#lockwood and co x reader

[reidrot]

#lockwood and co x reader #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood #lockwoodandco #lockwood and co #incorrect lockwood and co #lockwood and co fanfiction #lockwood and co netflix #locklyle #lockwood x reader #lockwood netflix #the skull

[websterss]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐌𝐄 — 𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃

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

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

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2,881

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader  

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

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry here let me-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stay?”

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

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

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

“I do.” You nodded surely.

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

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

#anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood imagine #anthony lockwood x fem!reader #anthony lockwood imagines #anthony lockwood oneshot #lockwood and co fanfiction #lockwood and co #lockwood and co x reader #my gif #writings by juls

[justafandomgvrl]

Lockwood & Co Headcanons

Sharing a bed with them

George

- probably isn't a massive cuddler

- but will have one of his limbs flung over you to make sure you're still there

- he probably wakes up first most mornings, gazing at your blurry form until he remembers to put on his glasses

- there are always glasses of water next to the bed and you gotta be careful not to knock them over when getting in or out

- there's generally a couple of books at the end of the bed that George forgot to take back to the library

- before you fall asleep, he kisses the top of your head

- he definitely makes the bed every morning

Lucy

- one hundred percent a little spoon

- she likes to feel you wrapped around her, it helps her feel safe

- you probably end up breathing in her hair but it doesn't matter cos you're close to each other

- there's about a hundred teacups on the bedside table, most of them half full from drinking them before passing out

- she almost curls up like a cat, and when you don't spoon, you often end up with her on top of you, limbs splayed everywhere

- it's a tad warm but neither of you mind. you're close, you're safe, and you're relaxed

Lockwood

- big spoon. likes to know he's protecting you, even at night

- there's a thousand blankets on the bed, most of which get kicked off every night

- he still layers them on there though. just in case you get cold

- he doesn't sleep much but knowing that you're asleep in his arms help him to relax

- on the rare occasion that you wake up and he's fast asleep, you daren't move, not wanting to wake him

- he never makes the bed other than tossing the blankets back on it

#lockwood & co. #lockwood & co #lockwood and co netflix #lockwood and co #anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood and co show #lockwood and co tv show #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood x reader #netflix lockwood and co #george karim x reader #george cubbins #george karim #lucy carlyle #lucy carlyle x reader #cameron chapman #ali hadji heshmati #ruby stokes #headcanons

[kestisvrse]

stealing kisses

inspiration credit ❤️

pairing ⋆ anthony lockwood x gn!reader. fluff.

synopsis ⋆ christmas at lockwood and co. gives anthony the perfect opportunity to make a move.

warnings ⋆ implied shorter reader, idk how to write kissing, very fast paced sorry, swearing. | wc: 0.5k

tags ⋆ @mitskiswift99 @novelizt @karensirkobabes @initialchains @eedwardss

♫ - bet u wanna by sabrina carpenter

the holidays somehow made 35 portland row even cozier than usual.

the living room decked out with christmas decorations, a few more scattered around the house.

it was a quiet night, you were reading in bed as snow fell, coating the streets in it, the perfect winter wonderland.

your peace was interrupted by a knock at your door, opening to reveal anthony lockwood, both arms raised above him, one leaning against the door frame, as the other held something above the both of you.

mistletoe.

“now, what’s going on here?” you joked, grinning up at him

“just came to say hi, no idea how that got here.” he nonchalantly adds, inching slightly closer.

you chuckled, staring up into his eyes.

ever since you met lockwood you had been drawn to him, whether it was his looks or his personality, they both made you have a crush on him.

it wasn’t until recently (with the help of lucy) that you realized he liked you too, but was denying himself from the feelings, so you didn’t act on it.

but clearly, he had realized and didn’t want to wait.

“should we… uhm.. follow it’s tradition?” he questioned, blushing.

“i don’t know..” you teased, walking closer, “what would the george and lucy think?”

he was looking at your lips now, refusing to look away, “i don’t think they would mind.” he spoke barely above a whisper.

you hummed in response, taking your turn to look at his lips.

and then the space between you two closed.

his lips are soft against yours, like the snow falling outside. you hadn’t realized how complete this simple kiss could make you, like the whole world disappeared and it was just you two left, and it was all you needed.

the mistletoe dropped to the ground, so he could bring both his hands to your waist. you brought one of yours to his cheek and the other squeezed his bicep.

his brows furrow as he tries to bring you closer, impossible as you were already both stuck together like a puzzle piece.

reluctantly you pull away, your lips feel cold without the warmth of his. you don’t open your eyes straight away, just taking in his presence and the moment.

he brings his hand up to trace your lips, opening your eyes you find him admiring you.

“i think i might need to kiss whoever created mistletoe.” he chuckled.

“just kiss me instead.” you responded, tilting your head.

“oh gladly.” he breathed, pulling you in for another kiss.

this one felt more heated, more desperate, like you were each others oxygen, like you needed it.

he brought both his hands back to your waist, clutching at your shirt, as you wrap your arms around his neck, one hand sliding up into his hair, playing with it causing him to grin into the kiss.

“fucking finally!” lucy yelled, you both break apart, snapping back to the real world. you see lucy standing excitedly at the top of the stairs with george, who had a disgusted expression.

“dinners ready, by the way, but clearly you both were already eating.” george mocked.

“gross george!” you groaned, hiding your face in lockwoods shoulder.

“oh yeah says you! hurry it up.” he retorts, stomping down the stairs, lucy giggling following close behind.

as you pull away from lockwoods shoulder, and begin to follow the other two, lockwood is quick to grab your hand and spin you back towards him.

he lands a peck on your lips, “needed one more.” he whispered.

#anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood #lockwood x reader #lockwood and co #anthony lockwood imagine #anthony lockwood x you #anthony lockwood fluff #lockwood and co netflix #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood and co fic #lockwood netflix #sienna’s fics

[saltwaterburns]

i'm rewatching lockwood & co :,( so incredible seeing it on screen, but so bittersweet knowing there isn't more to come

#lockwood and co #george karim #lucy carlyle #anthony lockwood #holly monro #quill kipps #skull #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood and co x reader #netflix #lockwood and co netflix #renew lockwood and co

[novelizt]

EXPECTO PATRONUM (MASTERLIST) ☁︎ ANTHONY LOCKWOOD

GENRE ➺ HOGWARTS AU [slytherin! lockwood x fem! ravenclaw! reader]. rivals to lovers (and a dash of 'everyone knows but them'). fluff and angst.

WC ➺ 30.8k

SYNOPSIS ➺ after a six year rivalry with lockwood, your patronus suddenly matches his when it didn't before.

DISCLAIMER ➺ reader is implied to be shorter than lockwood. appearance of harry potter next gen characters and a few ocs. lockwood calls reader 'sweetheart' and 'my dearest vexation' (+'my girl'). prefect! lockwood. jessica lockwood lives!! (i also headcanon lockwood being a cunning-flirt, so lockwood might read slightly ooc.)

WARNINGS ➺ strained family dynamics (for reader), love potions (misuse of magic), dragons on the loose, wizard duels, boggarts, and a lot of unpolished dialogue. QUILL KIPPS. blood and injuries (tending to wounds). mentions of kids and marriage at the end.

SWEETHEARTS ➺ @kiyasoup @toddandersondupe @locknco @onecojg @avdiobliss @mentallyillsodapop @mitskiswift99 @mischivana @bella-rose29 @wordsarelife

NOTES ➺ it's been a long time coming. i got lost in the sauce. can you tell? this was originally a oneshot but tumblr's block limit was exceeded lol we can still pretend it's a oneshot!

i hope this finds you when you need it. this is for the girlies who are forever spellbound by london boys 💙 happy nanowrimo !!

CARDINAL STORYLINE — COMPLETE!

PART ONE ! 13.7k

PART TWO ! 17.4k

⌠ @novelizt 2023 ⌡

#— ❨ 🌺 ❩ 𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐙𝐈𝐄'𝐒 𝐔𝐓𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐀 ₊˚.༄ #lockwood hogwarts au #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood and co fanfiction #anthony lockwood fanfiction #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood x y/n #lockwood x you #anthony lockwood angst #anthony lockwood fluff

[initialchains]

10 things i hate about you | anthony lockwood.

pairing: anthony lockwood x fem!reader

summary: george karim falls in love with your sister, and the only thing standing between him and the love of his life is the fact that she isn’t allowed to date unless you do, too. luckily for him, anthony lockwood would do anything for a bit of publicity.

wc: 5.8k (part one)

a/n: hii i felt so bad for leaving you all hanging, but finals week left me extremely burnt out and tired. luckily, the lockwood brainrot is neverending, so as a way of saying sorry here’s the first part of this silly ol’ fic. (including the first five things to hate about lockwood.)  i’m also super sorry for the next part because it will be 90% angst lol ++ this is inspired by the movie but not completely based on it bc it’s my all time favorite film and i was scared of not doing it justice.

Lucy swore she was going to quit the agency again if George didn’t stop pacing around the kitchen like an idiot. She kept thinking of things to say to get him to stop, but a part of her also wanted to see how long this pathetic situation in front of her would take, she knew it wouldn’t be long until their researcher got tired of walking back and forth. And that’s where she is now. Sitting in the kitchen, an empty mug staring back at her, while George kept pacing in front of her and Lockwood.

“Hey, George! I have an idea. Why don’t you sit down and tell us what’s going on like a normal person, instead of just muttering I’m so fucked over and over?” 

George finally stopped and looked up at her. He stood still for a few seconds before taking a seat next to Lockwood.

“Well, I’m fucked.”

“Yeah, I think we heard that part.”

“Luce, stop,” Lockwood said in the softest voice he could muster, before turning to George. “Do you want to talk about it? Maybe we can help.”

George took a deep breath before starting. “So, you know how I’ve been telling you both and Holly about that one girl from the archives?”

Lockwood smiled at that. The thought of George crushing on a girl after bonding with her about their love for research is still one of the cutest things he has ever heard.

“Oh, right. How are things going with her? Is everything alright?” 

“Well, sort of. I mean, everything is alright, but just when I thought of finally making a move on her, she kind of, um… dropped a bomb on me?” 

“A bomb? But you already knew she’s a Fittes agent, that’s not new.” Lucy stated. 

“Yes, I know. And trust me, there’s nothing wrong with that.” George continued, “She is the sweetest, most intelligent, beautiful human being to have ever lived. I mean it.” 

Lucy and Lockwood shared a knowing look. George was totally a goner for this girl.

“Then.. just ask her out?” Lockwood suggested, watching carefully as George fidgeted with the thinking cloth, now too shy to look at his friends.

“That’s the problem, I can’t,” George explained, before pulling his glasses away and rubbing his eyes. The stress of the situation clearly getting the best of him.

“Okay, this will probably be a stupid question, but.. why?” Lucy asked, genuinely confused by the problem her friend was going through. Sure, asking someone out is frightening, but it’s not like George was about to fight a type two without any kind of protection.

George took a deep breath before finally explaining. “She can’t go out with me unless her sister gets a date, too.” 

Lucy almost laughed at how stupid the so-called bomb was. “Well, ask one of her colleagues to woo her or something. She’s a Fittes agent too, right?” She suggested, remembering the only fact they knew about said sister. “She must know a bunch of people willing to date her.” 

George found the strength to look up, making eye contact with Lockwood and then turning to Lucy, before finally dropping the bomb on them. “I can’t, everyone at Fittes despises her.” 

Shit.

Lockwood and Lucy didn’t even have to think twice about who the sister in question was. There’s only one person who is loathed by every single Fittes agent, and surprisingly it isn’t Quill Kipps. George was talking about Fittes’ very own heinous bitch. (Obviously, the nickname was granted by the one and only Bobby Vernon. But to be fair, it’s not like he is the most reliable of people. Lockwood took note of that.)

Portland Row was silent for a few moments until Lucy finally spoke up. “Well, George. The world is wide, there will always be other people for you to fall for.” 

“Luce.” Lockwood warned her. 

“I’m trying to help!” 

“I know you are, but George really likes this girl.” He explained

“I think I might be in love with her. No, scratch that. I am in love with her.” George confessed in a small whisper.

“Oh, fuck.”

“Luce.”

“Sorry!” 

“I told you we would try to help, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do. Right, Lucy?” Lockwood looked at her, an unspoken beg passing between them. 

“Fine, yeah, we will. What do you know about her sister? Maybe we can find someone with the same interests as her. Like umm.. Holly? or the guy who sweeps the floor at Arif’s?” Lucy almost winced at how stupid their repertoire of options was, the three of them were friends with a limited number of people, and by limited she meant Holly and a guy who always greets them when they get something from Arif’s

George thought for a few moments about everything he knew about her. “I know she’s a team leader–” He couldn’t even finish his list, let alone his sentence, because before he could even continue, Lockwood stood up. 

“I’ll do it.” He said with a small shrug, almost as if it was the most normal thing in the world. 

A chorus of “I’m sorry?” and “What the fuck?” were heard at the same time, but Lockwood couldn’t bring himself to care. He wanted to do this. 

“What? You said you wanted someone to woo her. Right, Luce?” He explained as he took Lucy’s empty mug away from her and moved to the sink. 

Lockwood’s back faced them while he washed their used dishes. “Yes, but.. why do you want to do it?”

“It’s a win-win situation. If I go out with her, George will get to date her sister, and we will get publicity.” The way Lockwood explained the situation with such ease had Lucy thinking he had planned this beforehand.

“Publicity?” George finally spoke up. 

“Yes. You said she’s a team leader, which means she is important, and we also know she’s disliked by every single one of her peers, which means the press will be surprised to see her hanging out with someone. So, if we get photographed together, everyone will want to know what’s so special about the agents of Lockwood and Co. Which means–” 

“More cases.” George finished the sentence for him.

“See? It’s easy.” Lockwood, finally done with the dishes, turned around.

“No, it’s not. I think it’s a stupid idea. You won’t be using someone to get this agency more clients, are you insane?” Lucy stated, indignation lacing her words. 

“Hey, George. You said you were taking her sister out for breakfast tomorrow, how about we make it a double date?” He said with a bright smile, ignoring Lucy’s words. 

“Oh, um.. Okay.”

George was right, Lucy thought. They are so fucked. 

1- I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair.

“George, calm down. Everything will be okay, I promise.” Lockwood said, sending an encouraging look to the boy next to him. George was sweating, he didn’t expect your sister to accept the double date. He didn’t expect you to accept the double date. 

“I know. I even practiced a speech and everything, it will be alright.”

“You practiced a what?”

George wasn’t able to answer his question because right when Lockwood asked him, they were able to see two silhouettes standing outside of the café they were walking to.

“Oh, they’re here,” Lockwood stated plainly before walking up to them, George looking nervous as fuck next to him. 

Sure, George was a sweaty mess, but he knew this would happen. He even expected you to look at him with disgust in your eyes and say something along the lines of “I was dragged here against my will. Fuck you, Karim. You will never date my sister.” 

What he didn’t expect to see was your face painted with confusion. George was about to greet you with the long speech he spent the entire night workshopping, but before he could even mutter a word, you let out an exasperated sigh and looked George in the eye before you gaze slipped to Lockwood and then back to him. 

“What is it, asshole day? Why are you two here?”

Lockwood was about to open his mouth and answer your question, but luckily your sister spoke up just in time.

“I invited my two friends to have breakfast with us!” She said with a bright, almost angelic smile. George felt like he was in heaven just by seeing her. 

“I know about Karim, but why are you friends with Anthony Lockwood?” 

“Oh, so you’ve heard of me? Only the good things, I hope.” Lockwood said, his charming smile making a way to his face.

“Yeah, like the houses you’ve burned down, and how stupidly reckless you are to the point that you even got shot.” You stated, repulse evident in your eyes as you looked at the man of the hour. 

“It’s adorable how much you know about me.”

“Have you ever been to a psych ward? I can get you an appointment set and ready by tonight.”

“You want to see me tonight?”

George feared you might slit Lockwood’s throat with the way you were looking at him. “We should, um, get inside.” He said, trying (and failing) to break the awkward tension, guiding the four of you into the café. 

George looked at your sister and whispered into her ear “It’s not my place to assume but.. you didn’t tell her we were coming, did you?”

She gave him a shy smile before answering. “I want her to make some friends, and I think someone like Lockwood might help her come out of her shell.”

She looked so innocent that George wanted to break down crying and tell her all about Lockwood’s dumb publicity plan. This was eating him alive. 

You took a seat next to your sister in the booth George had reserved for the four of you. Lockwood smiled when he saw your eyes widen at the sight of him sitting right in front of you. 

“Karim, can you switch places with your friend?” 

“Why? Are you embarrassed I’ll see you blush whenever you look into my eyes?” 

“Have you ever been told that your hairline will recede by the time you’re 30 years old if you keep cutting and styling your hair like that?”  

“Have you ever been told that you’re incredibly beautiful?” 

Your sister had to place her hand over yours before you could reach for the knife placed in front of you by a waiter. Lockwood couldn’t contain his laughter at the look on your face.

“What’s so fucking funny, Lockwood?”

“Nothing. Don’t mind me, please continue with your insults. I relish being the reason behind your thoughts and words.” 

That was enough to shut you up. Your sister, George, and Lockwood shared jokes and stories while you looked down at your plate, the conversation flowing easily between them. Sometimes you’d look up to find Lockwood staring at you, he’d send you a small smile and try to include you in the conversation, but you didn't intend on giving him the satisfaction of getting you to speak, so you’d shut him down with an eye roll. 

The rest of the morning went by smoothly until your sister had the brilliant idea to tell you about her plans for the rest of the day. 

“You’re going to the archives with Karim.. alone? Just the two of you?” 

“Did you not hear her the first time, love?”

“Shut the fuck up, Lockwood.” You snapped at him, hoping your anger was enough to mask the blush rushing into your cheeks. 

It wasn’t. 

“Did I just make you blush?”

“You made me want to throw up.”

“Deny it all you want, but the pet name clearly had an effect on you.. love.”

“Ugh, whatever.” 

The four of you stood up and walked to the café’s exit, Lockwood opening the door for your sister and you. As soon as you got outside, your sister began to apologize for not telling you about her impromptu archives plan with George.

“It’s fine, I don’t mind. Just.. text me when you get there?” You said softly. Way too softly, Lockwood noticed. He had never seen you this vulnerable, maybe your sister was way more important to you than he expected. 

“I will. Promise.”

You said your goodbyes before turning around, planning on walking to your car, but the universe definitely wasn’t on your side today.

“Wait! I’ll go with you.” Lockwood said as he tried to catch up with you, matching the pace of your long strides. 

“I don’t know if you can tell, Lockwood, but I’m trying to get away from you.”

“What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t drive you home after our first date?”

“You’re not a gentleman, and that wasn’t a date.”

Lockwood pressed a hand to his heart, feigning hurt. “Ouch, not a gentleman? Thank god my mother isn’t here to hear those words.”

You finally stopped walking and turned around to face him. “What do you want?”

“To.. drive you home?”

“No, Lockwood. What do you want? You tried to include me in your stupid conversation earlier, then paid for my breakfast, opened the door for me, and now you want to drive me home. What the fuck do you want?”

Lockwood stayed silent for a while, just staring into your eyes. “I was trying to be nice to you, is that too hard to believe?” 

He took notice of how you looked away from his eyes and tried to keep your hands busy by playing with the hem of your shirt. 

You cleared your throat before saying, “Fine, but if you fuck my car up, I swear to god, Lockwood..” 

2- I hate the way you drive my car.

The car was silent the entire first half of the ride. Sometimes you’d catch Lockwood staring at you from the corner of your eye, but you never looked back, deciding that looking through the car window was a better sight. 

“You don’t talk much unless it is to deliver a well-crafted insult, huh?” Lockwood said, trying to break the silence. It wasn’t awkward, it was just.. tense. 

“Do you want me to talk to you?” You answered, slightly surprised by the fact that Anthony Lockwood of all people, wanted to have a conversation with you. 

“Yeah.”

“And what do you want me to say? It’s not like I know a single thing about you.” 

“You can say whatever you want, I don’t mind. I’ll accept it whether it is you cursing my entire bloodline, or you saying you’re deeply attracted to me.” 

The car came to a stop, a red light illuminating Lockwood’s sharp features. You hated to admit it, but fuck, Anthony Lockwood was attractive. 

“Me? Deeply attracted to you? Holy shit, did you fall and hit your head as a baby?”

“You so are.”

“Am I that transparent? Because you’re right. Oh, Lockwood, I am so attracted to you and your stupid fucking personality. I want you, I need you. Oh baby, oh baby.”

“You have such a beautiful way with words, love.”

That was enough to get a small laugh out of you. Lockwood kept surprising you, he didn’t back down after an insult or two, and he actually seemed to enjoy being indulged in them. 

He turned his head to look at you as soon as he heard you laugh, a smile adorning his face. A feeling of pride (and maybe something more) swelled in his chest.

“I can’t believe I just made you laugh for the first time and we’ve been on a date for about three hours now. God, I’m making such a bad first impression.” 

“You still won’t let the idea of this being a date go?” 

“Nope. I enjoy being on a date with you. You’re a nice person to hang out with.”

The corners of your lips curled up into a small smile. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do, I would rather take you out on a million dates than spend 30 minutes with any other person,” Lockwood confessed, and he meant it.

