Lockwood And Co X Reader - Tumblr Posts

just in love with this.. and the writing 😍

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

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

warnings: language female reader (few pronouns used)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile again. "See you, Lockwood."

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

"Stop it."

You turn to Kipps, frowning. "What?"

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

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

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

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

--

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

"What do you want?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Maybe, you could work with us."

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

"What?" you all say simultaneously.

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

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

"I'm not. So, (name)?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Anthony."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Will do."

"I'll see you soon, Anthony."

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

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

PERFECTION💛💛 and to quote taylor swift: „i don’t want to look at anything else, now that is saw you“

it’s never too late (to come back to my side)

one | two | three | FINALE

pairing: anthony lockwood x fem reader

content: a splash of fake dating, the ‘making out’ part of the summary has finally arrived, dancing! reader wears a dress + is implied to be shorter than him

word count: 11.2k

summary: in which you finally come back to his side

notes: i’ve been wanting to write this since i finished watching the show and its finally here!! @philliam-writes this is all for u <3 also special dt to this anon thank u sm for ur support :) enjoy

The room was relatively dark when you woke up, the sun’s rays barely passing through Lockwood’s curtains.

His side of the bed was cold, as expected. He was always the last to go to bed and the first to rise, never able to stay asleep for too long. Pulling his pillow into your chest, you were overwhelmed with a scent you recognized as the same brand of shampoo you had gotten for him months ago.

You couldn’t help but be a bit smug. No matter how hard the forces of the universe tried to pull you apart, you would come back every single time.

Yours, yours, yours.

Lockwood’s room was also sans a clock, which meant you’d have to go and find out what time of day it was for yourself. A bit reluctantly, you slipped out of the comfort of his bed and into the hallway.

You went down the steps, walking past the old pictures on the walls and skipping the step that creaked too loudly. Lockwood and Lucy were sharing tea in the kitchen, and you settled down in the chair next to him, resting your head in your arms. His mouth pulled up into a smile at the sight of your rumpled clothes.

“Afternoon,” Lucy greeted.

“Afternoon?” The confusion was evident as you tugged on Lockwood’s wrist to look at his watch. “It’s two in the evening,” you said with a frown. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

Light was streaming brightly into the kitchen, illuminating the entire room with the afternoon sun. You fought the urge to go crawl back into bed again. There was just something about this house that had you all nice and tired.

You released Lockwood’s wrist a bit reluctantly. Maybe it was just him. Him and the overwhelming feeling you got from being in his presence.

“When I told you I was heading downstairs, all you did was mumble incoherently and go back to sleep,” he defended. With a nudge in your direction, he offered you the toast on his plate, which you accepted gratefully.

“I have no recollection of that, which means it didn’t happen,” you decided, taking a bite out of the bread.

“I take it you slept well, then?”

You hummed, stealing a sip from his steaming mug of tea. “That was the best sleep I’ve had in a while. I think the house could’ve fallen down and I still would’ve been out cold.”

He smiled amusedly, taking his cup back from you as a loud crash resounded from downstairs. The three of you gave each other a look before Lucy called out, “Is everything okay?”

“I’m alright!” came George’s muffled voice. His footsteps thudded up the stairs, sounding heavier than normal. The door swung open, and a bulging duffle bag was slung around his shoulder. It was stuffed to the brim and half zipped, the bag too full to be shut completely.

“Are you moving out, George?” You asked through another bite of toast.

He looked surprised at your existence in the kitchen. “Why are you three just sitting here?” He asked, disregarding your question. “We’re leaving in a few hours, and we all look like we’ve just woken up!”

“That’s because some of us have just woken up,” Lockwood said, gesturing in your direction.

Lucy moved to place her plate in the sink. “What’s the rush, George? Chiara’s house isn’t that far from here, is it?”

He sighed, dropping the bag to his feet with a loud thump. “It’s like no one in this house listens to me,” he complained as he took Lucy’s vacated seat. “We need to get there a bit early to account for traffic, and I assume you’re going to need time to figure out what you’re wearing,” he said with a pointed look to you. “I spoke with the Salvatores last night, and Amber’s sending someone over. They should be arriving any minute now.”

“Is that really necessary?” You said with a frown. The thought of some person fussing over you and your dress choices sounded a bit embarrassing. “I brought a dress I could wear, I don’t think we need a professional opinion on it.”

George narrowed his eyes at you before he stood up to move to the fridge. Held up by a ghost shaped magnet was a piece of paper, which he tugged off and gave to you.

It was the invitation for the ball, and you skimmed past all the fancy lettering until you reached the last line.

“Unless you have a gown stuffed into your backpack, it looks like you have an appointment with the Salvatore seamstress,” Lockwood said, reading over your shoulder.

