled back at your former team members

quill was the last to greet you and he just touched you lightly at the arm.

"stay away" lockwood bid at him

"it's alright, anthony" you said softly. lockwood watched in disdain, how your eyes looked up at the blonde and followed his every move, you looked at him like he had hung the moon and lockwood stepped forward in protest

"it's alright, tony" quill repeated your words, softly stroking your cheek, before he stepped away. you immediately missed his touch.

"why are they here?" lockwood turned his head at barnes, waiting for an aexplanation.

"because it's a big building" barnes shrugged "it's already higher than your paygrade, so just be happy i'm still letting you on this case" he crossed his arms and waited for lockwood to protest.

lockwood looked between his friends and of course noticed your pleading face. "alright" he said between clenched teeth. "but we will get our fair share"

"of course" barnes nodded, before he got back into the car and drove off.

"cozy" kipps raised his eyebrows "so, what's the plan?"

"you're waiting for me to tell you?" lockwood asked in surprise

"well" kipps shrugged "you were here first" he paused and lockwood didn't miss the quick look in your direction "and i'm trying to be amicable"

"great" lockwood nodded sarcastically "i say we split up. your team will take the west wing and mine the other — wing, yeah"

"wouldn't it be smarter so split according to our talents?" lucy asked from behind the boy

"lucy" lockwood hissed

"yeah" kipps almost jumped into the air at the opportunity "that means y/n is coming with us and bobby stays with you"

"you must be mental if you really think i would let them go with you" lockwood walked closer to kipps

"it's alright" you pushed your arms in the middle of the two boys' bodies, seperating them.

"no, it's not" lockwood said

"it is!" he raised his eyebrows in surprise at the adamant tone in your voice

you reached for kipps' arm, dragging him into the building behind you. the rest of his team following.

"i will kill you if something happens to them" you could hear lockwood call after you

quill flashed a cheeky grin at lockwood over his shoulder, fully aware of the storm he had stirred up. you led quill and his team through the dimly lit corridors of the mysterious building, a mix of emotions swirling inside you. lockwood's warning echoed in your ears.

"what's wrong?" you asked, turning to face quill, when he halted in his step. he put a finger to his lips, signaling you to be quiet.

kat and ned had taken on the rooms down the corridor on the second floor, while you and quill had stayed back, searching the first floor.

“someone’s coming” quill whispered, reaching for your arm.

you saw the ghostly form approaching, slowly it came down the stairs. it was like if you had been frozen. the past years flashed before your eyes, the house and the touch of a ghost you had almost felt. you thought you had left it behind you.

“y/n!” quill shook you “y/n, come on” he was looking between you and the ghost. he noticed your eyes not moving from it.

“i—“ you tried to speak, but you weren’t able to utter a single word.

the ghost was too close now. quill drew his rapier, knowing that he would have to fight it on his own. and he put up quite a fight, throwing salt bombs, before he was finally able to get rid of it, atleast temporarily.

“we need to go” his hands were on your shoulders and the ghost was nowhere in sight, but you still looked so scared. quill knew that he was to blame for that. “y/n”

he could hear the ghost come back to life behind him. it did not take him longer to decide what he had to do. it was to no use to fight it off, he did not have anymore salt bombs and a source was nowhere in sight, not that he would’ve known what it was.

he picked you up, just as the ghost began charging at you. and he ran, calling for help or someone to finally pull a few silver net over potential sources.

someone might’ve actually found something, because right as it was too late, the ghost disappeared and quill came to a halt.

“y/n!” anthony called, sprinting into the hallway, closely followed by lucy, george and bobby. “thank god” he sighed when he noticed that you were alright.

“thank you” you looked at quill, who had saved you. “quill saved me” you said, turning your head to look at lockwood.

lockwood nodded, wearing a tight-lipped smile, before he outstretched his hand, shaking quills to thank him.

“i just did what i should’ve done a year ago” quill answered uncomfortably “i’m sorry for all the hurt i caused”

you nodded, already having made the decision that he was truly sorry and did not longer deserve to be punished for it.

“everything is okay, quill” you just said. quill smiled at you and even lockwood could not stop his features breaking into a grin.