“Like you could find a person who would willingly spend 30 minutes with you.”

“Oh, see? That, there. Who needs affection when I have blind hatred?”

The two of you spent the rest of your ride home talking, the tension slowly evaporating, leaving room for the back-and-forth quips that Lockwood and you kept throwing each other. 

Lockwood stopped the car when he heard you say, “Alright, this is my house.” You were about to open the door, but before you could even extend your arm he said a quick, “Wait!” and got out of the car, rounding it to open your door.

“Thanks.”

“Anything and everything for you.”

Just as you were about to answer, a flash and the sound of a camera clicking disrupted the moment you were having. 

“You’re fucking with me”, you muttered under your breath. Lockwood looked surprised too, he had completely forgotten about his plan. 

Take her out for a few days. Get photographed together. Gain more clients.

His heart sank at the reminder of the reality of this situation. He had been so busy having fun with you, that his mind decided to blur out the reason why he was hanging out with Fittes’ most hated agent. 

“Alright. I should, um, go.”

“Do you want me to walk you to your door? Or is the first date too soon to meet your parents?”

“Fuck you, Lockwood,” You said with a smile.

“It doesn’t really seem like you want to.”

He found himself smiling, too. 

3- I hate it when you stare.

“What a fun coincidence to find you here, love.”

You rolled your eyes at Lockwood’s annoying voice. “Yeah, it’s such a fun coincidence that you almost burned this house down and my team had to come help your incompetent agency.” 

“Third time’s a charm.”

“There’s no way in hell you’ve been the cause of more than two fires.” 

“If you let me take you out on another date, maybe I’ll tell you more about them.” You almost stabbed him with your rapier. “Shut up, people might hear.” That brought a bright smile to his face and an incredulous look to his eyes.

“Oh, so you want to keep our relationship a secret? Fine, I’ll take it. I love a forbidden romance.” He whispered, the smell of lavender and lemon engulfing you as he kneeled a bit to whisper in your ear. 

“Yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night. Anyway, I need to go check out the paperwork for the mess you made, can you keep an eye on my team?” You shyly asked, breaking the eye contact he was desperately trying to keep.

“You trust me with your team? I thought my agency was incompetent and I wasn’t good at anything.” 

“It’s just for a few minutes, don’t let this get to your head.” 

“Oh, it’s way over my head, love.” 

You showed him a very special finger, before walking away to talk to Barnes. You tried to remain professional and listen to what the inspector was saying, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of a pair of eyes looking at you. “Sorry for calling you again, you know how it gets whenever Lockwood and Co have a case,” Barnes said, breaking you out of the cage your mind had trapped you in. 

“Oh, it’s nothing. It’s my pleasure to help.” You tried to muster up a small smile for the man, you liked Barnes, he never treated you differently, not even when the way you acted and decided to express yourself wasn’t the most appropriate. 

“And I think it's their pleasure to be helped.”

“I’m sorry?”

You turned around, following Barnes’ line of sight, only for your eyes to meet Lockwood’s. He gave you a small smile but didn’t look away, it was almost as if he longed for your eyes to make contact. You sent him a small frown, wordlessly asking him what was wrong, he just shrugged and waved at the two of you. 

“He is so weird.” You said, turning to face the inspector. “Tell me about it. Well, we are all done here. Have a nice night, and make sure to get home safely.” He answered, eager to get away from the group of agents surrounding him, and walking away. 

Lockwood didn’t miss a beat before making his way to you. “So, I’m thinking we make the second date happen over some tea at Portland Row?”

“Not happening.”

“I’m not one to make a woman feel uncomfortable when she says no, but may I ask why?

“I’d rather spend my time hanging out with ten type threes, than with the group of miscreants you call friends. No offense to Lucy and Holly, though. I quite like them. I was talking about Karim, tell that thing to stay away from my sister.” You answered, finally finding the guts to maintain eye contact while you spoke. 

“You know Lucy and Holly?” He decided to ignore your entire statement, now only focused on the fact that you knew his friends. Anxiety making its way through his body at the thought of Lucy telling you about his plan. 

“Yeah, and they told me some really interesting things about you. I never took you as the type of person to do that type of stuff.”

Lockwood’s heart almost gave out. “What did they say?”

“That you wear pink socks.”

He felt his heart start beating again. Lockwood thought he was about to die in front of you, he made a mental note to thank Lucy for being nice enough to not tell you about his schemes. He found the strength to give you a charming smile. 

“That surprised you? Lord, do you think I’m the type of guy to have a fragile masculinity? My mother raised me better than that.” 

“You mention your mother a lot, are you close with her?

They should give out awards for Feeling your heart stop two times in the span of 3 minutes because Lockwood was sure he would get one delivered to Portland Row’s doorstep by tomorrow morning. 

“I.. um, yeah.” 

Fuck. You made it awkward. You almost dropped down to your knees and begged him for forgiveness. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude into your personal life, it’s not my place to ask and assume shit about your family. I’m so fucking sorry, Lockwood.” The light in your eyes dimmed, the sight of it made Lockwood want to tell you all about his past. He wanted to go back to ten minutes ago when your eyes were shining and looking into his. He internally swore to never let the light leave them again.

“You’re good, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” He reassured you in a small voice, clearly not fine. 

“No, I will worry–” You couldn’t finish your sentence because, once again, the light of a camera flash illuminated Lockwood and you, blinding you both for a split moment. 

“Of course they’re here. Jesus Christ, do they not have lives? A family?” 

“Maybe they just like taking pictures of your beautiful face.”

The light came back to your dim eyes at his statement. “There he is.” You said, noticing how his gaze slipped from your eyes to your lips, before going back to the eye contact you had.

“What can I say? I can’t stop myself from complimenting you when you’re around.”

4-  I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind.

The streets of London were quiet while Lockwood took a small walk in the early morning. Lucy told him if he walked around the city for a few hours, he’d be able to break in the new pair of combat boots she got him as a present after he made it through 10 cases without almost dying.  

“It’s 8 am and you’re already up being pathetic. I should say I saw this coming, but I really didn’t. Holy shit.” A familiar voice snapped him out of the daze he was in. He was so busy going through a list in his head of all the things he had to do this week, that he didn’t notice you walking next to him. 

“How long have you been walking by my side?”

“Long enough to see you staring straight ahead and not noticing how incredibly pathetic you look. Your boots are hideous, by the way.” You answered, looking into his eyes and noticing how he smirked at your last remark.

“I don’t think Lucy will be happy about you calling her well-thought gift hideous.”

You let out a genuine laugh as soon as he said that. It was the type of laugh that bubbled up from your chest and had you throwing your head back. It made Lockwood feel as if all the morning clouds had disappeared and the sun shone only on the two of you. Sure, you had laughed at Lucy’s gift, but the sound was enough to let the sun shine its warm rays through Lockwood’s heart. An infinite sunbathe.

“Oh, so you find this funny? Hurting my best friend’s feelings?” He asked in a teasing tone, squinting slightly at you.

“So.. I take it she didn’t tell you?” You asked, a small giggle escaping your lips and going straight through Lockwood’s heart. 

“Tell me what?”

“That our plan was to get you the most ugly, repulsive looking, and incredibly stupid boots that we could find? I wasted my money on that, you’re welcome or whatever.” 

He should’ve been offended. Offended at how Lucy wanted him to humiliate himself by walking through the streets of London with a pair of bright neon green combat boots. Offended that she had asked for your help to choose the ugliest pair she could find. But he was too busy fighting the urge to press his lips against yours and to run his slender fingers through your hair. 

Did you not notice how you always bit your lip after laughing because you thought that would stop you from falling into another fit of laughter? 

“Yeah, yeah, you two are so funny,” He rolled his eyes with a smile. “Thank you, love.” He was about to nudge you with his shoulder, but as soon as he turned to look at you, he noticed you weren’t next to him anymore.

His heart stopped for a second until he finally looked back and caught you staring at two women through a café window, clearly on a date. One of them gave the other a bouquet of different types of flowers and brushed back a strand of her girlfriend’s bright red hair. That brought a smile to your face. 

“Hey, you okay?” He whispered as soon as he stood next to you, noticing the sad smile on your face. 

“Oh, yeah. I was just..” 

You didn’t have to say a word for him to be aware of what you wanted to mention. The look in your eyes, and the small smile on your face.. this was the look you always got whenever you saw your sister with George. 

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Lockwood reassured you. Not wanting to scare you off after seeing the look on your face and the small voice you used to answer. 

“Do you think I’m holding my sister back?” You asked, turning around to look into his eyes, your hands trembling a bit.

He didn’t miss a beat before taking hold of your hand and lacing your fingers together, giving your gentle hand two squeezes. “I think.. you care a lot about her, and that’s completely fine. But it is not your job to dictate what she can or can not do. It’s okay to let her have her freedom and life, just like you deserve to have yours.” 

You took a deep breath before pulling Lockwood into a hug, your arms surrounding his neck. Lockwood was startled for a second but didn’t have to think about it twice before wrapping his arms around your waist, letting you take the lead in this display of affection. 

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know, but.. um”

“You don’t have to say anything, come on,” He said, breaking the hug and taking your hand into his, pulling you forward to continue the walk you were on.

5- I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme.

Lockwood looked down at your intertwined hands, thinking of things to say to get the fog of sadness blinding you out of the way. “So you’re a hopeless romantic, huh?

“What the fuck?”

Alright, so maybe this wasn’t his greatest icebreaker ever, but at least it was something. He chose to continue. 

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you always stare at every couple we walk past. It’s kind of adorable. Fittes’ heinous bitch being a hopeless romantic? Sign me the hell up.”

“You’re sick in the head, Anthony Lockwood.”

“I didn’t think of you as a hopeless romantic, like.. at all. But I assume this means you’re the type of person who wants flowers and love letters delivered to her doorstep. Right?”

“No.”

“Sure, love. I’ll keep this in mind for future references.”

Lockwood made sure to walk you back to Fittes’ building after spending the rest of his morning with you, choosing to take the weird looks his boots got with pride and a bright smile. Whenever someone stopped him in the street he’d answer with a happy “my best friend and this beautiful lady next to me gave them to me as a gift”. 

You spent the rest of your day going back and forth through Fittes’ small yet numerous offices, talking to different people about your previous and next cases. Sometimes you’d stop to take a breather outside a door, but quickly remembered the importance of your role as a team leader, and snapped out of your seemingly neverending exhaustion. 

“Am I dreaming or is that my best friend in the whole world?” You turned your head to the right to find Bobby Vernon smirking at you, a dry chuckle leaving his lips.

“Fuck off, Vernon.”

“Woah, no need to get all pissy, love.” You clenched your shaking fists, trying to keep your anger in. You may have a short temper, but you would never let someone like him get the satisfaction of making you angry, or at least of noticing the effect his words have on you. 

The thought of someone other than Lockwood calling you by that pet name made you want to burst into tears. How dare they see you as someone who’s weak? After everything you’ve done and fought for to get the role you have as an agent? 

“I don’t have the time for your bullshit, so just spit it out and let me go home.” You said with an eye roll.

“Your sister wanted me to tell you that you got mail. Well, it’s more like a gift, I guess. I assume it’s from your parents because I can’t think of a single human being who genuinely likes you.” 

You knew better than to take his words to heart, but the venom he said them with stung. You knew you were unlikeable, probably even unloveable at this point, but he didn’t have any right to say those words to your face. It made you feel disgusting, you had to fight back the urge to throw up.

“Yeah, alright. Have a good day, Vernon.” You replied as you walked past him and out into the street, calling for a cab to take you home.

The ride back home was silent, and it surprisingly made you miss Lockwood. It made you miss his stupid jokes, his ugly haircut, and his reckless way of driving your car. You were sure the poor guy didn’t know what a stop sign meant. 

As soon as the cab driver got you home, you made sure to pay him and wish him a safe drive, after all, the curfew was 15 minutes away from starting. A sigh escaped your lips after opening your door and heading into your room. The day had left you completely worn out, and Bobby’s words didn’t help at all with the shit day you were having.

You quickly got changed and were about to head to bed when you noticed a package sitting in the corner of your room. A frown made its way to your face when your eyes caught the unfamiliar handwriting with your name on the box, curiosity taking the best of you as you opened the package with a delicate touch.

A gasp left your lips when you opened it and found the same bouquet of colorful flowers you saw the woman give to her partner at the café. A white envelope sat next to them.

With a small smile and shaking hands, you opened it and were greeted with Lockwood’s handwriting.

Hey, my love. 

I’ll be really honest and say that my mind is completely blank as I write this, but I just wanted to let you know that right after I dropped you off, I went to Arif’s with George and heard a love song playing — I couldn’t help but think of your hopeless romantic self as soon as I heard these lyrics: You’re just too good to be true, can’t take my eyes off of you. 

Jesus, I know you’re having a field day reading this. Me? Embarrassing myself and sending you a bouquet and a love letter? You’re right, I must be extremely sick in the head.

Anyway, I hope you have a good day. You deserve it.

With lots of love,

Lockwood. 

(PS: You don’t have to say it back! But I thought it felt right to say it since we’re kind of besties now.) 

The tears you spent the entire day holding back decided to come out right after you finished reading the letter. Sobs escaped your lips as you sat down in your bed, the flowers and letter still in your hand. A strange feeling bubbled up inside you, you didn’t quite know what it meant, but decided to guess it was that disgusting sickening feeling Bobby left you with. 

When you laid in bed and tried to go to sleep, you took notice of how different the feeling you were having right now was from the one you got with Bobby Vernon. Sure, this one made you want to throw up, too. But it also made you want to stare into Lockwood’s eyes again and to feel his arms wrapped around your waist for a few more seconds. You drifted to sleep with a craving of feeling Lockwood’s hand intertwined with yours for the rest of your life.  

#anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x y/n #lockwood and co x reader #anthony lockwood #lockwood and co #magnolia’s fics!

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Day 3 of Kinktober

Public toy play.

Anthony Lockwood x Fem!Reader. 18+ Drabble.

Warnings: Public play, Toy play, Vibratater, Slight sir kink, someone talking to the reader when she’s getting pleasured, Cum control.

You couldn’t believe that you said yes to this.

He was so charming when he asked you all those mouths ago and he knew when to ask you, how to ask you. Lockwood had you pinned against the bed as you laid on your back with your legs wrapped around him. All you could do was cry at the overstimulated he gave you by giving you his cock all night until the sun was about to come up. He knew you’d do anything to be called a good girl so when he ask with his cock buried in your cunt, he knew you’d say yes.

It’s been mouths since then and you forgot about it, not even taking him seriously until he showed you the controllable bullet. It was purple and had a wire having out it for easy removal, the fucking smirk on his face made you annoyed. “I wasn’t joking sweetheart.” You spend about ten minutes trying to persuade him away from the idea, but you had to admit it did seem hot. “Let me try it once, the thought about it- Fuck. It turns me on so much.” That sent shivers down through your core and you had no choice but to indulge his fantasy.

In the little shop that sold your favorite items for missions for cheap he decided to control you there. Behind the shelfs you stood with your hands gripping the metal and forcing yourself to stand up. “Hmm.” You tried to keeper your mouth shut but it was so hard when it felt so good. Lockwood was watching from the aisle across with the controller in his hand. His cock hard while watching you try and keep your composure.

Pushing a bit further your hand pushed off a book on the floor and it was load you jumped in shock. “Oh fuck,” you whispered and looked over at your boyfriend with a glare. He just laughed and turned up the setting for giving him attitude. Your pussy clinched at the new sensation and your knees become so weak you almost feel. “Oh shit.” You moaned and looked down at the book trying to pick it up and act normal.

“Excuse me miss,” a voice called from behind you and made your face go pale. “Do you need any help?” Turning your head slightly around you saw a boy with a name tag and a store outfit on, his features similar to lockwoods. “Just fine, I have a-” the toy changed vibrations and started to pulse within you and you fell back a bit with a groan. “Had a nasty fight on a hunt- Oh. Could you pick up that book for me?” You held your stomach to act like it hurt so he wouldn’t get suspicious.

He bent down and picked up the black book and handed it back to you with a smile, “Anything else you need? We have medical supplies here if you need it.” Nodding you pushed back onto the shelfs and took a break to lean on something.

“Actually, I’m just looking around but I’ll call you if I need anything..” you smile and trail down to his name tagged, “Marcus.” Lockwood saw how the boy looked at you. In other situations he would jump over and feel jealous but not now, not when he’s about make you cum. It was hot to see him think he has a chance but he’s the one in control of you.

The boy walked off and as soon as he did you made a “O” face and your legs shacked with pleasure. You hummed and tried to grind on something that wasn’t there, you needed to cum so badly. Looking back over to lockwood you mouthed him a plead for permission to cum. It was perfect for him to see you begging to cum when you had hated the idea before.

Instead of a nod of approval you got nothing, his fingers clicked the button and the feeling stopped immediately. Whimpering you groaned at his teasing and got pissed off how he could do that to you. Flipping him off you took a few breaths of recovery. Clit throbbed to be touched and satisfied, your whole clinching on the toy inside.

“Don’t be so down, baby.” His voice spoke as he walked over to you, “We still have more places to go. Can’t you take more?” His fingers took your chin and pulled you closer, his eyes filled with hunger and desire. “Be a goodgirl for me and I’ll let you cum. Not just on the toy, but on my cock.” It sounded so good. Your body aches to do both.

“Yes sir.”

#anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x fem!reader #anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood smut #anthony lockwood x reader smut #lockwood x reader #lockwood x reader smut #lockwood smut #lockwood & co x reader #lockwood & co smut #lockwood and co x reader #Kinktober #kinktober 2023

[neewtmas]

What's Mine is Yours

A/N: This was so fun to write! It's a little bit on the shorter side, but I hope you all enjoy :) @hufflepuff1619 thank you so much for your request! I hope you like it <3

pairing: anthony lockwood x fem!reader

wordcount: 1.4k

request: Hello! I was wondering if I could request a one shot please for Lockwood. The reader works for Lockwood and Co and because of their job, she gets nightmares a lot and that usually ends up with her sleeping in Lockwoods bed and it basically become her bedroom too. Thank you. - by @hufflepuff1619

taglist: @maraschinomerry @marinalor @oblivious-idiot @lockwood-lover @givemea-dam-break (if you wanna be added/removed, just send me an ask/message :))

masterlist

The only sound in the cold night air was the cab driving down the street, lights quickly disappearing in the thick fog drifting over the pavement. Lockwood, George, Lucy and Y/N stood in front of 35 Portland Row, duffle bags on the ground next to them.

"Well, let's get inside and get some sleep", Lockwood's voice cut through the silence just as the ghost lamp at the corner switched off. The gate creaked as he pushed it open, and the small light next to the door switched on, illuminating the uneven stones that paved the way to the steps. He carried his bag up to the door and set it down, reaching for the keys in his pockets. He fumbled with them, almost dropping them before he found the right one and unlocked the door. It swung open and he let the other three trudge past him before he entered and closed the door again, leaving the darkness of the night outside.

The light in the hallway, though homely and warm, showed just how exhausted everyone was. No words were exchanged as they all left their bags by the door, the clean-up a concern for the next morning, and went into the kitchen. George immediately set a kettle on the stove, and Y/N sat down on one of the chairs while Lockwood rummaged in one of the cabinets for some biscuits.

Lucy grabbed one from the plate he set down on the table and excused herself to bed with a 'good night' mumbled out between bites of biscuit.

Y/N took the cup George gave her and gave him a thankful smile. She poured a bit of sugar in and stirred a few times, watching the liquid swirl around her spoon. She was tired, eyes threatening to fall close every few minutes. She had already dozed off on the cab ride home. But as much as she wanted nothing more than to curl up under her blanket and fall into a deep sleep, she also knew that it probably wouldn't be that easy.

"That ghost was something, huh?" Lockwood said to no one in particular. George snapped out of staring at the wall and nodded slowly. "At least this time, we weren't wholly unprepared."

He was right. From that perspective, tonight's case had gone great - no ugly surprises, and everything had been just the way George had predicted it with the material he had researched. They had worked together fabulously, and for once, no one was subjected to a near-death experience. Unfortunately, that was unusual.

"Raw-Bones are truly the worst", Lockwood said contemplatively, examining the biscuit he was holding closely before taking a bite. "Haven't seen a visitor this nasty and revolting in a long time."

Y/N squeezed her eyes closed, trying hard to stop her brain from conjuring up the memory of the ghost they had encountered just a few hours ago. "I think I'll go to bed as well", she said quietly and got up. She could feel Lockwood's eyes follow her as she walked over to the sink and emptied her cup into it. She hated wasting perfectly good tea, but right now she didn't feel she could stomach even one more sip.

She slowly made her way upstairs, feeling heavy and tired. A dull ache had started to form behind her forehead and after she exchanged her ectoplasm-stained clothes for soft pyjamas, she finally climbed into her bed and sighed a breath of relief. She pulled the blanket up under her chin and curled her knees to her chest, head comfortably buried in her fluffy pillow. She reached out from under her blanket to switch off the small nightlamp on her bedside table, and then her room was pitch black.