“Ball gowns?” you lamented, slouching in your chair. “Lockwood, you have it so easy. You can throw on one of the eighty black suits you have and call it a day, while I have to try on a billion dresses for an hour.”

“That’s because Lockwood’s just there to make you look extra nice,” Lucy pointed out, “Like a decorative purse.”

George snickered. “She’s not wrong.”

Lockwood nudged him under the table, and you watched as the two of them got into an intense battle of trying to protect their own shins from the other's kicking.

Anthony doubled over the table, reeling from a rather well placed blow from George, when the doorbell rang. The four of your heads snapped in the direction of the door.

“Looks like I’m off,” you announced, giving Lockwood a sympathetic pat on the back. “Care to join me, Lucy?”

The girl perked up, the beginnings of a smile on her face. “I’d love to.”

—

The woman at the front door was the opposite of what you had expected her to be, much to your surprise.

The Salvatores were wealthy, it was no secret. They could probably buy an entire country using just Amber’s pocketmoney, if they ever felt the need. You assumed this seamstress of theirs would be the best of the best, probably an old woman who had been working in this field for at least three of your lifespans. You were already dreading coming face to face with an evil and curt old woman who would snap at you until you stood up straighter. Thankfully, that was not the case.

Cynthia, as she insisted you and Lucy call her, was a twenty year old ex-Rotwell agent who had been working in the field until last year. She was a Listener before her Talent faded, which she and Lucy began to bond over.

“Oh, I miss it more than anything,” she nearly wailed, tossing a poofy red dress over the folding screen. “You better not take your Talent for granted, you know.”

The three of you had set up in the attic, Lockwood and George suspiciously disappearing when Lucy had asked for help dragging the multiple boxes up the steps. Cynthia had come with a seemingly never-ending supply of gowns, all stuffed into a multitude of crates.

You had no idea literal pieces of fabric could even be this heavy.

“Becoming an agent wasn’t my own choice,” Lucy admitted, “but I’ve grown to love it. I really can’t imagine my life without it.” She held up a lilac dress for Cynthia to see. “How’d you go from Rotwell to working for the Salvatores?”

She made a face at the frills around the neckline, directing the dress into the pile of rejects. “My grandmother is the Salvatores’ actual seamstress. I’m working under her while I find out what I want to do now that my time at Rotwell is over. She forced me into this apprenticeship, honestly. I’d much rather be out fighting Visitors.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m glad you’re here instead of your grandmother,” you supplied as you wrestled off a blindingly yellow dress. “I was worried I was going to be strangled with a corset by the time this was over.”

She laughed loudly at that, and you watched as another dress made its way into the try-on pile. “You’re not far off. My grandmother’s the type to make people real life pincushions.”

“Oh, this one’s gorgeous,” Lucy said in awe. You stuck your head around the partition to see her holding up a dark blue silk dress, her eyes shining.

“You’d look so pretty in that, Luce. You should try it on,” you said as you slipped a red dress over your head.

You couldn’t see the face she was making, but you could tell she was making one. “What for? I’m not going to the gala.”

Cynthia hummed, giving the fabric a quick glance. “My grandmother won’t notice another dress missing. If you like it, it’s all yours, even if you aren’t going.”

“Really?” she asked, still skeptical.

You nodded even though she couldn’t see you. “Why not? The Salvatores won’t care, and you could use it for future jobs.”

“It’s also just fun to have a nice dress,” Cynthia added.

You couldn’t help but agree as you did a small spin in the mirror to look at the back of the gown you had on. With Cynthia and Lucy, you were enjoying this process much more than you thought you would, a bit excited to find a dress you liked.

Lucy’s voice got further away as she moved to the small bathroom, presumably to change into the dress. “I’m not sure this dress would get much use with you around to go to all our fancy jobs, though,” she said lightly.

You paused. You and Lockwood had made up, of course, but you hadn’t had any time to discuss anything. You had no idea what your plan was after this job. Would you be back at Fittes by tomorrow afternoon, or would you be sitting around the Thinking Cloth eating dinner, finally back home?

You forced out a laugh, your voice trailing off at the end. “Yeah.”

Sensing the hesitance in your voice, Lucy asked, “What’s wrong?”

You didn’t know what to tell her. Frowning in the mirror, you wanted to pretend it was because of the dress, but it was far from the real issue. Tugging it off a bit harshly, you tossed it haphazardly back over the divider. “Me and Lockwood, we… Haven’t exactly talked about that.”

The silence hung heavy in the room, the other two girls going silent.