She did not yet close her eyes, but instead just stared into the dark, trying to calm her breathing. She listened to the quiet creaking of the floorboards as either George or Lockwood moved around one floor below her room. After a while, doors closed and the only thing that was left to hear was her own breaths. She pulled her blanket tighter around herself and tried to close her eyes, hoping to fall asleep quickly.

But the moment she did, her mind was flooded with the gruesome pictures of the Raw-Bones she had fought off hours earlier. One would think being an agent and fighting off ghosts for a living would get easier with time, and in some ways, it did - where she started as a talented but terrified ten year old she was now a capable agent. But no matter how well she did in the field, her sleep suffered after especially horrific cases, just like the one tonight.

George had prepared them - they knew what was coming. But seeing the skinless corpse, bloody all over with ribs sticking out, eyes bulging out as it robbed over the floor, leaving a trail of blood that was of course just ectoplasm but sure as hell didn't look like it - it was enough for her to know that the nightmares would come.

She opened her eyes again, quickly switching on her night lamp. The warm light was comforting. She knew that sleep was impossible tonight. Should she go down to Lockwood's room? He had been kind and understanding from the moment she first knocked at his door after a nightmare that had left her shaking a few weeks after she had started working here. After that, it had happened a few other times - and even though he never gave her the feeling that she was too much, maybe he just wanted to be nice.

A few minutes later she was tip-toeing down the stairs. Maybe he was just being nice, and maybe it meant nothing at all, but she desperately needed sleep and knew it wasn't going to happen if she stayed in her bed by herself.

In front of his bedroom door, she hesitated for a moment, not quite sure of herself. But then she took a deep breath and knocked three times, just like every time before. It was silent in his room, and for a moment she thought he was already asleep and was ready to turn around, but then she heard rustling and footsteps behind the door.

The door swung open and revealed Lockwood in his pyjamas, hair already messy. "Y/N. Are you okay? Another nightmare?" The way he said it made it clear that he was concerned, and not at all annoyed like she had feared. Her shoulders slumped down. "Not yet", she whispered. "But I can't sleep."

He extended his hand to her and she hesitantly took it, allowing him to pull her into the room and closer to him. He closed the door behind her, and now they stood in darkness. He squeezed her hand and led her to his bed where he switched on the night light.

"Do you wanna sleep here tonight?" She nodded and he climbed into bed, scooting over so that she had enough space to lay down next to him and lifted the blanket. The spot was still warm from him laying the moments earlier. He reached over her to switch off the light, and she could feel his breath at the back of her head and his warm body pressed up to hers. He didn't pull his arm back, instead wrapped it around her and pulled her closer to his chest.

She suddenly felt very hot and was glad that the room was dark, otherwise, he would have seen the intense blush that coloured her cheeks crimson. It wasn't the first time this had happened, but she was flustered just the same, every single time.

"Sorry that I'm bothering you again", she said quietly, cringing at how loud it still sounded. He was silent for a moment. "You're not bothering me, Y/N. You could never bother me." He paused and leaned closer, his breath tickling her ear. "Do you wanna know a secret? Every time a case is especially scary, I lie here and wait and hope for you to show up at my door."

She swallowed hard. This was new. His thumb was tracing patterns over her stomach where he was holding her. "Really?", she asked, breathless. "You don't mind sharing your bed?"

"Not if it's with you." He pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. "What's mine is yours, as long as you want it."

thank you for reading, feedback is appreciated :)

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

[why-what-no]

Always Have Me

Pairing: Anthony Lockwood x Reader

Warnings: Slight depictions of violence. Me being obsessed with this show. Might be idiots in love, idk

Notes: Felt a little odd writing this about teenagers, but the actors are like a lot older than I am (why am i so in love with Lockwood’s actor?? He’s so pretty boy) and it’s totally PG, so I figured it was fine

Summary: When Lockwood’s friend and associate, aka the person he might even love, got injured during a case, he was more scared than he had been in a very long time. Leading to him dealing with his feelings in a less than productive way until the “friend” finally confronts him

Honestly, (Y/N) didn’t even feel it. But they could blame that on the shock.

Later on, when they’d ask George about it, he’d tell him quietly and morosely (like even the memory caused him pain), how dodging a ghost’s outstretched hand had led to the young operative tripping down a flight of stairs and slamming down onto splintered wood.

Wood that had pierced them right in the side. Which admittedly was gruesome, but (Y/N) just counted themself lucky that they had escaped being ghost touched. Lucy had told them about what happened to her old friends, and the thought of leaving behind their housemates terrified them.

All they could hear was the ghost’s shriek as their team neutralized it and…

And Lockwood’s voice - muffled, terrified. “No, no! (Y/N), stay with us. It’ll be okay! George! Call for help!”

***

Lockwood could barely stay focused in his fear. The moment he saw (Y/N) disappear down the stairs, his attention fully left the ghost that they were trying to contain. Bolting after his friend, not even thinking of the possibility of getting touched by the ghost. It didn’t even matter in his mind, if something happened to (Y/N) then it didn’t matter what happened to him.

The horrific sight of his friend - although honestly at that point ‘friend’ sounded like too weak of a word for their attachment - bleeding out send a coldness through his body. Kneeling over them, not knowing what to do, he could only attempt to comfort them as he yelled for George to get help.

Lockwood always felt a bit out of his element around (Y/N). A good kind of awkward, but awkward nonetheless. He’d read the books they’d like so he’d have something to talk about with them, and he’d try to be suave and charming but they’d always tease him about it. A little grin on their face that made it all worth it.

But in this moment. There was no awkwardness, just the knowledge that he completely forget what he was supposed to do. The imagined image of him lowering their casket into the ground imprinted in his mind as he begged (Y/N) to stay awake.

***

(Y/N) woke up in a hospital bed, obviously DEPRAC from the document on the clipboard that the nurse was holding. They let the woman fuss over them for a second, before beginning to push her to let them see their friends.

As Lockwood, George, & Lucy burst into the room, (Y/N) could only grin at how glad they were to see them. Only a few months ago, nobody cared if they were dead or alive. Now, they had a family who cared about them with all their hearts and souls.

“Are you okay?” Lucy asked, her sweet face wide with worry.

“We thought you were gonna die…”

“You were bleeding like mad…”

As George and Lucy talked over each other in their concern, Lockwood finally spoke. “Okay, you lot. Let them take a breath, it’s been a rough go.” He stood back, not getting close to take their hand or pat them on the shoulder. Which wasn’t a good feeling for (Y/N), but he never stopped looking at them, making them feel a little better. “Are you alright?” His brow was knitted in concern, as well as another emotion that (Y/N) couldn’t quite read on his face.

(Y/N) was close to all their housemates, but ever since they met Lockwood there was this pull that they felt for the handsome young operative. He seems to make every room he entered brighter, every joke he told lifted their spirits. They’d never felt so happy to be alive until they moved to 35 Portland Row.

“I’ll live.” They mustered up a smile, not wanting to make their friends more worried than the three of them clearly already were. “Just get me back home as soon as possible.”

They missed the comfort and familiarity already. The old knickknacks and books lining most surfaces, the smell of wood, paper, coffee, and whatever delicious thing George was cooking.

Lockwood smiled back. “I promise.”

And as usual, he kept his promise. It took a couple of days, but soon (Y/N) was healed enough to return to the agency and start getting back to normal. Helping George out around the house and researching new cases.

There was one problem, however. Ever since they had returned, Lockwood was… distant. Never alone in a room with (Y/N), never making excuses to speak to them and spend time with them like he did before they were injured. No, he just acted like they were just some acquaintance.

It broke their heart more than they cared to admit. Having got so used to Lockwood being so important in their life, that the loss of it felt like something had been stolen from (Y/N).

Lucy noticed the disquiet that (Y/N) was feeling. “Go talk to him, yeah? I’m sure it’s fine and you two can sort this out.” She told them comfortingly. “He was so worried about you when you were hurt. Nearly wore a hole in his shoes with his pacing.”

So they did. It took a bit to work up the courage, but eventually they managed to find him in the library.

He looked elegant in the dim light, although he was always beautiful looking. Entirely focused on the book in front of him, his hand on his chin with the curves of his face accentuated by shadows.

It almost felt sacrilegious to ruin this moment, but (Y/N) needed his attention. “Is everything alright?” They asked.

Lockwood jumped a bit as the words broke through the silence. He looked nervous for a second, before masking that emotion behind one of his calm, superiority complex-ridden expressions. “Of course.” He said, putting the book down and standing up. “Why wouldn’t it be? Did something happen?”

“You tell me. You’ve barely spoken to me in days, Lockwood.” Judging by the slight guilt on his face, he knew exactly that they were talking about. “What happened. What did I do?”

That immediately got through to him. “Nothing.” He said quickly. “You didn’t do anything, you’re wonderful.”

“Then why…”

“I was so useless.” He them her off, eyes glancing anywhere but at (Y/N). “You were hurt and I wanted to help and I just… I completely forgot my training.”

They’d rarely seen him this vulnerable before, a strange sort of desperation in his eyes that made them want to pull him close and never let go of him. “I’m fine, I’m going to be fine. You were there, that’s all that matters.” (Y/N) tried to consol him. He always had this need to be the defender, the one to look after everybody. It broke (Y/N)‘s heart sometimes how ragged he’d run himself trying to make that a reality.

“No it’s not all that matters. I’m supposed to protect you, and I couldn’t even do that!”

“That’s not your job, Lockwood.” They reached up to cup his cheek, trying to give him some sort of comfort. Almost immediately he leaned into their touch, raising his hand to lay in on top of theirs and wrap his fingers through theirs.

“It is. I…” He tried to decide best how to say what he needed to. To get across the emotions that he felt whenever he was around (Y/N). “I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you here with me.” He finally said, looking down at his feet to avoid seeing their eyes.

But they took matters into their own hands, tilting his face up so that he was looking at them once again. Their eyes slightly watering, but a small smile was playing on their lips.

“You don’t have to do anything.” They told him. “You’ll always have me.”

There was a relief in his eyes as they told him that. “Promise?” He was deathly serious, needing to hear them say it.

And they just leaned forward to kiss him, surprising him at first but thrilling him at the same time. He quickly reciprocated, taking their face in his hands to keep them close to him, never wanting to let go of them now that he finally had them in his arms.

“I promise.” They told him when they finally leaned away to breath. And fully intended to keep that promise. They needed him as much as he needed them

#lockwood and co #lockwoodandco #lockwood and co x reader #anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony Lockwood fic #trying to figure out what to tag this #lockwood x reader #Lockwood #Lockwood and co anthony Lockwood #Lockwood and co Lockwood #Lockwood and co Anthony Lockwood x reader #Lockwood and co Lockwood x reader

[websterss]

𝐂𝐔𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓 — 𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Evenings with Anthony are what you look forward to the most when given the chance to finally rest, especially after long cases.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒): Slight insinuation but that’s it really, fluff

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2,222

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader    

𝐀/𝐍: Hope you enjoy it! 

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

After you had bid Lucy and George a goodnight. You hurriedly follow Anthony into his and yours shared bedroom. He was not in the mood after tonight's case, especially after having Kipps and his crew lend a hand. It didn’t take long for him to burst out of the stopped taxi and make his way inside. Now here you are, watching him try to wind down from the built up rage and exhaustion inside him.

You lean back against the door, it closes with a click. You tuck your hands into your back pockets. You lean your head back against the wood watching as Anthony furiously tries to undo the knot of his tie. He clenches his jaw as he pulls against the material. When it doesn’t budge he moves on to take his shoes off instead. One after the other being thrown off to the side carelessly, something you know he’ll regret doing by the morning. He lets out a sigh and tries to control his breathing. You take notice in the way his fist clenches.

You push off the door and make your way over to stand between his legs. He subconsciously widens his spread to allow you to get closer. You hum as you reach forward and gently work on the knot he couldn’t get undone himself. He finds comfort in your serene stature, your shoulders slouched and fimble hands moving swiftly and slowly. He envy’s the way you’re not nearly as bothered as he was. Kipps’ stupid face slowly starts to dissolve from his memory as your fingertips brush against his jaw. He reaches forward to pull you closer in by the waist. His fingertips lift the hem of your shirt just enough to graze your skin. It had been a long day and all he wanted was nothing more than to feel you under his fingertips. To revel in the linger of your soft touches and your lavender scent. You pull out the tie from around his neck and begin to wrap it around your hand. It doesn’t take long for his head to fall against somewhere along the area of your stomach. You glance down and start to thread your fingers through his locks. You add in the occasional back rub to help him further relax. He hums, enduring in the pleasure you relieve on his back muscles. You knew that Anthony needed to find tranquility within the four walls of his and yours bedroom, and fast, or else he’d spiral into madness.

He pulls back slowly. His tiredness was clear as day. His dark black circles only make his lack of sleep more apparent. He keeps his hands at your waist. Letting you take over. Your hands now work on removing his dress shirt. A few smudges of dirt coating the once white fabric. You mindlessly work your way down the shirt, finding solitude in the silence that washes over you two. His eyes watch your every move with attentiveness as you help him undress. A dynamic some wouldn’t understand but one you both relinquish in. It’s intimate…private. It was your thing.

You stand back up after undoing the last button. Anthony closes his eyes in delight as you push his disheveled locks back. “Pajamas tonight or…“ You trail off to allow him to ponder his choices. You smooth your hands over his collarbones and under his shirt to slide it off his shoulders. Anthony lifts his chin as he helps you maneuver the sleeves down to his wrist. You can feel the knobs turning in his head upon seeing his signature grin showcase itself. A glint of mischief glosses over his brown eyes.

“We could do without them tonight, no? Besides, they would just get in the way like always.” You throw your head back laughing. Only he would be in the mood after a horrendous day. You adored your boyfriend with a passion. He never fails to make your nights after a long ass day of ghost hunting. His stomach flutters hearing his favorite tune. It only makes him laugh along with you cause your laugh was incredibly affectionate.

“No.” You groan. Your face pinches into a pout. You hang on to his shoulders loosely, head still thrown back.

“Come on.” He tilts his head. Though he knew just from the shit day you’ve all had that you both would not last very long. He’d be surprised if he even lasted enough for a make out. He was barely surviving off of what little bit of energy he did have left. No way he’d be able to put in the energy to tango with you. You likewise. You weren’t any better. He could see it clearly on you just how exhausted you were. If his dark circles were anything to go by, it was the fact you weren’t even trying to hide how tired you were anymore. Your eyes weren’t far from drooping shut. You were ready for bed. You had allowed yourself to finally relax the minute you stepped foot inside the house. You were physically drained and yet you somehow still remained on your two feet. Your features are relaxed now. No lines visible. Just the crinkles from your squinted eyes. “We will not last a second, my darling.” He admits with a light laugh. His eyes begin to droop and fall shut for a split second. The hand in his hair was not allowing him to stay awake.

“A millisecond more like it…Anthony, I’m as dead as-“ You began with a complaint. Your brows furrow in thought. Your brain falters as you can’t manage to come up with anything to compare being as dead as. “Well…I’m not exactly sure now, but what I do know is that I am incredibly tired and on the verge of passing out.” You breathe out a laugh. A boisterous laugh emits past Anthony’s lips as you take off your jacket and shirt rather hastily. You blow a raspberry as you let the clothes hit the carpet. Your hands flop to your sides as you stand in an unflattering way. You might as well resemble the hunchback from Notre Dame. “Where’s your shirt?” You begin walking around the room to find your version of pajamas. Underwear and a big tee always do the trick for you. Anthony leans back against his hands. He arches a brow, amused as you shuffle back and forth. Your hands pressed against your bra covered breast as you searched for his shirt. An adorable habit of yours he loved.

“I think you forgot another layer.” His implication behind his smirk isn’t missed by you. You just choose to ignore him.

“Nope, I’m good.” You hum as you start throwing loose clothing around. “Where is it…” You mutter under your breath.

“Would you like me to assist you?” He begins unzipping his trousers, opting to exchange them for a pair of sweats.

“To find your shirt? Yeah that’d be nice!” You stifle a laugh watching his smirk fall. “Ah, there you are- haha.” You boast in victory. You let out a monster like growl, close enough to have you mistaken for the Cookie Monster. You slip the shirt over your head and through your arms. You reach behind you and unclip the bra from under the shirt. You slide the straps smoothly down each arm and take it out from the front of your shirt. Your smirk grows as you hold the bra in front of Anthony’s face. The strap dangling from your finger.

“I don’t know why you choose to remove it under the shirt. It’s not like I haven’t seen them before you know. Gorgeous might I add, they deserve to be freed.”

“I know they do…” You nod in agreement. “And I know you’ve seen them, but I’m tired. If I free them and show them to you, you’ll go primal on me. We’re tired, let’s just rest tonight, yeah? Sleep in. Also it feels a little bit exposing at the moment especially when I’m not in the mood.” You poke his stomach causing him to flinch away. “I felt the need to take my bra off this way-“

“No, no no. It’s okay. I get it. You don’t need to further explain it to me. I shouldn’t have implied or suggested that.” He holds you by the arms. A faint tired smile mirroring your own. He rubs his palms up and down your skin. You sigh and let your eyes fall shut. It doesn’t take long till he’s tugging you into bed with him. “No more further implications. Let’s just get into bed.” He crawls in through his side, while you crawl on the bed to get to yours. The covers are thrown back. Each of you taking to your preferred sides. You both settle under the covers after a passing of wiggling around to get situated. Anthony extends out his right arm, and you find your place cuddled up into his side. You sigh heavily. Groaning out a moan as the mattress and covers invite you with a warm embrace. You can feel the heat radiate off Anthony’s chest. He lets out a soft chuckle as he nuzzles his face into your neck. A tender kiss pressed against your skin. You hum in delight as he goes for your hands, intertwining them together. He brings your hand up to his lips, giving them a kiss which he transitions into draping your intertwined hands over your side. You occasionally switch up the spooning but it looks like he preferred to be the big spoon tonight. Who were you to argue with that? A beat passed then you started up with a softness in your tone. You both liked to converse about your days before sleep overtook you.

“I cannot believe that Kipps' crew came to the rescue once again.”

“We were not rescued.” He pulls you closer, a scoff falling in your ears. You roll your eyes. You know how prideful he grew to be. Too cocky to admit that this case was way out of your control. 

“I don’t know...” You argued. “Having him pull you back over the railing seems like he rescued you.” You turn your head a tad to meet his eyes. He now rolled his eyes.

“I had it handled.” 

“You were dangling from one arm.” You quirked a brow at him. “Your hand was slipping...” 

“A mere moment of weakness.” He brushed it off. “Given another minute, I’d been able to pull myself over.” He gave his signature grin.

“Anthony.” You sighed. “You were rescued. They rescued us. Thank god they came when they did.” You settled your head on his shoulder. You raised your intertwined hands up to your lips to seal your love upon his knuckles. “I wouldn’t be having this conversation with you had they not. You’re here because of him whether you refuse to acknowledge that or not. We’re here, on account of the many times Kipps crew have saved us. You may hate him for showing up and granting us our lives again, but I’m grateful for that bloke alright. Thankful he’s given us another day to lay here...to cuddle and all.” You breathe out a shaky laugh. Tears brimming your waterline. You only lightly laugh further as he wraps his arms around you more securely. 

“I do...I do acknowledge that the walking appendix has rescued us.” You scoffed at his attempts to compliment him. “I am grateful. I promise you I am.” He presses a kiss against your temple. “I cherish our cuddles entirely too much...”

“But?” You edge on.

“I am not admitting that we were in fact vulnerable nor thanking him.” 

“I expected nothing less from you.” You pressed your cheek against his chest. Your eyes flutter. Sleep overpowering your bodies as you're wrapped in each other’s embraces.

“You’re gonna write him a letter and have us all sign it aren’t you?” He groans, his eyes closed shut, and his mind still awake at this point. 

“Might even send a goody basket. Think he prefers doughnuts or strudels?” You hum out. 

“I don’t care.” He shifts again and settles into a comfortable position. You hummed, finding comfort as silence fills the room again. A beat passes, then... 

“Strudels.” He huffs, giving in. If he couldn’t stop you, he’d join you. 

“Really? I saw him more as a pie sort of person.” Your face scrunches in question. Your eyes still remain shut. 

“Strudels. End of discussion. Now go to sleep.” He groans as you get pulled flushed against his skin. His hands fiddle with the hem of your shirt under the covers. His hand doesn’t stray lower than the hem, only lifting it a bit to meet the skin of your stomach. You stop shifting and relax your muscles. Reveling in Anthony’s soft touches. He thought peace finally overcame you. That you both would fall asleep, which would put an end to this night, and wake to begin the start of the next day. He knew better than to welcome your silence so suddenly.

“I think I’m going to make him a pie instead.” Your eyes open, focused on the ceiling. Anthony groans, hiding his face in your neck. 

“Go to sleep...” He muffles out.

“Strawberry or apple. Think he’d like apple?”

#anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood imagine #anthony lockwood x fem!reader #anthony lockwood imagines #lockwood and co #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood & co #my gif #writings by juls

[vi-trying-to-survive]

Don’t Tell

Anthony Lockwood x f!Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What ? Why ?”, his eyes went wide.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Definitely”, he was nodding his head.

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

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

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

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

He frowned, “I-”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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[reidrot]

locklyle

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[saltwaterburns]

Hey, would you write Anthony Lockwood x reader,in which for the cause they have to pretend to be married? Lockwood gives her an engagement ring and his mother's wedding ring, and he wears his father's wedding ring. Thanks in advance😊

two times you kissed him and the one time he kissed you

warnings: the usage of y/n a few times, i apologise

pairing: anthony lockwood x fem!reader

a/n: i loved writing this. that's all i have to say

"So while Lockwood and Y/N distract Penelope, Lucy swoops into the Black Library and snatches the "Book of Death". Meanwhile I'll be downstairs on the lookout! Isn't it just the most brilliant plan?" George exclaims excitedly, but he's met with silence. It's suffocating, and you could almost hear a needle drop to the ground.

"So...me and Lockwood have to pretend to be married?" You ask after a bit, emphasising the marriage part. "How on Earth can we pull that off convincingly?"

"You really do wound me, love. You don't think we could pull it off?" Lockwood chimes in, your cheeks heating up at the pet name that rolls off his tongue so ridiculously well.

"No, no that! Just, we're quite young, aren't we? How are we going to explain our reasoning to, conjoin?"

"She does have a fair point." Lucy adds thoughtfully, and you smile at the red haired girl. This could be your ticket out of this. "You could tell anyone who asks that the ghost hunting field is life threatening and you wanted get married in case one of you won't make it past the age of 25?"

Before you can even get a word in to object, maybe think of another way, both of the boys agree. You sigh defeatedly.

"So, that's settled then! The ball is in a few hours so we should go and get outselves ready. Y/N, come with me."

You tell Lucy you'll be up in a few minutes to help her do her hair and follow Lockwood upstairs to his room. You've only been there a couple of times to tend to his injuries after particularly hard cases, so going in there without a proper purpose made the butterflies in your tummy go wild.

He opens the door for you and you step in, your eyes trailing over the bookshelves, his messy bed, clothes that are scattered everywhere. It looks messy, but feels organized in a sense.

He shuts the door with a soft click and motions for you to go and sit on the bed. You do so and he disappears for a few seconds, coming back with something in his hand. It's a soft looking velvety case and it reminds you of those ring holding boxes.

Oh.

Oh.

The mattress dips as he sits down next to you, heat emitting from his body, making your heart flutter. Even while sitting down, he's a head taller than you.

He opens the small case and between the cushions, you spot two rings. One of them is a golden wedding band, decorated by a small diamond thats glimmering in the sunlight shining through the window. The second one is more dainty, thinner and blessed with a matching diamond. Your breath catches in your throat.

"These belonged to my parents. I don't think I ever saw them without wearing these. They've got engravings inside as well, 'Forever Yours'. I got them back after they.." he trails off, not wanting to finish the sentence. You understand and grab his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"All of this is only for the case, Lockwood. We don't have to use these. I know they mean the world to you. What if something happens to them?" You murmur, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles. He shakes his head and takes the dainty ring out, gently taking ahold of your left hand and sliding it onto your ring finger. You could've sworn your heart skipped a beat.

"Want to do the honours?" He asks and chuckles, offering you the case. You grin and take the second ring, sliding it onto his ring finger. In a moment of boldness, you bring his hand up to your mouth and press a kiss onto the ring. The metal is cool against your lips.

"They're beautiful, Lockwood. Thank you for trusting me with this." You say, and he smiles.

"You're welcome. We have to act convincingly, don't we? You should go and get ready now, we don't have a lot of time."

You leave his room and walk upstairs, buzzing with excitement. But when Lucy asks what you two were up to as you're doing her hair, you can't help but shrug it off.

Your hand is tightly clasped together with his as you're making your way through the crowd, Lucy having disappeared already and George nowhere to be seen. People are stopping to congratulate you and you feel like your cheeks are permanently painted red, aching from smiling so much.

The chattering that's coming from every corner of the huge room quietens down as miss Penelope Fittes makes her appearance, the silver sequins on her dress glimmering like a mirrorball. She stands on the edge of the balcony a few floors above you, looking around the room of prey, her being the only hunter.

Lockwood squeezes your hand and pulls you against his chest, his hands falling to your hips. You can feel Penelope's gaze burning into the back of your head and knowing that she's watching, you stand up to the tips of your toes and press your lips against Anthony's.

For a second, you forget why you're doing this, where you are, and who's watching. Him and his soft lips are the only thing on your mind, the way he tastes like mint and peach driving you crazy, leaving you addicted.

He's the first one to pull away. You almost frown but manage to keep your expression light, turning back around. She's begun her ascent down the main marble staircase, her sharp heels clicking. Now you can only hope she'll come to congratulate you.

"Mr. Lockwood, Ms. Y/L/N! What a lovely surprise to see you here. Oh my, are those wedding rings I spot?" She asks sweetly, Lockwood giving her one of his signature smiles.

"Yes actually, Ms. Fittes. Me and Y/N got married a few weeks ago. We just thought that in this line of work, we never know if we'll make it out alive."

You hear what he's saying, but you dont listen. Your hands are clasped together and the light is hitting his face so perfectly, his sharp features in harmony with his softer ones. He's like an angel sculpted by Michelangelo.

Penelope bids you farewell and with a polite smile moves on to another group, their dresses and suits much more expensive looking and their laughs much more fake. You really hope Lucy has gotten the book.

As if on cue, you spot her hastily walking down the stairs, a hoard of security guards following her. Lockwood sees her as well and pulls you with him, apologies spilling from your lips whenever you bump into someone.

He grabs your hips and pushes you against a pillar, your breath hitching in your throat. He's panting a little, his intense eyes looking straight into yours.

"I'm going to pull the fire alarm that's right next to your head, but I'm going to be kissing you while I do it so it's not as suspicious. Is that okay?" He asks quietly, his breath tickling your neck. You nod silently, unable to get a word out.

He pulls away, lips mere inches from yours. You're looking up at him, doe eyes wide and curious. His heart skips a beat, his stomach fluttering. He offers you a breathless chuckle and cups your cheek, kissing you for the second time that night. Fireworks burst into flames all around your body, a soft whimper coming from the back of your throat. You grip the front of his jacket, pulling him downwards and closer to you.

Suddenly, a shrill noise pierces through your ears. He pulls away and apologises with a smile, motioning for you to cover your ears. You and him manage to escape before the sprinklers go on, the crispy cold night air embracing you outside.

The plan said to head home in case any of you got separated, so you wave for a Night Cab, the smooth ride home lulling you asleep. Lockwood pays the driver a few pounds and gently shakes you awake, guiding you out of the car. As the engine sounds fade off into the night, you stand in the middle of the street with him, suddenly feeling bare under his gaze.

"Um, I'm not really sure if you know, but married couples kiss from time to time. And I was wondering since our last kiss was quite a while ago and not under ideal circumstances, we could do it again?"

You can't help but giggle at his words, tucking a loose curl behind your ear. "Oh really? I suppose so. We've got to act the part, haven't we?"

"I'm not really sure I want to act anymore." He grins sheepishly, taking a small step closer to you. "I really, really like you. And if you're up for it, we could make kissing a regular thing."

You know he's about to add something more to it but you dont let him finish, cupping his cheeks with both of your hands and slamming your lips on his. This kiss is more intense than others, no rush or reasoning behind it. It keeps going on going, getting better and better until your lungs are screaming at the lack of oxygen. You pull away, resting your forehead against his, both of your eyes shut with lovesick smiles on your faces.

"I like you too, Lockwood. In case you haven't noticed."

"You guys are NOT going to believe this! Outrageous! While I was out there risking my life, staling a book from freaking Penelope Fittes' personal library, GEORGE was out there trying to seduce a GIRL." Lucy shouts as you and Lockwood enter Portland Row,

"You guys had everything under control!! I wasn't even needed!"

#anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #request #penelope fittes #george karim #lockwood and co #lockwood and co x reader #lucy carlyle #fake marriage

[novelizt]

EXPECTO PATRONUM I ☁︎ ANTHONY LOCKWOOD

⚜ PART 2 | SERIES MASTERLIST

GENRE ➺ HOGWARTS AU [slytherin! lockwood x fem! ravenclaw! reader]. rivals to lovers (and a dash of 'everyone knows but them'). fluff and angst.

WC ➺ 13.7k

SYNOPSIS ➺ after a six year rivalry with lockwood, your patronus suddenly matches his when it didn't before.

DISCLAIMER ➺ reader is implied to be shorter than lockwood. appearance of harry potter next gen characters and a few ocs. lockwood calls reader 'sweetheart' and 'my dearest vexation'. prefect! lockwood. (i also headcanon him being a cunning-flirt, so lockwood might read slightly ooc.)

WARNINGS ➺ strained family dynamics (for reader), love potions (misuse of magic), dragons on the loose, wizard duels, and a lot of unpolished dialogue.

NOTES ➺ it's been a long time coming. i hope this finds you when you need it 💙 happy nanowrimo !!

this was originally a one-shot that got split in two. please read part two after this to see their happily ever after 💙

For every Gryffindor came a Slytherin waiting to trouble them. You thought you were in the clear after you'd been sorted into Ravenclaw four years ago. So, you questioned how you had the misfortune of being vexed by a serpent such as Anthony Lockwood.

He boasted the status of being the sole muggle-born Slythern in your year, as well as a colossal thorn in your side. He made it routine to test you. You knew his M.O. well enough to recognize the sound of his footsteps before he even reached you.

"We're learning advanced protective charms in Defence today," he announced like you didn't speed through the syllabus already.

You didn't have to look at him to know he was sporting that lilted smile of his. If you were in a bitter mood, you might have even slung a hex at him.

Luckily for him, you just wanted to get through the day. You quickened your steps. He followed like a parasite.

He even had the gall to bend at the knees to be at eye-level with you, the right side of his mouth curved higher than his left. "Come on, sweetheart. Not even a nod of acknowledgement?"

"If it will get you to leave me be..."

You granted his request and even offered a stiff nod, hoping that would suffice.

You hoped too much because all he did was grin and return to his regularly scheduled goading by matching your stride.

"Away with you," you shooed.

You threw your arm out, aiming for his shoulder. He caught your hand before it even made contact—giving your knuckle a quick tap just to aggravate you.

"I know that trick, sweetheart." He unfurled fingers from yours, slow and deliberate. "Let me walk you, at least. I am a gentleman. Oh– Don't make that face. I really am!"

"If you are such a gentleman, you'd pay attention to my request and leave."

"Suddenly, I'm a barbarian." He shot you a wink that made you wish the floor would swallow you whole. "I could do much worse, you know. Have you heard of oobleck—the stuff muggles are raving about? Bet you'd have a jolly time finding out how to get a non-Newtonian fluid out of your hair."

He feigned a yawn, dropping an arm over your shoulders and giving your arm a subtle squeeze to drive home the fact that he had no intentions of letting you go.

"Arse," was your gracious response.

"Oh, don't be like that. If you are going to play that game, I do have a divine rump. So do you," he said without missing a beat. He played a fool to your slack jaw and widened eyes. "And would you look at that! We've arrived to your classroom. That wasn't so bad, was it?"

If only looks could kill.

Your systems stalled when he dipped his head and planted an ever-cheeky kiss on your temple.

It was futile to throw out a fist to dent that pretty face of his, because he caught your hand before you could even land a hit.

"Cheeky," Lockwood crooned. He tapped your nose before letting you go. You made a show of flicking off the invisible mites he gave you. "Nice try though, sweetheart."

"You—" When you tried to stomp on his foot, he veered out of the way, finessed as a Chesire.

At that point, you knew you were fighting a losing battle. You lifted your chin and crossed the threshold into Potions, ignoring the exorbitant waves and kissy faces he made at you.

Your classmates levelled you with looks of intrigue but you ignored them, too.

Of course, Lockwood had to have the last word. "Remember not to mix up your asphodel and lavender. Wouldn't want another smokey incident, would we? You basically handed me that perfect score."

You tried not to shrivel when a ripple of giggles disrupted the stillness of the classroom.

You threw a nasty look over your shoulder and turned sour when he left, his laugh echoing down the hall. You estimated that he'd be a few minutes late to his class, even if he had to run to make it. Poor chap.

Finally, you were rid of him, but the newly realised smell in the room replaced his slot as your morning vexation. The smell of old parchment, clipped grass, and (much to your bereavement) the Lockwood Stench viscerally assaulted your senses.

You blanched, falling into your seat. "Heavens, did he leave his perfume in here? It smells awful."

As if seeing his face wasn't bad enough, he managed to be the subject of your irritation even if he was absent from the room.

James Potter II, your seatmate and friend, laughed. Eyes crinkling like he knew something you didn't. "He, meaning Anthony Lockwood?"

Your lip curled at the name. Even while preoccupied by your review notes, the smell clouded you. Your attempts to wave away the stench only made it stronger.

It wasn't the worst smell in the wizarding world but you'd rather go through the only class you don't share with him without the incessant thought of him. A huff left you as you came to peace with the fact that your nose would lose its sense eventually.

James's most devious grin stretched across his face. "That's Amortentia over there."

Your breath caught. He jutted a finger at the cauldron that sat at the end of your two-seater desk.

Surely enough, the brew had a pearlescent sheen with curls of peach smoke spiralling into the air, infecting the room with its fragrance. Now that you'd been made aware, your ribs felt too right for your lungs.

Your laugh came out stiff. You coughed, hoping it sutured the cracks in your façade. "I was mistaken then. I only smell the Quidditch Pitch."

James hummed, unconvinced.

—

Time passed slower when you were dying to forget the incident at Potions. Your eyes kept jumping to your watch before the middle of the day had even passed.

Classes had come and gone, and a certainly foul smell clung to the walls of this classroom—as was always the case for Defence Against the Dark Arts. For a moment, you missed smelling the amortentia, then jolted at what other thing that implied.

You knew class started when your peers fell silent, listening attentively on tipped toes. It was every man for himself on days the tables and chairs were pushed to the side of the room.

"On this fine day, we are covering a very tricky, but very utilised charm." The Professor circled the room, inspecting posture and wand grip as she passed.

For a moment, her eyes fell on you, and you stiffened under her gaze. Her lip quirked, like she found comfort in scaring you.

You were made aware that she was a rival of your grandmother's, back in their heyday. You surmised that because she couldn't get one up on your grandmother, she transposed her efforts onto the next best thing: You, and she wasn't afraid to show it.

Her heels clicked, grating your ears as she went on to terrorise a few more unfortunate souls in the way. The vast majority were daft to her impartiality.

She went on a lecture about the charm's importance in the Battle at Hogwarts. You were about to doze off when she slapped her wand against her palm. "Now that the lot of you are in your fourth year, I feel that it is important to know how to cast it in light of grave circumstances."

She waved her wand and muttered a few words before a silvery line jumped from her wand, spinning in the air and illuminating the room before taking on the shape of a rabbit.

The silvery manifestation hopped along with great speed, passing you briskly and making you stumble.

A hand caught your arm before you hit the floor. You were quick to retrieve yourself when you realised that it was Lockwood. You tuned out his mild laugh as you turned away without thanks.

The patronus then skidded to a halt at James's side, speaking in the Professor's voice. "I expect you to know this, Mr. Potter."

It dispersed and a vicious applause shook the room. Even you found yourself wide-eyed in exhilaration. Fighting the fact that the professor was rude, the patronus charm was something you'd been dying to learn way back when.

In the midst of the celebration, your eyes caught Lockwood's, only to find him already staring. There was a pinching sensation in your gut. It forced you to look away. You missed his smile completely.

The Professor ordered the class to break into pairs. Lockwood glued himself to your side before you could blink. He was shooing people away before you could even shoo him away.

"She's got a nasty temper, that one. Wouldn't want her patronus to lunge at you."

"I will have it bite your head off," you murmured, watching a nice Hufflepuff back away. Thus, leaving you alone with the bane of your existence.

"You're too nice for that," Lockwood replied, tapping your side with a half-smile.

"You just said I have a temper."

"With me, yes. But I can handle you."

You had a lot to say about that. The Professor spoke before you could.

"Now," Professor mused. Her voice bounced off the walls in higher vibration. "Using the instructions in your books, attempt to cast your patronus. Remember! The lighter the memory, the more efficient the patronus."

A chorus of turning pages echoed. You and Lockwood withdrew your wands, already knowing which spell to use.

His lips quirked. "Did some advanced reading, did you?"

"You know me so well."

You shook in anticipation, but, after shortly regarding your partner, you refrained from looking too eager.

"Dunderheads first," you urged with false cheer.

The insult flew over Lockwood's head. "Gladly. I like to think my patronus would be a lion."

You couldn't help but snort. "I assume yours would be a housecat with a lot of overgrown hair."

"That would be you."

You had an inkling that he found joy in watching you frown.

After a long while and a generous amount of griping, his wand moved, and he muttered, "Expecto patronum."

A silvery burst of light exploded from his wand. Wisps spun in the air before the dust settled, revealing a crane. It stretched, showcasing several inches of its incandescent neck and wingspan before Lockwood waved his wand once more. The motion sent it in a circle around the room.

It was so majestic, you couldn't pry your eyes away. Other students stared in envy as the crane weaved past other patronuses, nipping at them playfully before soaring back to you.

Wait, not to you... At you.

You found your feet, ready to duck before the silvery bird crashed into you, but it never did. It dispersed before it even touched a hair on your head.

It was an explosion of silver sand. It brushed your cheek with unexpected warmth. The cold seeped into your robes as the darkness veiled you.

"Shame." Lockwood clicked his tongue. "Thought I could freak you out a bit. I couldn't hold it for too long, though."

"Truly a shame," you simpered.

Professor's applause rang out from the other side of the room. Likely for Lockwood's expert execution or his taunting you. Mayhaps both.

"Good work, Mr. Lockwood! Keep practising and your patronus could glide over the Atlantic one day."

"Hear that?" He brightened at the compliment, standing taller as he leaned toward you. "It's your turn, dunderhead."

The number of hexes you could have used . . . You didn't need them. You needed happy thoughts to conjure up a patronus. It was hard enough standing in the same room as Lockwood and Professor Loathes-Your-Guts.

Your inspirations were of holidays and golden scores; your parents' approval; Lockwood falling on his face during Quidditch (your lips twitched at the memory); and the muggle fantasy novels you hid in your room.

A warm feeling shot down your arm, heartening you to mutter the enchantment. The feeling wrapped around your body like a blanket, and when you opened your eyes, your own patronus stared back at you.

It stood metres above the rest, towering over students and patronuses alike. Wisps of silver waved to and fro its body. The only apt description for it was 'colossal'.

"Is that a giraffe?" Lockwood muttered.

"No, It's a pelican." You smiled at his frown. "Of course, it's a giraffe, Lockwood."

You'd never seen one so pretty.

It glowed so bright that Lockwood looked blue in its light. He spared you a look of resignation.

You win.

A swell of pride came to the surface before the patronus wilted away. The space it stood turned black.

Hollers rung out, shaking the bricked walls. A new wave of excitement seized the room. You didn't even glance at the Professor but you could feel her heated gaze on the back of your head. That was victory enough.

—

Three years following that day, you're harrowed by the thought of leaving this place behind. Hogwarts felt like home, more so than the one you shared with your parents.

It was difficult to imagine life without the sky above the dining tables or the constant presence of Prefects scolding lower years.

Soon, your rivalry with Lockwood would fade to the black, too. As far as you knew, the fool was gunning to be an auror. Becoming one yourself wasn't a path you were inclined to take.

You passed the hourglasses of House Points and watched as more trickled into Slytherin's glass, and you felt nothing. The fact that you came to peace with having less points should have been concerning. Your mother would scorn you if she ever caught you thinking that way.

Not wanting to linger, you turned for the dining hall.

You didn't flinch when a weight fell over your shoulders and Lockwood's pretty face invaded your periphery. You should have known he couldn't leave you alone for too long.

"Lockwood."

He grinned. "My dearest vexation."

Your nose scrunched, irritation injected with the smallest feeling of familiarity. "Don't call me that."

"Copy that," He smiled, dragging you closer by the arm around your shoulders. "sweetheart."

It was a lost cause to correct the priss.

"I thought you would've matured by now. Disappointing, really."

"I could be mature, or I could point out the fact that we have fifty points above Ravenclaw."

"I don't mind."

He stalled, and you stopped with him. You didn't really have a choice when he had you under his wing.

He searched your eyes, bewildered. Unsettled, even. "What's on with you?"

You tried to shrug him off but he held fast, fingers practically melded to your arm. "I'm fine, thank you very much. I just don't see the point of upholding this... this–" What was this? You didn't finish the thought before swaying the conversation elsewhere. "We're graduating this year. Might as well set an example for the first-years."

"Our squabbles make it fun for them." On the brink of being offended, he insisted, "They have plenty of examples as is. Kat Godwin sucks the life out of everything, George is best friends with Moaning Myrtle, and Lucy is off talking to the illusive Gray Lady."

You groaned. "That isn't the point."

You made an attempt to shove him, but he caught your hand.

"You have got to start thinking of better ways to express yourself other than hitting or shoving. You should know I always see it coming."

"I can express myself just fine," you respired, yanking your hand away. "But do go ahead. Indulge me. What, pray tell, does that make us?"

Lockwood flourished his free hand as he spoke. "We are 'the arch rivals who makes their problem everyone's problem'. The lower years adore it!"

"Do they?"

In time for your asking, a group of second-years waved at Lockwood, and then to you. He waved back whilst you offered them a terse smile.

One of the girls elbowed her friend. As whispery as her tone was, everyone still heard her. "See? Told you they suit each other."

"They are a couple. Of course, they do," the friend replied.

"Not a couple," you corrected swiftly.

They scurried faster. Before they left the hall, one yelled out, "Just kiss already!"

Despite his matching flush, Lockwood turned to you with a cheeky grin. "You heard them. Let us kiss." He advanced, lips puckered.

You blocked the way with your palm, spreading your fingers until you could push his head back by his forehead. "Yeah– No."

You pried yourself free from his grip to sit with your friends. He didn't fight it, but you weren't surprised that he shouted after you. "But I was right! We have to give the audience what they want!"

"Mr. Lockwood!" Professor McGonagall stood to reprimand him.

You turned away to hide a laugh.

—

The day was lovely. The previous day's rain left a dewy haze in its wake. It was chilly but not cold, and the sun and clouds looked remarkably friendly that morning.

Even then, you didn't know what it was. Your stomach churned for a reason unseen. In the stillness, you could hear a pin drop. You could hear yourself think for once.

Not long after the nagging feeling arrived, you came to the horrific conclusion that Lockwood's absence felt off-putting. You were walking to potions class alone, for the first time in years.

There was no Anthony Lockwood galloping behind you, throwing his arm around you and messing up your hair when you shrug him off. There was no warning as to what your class would be covering that day or a passive-aggressive jab about the most recent Quidditch match.

And, bizarrely, you missed the chaos. You shuddered as the thought struck you.

You held your books tighter and quickened your pace to get to class. When you arrived at Potions, Lockwood-less, your classmates stood to verify the emptiness of the doorway for themselves. Even they were puzzled.

James cocked a brow as you sat and laid out your items without a noise. "Where's lover boy?"

"Using his brain and finally leaving me alone," you responded, wincing at the hint of exasperation in your tone. You didn't mean to sound so dejected, and you definitely didn't intend to slam your things on your desk either. There's a lot of things you didn't intend to do today and 'mentioning Lockwood' was now at the top of that list.

"Mhm," James leaned back in his seat, eyeing you warily. "You don't look too happy."

"I stayed up late doing that essay about counter-potions," you reasoned, having a hard time getting the words out.

James looked pained when you mentioned it. Seconds later, you stifled a laugh when he admitted to forgetting all about that assignment.

Contrary to what you'd promised yourself, Lockwood remained in the back of your mind the entire period.

—

When had Anthony Lockwood ever been interested in Oriana Cai?

That's the first question that popped into your head as you watched him kneel before her with a bouquet of the reddest roses you'd ever seen.

The display was so unexpected, it knocked the air out of your lungs. Your jaw fell slack. James had to pick it up off the ground before you came back to your senses.

In that time, Oriana squealed and clapped, throwing herself forward and strangling the bane-of-your-existence in a hug he enjoyed a little too much. The flowers ended up discarded on the floor.

You had more sense than to gawk. Your chest constricted when Lockwood didn't even acknowledge you as you passed. You shook off the feeling along with the sense of dread you felt from earlier.

His affairs were none of your business, yet, you found yourself thinking about it when you didn't intend to. It's a stake to the heart that his scheduled banter and crude comments were put on hold for whatever that was.

Lockwood had forsaken his seat across from you in favour of sitting with Oriana and her clique. They laughed all through lunch break, his teeth on display, stuck in an unmoving smile.

He looks like a clown, you thought as you skewered a floret of broccoli onto your fork.

You glanced at the professors' table to see if they'd caught onto Lockwood's bizarre behaviour, but they were daft to it.

To any normal person, Lockwood was being a silly boy with a crush. To you, it was abnormal.

Lockwood didn't have the balls to be that forward. How could you say that without sounding obsessed with him?

"If you stare any longer, you might actually burn a hole through his head." James nudged your side and you returned it with a harder shove. "Woah! Cool down, smarty pants. I'm on your side here. I'm just saying, glaring daggers at him won't do much."

"He's being odd," you whispered petulantly.

"I know!" James set his elbow on the table. "What are you going to do about it?"

"Me? Why would I do anything?"

Your eyes landed on Lockwood again. You sucked your teeth before looking away.

James snapped his fingers, forcing you to look up as he pointed an accusatory finger at you. "That. That's why you would do something."

"I don't meddle in Lockwood's affairs. He can do whatever he wants," you said tersely. "If he's so immersed in his romantic life, I might as well get ahead and score more points for my house."

"It bothers you, doesn't it?"

"No." Another unfortunate vegetable faced the wrath of your fork. James flinched. "It doesn't bother me in the slightest."

"If you need me to help, just give me a bell." James vacated his seat, gave your shoulder a firm pat, then went off to check on his cousins, praying none of them caught whatever Lockwood's got.

You stewed in your own thoughts before you gave into temptation and looked at Lockwood for the last time. For lunch, at least.

He blinked rapidly, like there were stars stuck in his eyes. The distorted look on his face dissipated when Oriana popped a wad of gum into his mouth. He chewed and chewed until the colour returned to his face. Redder than before.

You tried to shovel your conspiracies down with your lunch. You even chewed slower to put your focus elsewhere, but you couldn't shake off the dread that roiled in the recess of your mind.

—

"I can extend my essay by three paragraphs," you said to Lockwood in the library, attempting to coax him out of his stupor. "I'd beat your record."

"Yeah." He sighed, daydreaming. He hadn't written anything in his scroll. His competitive spirit died somewhere between his confession and now.

You slid into the seat across from him and waved in his face. He looked right through you, staring at the wall. When you followed his gaze, your expression fell flat.

He wasn't staring at the wall, he was staring at Oriana Cai, again. She wiggled her fingers at him, giggling behind her hand.

The moment she saw you, she didn't even attempt to hide her disdain. Suddenly, the library felt colder than before. For the first time in forever, you couldn't find the right words to explain it.

—

You watched Lockwood's change of behaviour with a scrutinising eye. You managed to pick up on a few things that changed.

First, he was infatuated with Oriana Cai. You caught them snogging the other day and you had to hold your breath to keep your lunch down. So much for decorum.

Second, he'd lost all interest in everything other than his girlfriend. He hadn't mentioned Quidditch in the past week, and he didn't have a modicum of concern for his plummeting scores. It was a scenario you never thought possible.

Lastly, Lockwood had a newly acquired addiction to bubblegum. Not just any type of gum. It was Bombarda of Flavour: Berry Kiss.

With a bit of research, you discovered that BOF was a brand run by Oriana's family. Any sane person would assume that Lockwood was an avid fan of his girlfriend's family business, but you were everything but sane.

When you presented the facts to James, he continued to chew on his liquorice. "And? Where is this going?"

"The sweets are infused with Amortentia," you concluded.

James stopped, stared at his liquorice with distrust, then threw it into a bin. "How can you be so sure?"

"Cai's family runs a gum business. Lockwood's been acting weird since he started chewing the gum Cai brought him. It can't be simple coincidence."

"So, not only are you accusing Cai of spiking gum with amortentia, but her family of being an accessory to misuse of magic as well?"

"They've got to be aware of what she's doing, at least! And they're not stopping her, are they? They're just as guilty," you said fervently.

"Fine," James relented. "How are we going to prove that and save your guy?"

"He's not my guy."

"Sure."

You cleared your throat before sitting down. "We need to steal from the potions classroom."

"You are... insane."

There was a bated silence that followed. You raised your brows at him.

He cracked a smile. "I'm in."

—

Potters had a speciality for breaking rules. You came to that conclusion after James, Albus (James's younger brother), and Scorpius Malfoy managed to steal the ingredients you needed without being caught. They looked quite proud of themselves too.

You wasted no time laying out your theory scrolls and recipe book.

"What's she doing?" Albus asked.

"Saving Lockwood," James answered as-a-matter-of-factly.

"I knew something was wrong with him," Scorpius rasped. "Knew something was up with them too."

You silenced him and ordered James to escort the boys back to their dorm. They didn't go without a fight, but James was experienced enough to wrangle them away.

—

"Lockwood—"

He passed you without a second glance.

Your heart flatlined, but you fought against the feeling and recalled why you were there. You steeled your resolve.

With shining eyes and pulled shoulders, you pivoted and captured his arm. The indifference in his eyes was an arrow passing straight through you.

You had to swallow the lump in your throat to find your voice. "Could you try this for me?"

There was no readily available remedy for amortentia, leaving one with the mere hope that its effects diminish over time. The problem was that Oriana Cai had a continuous supply of bewitching gums intentionally keeping him under her enchantment.

You used all your potions knowledge to concoct a solution that would—cross your fingers—work. It was blended into a scrumptious looking cookie thanks to the expertise of culinary enthusiast, George Karim.

You were worried that he wouldn't even give it a try, but he took the package from your hands.

"Thanks."

He walked away without a second thought. It tore your heart in two, but he accepted the cookie! You raised your arms in triumph, stopping short when he tossed the cookie and its cute wrapper out of the nearest window.

Your excitement plummeted along with it.

—

You took a chapter out of Lockwood's book and persevered. He no longer competed with you to answer the professors' questions, but you took every chance to goad him into a debate. All for naught. He barely did anything anymore.

You tried to cure him several more times with the same anti-Amortentia solution. Three times to be exact: ice cream, soup, and—your most desperate attempt yet—gum.

In the end, he'd throw them all away.

All he would put in his mouth was anything Cai spoon-fed him. It made you want to throttle him.

Lockwood was a capable wizard, and the witch had reduced him to something short of being a man-baby.

On your worst days, you'd reluctantly admitted to missing the banter. Even his annoying grin; the one that rose higher on the right side. The same one that had eluded you since the beginning of term.

The seasons changed. Oriana Cai still had Anthony Lockwood under her thumb.

You melted into the velvet blue couch, sighing to the starlit window of Ravenclaw turret. Even the sheer beauty of the common rooms did little to console you.

You draped your arm over your eyes. "Who knew things were this boring without that pest?"

James, who wasn't even supposed to be allowed into the tower, grasped his chest. "Ouch. What of the rest of us?"

"Rowena!" shouted George. You jumped when he slammed his book shut. "I thought your raving about your books was bad enough. Just tell him you miss him already,"

He was done with you sneaking James in to concoct whatever else you were thinking up. He had lost the plot. At that point, even he was versed in anti-amortentia theory.

"She doesn't miss him," James sighed, bored. "apparently."

"I don't," you said promptly. "Karim, you should be more concerned. Your friend is being spelled into being a muppet."

"I am concerned," George retorted hotly. "But I am so sick of staying up 'till Merlin knows when to find out what you're going to spin into a dish next. I can't even study in peace!"

"We're not that bad, are we?" Looking for backup, you propped your chin over the back of the couch, shooting your most precious smile at your youngsters, Lorcan and Lysander Scamander.

Lorcan shook his head, and Lysander nodded his.

"It's a draw," James chuckled.

Frustration poured from George. "Can you please just find somewhere else to scheme? I want to study and not hear 'Lockwood' every bloody second."

"Fine." You hugged your pile of recipe pages to your chest. "We'll go somewhere we're appreciated."

"Oh, please. Don't go too far. The end of the world doesn't actually exist," George nipped.

James snorted, amused.

You closed the door behind you, finally giving Ravenclaw Tower some much deserved silence.

—

Another crumpled up piece of paper rolled on the rim of the bin before unceremoniously falling out.

You knew your onions, but this was getting tedious. After wasting hours relishing in the staleness of your coffee and the soreness of your fingers, you were just about ready to throw in the towel.

James had left you a bit ago, something about helping Lucy with setting up the flying lesson for the first-years.

They were probably done with it by then and you were still there, trying to brainstorm a method that would knock some sense back into the tosser you called a rival.

About a metre of wasted scroll and dried ink were the results of your efforts. Even then, you didn't reach a plausible solution to your problem.

When you succumbed to your headache and glanced at the clock, the lateness kickstarted your bloodstream. When you stood, you swayed from the dark spots that danced in your vision.

You didn't allow yourself to stay in a haze for too long. You had already missed two and a half classes by the time you broke out of your reverie.

The halls were all empty. You were bound to be in trouble.

You were a punctual student, an excellent student. You were miffed that all it took for you to slip was the absence of a boy. Pathetic. Then again... The boy was what made winning fun.

Your brisk walk quickened to a jog, dreading the inevitability of explaining your tardiness.

"Sweetheart?"

You paused, opening your ears.

Silence.

You scoffed and picked up your stride. Then you heard him again, saying your name. It was odd — odd enough for you to realise that it wasn't a figment of your imagination.

His voice was a trap and you submitted to it too easily. You spun back around to trace the voice and stopped short of the bend. Anyone would have stalled at the rare sight of Oriana Cai angry, her nails sinking into Lockwood's cheeks.

Bile rose to your throat.

Lockwood's back was pushed flush against the wall, he was fervently shaking his head like he was shaking the daze out of his system.

"Quiet!" she commanded him. "Darling, I'm only doing this for us."

His hand closed around her wrist but whatever the potion had done to him left him fatigued. "No, my—" He licked his bottom lip, correcting himself. "She's—"

"Not here! How many times am I going to tell you?"

To your relief, she retracted her nails from him. Your heart started back up when she produced a pack of gum.

"You're better off with me, Ant. I love you, not her. She's nothing but a bitter wench who didn't realise what she had until someone took it from her. See how she only looks for you when we're together? She's selfish!"

"You don't understand," he tried to slap the gum from her hand but she was more sober than he was. For the first time in a long time, the right side of his mouth tipped up. It wounded you. "She needs me. She just won't admit it."

Oriana didn't take it well. Her face bursted in shades of red. Her beautiful features twisted into a grizzly scowl. "None of her!"

"Expelliarmus!"

Your hand quivered as you casted, but your magic did what it was meant to. The gum flew from her hand.

Her glowering face turned to you with killer intent.

"You!" She flew at you. Her billowing robes a thing plucked from your worst nightmares.

Your hand flicked instinctively. "Expecto patronum!"

She shrieked. Your silvery protector crashing against her face.

None of you saw what form it took, but the burst of silver straight into her eyes stunned her long enough for you to run around her and take Lockwood by the arm. His hands quivered; less from adrenaline, more from pure exhaustion. You could almost feel his pulse under your palm.

You coaxed him to muster his strength. "Come on, you barbarian. We need to get help."

The chuckle he let out was pathetic, but it's familiar enough to make you crack a smile. There's your Lockwood after all. He wasn't all gone.

"Knew you'd save me," he rasped. You held him tighter when he stumbled. He held on with what strength he could muster. "You always do."

Not the time to disarm you with a statement like that. An angry stupefy soared overhead, quickly followed by what you assumed was the cruciatus curse. You grunted when an angry zap nicked your side.

You held onto Lockwood and he held onto you, both clattering down the longest steps of your lives. An inspired, deranged girl at your heels.

"Give me my boyfriend back!" She shrieked, casting a fury of spells at you. The echo of the halls amplified her bellows. "He's mine! I earned him!"

He tripped on a lifted tile, leaning on you as you rushed for the landing.

Your heartbeat made it's way to your ears. Every breath felt forced. You pushed ahead, dragging Lockwood's weight down every winding twist in the moving steps.

A very explosive bombarda forced you to stagger back and reconsider your escape route. Only, there was no escape route. The changing stairwells had you and Lockwood trapped on a landing.

Oriana descended like an angel made from her own delusions.

Your lungs struggled to take in air with an unbearable stitch in your aide. Lockwood collapsed to his knees, drained of energy. As his eyes fought to stay open, he clung to your hand like it was his lifeline.

You shifted to hide his crumpled form from Cai.

"You've had your chance, Scarecrow." Cai laughed, on the brink of tears. In her eyes, she was as innocent as a girl who simply had something swiped from her. "He was at your knees for years! Why can't you let him be happy with me? Give him to me, please..."

Your jaw tensed. The lick of anger in your chest stoked to a fire the longer she spoke.

"He's not an object," you managed without spitting flames. "He can feel what he wants, when he wants. If he wishes to walk away from me after all this... I wouldn't blame him. But casting a spell on him? That's not love, Cai. It isn't love. You're trapping him."

Cai's nose flared. "What a saint! Sorry, should I let him grieve something he never had with you? You're blind to not see it. You ruined him! This is the only way. I can help him if you just let me—"

Something moved in your periphery. A mop of black hair, the best wingman in Hogwarts.

You were on the verge of a smile, feeling your adrenaline decrescendo. "Your family, they know what you're doing?"

She grinned. "My family supports my decisions. Contrary to yours, I hear. They agree that you're a heartless witch, and a dose of amortentia should fix him for me."

Your breath hitched. Lockwood clenched your hand, bringing you back.

"For your information," your lip twitched. "I'm an Eagle, not a Scarecrow. Get your house representatives right."

You collapsed the moment a barrier surged around her, her screaming muffled by the incantations.

James came down the steps in stride with Professor Flitwick.

"Not 'your guy', huh?" James taunted, crouching beside you. You offered him a tight-lipped smile.

Professor Flitwick fortified his barrier before he addressed you. "Splendid patronus. You're the first to project your voice and have it travel as far as it did. I expected no less from our ace student. As for Ms. Cai..." He looked at her with pinched brows.. He wasn't sure what to do, really. There had never been a situation that drastic before. "She will be penalised accordingly."

The weight on your shoulders lifted, but a new one came just as quick. You straightened your back to support Lockwood's limp weight.

The warmth of his breath fanned your neck, a feeling that made your stomach churn for all the wrong reasons. He still smelt like the berry-flavoured gum that got him into this mess in the first place.

The same mess that had made you miss a few classes for the first time in six years.

With the last of your energy, you raised a trembling hand. "Professor?"

"Yes?"

"Are we considered tardy?"

He pushed his glasses higher up his nose before replying. "That should be the least of your troubles, you." Professor Flitwick turned to your friend. "James Potter?"

James saluted. "I've got them, prof."

"Please refrain from calling me 'prof', Mr Potter."

"Yes, prof."

—

Madame Pomfrey had a lot to say about the unforthcoming mess that was Lockwood, post-Amortentia.

For the better part of the appointment, Madame Pomfrey concluded that Lockwood wasn't severely altered by the prolonged exposure to love potion. For the worse part, he was advised to sit out of anything too physically demanding until he felt like himself again.

"But how can I feel like myself without Quidditch?" he agonised, as if you beheld all the answers.

You were forced to hear it, seeing as you were roommates until Madame Pomfrey declared you both stable enough to go free.

You buried yourself into the stiff pillows of the medical ward. "A week of rest and observation isn't as bad as the months you were bewitched, honestly."

"Pray, how can it be worse?"

You lifted your head. "Ever read out a lengthy love poem in the middle of the dining hall?"

"No..."

Your lips tipped up. "Yes."

He shut his eyes and splayed his hand over his head, trying to wash out the visualisation of actually doing that for all of Hogwarts to see.

"End me," he rasped.

"If you insist," your smile stretched. "You recited one for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Every. Single. Day."

He slapped another hand over his face. "Oh... what have I done to deserve this?"

"Caught the eye of a loony, apparently. It was horrid. I felt sorry for you."

"Don't patronise me."

You jerked a finger at him. "I earned the right. I got a nasty laceration in my side for you. Unwillingly, might I add."

His arms fell away, honeyed eyes set on you. "Please, if you were unwilling, you wouldn't have tried so hard to save me."

"If I left you for dead, I would be a monster."

"A very pretty one," he chimed.

"So you can still pull that drivel out of your arse. Good to know we didn't lose you."

"Say what you will." He crossed his arms behind his head, smiling like a jester. "I know you have a place for me in that shrivelled, darkened heart of yours."

"My heart isn't shrivelled or darkened," you said defiantly.

He quirked a brow, smirking. "You correct that but not the fact that I have a place in it?"

"You—" You opted to chuck your emptied juice carton at him.

In classic Lockwood fashion, he caught the carton in his hand and waved it triumphantly. "Try again, sweetheart. I know your habits like I know the back of my hand."

You raised a not-so-friendly finger and slid your curtain to hide yourself from his view. Still, you heard his laughter, loud and alive.

You weren't aware of how much you'd missed it until you caught yourself smiling.

—

Anthony Lockwood was the kind of child who would climb up the slide. Not because it was fun, but because he liked the thrill of breaking the rules.

Some things never changed, because he had convinced you to accompany him on a night fly while Madame Pomfrey was off collecting herbs from the green house.

You had flown through the worst weather while playing Quidditch, but it struck you that you'd never been out this late. Not one-on-one with Lockwood, at least.

It was a terrible, unsafe idea, but he had a way with words. He made it seem like a once in a lifetime opportunity. You weren't sure whether that was true, since he did use his prefect status to sneak into places he wasn't allowed into.

You knew that turning around was crossed off your list the moment he broke into the closet and extracted your broom for you.

"I have a hard time believing you've never done this before," you whispered as you took in the sight of the Quidditch Pitch, void of life and light.

It was a haunting sight, but Lockwood had been right about it being a once in a lifetime scene. The moon was the only guiding light, drowning everything in a seductive mauve colour. It brought out the beauty of sparse light and silhouettes, you almost believed you stepped into one of your fantasy novels.

He flashed his teeth at you before he vaulted over the partition and traipsed across the grass. His trusty broom already levitating by his side. "I've never done this with you before, if that's what you're asking."

It wasn't, but you didn't want to know who else would join Lockwood in his idiocy.

You followed suit and mounted your broom, allowing yourself to rise several metres to feel the bite of the nocturnal chill.

"It's an amazing feeling, isn't it?" Lockwood shouted, his two feet still on the ground.

"I'm not going to admit that I enjoy breaking the rules," you responded, flying modest circles while taking in the scene.

While the wind whistled in your ears and tousled your hair, he wheeled a box out of storage and flipped the latches.

You squinted, trying to see what he was doing but his back was covering the contents of the box.

"What's that?"

A golden streak of light veered away from him. Even as the breeze bellowed in your ear, you could hear its tinkling wings.

The Snitch.

"Can't have fun without a challenge," Lockwood said. His boisterous laughter echoed in your ears as he hopped onto his broom and zoomed up, up, and up, already chasing the golden menace.

He passed you, his robes grazing your elbow. You didn't think twice. You gave chase, following the direction you had seen the Snitch blitz to.

Lockwood's curls fought against velocity. You were almost tempted to comment on it before you saw a glimmer in the corner of your eye.

You and Lockwood swerved at the same time. Waves of black, blue, and green flagged through darkness as you bent forward, urging your trusty broom to overtake Lockwood's. You were closing in on the Snitch, stretching your hand to reach for it.

It's buzzing crescendoed in your ears, forcing your blood to pump as Lockwood did the same.

Oh, so close.

The Snitch brushed your fingertips before it zagged. Spinning in the air before rushing right at you.

You bent your body, narrowly missing a Snitch to the nose. The same couldn't be said for Lockwood.

You heard the thump of the collision before you saw him clutching his mouth. It was futile for you to hold in a laugh.

"You alright?"

His glare only made you laugh harder.

"Ouch," he hissed, taking his hand away from his mouth.

You snorted after seeing the damage.

Luckily, nothing was broken, but there was a faint pink smudge across his bottom lip and cheek.

You raised a brow. "You wear lipstick?"

"It's lip balm," he said haughtily, wiping away the smudge. "Is there something wrong with that?"

"No," You held a laugh long enough to reach across to wipe the smidge he couldn't quite swipe away. He stiffened at your touch. You did your best to hold in a reaction of your own. "I just didn't expect you to be a lip balm sort of guy."

"Do I look like a lipstick guy?" he inquired, regaining himself. "Thank you for thinking so, but you can keep your pigmented cosmetics to yourself. They look better on you anyway."

"Complimenting me now? You're sure your noggin's alright, chap?"

"Don't 'chap' me, sweetheart. It makes me feel old."

"I thought you liked the seniority," you taunted. "'Being in seventh-year means the youngest look up to us' and all. Your words, not mine."

"You're a real ray of sunshine, aren't you?"

You gasped, clutching your chest. "How can you say that when the moon is out?"

"Oh, bother." He bristled. "You've shown greater concern for the moon's feelings than you have mine for the past six years. You wound me."

"That's because the moon listens. You never do," you pointed out.

"I do," he replied. "Only for things that matter."

"So, the camel-llama debate didn't matter?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "You're still on that?"

"I always will be. What muggle can't tell those animals apart? You should be ashamed."

"We were eleven!"

"Old enough for you to have admitted defeat, but no! You kept getting them wrong and saying you were right." He pinched his nose as you went on. "Then you started bothering me because you couldn't admit defeat. Now look at us. Six years later and I'm still right."

His eyes met yours, creased with an impending smile. "When we passed the hourglasses, Slytherin was ten points above Ravenclaw."

"You prat—"

Your head was thrown sideways as a flit of gold smashed into you. Your lip pulsed. Luckily, you had the mind to stretch your hand and catch the golden bugger.

The Snitch fought in your grip. Eventually, its wings tucked in. Then, a bated silence. Only for a moment. Lockwood snorted as you massage your jaw.

You gave him a nasty glare. "Not a word."

"I wasn't going to say anything," he lied. "Except, your lipstick smeared."

"Rowena..."

"Here, let me."

He sported a boyish grin as he reached across, mirroring your actions from earlier. You swatted him away and he simply laughed in response.

—

With your feet on the grass, you were glad to be done with your excursion; More relieved that he let you take the win.

You're not sure a bleeding lip was worth it though, but, at least, it was over.

After packing up the Snitch and putting away your brooms (plus making it seem like you two had never been there at all), you started the walk back up to the castle's medical ward.

Somewhere on the cobblestone path, Lockwood had drawn a curious notebook and quill from his robes. "So," he flipped to a page that had been sectioned into two, scored by stick lines. "What have I missed while I was bewitched?"

You eyed the notebook. "Is that... a tally?"

"Yes," he replied. "Now, what did I miss? I had one up on you before my memories went hazy."

"Just start a new one," you urged him.

Thinking of what you achieved while he was out of it was in the same league as winning a race against a slug. There was no fulfilment.

"C'mon," Lockwood cajoled, stepping closer to you. "I've been tallying since fourth year."

You raised a brow. "Fourth year?"

"The class on the Patronus charm inspired me," he replied. "Since we're always butting heads, having a tally made it feel official."

"How do I know you haven't picked your wins and excluded mine?"

"Have you no faith in me?"

"Do you want a real answer?"

He pursed his lips, earning a laugh from you.

"I respect you, you know. Even if you are the way you are," he told you, turning the notebook to show you the tally.

The first column was his score. The second one beheld 'vexation' instead of your name. The scores were neck-and-neck, save for the singular tick on his side that put him in the lead.

He quickly drew one more stick under your column, putting you two at a draw once more. "I'll count this impromptu Quidditch match, on the condition that you won't tell a soul that it was me who snuck out first."

"You must be dedicated," you chortled. "Just count from here on out. I haven't done much, honestly."

He quirked a brow, speaking slowly. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Why are you talking like that?"

"Nothing. I'm just surprised." He closed the notebook and pocketed it with his quill. "You're usually more competitive."

"That's when I don’t spend an afternoon running for my life, Lockwood."

"You make a fair point."

You were making your way into the thresh of the castle now. The torches warmed the air, thawing the chill as you flounced forth.

There was a peace in the silence and a sweetness in the solitude. You felt Lockwood's hand brush yours and found that you enjoyed it more than you thought. Not that you would say anything about it.

You're not sure whether he caught on to the lilt of your lips before he threw his arm over your shoulders, just like old times.

This time, it felt different. The heat he let off was a juxtaposition to the bite of the night, and you found yourself melting into him even more.

You would have been fine in the quiet, but Lockwood had never been friends with it.

"George told me you were scheming to cure me. How were you planning to do that exactly?"

He kicked a pebble out of your way. You withheld the urge to smile.

"It was an amplified version of a regular love potion reversal. Same one we did research work on last year."

"What did you change?"

"Thrice the dose of rosemary and dried salamander. I also added a touch of pig tongue."

"Wouldn't doubling the wormroot do the same thing?"

"No," you scoffed. "That would expel the fragrance, but it wouldn't counteract the effects of the love potion."

"Doesn't the dried salamander do that?"

"Rosemary thins out the viscosity of the love potion and the dried salamander washes down the magic that messes with your thought process."

He smiled but there was no commitment in it. "Apologies, I'm no love potion whiz."

"Next thing you know, you'll be telling me crushed jasmine will cure insanity."

"I get it, sweetheart. That doesn't explain the pig tongue."

"I was hoping the horrid taste would wake you up from your delusions."

"I think it would have worked."

"It would have," you boasted, "if you had any sense in you to try."

He chuckled, apologising in smiles. Lockwood closed the distance by ruffling your hair. You waved him away, but that did little to stop him.

"You got the higher mark on that research paper," he recalled.

"I did." You glowed with pride. "As is always the case for Potions, and Transfiguration, and Charms—"

"What are you planning to do when we're done with Hogwarts?"

His expression turned dire, like he had been agonising over when to ask the fated question. It might have been a trick of the light, but his eyes glazed.

You considered his question for a moment. "I'm expanding into healing magic." Just envisioning how far your knowledge could go brought a smile to your face. "I'm good at the cardinal subjects for healing. I enjoy them enough to see myself heading in that direction."

"That's serious," he said, genuinely taken by your answer. "You have to be recommended by a professor to take on a role at a hospital or ward, don't you?"

You tried to keep your smile humble. "I already have a recommendation."

He tilted his head so you could see the surprise on his face. "Really? Who?"

"Madame Pomfrey. I'll be her apprentice next year. Hopefully, I'll move to St. Mungo's in a few years."

"Funny," he jested, bumping your hip with his. "What would she say to the bludgers you've batted at me?"

"Your insults about me are tantamount to nothing in her eyes. She adores me."

"Because you're a kiss-up?"

You stopped, jabbing a finger at his chest. "Because I have wit."

His lips lilted into that smile you knew so well. The right of his mouth rose higher than the left, short of turning into a smirk. "You have a lot more than wit, sweetheart."

Your heart did unspeakable things. For a heart-stalling moment, you forgot to say something back.

You looked at him, he looked at you. He was closer than you'd thought. Lockwood was unfairly dashing in torch light. Windswept hair, sweat on his brow, and everything.

He seemed to drift closer and closer, but it's you who inched forward. The lesser the distance, the more honest you felt.

His eyes dipped to your lips and—

A shriek, high and shrill, broke the spell. Both you and Lockwood leapt apart. You dusted off your cloak and he rubbed his nape.

The shrieking voice returned. "Dragon!"

Dragon?

You lurched for the entrance. You couldn't see much in the mouth of the castle. Neither could Lockwood, but you felt it. The buzz before the chase, the stacking of adrenaline and the thrill of trouble creeping up on you.

Your eyes locked with his, and you knew you're thinking the same thing.

When the winds of a Romanian Longhorn flattened the trees and blew out the torches, it was the flag at the beginning of a race. You and Lockwood were running for it.

—

You found that sprinting in the dark was akin to swimming upstream. You'd tripped over several roots and rocks, and you still haven't found which pocket you hid your wand in. It was a humbling experience, being in the throes of losing something with extension charms in your robes.

After furiously tapping himself down, Lockwood found his. He flicked his wand and yelled into the air, "Accio Brooms!"

"Why didn't we do that earlier?"

Lockwood flashed a smile. "We have an excuse to destroy the storage room door now."

You were on the verge of yelling. "How would we explain why we're out here?"

"Don't think too hard, you'll hurt yourself." He made another gesture with his wand before a glow illuminated from the tip of it — lighting up the path. "We'll cross that bridge when we get there, sweetheart. We have a dragon to catch."

As the Lumos rose in intensity, the path turned treacherous. The cobbled walkway was turning into pointed stones and angry branches. The trees began to move, contorting into all sorts of grotesque shapes and snares.

Lockwood had taken the lead, taking the brunt of their greedy clutches. You had to grab the back of his robe to make sure he didn't get snatched away by the foliage.

You would have buckled at the wooden stakes that bent toward you if your brooms hadn't snapped through their grappling, snapping inferior splinters before you found your grip.

The uptake was sharp, desperate to get away from the furious trees. You clung to your broom and swallowed down the urge to retch.

Lockwood, who had levelled beside you, looked fine. You would have thrown a rock at him if you weren't turning green.

He set a hand on your back, rubbing slow circles as he surveyed the area. You appreciated the gesture.

"It's heading for the Quidditch Pitch. If we get there fast enough, we can trap it there. Easier to manage in a controlled area."

"It's a dragon, Lockwood. It would burn the place down." You straighten up ever so slightly. "On top of that, it's a Romanian Longhorn."

"I know. Endangered species. We'll have to be cautious. She could turn us into a kebab." His lips tilted into a smile. "I wager we can tame her in less than an hour."

You exhaled the last of your nausea. A grin forming on your face. "Think half."

"Ambitious, aren't we?"

You flew forward, seeing the whiskers of fire curling in the distance. "Scared, serpent boy?"

There were flames in his eyes as he sped ahead, robes soaring behind him. "Never!"

—

"You distract her. I stun her," Lockwood prompted as soon as the Quidditch Pitch came into view.

Metres above you, the Longhorn huffed plumes of smoke down on you. You tried to be quiet, but you did have qualms with Lockwood's plan.

"You're the faster flyer, why am I the distraction?"

He pointed at his chest, like that was the answer. "I'm still recovering."

"That's rich!" You still haven't found your wand and the tosser was playing sick. "You dragged me out here to fly thirty minutes ago. Don't give me that."

"What? I can't hear you!" He veered further from you. "You're the most capable witch of our age. There is no one else I'd do this with!"

He was gone from sight before you could bump him off of his broom.

Then again, you'd rather die fighting than die a sitting duck. You angled your broom up, zooming into the beast's sight before it spotted Lockwood.

Its breath was sulphur against your skin, fighting the chill but lighting a spark of fear. Its pondering yellow eyes circled on you before its mouth creaked open.

"Lockwood, work quickly!"

In a dragon chase, one must remember three things: your size advantage, the dragon's breath hurt as much as its fire, and the dragon can and will play dirty.

You were an agile flyer, ducking whenever the strokes of its inner fire hurled for you, but even you had to exercise all of your flyer's knowledge to evade its claws. A swipe, a lick of flames, a swipe, another swipe — it was practically toying with you.

The only good thing that came with it playing with its food was the fact that you had lured it right where you wanted it.

The Quidditch Pitch was gargantuan compared to the juvenile specimen. You just hoped the place wouldn't go up in flames.

You hadn't seen Lockwood in a good minute, almost believing he'd shirked you, but then you glimpsed a flicker of serpent green in your periphery and ease up.

Before long, the dragon grew tired of the play and decided that she wanted to sink her teeth into something real.

You felt a nip at the end of your broom and zagged in the air. You steadied your mount before feeling your blood rush faster.

She was snapping at you. You chanced a glance and found the black in her eyes flattened to slits, hunger dancing in the embers of them.

"Lockwood!" you cried, narrowly dodging an eager claw. "Double time!"

"I found a soft spot! Give me a minute!"

"We don't have that much time," you surmised based on the increased momentum of the beast's strikes.

After a full turn-around to swing her tail at you, you dove. Nose aimed right down to the grass. You didn't even want to look back and see how close she was.

Gravity would be on her side but pulling up now could mean flying right into her furnace of a mouth. You didn't know which gruesome death was the lesser of two evils.

In the distance, you heard Lockwood. "Stupefy!"

The dragon nipped on your broom once more before you felt a tug on your robe. Your grip slipped, your broom flew in the opposite direction. Leaving you to crash and roll into the grass, ignoring the pain of carpet burn as you helped yourself onto your feet.

You didn't get far before your legs collapsed, your whole body weight crashing on your shoulder. You were never the type to go down without a fight. You kept kicking in a desperate attempt to escape the giant.

"Lockwood!"

"Wait for me!"

You felt its breath. Molten and fear-rushing, melting the hair on your legs as you watched your own reflection in its eye.

And then, its head hit the ground and its jaw lulled. Craning open but never snapping, just barely missing your foot as you pulled your limbs towards yourself.

The lines on Lockwood's face were deeper when you laid eyes on him. When he saw that you were alright, his expression flipped like a switch. A smile formed on his face, like you didn't almost lose your life.

He hopped off of his broom and approached.

"I didn't know you could look scared."

"I was almost a dragon's dinner," you spat.

You didn't fight him as he hooked his arms under yours and hauled you up. He kept an arm around you while the feeling returned to your legs.

He chuckled in a way that could make anyone believe he was faultless. "Sorry. It was a bother finding a soft spot. This big girl has pretty solid armour for a juvenile."

"That is the last time I ever follow your instructions. I knew getting mixed up with you was a death sentence."

"Yet," he chirped, brushing off the soot remains of the edges of your hood. "you're standing here, alive."

"I regret trusting you."

"No, you don't." He flourished a hand at the slumbering beast. "Just look at what putting your heads together did."

"It won't stay asleep forever," you whispered.

Just standing there, right at the alcove of its jaw, felt like standing on the tightrope of death. Suffice it to say, you wanted to be elsewhere.

You tasted the sweet, cool air as you replenished the oxygen in your lungs. Annoyance crept in as you realised that, despite your best efforts, you were still heaving. Adrenaline refusing to crest.

You tried to shove Lockwood but he had caught your arm. "Had to wait 'till the last minute, didn't you?" you nipped.

"I just told you, it's not easy to look for a chink in a dragon's scales. Be optimistic. I could have let her take your legs."

"You wouldn't."

"You're right, I wouldn't, but it's nice to imagine that I could be spiteful."

You snorted, trying not to flinch as the beast blinked its bleary eyes at you. "Let's put the big guy to sleep. Whoever takes care of him must be worried."

"She's a lady," Lockwood corrected.

You forced a smile. "My apologies, I didn't have the time to check in the midst of my near-delimbing."

"Easy mistake." He shrugged. "How about we tie up those loose ends?"

"We would've had it done by now if you stopped chattering."

"Last I checked, you were chattering back."

"You—"

The dragon blew out a warm breath, chilling you. You would've crumpled if Lockwood wasn't holding you up.

"Never you mind," you rectified. "You know the Sleeping Trance Charm, don't you?"

He balanced you on one arm, his hold snaking around your waist. With his free hand, he raised his wand at the dragon. "How to Pacify A Dragon 101. Of course, I do."

"Semi-circle motions," you reminded as the giant gold eyes blinked at you.

"I know that already, sweetheart. You know," Lockwood trailed off. His eyes landed on you. You ignore it for the sake of your already racing heart. "We make a pretty good team."

You allowed yourself a smile. "When you're not being insufferable."

"You always think I'm insufferable."

"So, you are self-aware."

"Oh, shut up." He didn't sound like he meant it.

The world must have been pitted against you, because the drowse in the dragon's eyes disappeared before Lockwood could even mutter the spell.

Its jaws widened, and Lockwood pulled you back just before they snapped. Half a foot from taking a chunk out of you and Lockwood.

"That's not good," Lockwood grunted. He accioed his broom closer. By how hard he was pulling you, you assumed he was trying to get you to clamber on as well.

That would be dooming the two of you. Being a singular target was like turning yourselves into a barbeque.

You pushed him away, catching the panic in his eyes for a moment.

You threw your arms out, signalling him away. "Go!"

Lockwood stalled, hand on his broom. "But—"

"Go!"

He mounted reluctantly. Taking off to grab the Longhorn's attention while you were squabbling for your broom.

When you found it, your worst fears were confirmed. The world really did want you dead.

Your broom was snapped clean in two after colliding with the base of the highest hoop. Mourning your trusted companion wasn't an option, because the dragon had spotted you. Its neck craned, rearing like a snake before it struck.

You tapped your pockets, desperate to find your wand. Not in that pocket, not in that one—

At long last, you fished it out of your most unused pocket. You pointed its end at the beast but a flash of green and silver disrupted your vision.

A tug on your arm and the feeling of rising winds brought you to the present. Lockwood had grabbed you and given you a seat on his broom, saving you from a very fiery end. The patch of grass you were standing on was charred to a crisp.

"Calm down, sweetheart. I can feel you shaking." His mouth was at your ear. You shrunk even more to hide from his view.

Your heart lurched as the Romanian Longhorn roared. You leaned closer to Lockwood, feeling the steady lub-dub through his shirt. It sang your anxieties to repose.

"We need a new plan," you told him, trying to keep your mind in one place. "I don't think she'll fall for another one of our two-person schemes."

"We're one broom down, so, how do you suggest we do that?"

You two watched as the Longhorn stretched its wings, kick starting your panic.

Lockwood leaned forward and tapped your leg. "Hold on tight."

Your hands on the broom fastened until your knuckles turned bloodless.

With renewed determination, he said, "We have to try the Sleeping Trance Charm again."

"While it's wide awake?"

"I'm sorry, would you like to ask her to sit and make it easier for us?"

You pinched his arm in response. The gesture was returned with Lockwood twisting his broom to have you two dangling upside down. One hand jutted out and grabbed Lockwood by the cloak.

"Lockwood, you prat!"

"Say sorry."

"You — Gah! Sorry!"

He smirked as he righted the broom.

Given a new perspective, you wheezed. "We have to do something before it burns down the whole pitch."

"We could summon the rest of the brooms," Lockwood suggested.

He flew higher as the Longhorn swiped for your legs.

"That would just make a mess. She can burn them. Then we'd have a bigger mess to clean up, plus a debt to whoever owns those brooms."

"Well..." Lockwood looked down at the dragon. "I could offer a special deal on pens to rack up enough pounds to pay it back."

"Pens?"

"A muggle writing device. Better and cleaner than ink and quill," he quipped. "I sell them to earn a few pounds. Don't give me that disapproving look, I gave you one for your birthday."

You reeled. "That's what it was? I didn't think 'pens' looked like that. They're supposed to be made of metal, no?"

"The archaic ones, yes. Now, there are plastic, ballpoint pens."

"Why are we talking about this? We can be turned into crispy bacon at any second now."

"Sweetheart, it's either we sacrifice the brooms or we turn into bacon, as you so nicely put it."

Your heart lurched. "My mother would kill me if we fell into debt, Lockwood. Thinking about it now, she'd behead me if she finds out about this mess."

He was genuinely perplexed by the fear that laced your voice. "I thought you were from a pureblood family."

"I am!" You trilled, sounding like you needed to prove something. "But things aren't that easy. Things are earned."

"They would understand. This is a life or death situation here!"

"No, I– Just– We can't."

"Okay..." He did his best to calm you down. It didn't help that he could practically feel the dragon's breath at this distance. "We ditch that idea. How's a firework charm?"

"Yes! Good idea."

You readied your wand. Only to stop short as silver-blue figures circled the dragon. It didn't take a genius to spot a patronus, a handful of them. You spotted a silvery cat crash into the dragon's side.

A non-corporeal patronus materialised at your side, speaking with the voice of Professor Flitwick. "Do your best not to use explosives. Her caregiver's orders."

More patronuses rose like shrouds of smoke and magic, disorienting the dragon in the midst of them. Some were fully manifested, some were faint — like they had been casted by a novice.

One look down confirmed your thoughts. Students and teachers alike were casting patronuses to keep you and Lockwood from turning into Dragon Dinner. Others were busy casting a large-scale protego to isolate the creature.

The Romanian Longhorn's only choice was to fly higher and higher. Lockwood followed, strategically hiding behind patronuses as they passed.

"You have your wand?" Lockwood inquired as the air began to thin. Breathing was a task you had to do consciously to stay awake.

"Of course, I do."

"This is our chance," he told you. He poised his wand.

You raised yours, too. "I'll cast a patronus to hide the glow of the Sleeping Trance Charm."

"Here's to hoping we keep all of our limbs."

He eased closer. You readied yourself, going through all of your best memories. You didn't go back to thoughts of your favourite books or your academics—No. Your mind kept circling back to your earlier moments with Lockwood: the sneaking out, the snitch, that moment at the threshold...

Blue sand trickled from the tip of your wand. Kicking up magic that twisted into the form of a crane. Your brows furrowed as you muttered the enchantment again, only for the patronus to stretch its wings and soar towards the dragon.

You threw a glance at Lockwood from over your shoulder. "I told you I would cast the patronus."

"You are," Lockwood quipped. He did a terrible job of hiding his smile, voice pressed like he was using the last of his air to say it. "That's your patronus."

"No, it's yours." Your tone lacked conviction, and substance — seeing as the crane did burst from your wand.

Lockwood chanced a glance at you, giving you a glimpse of that smirky smile that you'd recognize even in another life. "Have something you need to tell me, sweetheart?"

"Piss off," you said. You pulled his cheek forward, forcing him to face the winds of the dragon he was supposed to be charming. "Focus on what you have to do!"

"We'll get back to this."

He aimed at the dragon and muttered, "Dormitus."

Its eyes were locked on your patronus, following its path, unaware of its eyelids drooping and its waving wings slowing.

Slowly, the dragon began to lose altitude. Closer and closer to the ground as students and professors scuttled out of the way.

The winds dissipated as it laid its scaled head on the grass, finally quelled.

You expelled a breath you were holding in. Lockwood did the same, you felt his chest flush against your back as he laxed.

Lockwood landed a ways away and dismounted first, helping you off but never actually letting you go. Your connected hands dropped between you as you both took the time to calm your heartbeats.

A deranged laugh slipped from your lips. "If you weren't such a danger magnet, you'd have a promising future as an auror."

He looked at you, a confusing mix of disbelief and hope on his face. "You mean that?"

You shrugged with a lipped smile. Not even his habit of looking at the floor could hide his smile from you. You could see it clearly as the sun rose higher.

The moment of peace was interrupted by the furious shuffling of boots on grass. You raised your heads and spotted the unmistakable figures of Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, and Hagrid.

"There you are." Lockwood said charmingly, casting a smile to match. "We were just about to come and ask what we should do about this—"

McGonagall called you both by name. Even you flinched at her vehemence.

"Why, I never!" She looked between you, clear aggravation carved into the lines of her face. "In all my years, I have never seen such a display of recklessness! You could have died. How could we ever explain that to your parents?"

You watched Lockwood's smile widen. A precursor to him saying, "Professor, with all due respect, my parents are dead."

Professor McGonagall was speechless, momentarily at a loss.

You took the chance to fill in the silence. "And I do believe Mr. Harry Potter has done worse."

Her eyes hardened as she wound her cloak tighter around herself. "I apologise for my earlier statement, Mr. Lockwood, but this kind of disobedience and endangerment cannot be tolerated. I expect you both to know where this is leading."

"Cleaning the toilets?" you two said in sync.

"Worse," Professor McGonagall looked quite proud of herself. "Detention."

You and Lockwood sobered.

"Professor, I'm a prefect," Lockwood reasoned. "And still in recovery."

"And I'm your best student," you chipped in. "Certainly, that means something."

McGonagall tipped her chin. "Then you'll be pleased to hear that the pair of you are the first to make it to detention with those accomplishments." Her tone turned frosty. "Friday evening. You know which room. Good day."

You were still reeling when Professor Flitwick motioned to his mouth. "You two should clean yourselves up, lest some misunderstand the smudges on your lips."

Hagrid flashed you two a friendly smile as you and Lockwood disconnected arms to swipe at your lips.

—

Detention didn't last too long. After a good three debates where you and Lockwood vaulted between being friends, being enemies, and being on the brink of committing murder, the kind, ghostly professor in charge let you free for his own sanity.

—

By the time you two returned to your regularly scheduled programming, Cai had been expelled and given a fancy room in St. Mungo's. Lockwood was properly compensated by the BOF company, and the pair of you received an additional fee to assure your silence. You gave your word, but one, James Potter, never made the pact. He reported the happenings to his father and promptly had the company shut down for misuse of magic.

Best wingman, indeed.

In the aurora of a half-realised friendship, you allowed Lockwood to keep his arm on your shoulder as a form of gratitude. He took every chance he got to practise his privilege.

He pulled you closer, practically nuzzling your hair. "You do appreciate me, after all."

"Barely," you replied.

The admission was enough to bring a smile to his face. If you got too soft, he'd assume you transformed into someone else entirely.

Lockwood, himself, had returned to his usual self; disputing you in class, outdoing your word counts, and (a recent development) stealing your quills to replace them with pens. How the professors didn't notice was beyond you.

You missed the banter and the thrill of the competition, but not the dingy smell of the DADA classroom. It was as pungent as always.

"Seventh years." The Professor's tone was different compared to the hundred lessons you've had before this. Dare you say she even sounded melancholic. There's a gaggle of students that laughed about it but she was more lenient, she said nothing to them. "This is your last year in Hogwarts and your last year under my tutelage. This year, we focus on practicality and efficiency. Using your knowledge against another witch or wizard."

She flicked her wand and the crowd parted, pulled in opposite directions by invisible hands.

Gasps rang out, friends clung closer to each other, and you grabbed Lockwood's sleeve when you were shoved aside. His arm dropped to support your weight by the small of your back.

You looked up and he was smiling down at you, the right side of his smile higher than the left. Familiar. Though, he was rather close.

You opened your mouth to complain, only to shudder at the sound of glass breaking. The chandelier above fell, and Professor proceeded to transfigure it into a glass cage of sorts.

She looked pleased with herself as the crystalline cage settled into a dome shape, resting both hands on her wand as she beamed at the parted crowd. "Today, we duel!"

You covered your ears at the sheer volume of your classmates' bellows. Several students looked forward to this day. They could finally let loose and cast spells like they were meant to. The girl to your right bit the end of her wand, looking a lot like a panther ready to lunge.

You grimaced and sent your prayers to Rowena Ravenclaw to save you from the hungry ones.

"Looking forward to it?" Lockwood asked, glueing himself to the spot next to you, chivalrously blocking you from the onslaught of moving bodies.

You could barely see him because the lights have been dimmed to bring all eyes to the duelling cage. You didn't know why you were even searching for his eyes in the first place.

"No," you finally answered. Your eyes landed on the cage, catching the faint veins of blue shift in and out of existence around it. Kind of like the webs of light at the surface of muggle pools. You would have missed them if you weren't squinting. "I aspire to be a healer. This is the type of thing I advise against."

He caught on to the magic, too. "Don't stress too much. The cage is enchanted to snuff out all malignant magic to avoid injury."

"How do you know?"

"That's a large-scale protego charm. Knowing the professor, she tweaked it to limit anyone who goes too far." He nudged your side. You heard the smirk in his tone. "Not bad for an aspiring auror, right?"

"Right," you agreed.

You didn't expect him to sputter. You shushed him when several heads turned your way.

"What was that?"

He patted down his robe, like it would help him collect himself. "That was surprise, sweetheart. I didn't expect you to agree with me."

"Are you suggesting that I'm unnegotiable?"

"No," he answered. "You simply... oppose me most of the time—all of the time."

"You're very easy to oppose. I just pick the choice that has a lower mortality rate. You always seem to be doing dangerous things, Mr. Lockwood."

"I'm Mr. Lockwood now, huh?" That smile again.

"Yes, you are."

"Could you call me that more often?"

His smile made you conscious. You crossed your arms over your chest, like that would protect you. "Why?"

"I like how it sounds," he replied. "I'd do just about anything to hear it again."

"Hm..." Your eyes drifted to the sparks of spells being swished back and forth. The cage turned into a mirrorball. "Win your match."

Lockwood drew himself up to full height, rolling his shoulders back with a confident grin. "Easy."

"Really? Easier than being love-spelled by a fangirl?"

Your stomach turned. That's how you knew you'd said something wrong. Your stance changed. You almost hit yourself for saying something so uncalled for.

He opened his mouth to defend himself but the Professor's voice cut through his.

"Anthony Lockwood and James Potter versus Daria Thomas-Finnigan and..." She dragged the silence on, smirking as she finally uttered your name. Professor Loathes-Your-Guts clearly, still, loathes your guts.

The room divided into two once more; those cheering for Slytherin and Gryffindor, and those cheering for Ravenclaw. The energy could rival that of a Quidditch match.

"May the best team win," was Lockwood's cold farewell. He was gruff and unjesting—a complete departure from his usual visage that it scared you. He had never been so forbidding to you, even as rivals.

He and James entered on the right wing, and you and Daria entered through the left. The circle under you lit up blue. The Professor's magic gripped you, encompassing your whole body.

Lockwood had been right. Professor kept strict tabs on everyone in the cage, and you regretted stepping in when you looked across the way.

Both Lockwood and James were ready to kill. It was an exaggeration, but you'd never seen either look so deathly competitive.

Daria's hand on your shoulder reeled you back to the present. She graced you with a smile. "Gryffindor might have good fighters but we've got something better." You were tempted to say 'female anatomy' but she spoke over your thoughts. "We've got brain."

You drew your shoulders up and gripped your wand fiercely. You faced forward as the Professor yelled, "Start."

⚜ PART 2 | SERIES MASTERLIST

SWEETHEARTS ➺ @kiyasoup @toddandersondupe @locknco @onecojg @avdiobliss @mentallyillsodapop @mitskiswift99 @mischivana @bella-rose29 @wordsarelife

⌠ @novelizt 2023 ⌡

#— ❨ 🌺 ❩ 𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐙𝐈𝐄'𝐒 𝐔𝐓𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐀 ₊˚.༄ #lockwood hogwarts au #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood and co fanfiction #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood x you #anthony lockwood fanfiction #anthony lockwood angst

[fleetingvow]

‘ DEAD WEIGHT .

Anthony Lockwood x Female Reader

SYNOPSIS. the reader’s skills got rusty and with anthony breathing down her neck all the time, well, things that were better off unsaid were spoken. that’s when four became three. ( 6.87k words )

CATEGORY. angst. slight enemies to lovers ( not completely lovers because i write and stick to slowburn. )

WARNINGS. anthony being a total dickwad. usage of profanities. off the timeline. netflix series based. usage of “y/n”. lots of parallelism in statement structures.

NOTE. characters are aged up. written in third person’s omniscient point of view. room add-up for plot purposes.

REMINDER. this fic is written and copyrighted by ©fleetingvow on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other platforms without my permission.

TAGS. @superpositvecloudshipper

𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗦𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 𝗪𝗔𝗦 shrouded in a misty veil. The room had turned bleary as soon as she stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in her bathrobes. She closed her eyes and opened them again in a desperate attempt to regain her composure. When her feet led her to her room, she felt the pull stronger than what she had been feeling when she was washing up. Y/N gripped the doorknob and opened the door with a groan, and then there was a voice. A mere whisper to her ears.

“Help me!” She turned around, only to see no one but the pen she picked up from a previous home many months ago, mistaking it for the one Lockwood handed. It was surely just her imagination. They already contained the source from the previous mission, destroyed it even. George had done his research and there was only one soul that haunted the home. She was sure no other soul was left behind. Besides, Y/N made sure to set up a schedule to return the object to its rightful place.

However, just now . . . she felt as though it wasn’t just her presence that graced the room. Her eyes scanned her surroundings. There was no one, nothing. Why was it getting harder to breathe? The ringing, they were back again, but this time, it was higher in pitch and volume. She put both palms on her ears in order to block the noises, but it was too loud!

That was until she heard the knock on the door followed by the voice of someone more human, natural in his voice, “Prepare quickly, Y/N. We’re moving swiftly tonight, we have two missions!”

She didn’t respond. It didn’t seem like it mattered when his footsteps were already fading. The girl slowly ran her fingers through her damp hair, taking a deep breath to calm herself down. It was just her imagination — that ringing. But there was a protruding thought that maybe, there was something wrong with her, and she couldn’t place whatever it was.

Although, there was something far more important than that. She needed to be present for this other case. Y/N had been lacking for the past few days, and she was under the pressure of redeeming herself to prove something to Lockwood.

And she was going to prove it well.

THAT HURT! God, it hurt so much! There was no other thing in her mind than how much it felt, causing electric shock through her body, wanting to rip her ears out to just. get it. to stop!

“Fuck!” Y/N exclaimed, losing her grip on her rapier therefore also failing to protect Lucy from the ghost that hovered before them. The clang of the blade on the floor only triggered a louder sound in her ears, putting her mind into shambles as she scrambled to the floor to regain possession of her weapon.

Before she could, however, Lockwood had already slain the ghost himself, buying them more time to pull themselves together. “Lucy!” Lockwood hurriedly rushed to her aid as she panted, refusing the help Anthony was offering.

“Y/N?” Lucy called, her voice combined with worry over the girl’s well-being. “Are you okay?”

It didn’t look like she was, but it was certainly better than before. The ringing had stopped, and what was left was an overcoming fear of when it will occur again. Her forehead was covere din beads of sweat, her mouth gasping for air, and clammy hands clutching the handle of her sword.

She had, in fact, once again failed to redeem herself. And what had she done? Make a complete fool out of herself to Lockwood who only looked at her with disappointment painted oh-so-vibrantly all over his face.

“I covered the source with the net!” George excitedly announced as he made his way into the bedroom where everyone was. It had been a rare occurence before that Lockwood allowed George to do this type of work, but since he’s proven himself to be the hero in most scenarios, he trusted him.

Y/N glanced up at George. She wasn’t mad at him. As a matter of fact, she was grateful for him, not just for containing the source, but also putting an end to the tension in the room. “Are you guys okay?” he proceeded to question.

She stood up from the floor and lowered her head before mumbling, “We’re fine.” She then walked past him swiftly and out of the room with shame as her feet led her to the gardens of the home.

“She’s definitely not fine,” George breathed out. Both of his companions looked at him in a questioning manner. He shrugged, “She’s been acting odd for the past few weeks - months, even. Am I the only one who noticed?”

“You’re always the one to notice something, George.” Lucy commented with a smile. Anthony did not appreciate the conversation, no matter how little. He’d much rather they didn’t talk at all.

“Stay here. I’ll talk to her,” Lockwood ordered. George and Lucy nodded followed by exchanged glances with subtle wide eyes. They knew it was not a good idea Lockwood would follow her, but what could be done? They just hoped he wouldn’t make an arrogant fool of himself again.

“WHAT WAS that?” Y/N’s ears suddenly perked up from the voice. She plastered a sarcastic smile as she replied, “You found me, then.”

“This is no time for foolish remarks, Y/N. What was that all about? You had it. Lucy could have been hurt! You could have gotten hurt! Do you realise what you’ve just done?” Anthony exclaimed. The leaves crunched from under his feet as he marched his way forward to the girl.

“You’re saying that as if I’ve done it intentionally. Is that what you think I do? Sabotage the team?”

“I’m not saying that,” he frustratedly protested, facepalming before placing his hands on his hips, his coat pushed back. “What I’m saying is for you to pull yourself together. Where are you, really? This, this state of yours is going to get us all killed!”

“Lucy’s fine! I’m fine!”

“You both wouldn’t be if I hadn’t stepped in and you had made an absolute mockery of yourself in the situation! You were flailing! Can I even trust you with simple tasks?”

“You call fighting off a type two, simple?” She fired back, trying her best to hold back her anger when she knew she had fucked up.

“We’ve done it before! We’ve dealt with harder cases. What’s going so wrong now?”

“Of course you’d say that! Everything’s easy for you, right?” Lockwood was taken aback by her words, yet instead of processing her words and taking it as a reminder of his past conflicts, he took offence of it, triggering his sense of authority and anger. “If it’s so easy, why don’t you just work with yourself? If you’re so obsessed with perfection, why don’t you eliminate mistakes and put down the team? Because that’s you, right? You’re the one who’s always so bloody perfect at everything!”

His eyebrow twitched as he blinked at her, his face getting softer, yet still inconsiderate as he lifted his head to the side and clenched his jaw. Anthony momentarily fixed his gaze on the floor before placing it back to her. His voice had become monotonous. Cold.

“If you hate me so much, why don’t you just leave the team?”

There was a moment of silence. If the rapier didn’t pierce her heart before, it definitely has now, but it wasn’t the steel sword that did its damage. It was those exact words he had uttered so confidently in her face. There was no hint of regret there when she searched his eyes. There was absolute nothingness.

Suddenly, the coldness of the wind got into her eyes — did it really? Or was she just finding an excuse to mask the reason behind her slightly blurry eyes. Y/N blinked and swallowed her spit in order to remove the lump in her throat. It was useless. She nodded slightly, her face stiff as she tried to muster up her thoughts to create a better expression.

But there was no better reaction.

“What?” she asked for confirmation. Lockwood slightly shifted in his position, standing upright. He looked at her eyes and down to her shoes slightly, taking the sight of the disappointed girl. He swallowed his spit, licking his lips.

“You heard me.”

“So, that’s it then?” she mumbled, trying her best to disguise the betrayal in her voice.

“That’s it.” Anthony replied in a stern tone, not leaving her eyes. “Don’t be so surprised now, Y/N. If it helps you feel any better, maybe you could still start somewhere — just not here.”

“You’re a fucking dickwad, do you know that?!” She yelled.

“I’m doing this for the team.”

“Like shit you are!” She exasperatedly gesticulated her hands in the open air and continued, “You think George and Lucy would fucking applaud you after they find out? I thought we were family! What now? I fuck up, and suddenly I’m gone for good?”

“You could just say n—”

“No, because that’s not it, isn’t it?” She bitterly interjected and combed her fingers through her hair irately. “You’ve hated me from the start! You ignore me every chance you get, but when you’re not, you berate me! You look at me as if I’m about to fail, and you undermine me every single time!”

“I don’t undermine you. I look at you, and I see transitions of how things start and how things end,” he started, chest heaving up and down from his bottled feelings of anguish and rage, not to her but to himself. “I don’t know what it is about you that makes me doubt whatever it is I doubt. You were good at what you do, but you’ve been lost for the past few months. We don’t have a hold of you now, and you’re not telling us anything. To be completely blunt and forward, Y/N: Whenever you’re present in a case, something goes wrong.”

Even to herself, she could admit that he had a point. Every mission that she had with her friends, everything ends up a little bit too complicated than it should. She did feel like she was the cause for the performance of the agency lately. That information itself made her heart sink at the bottom of the pit, pushing her to another depth as he spoke once again.

“You’re a dead weight.”

That statement felt a little hypnotic that it proceeded to ring in her head. Now that was it, why did she feel defeated now? She felt as if he just called her useless. Huh, maybe that’s what she was. Completely and utterly useless for the best agency London has ever seen. She was the dead weight in their group, the failure.

“I just haven’t been myself. I—” Then, there was a silver streak of water that cascaded down her face. She cleared her throat and looked away, wiping the tear with the back of her hand as she sniffled and blinked away the glinting waterfall threatening to spill. “I’m sorry.”

Anthony’s chest felt different with that statement. His eyes that showed no remorse softened at this current sight of her, but there was something at that moment that told him to resist it. He had to stand firm, and he knew to himself he’d do just about anything for the sake of the team, even if it had to be removing Y/N from it.

The thought of questioning whether this decision was right began to rebuke him.

“Y/N, I’m only doing this for the best of everyone’s well-being.”

“You already said that,” she replied and took a deep breath, avoiding eye contact with him. Then, she shrugged her shoulders and laughed to herself in bitter humour. She unsheathed the rapier from her side and took a few steps forward to the boy who gave her a puzzled look.

She took his hand and offered the handle of her blade, closing his palm with hers. Y/N forced a smile on her lips, looking up to meet his eyes. They were close.

Just. This. Close.

Y/N had seen his eyes numerous times before, but under whatever spell, she never got tired of it even despite the sharp daggers it threw at her. Her heart shattered once more, this soft gaze she’d sometimes thought was an illusion made the broken shards leap hopelessly that it left her dizzy for another minute or so.

The wind in the garden gently whispered.

Anthony felt this feeling before, but he dismissed it just like he’d always done. It was something that he believed to be unworthy of his attention. If he looked the other way, what of the path that he worked so hard for?

“Y/N, I—”

“I’ll be gone by morning. Don’t tell the others . . . for me please, would you, Lockwood?” She whispered. Goddamn it, she was going to go! Anthony couldn’t do anything. His body and soul were both locked in the position of looking at her, paralysed as he tried his best to catch his breath. His eyes quickly paid a glance to her lips before switching back to her eyes.

He hummed in response.

There was a palpable tension in such an open space. The girl decided to have had enough of it, leisurely stepped away without breaking eye contact, and walked off with his head turned to watch her figure fade away with the distance.

SHE SAID SHE’D be gone by morning. It was 3 AM, and he wasn’t sure what morning she was referring to, but surely she’d use more time for rest and packing her things. It wouldn’t be so early. He paced back and forth, almost creating a six feet deep grave of his own in front of her door, his hands secured in his pockets. His furrowed eyebrows almost reached each other to knit a whole line on his face, but he soon stopped with a sharp exhale.

Anthony realised how wrong he might have been. The fact that both Lucy and George don't know anything made him feel even more guilty knowing damn well they would have his head and ego once they learn of what he did. Not only that, he felt incessantly bad for being cruel with his choice of words without consideration to what Y/N’s explanation could offer. To be completely honest, he wasn’t even thinking straight! He had no clue where the idea of eliminating her from the team came from.

His mind hadn't been at peace nor was it sober in his library when they got back home. Y/N shut herself in her room after an awkward dinner in which they both pretended everything went well. Lucy and George, bless their poor naive innocent souls, seemed to buy it with Lucy feeling a little bit hesitant.

It was 3 AM, and he was at her door.

At her door.

His hand slightly lifted to knock her door, but it stopped mid-air. Lockwood sighed, pulling his hand back in his pocket with a shake of the head. He’d been horrible, and disturbing Y/N’s peace no matter how fleeting, would be more displeasing.

Anthony’s footsteps faded with Y/N listening intently behind the door, wiping her silent tears. He was outside her door for half an hour during her moment where she wrote her letters individually to the members of the team. She didn’t want to open the door, but her desire to speak to him drove her to a decision that if he knocked, she would let him in. If he asked that she returned, she would.

But alas, he didn’t do any of those, leaving her to conclude that his decision was final, and his words were deeply meant and intended. It was her fault, after all.

And maybe the agency would be better off without a dead weight.

WHEN MORNING CAME, Anthony was jolted awake when George shook him back to consciousness in the library lit with the sunshine pouring through the window. As soon as he fluttered his eyes open and saw the light with George’s frantic silhouette, it had been a clear indication that he was too late.

“Y/N’s gone!”

There was an unpleasant sensation in his stomach, bad butterflies taking control over his system. He quickly sat up and ignored the pounding headache he gained overnight. Anthony turned to George, “Since when?”

“I don’t know. Lucy called her for breakfast but she didn’t answer. She never didn’t answer! So we went up there to check, but all her things were gone.”

He got to his feet and went straight to Y/N’s provided room where all traces of her existence were never found, except for the envelopes clutched in Lucy’s trembling hands. Her face wasn’t warm and welcoming at all as she furiously questioned, “What did you do?!”

“She’s left the agency!” Lucy exclaimed.

“Why?” George asked in response.

“Ask Lockwood. Apparently, he’s the one who talked to her last night after the mission.”

“What are those?” Karim gestured towards the envelopes Lucy had. She raised the letters with their names engraved in jet black ink.

“See for yourself,” she answered and shoved each of the letters to the designated receivers. The girl then furiously marched out of the room, leaving behind both George and Anthony to themselves. Karim opened the correspondence and trailed his eyes along the letters scribbled on the tear stained paper, his face growing bitter word for word as he finished.

The boy turned to his companion, “You’re unbelievable.”

Lockwood wore the same frown he wore in front of her door a couple of hours ago. George left him in the room to self-reflect between the four walls of nothingness but the lingering memories of who used to occupy it.

He looked at the letter, opening it as he scanned the wirds carefully written yet stained with tears that dried on the ink that spread on the fibres of the paper.

“Anthony,

I didn’t tell them, if that’s what you’re worried about, but I’m not sure if my explanations will suffice. I know Lucy and George are smarter than you give them credit for. Whatever happens, I want you to continue the agency with them. They’re your only family left.

I loved the memories with you and the others and I will continue to treasure them until it’s my prized possession that you will have to seek one day. I hated you for a while, and maybe I hate you now, but there’s nothing but the truth that you make a great leader, and I hope your passion will lead them to the path they want, and their loyalty will not banish even after eternity.

For a while, Lockwood, your home had been my home. Our home, but after tonight, it seems as though you gave the key to the wrong person. I hope you will find a better one worthy of the team.

Do not look for me. I will find a good place to find myself and start again and recover. And once I recover, I swear to George and Lucy, I will write. Take care of them.

I’m sorry,

Y/N.”

He wanted to crumple that letter, but that’s all he had of her. Each passing second that he stared at the empty room made him feel guiltier and guiltier. The blood in his veins rushed as he turned crimson with rage. Anthony had never been one to lose composure of himself, especially when he was angry, but it was different this time.

He knew to himself that he blew it. He had fucked up and now he was not the only one that was paying. Because of his arrogance, the house lacked Y/N’s annoying laughter, her awkward morning small talks and idle chatter, the familiar creaks on the wooden stairs because of how loud her feet become when she’s excited for a new case.

Her seat remained empty, devoid of the girl's presence. Her favourite cup had been set before the chair without any mark or stain of the hues she usually wore on her lips. The smell of coffee George brewed earlier for her wafted in a room, serving as an object to rub it in their nose of the bitter tension she’d left behind in that very room.

Lockwood cleared his throat, “Our next mission, er.”

Lucy’s scoff caught his eye, “Give us a break, Lockwood.” She put her mug down, her eyes piercing through his, speaking, “When will you ever learn to not only care about yourself?”

“Lucy, not now.”

“Yes, now.” George intervened. “No one knows why Y/N left, except you. Her family wouldn’t want her back even if she writes that on her Christmas list. You know it to yourself too, that’s a dumb excuse.”

“She left the agency because she made her choice,” Anthony monotonously replied, and quickly regretted it as he sighed and spoke again in a much gentler, more emotion-filled voice, “It was the best for us all.”

“Did she make that choice, or did you? No wonder she left.” Lucy mumbled as she was not having any of it. She slammed her feet on the floor and stood up to leave the kitchen with George leisurely following behind.

Y/N TOOK IN THE rotten interior of the home. Everything was mouldy and abandoned. It was an odd thing, for sure. The house was supposed to be sold months ago! Why was it deprived of human presence? Something was not right, especially with that voice slowly creeping in her ears again.

She wasn’t alone in that place.

“Help me,” she heard. There was a guess there. A guess she’d been doubting for weeks but knew to be believed by her subconsciousness. The girl grabbed the pen from her pocket and sighed, closing her eyes to allow itself to commune with her.

“What do you want me to do?” She questioned.

It was a bad idea, but it was daylight. The power of this type of entity, whatever it is, should be weak by now. Y/N felt herself being pulled in a deep void, forcing all her energy to go down with the force. It was her mind that felt lightweight and then her body with static. All sounds from her surroundings started to become collectively like the sound of electric waves until it was an absolute nothingness.

Just then, an ornate box appeared among the fog, its gold embellishments covered in crimson hues, dripping on the now visible desk. The event happened so fast, and what was once a flurry of foggy mess was now a warm room lit with glinting candle lights from above the ceiling before it turned into a ghost of the olden times. The doors were being pounded from the other side, followed by voices who furiously shouted a name.The girl looked around to see a cadaver on the floor, severely tortured and bloodied. Then, she looked at herself, taking note of how her hands were covered in the same liquid as on the floor.

“What happened here?” she whispered to herself in a frantic tremble.

“Give us the box!”

She looked at the object now in her hands. Every inch of her appearance had changed into someone else, feeling their sense of determination to hide and clutch the treasure in her possession. She turned frantically to look for a way out, but just as she was about to run for it, the door burst open and there came three men, one with a pen in his hand.

“You’ve signed the agreement my father’s given you!” She didn’t know why or how, but it must have been the ghost that kept haunting her that said it.

“Will it matter any longer?”

Just as she screamed, the world had turned into a fading vision. Y/N woke up with a gasp, finding herself on the floor with the piles of stones and rubbles, debris from the structure of what once was a home of an aristocrat. There it was again, that ringing. The girl groaned from the consistent hearing disturbance.

She stood up, only to find herself in an entirely different room. Her eyes made a quick scan of the structure. That was when she found an unusual glint inside the crack on the floor. “So that’s why.”

The death glows would have been seen by Lockwood before, but he didn’t, only because the home had been renovated long before it got destroyed again. The floor had been covered by another layer of floor.

Then, a glint caught her eye, the moonshine had reflected its light where she saw the intricate box. Quickly, she crawled over to it and pulled it out of the crack with force. The box was the same as before, only old and rusty. The surface was covered in dust and old traces of blood.

The ringing stopped, replaced by a series of the hushed voices of a woman. Y/N flailed side by side, falling on her knees as she crawled to grab ahold of the intricate box covered in dust and other filthy muck. “What is this for? What should I do?”

That’s when she realised the sun had finally set and she was in deeper trouble than she was. A glowing light appeared behind the door frame as it continued to hide. Her breath hitched, grabbing ahold of the rapier she managed to steal from Anthony’s library.

“I will help you! You’ve tormented me enough,” she mumbled, holding the rapier up as a barricade between her and the ghost.

The ghost let out a deafening shriek as it frowned at her, hovering through the air before her eyes.

“I promise!” Y/N exclaimed. “Just let me help you!”

However, it was not easy making deals with a dead-undead visitor made up of ectoplasm and substantial despair and anger toward the living. The ghost charged forward, making her lucky enough to move out of the way. She yielded the sword, and the luck of the draw struck again when she managed to hit the visitor with her iron blade, buying her more time.

The girl opened the box, revealing a pile of papers and an old silver pocket watch eaten away by old age and exposure to oxygen and insects that created their own home within the chest. The cobwebs were occupied by several tiny eight-legged creatures causing her to cringe as she dropped the box and shook the spiders off.

Upon the contact of the crate with the floor, a glowing spot appeared.

She looked at the ghost of the woman that haunted her. It stopped mid-air for a while before continuing with her new entertainment of tormenting the girl more. Y/N’s eyes widened at a sudden realisation.

That was it!

For the first time in a long time, she finally felt like she wasn’t being an absolutely bloody idiot. “I have to destroy it, don’t I? For you to find your peace, is that it?”

That was when she frowned and muttered under her breath, “But that’s not your source.”

Then, her ego was kicked off the curb with her guts. A hand reached out from the glowing spot on the floor. “That’s someone else’s source!” She raised her rapier and quickly wielded it to hit the box, preventing the ghost from coming out of it.

The first visitor shrieked again and charged forward as Y/N fumbled on the floor, miserably looking for the pen. Her breathing was audibly fast, waving her sword desperately through the air to ward off the ghost that had been restless in chasing after her.

She scanned the cracks, there was nothing. Then, under the desk, nothing. That’s when she noticed the object she sought right next to an empty cobwebbed shelf on the floor next to a book.

Y/N removed her sword out of the way, darting towards the pen to grab ahold of it, quickly swerving to get rid of the visitor. After that, she hit the box again and once the glow disappeared, her fingers found themselves holding onto the chest for dear life. She put the smaller object in it, and placed it between her side and arm, her other lifting the rapier up.

Dumb! Literally dumb!

Her foot got caught in a lifted crack on the floor, causing her to plant herself on the floor. A groan emitted from her lips as she tried to ease the pain on her chest. Upon realisation, she swiftly turned and held her sword up, fighting the phantom.

“My ears hurt from your constant shrieking!” she yelled.

Due to the movement of her arms, the box had slightly drifted away from her clutch as she busied herself warding away her enemy. “I even wonder why it isn’t Lockwood that you could have bothered! You would have been at peace by now, but no. You chose the weakest link! I’m practically useless, and I might possibly be losing my talent! Now you’re the one who’s mad? I didn’t choose me! You’re the one who screwed up!”

Maybe she was the mad one, in different terms. She was talking to a ghost, for Chrysler’s sake! Even worse, having a verbal feud with it!

If only Lockwood could see her now.

That was until the ghost disappeared after a swift, almost invisible lightning speed strike. She gasped for air and turned around to see what the cause of it was, but no. What’s better is to destroy the sources and get peace once and for all. She sat up and crawled over to the object, grabbing a nearby rock and destroying it for good. The pained wailing finally died down as she loudly caught her breath, exhaustedly falling on her back with her sword clattering on the ground.

“L/N!”

That voice. That god-awful voice. She closed her eyes shut, unable to open them for a second due to her strong will to rest and recover. Look, now she was even hallucinating Lockwood calling her by her last name. It was impossible that he was there, and even if he was — she laughed slightly. He couldn’t be. If he was, she would tear the world apart just to get away from him. She wanted to be millions of miles away from him, avoiding his gaze, getting rid of his smell, and that stupid voice with that arrogant tone of his. He had crushed her dreams and hope like it was nothing, even with just a brief conversation, everything that she clung to in that agency faded in one statement that she wished she never heard from him.

But good riddance, right? At least now she knew it was the wrong agency for her. She wasn’t cut out for this kind of work.

“L/N.”

“Can voices just stop — ” she angrily mumbled, almost in a slur of words, “ — pestering me all the time? Can I just have peace for once? Is that too much to ask for?”

“If they stopped now, you wouldn’t hear what I have to say now, would you?” Now that was it. The girl’s peace had been completely shattered once and for all with that single question built in a rhetorical structure. Her eyebrows now knitted together — an exaggeration, but they almost did. Just a little smidge and they’d be meeting. It couldn’t possibly be him, could it? Her heart fluttered both bitterly and in a way that she hoped that there was hope, but knowing Anthony, he was only here as a figment of her hostile imagination. He wasn’t truly here. That would be asking for too much — only she didn’t ask anything to send him here.

“I’m sleep-deprived,” she muttered under her breath.

It took Lockwood his whole body and soul to stop himself from smiling. He thought he wouldn’t see her here, that she would be off somewhere else, and not the usual destination she would go to whenever she was upset.

A hallucination: that’s what he was to her as of this moment. She still had her eyes closed, refusing to open her eyes, and what was worse was the constant question whether she refused to see the disappointment of a world with Lockwood there or the opposite.

Then, that’s when she felt a gentle contact at the back of her neck, slowly lifting her from the ground. Panic covered her bones and took over the nerves to her brain as she mentally screamed repetitively.

She quickly opened her eyes to see him kneeling just before her, holding her as if she was a fragile glass compared to all that he's seen in his entire life in his basement.

He was there.

He was real.

He was touching her.

And he was — "Your hands are cold."

"I don't care, L/N."

There was something different. All the passionate hatred she had for him was slowly starting to well up in her chest, but being swallowed by a big flurry of adrenaline that made her blood flush in her veins faster.

It was his gaze. They'd changed into something atypical. Too . . . soft, and upon realisation, the double volume of her disdain started knocking her off again.

"No," she mumbled and quickly sat up, pushing him away from her as she scrambled to get her rapier and stand up. "You can't just come here and play the hero, and look at me like that! No!"

Confusion changed his expression, "I just helped you."

"Why do you do this to me?" Her voice has all but given up standing sturdy. She trembled both in excessive fatigue and strong emotions. "You can't just — just look at me like that after you made me feel like shit! And then what? You pity me, and you say sorry and things will go back to being shit again and the cycle continues? What do you think I am?"

"I—"

"You what? You're sorry? Why did you come here? To tell me worse things, that I'm hopeless or that maybe you're so noble that you just felt the need to help me get started with my life?"

Lockwood understood every bit of what she was saying. Her absence in that home has made him realise just how much of a cowardly bastard he was. How undeniably much of an asshole he had been to her and how much hell he'd pay. Her wrath was just the start of it.

But his understanding was growing weary. He knew in a way that Y/N had her wrongs too, "You never told us about the voices."

She halted. She really didn't have any other reason than she didn't want to appear weak and bother anyone. Besides, she doubted the existence of the voice. But there was no excuse.

"I wanted to figure things out on my own," she stated before turning to leave. Before she did though, he spoke.

"I look at you," he started as she stopped and slightly turned to her side but not completely enough to meet his eyes, "like this, not because I pity you, Y/N."

That was her name. Her first name.

"I look at you because I've been. Whenever you were unaware that I was looking. I've always seen you from the start, hence why when I said you reminded me of how things begin and end, it was because you were the first person to make me get up from my bed and the only person I want to see when the day ends. When I'm tired and weary." He then averted his gaze to the ground, "I looked at you like that earlier because I couldn't bear to look at anything else or see you in another state."

"I regret everything that I said, and I wanted you to know how hard it's been to look at your door and think that in the next few days, someone else or no one will occupy that room knowing that there were traces of you — any traces, just anything but physical. It's been torture, not just for me, but for both Lucy and George. So, I thought maybe you'd gone to the place you've been going to peculiarly for the past few months," he continued.

Indeed, he knew her, watched her, examined her.

Possibly even admired her. From afar. But he looked the other way, believed the other way because how could he afford that? How could he afford these feelings knowing he had nothing? He had himself, but he did not have anything stable that he could give her. Will that make her happy? Not at all.

"I'm sorry," he breathed out. "I know it's not enough, but I'm willing to prove to you how sorry I am. Just — I want you to know that I never intended things to be so bad and out of control, and I never meant to hurt you. I thought I was doing the right thing, but this isn't an excuse. I just want you to know that I regret everything."

"You are not a dead weight, Y/N. If anything, you're a breath of fresh air, and you make things easier every time one of us feels down. You make the mornings lighter, the end of every exhausting day a moment of opportunity to think about how thrilling life can be. You make the next days, weeks, months, and years something to look forward to. When you left, thinking about those future moments without you with us, it feels empty and terrible. A few hours without you had turned us into malfunctioning lunatics. We're in shambles — I'm in shambles. What more with days? The truth is, it's not you that's the problem. I keep causing you pain, and I'm trying to be better, because I want to be better for you. When the time comes that I do, I will try to be the best. You deserve that. It will take time, and that is why I'll understand if you don't want to return to the agency with me."

Come to think of it, as she observed his state, his Lockwood hair wasn't in its best today. His eyes looked tired and bloodshot. His always tidy flat clothes were wrinkly and his tie was out of place. He looked like he'd been through hell, and his next elaboration explained why.

"Thinking about you every now and then, especially now, I've always shifted in my seat, trying to decipher just how you affect me this much. When I found the possibility of how, I felt the sense to hide it. Every smile that you caused, I hid it all, because secretly I love bickering with you every chance we get, because I get to see the thrill in your eyes and the fire that you hide. I thought that maybe if I hated you, I would selfishly gain more feelings and learn to embrace the things I might possibly find distasteful if my feelings started the other way. And I did, I managed to admire everything you hated about yourself. You've made me feel things strong enough that whenever I run away, I still end up going back to you."

"Lockwood," she finally spoke and swivelled to face him completely. "Anthony."

"Yes?" He eagerly lifted his head to wait for her response.

She chuckled, "I thought you were about to recite Mr. Knightley when he was confessing to Emma."

That's when he laughed and nodded, accepting the fact that maybe he said too much that all she could reply was Jane Austen’s Emma joke, "Well, I have been told that I have a knack for paraphrasing."

"Do you mean all that?"

"The bickering part, most especially."

"Do you want us to bicker now?"

"I think we're already starting," he commented, which made them snicker.

"I'm sorry," she stated. Lockwood thought that was her way of telling him that it was too late. His heart was pierced by a shard of mirror which he failed to use earlier for self-reflection. That was when she smiled, "I just don't know what to say."

"You can start by accepting our job offer. We, er, have an open position looking for someone with a talent like yours," Anthony cheekily replied with a playful smile. "Our agency is one of the most prestigious agencies in London, and we ensure the safety and warm welcome — new addition, of our team, old and new. Do you accept, Y/N L/N?"

“Didn’t you hear what I said earlier? I think I’m losing my talent.”

“And you still managed to beat a type two with a frenemy in one night with a rapier, a pen, and a box?”

"You're a bloody idiot." She defeatedly let out a breath of joy and relief.

"I'm taking that as a yes. Come on, if you say yes, we'll bicker nonstop and you’ll get endless coffee privileges."

"You're a bloody idiot." She defeatedly let out a breath of joy and relief.

“Just so we could hate each other again, and be able to speak about our fondness more.” offered his hand for her to take. She leisurely took it, trying to ignore the warmth her hand provided to his cold one. He was holding her. Touching her, when a few hours ago, he couldn’t even as much as lay a finger on her.

And when they got back home, the block had been covered with missing posters of Y/N, with additional apology notes and “Lockwood sucks!” extras. That was true.

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