“Sorry!” Lucy added hurriedly. “I shouldn’t have assumed—”

“It’s okay,” you assured, absently picking up the next dress from the pile. “I know he’d have no issue with me coming back, I just… Don’t know if I should.”

“Sounds heavy,” Cynthia quipped from the other side of the room. “If you’re making a hard decision, just choose the option you’ll regret the least. Works out for me every single time.”

Not wanting to divulge your soul, you kept quiet. Going back to Fittes would definitely be the safest option. Steady life, steady income, steady future. But here…

Portland Row was what your heart was telling you. You wondered if you could get your brain to agree.

“Thanks, Cynthia,” you said softly, hoping she could hear you. The girl’s gasp was what you got in response, and you stuck your head around the partition to see what the issue was.

There was no issue at all. Lucy had stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in the beautiful gown she had chosen prior. She was staring in the mirror, eyes wide.

“Lucy,” you gushed, walking over to her, coming to stand behind her in the mirror. “You look beautiful.”

Anyone could see how gorgeous Lucy was. It was one of the first things you noticed about her at Arif’s, when you had walked over to the group’s table. Her short hair framed her face nicely and her bangs were perfectly cut for her face. Her blue dress did nothing but add to how stunning she looked. It was a simple dress that came down to her mid-calf. “I could say the same to you,” she said sweetly, moving over so you could see yourself in the mirror too.

Too wrapped up in your musings about Lockwood and your future, you hadn’t had time to look at the gown you had put on, a dress in a nice emerald color that almost kissed the floor as you moved. You would have no issue running in it (if it came to that), and the straps crossed in the back nicely, which you liked.

“Would you look at that,” Cynthia said from next to the mirror, a smile on her face. “Is this the one?”

Stunned, you spun to the side, taking in all sides of the dress. The gown was insanely comfortable, unlike some of the scratchier dresses you had tried on earlier. You found yourself nodding, your own smile taking over your face. “I love the color.”

—

Lucy had offered to walk Cynthia to the front door while you finished wrapping up upstairs.

The older girl had enveloped you in a hug before leaving with a very excited, “Knock ‘em dead!”

“I will,” you promised, pulling away with a laugh.

Lucy called your name, her head popping out from the staircase. “Are you nearly done? George says we’re leaving in a few.”

“I was just heading down,” you answered, giving her a little spin before walking over.

Her grin widened as she took in your attire. “You look perfect. Lockwood’s going to—” she cut herself off, her grin growing even bigger.

“He’s going to…?” You pressed, waiting for her to finish.

She did nothing but smile knowingly, turning around to head downstairs. “Lockwood’s going to look like a great decorative purse.”

Lucy was right, you noted with glee as you reached the bottom of the steps.

She was correct in the way that Lockwood looked great, less so in the decorative purse part. Dressed in one of his nicest suits, you wondered if you would be the decorative purse tonight. He and George were discussing something at the door, and you noticed the former’s face was tinted a bit red. Neither of them noticed you and Lucy’s descent, so you had a rather great few seconds as you were given the time to study his side profile.

His arms were crossed in front of his chest and over his tie, which was surprisingly not askew. You found yourself unable to stop grinning, admiring him unabashedly. His jaw was set, and you simply couldn’t bring yourself to stop staring openly at your best friend and the way he was leaning against the front door. You were suddenly very glad that you had been invited to be here.

“Your tie is too short,” you said in lieu of a greeting as you spun him around to face you. His eyes widened at your sudden appearance, and you moved to adjust the already perfect lapels of his suit jacket.

His gaze was a bit unfocused while he took you in for the first time, but he still had enough brain cells left to joke with you. His hands went to hold your own where they were messing with the collar of his suit before sliding down to grip onto your forearms. “What have they been doing to you at Fittes? I had no idea they made you into a ballroom attire professional.”

“I passed Ballroom Attire 101 with flying colors, actually.” You teased back as you appreciated how he looked even more gorgeous up close. “You clean up just as nicely as I remember.”

He nodded a bit absently, his hands sliding over your arms again, a silent way of saying thanks. “You too. I should send a gift basket to the Salvatores,” he said without elaborating.

Your head cocked slightly, but your response was cut off by George’s cough from behind you. The two of you didn’t concern yourselves with backing up from each other, just moving apart enough so you could face the boy. He gestured an arm dramatically to the door, like a gameshow host revealing a grand prize.

“You two are going to be walking to the manor if you don’t hurry.”

Realizing with a start that you were the only two still in the house, you tugged on the edge of Lockwood’s sleeve to pull him out the door. “Sorry, George,” you apologized, squeezing his shoulder affectionately as you passed.

Parked on the curb was a beat up black car, which was definitely older than you were. You wondered if it was even capable of holding itself together until you got to the manor.

“Since when did you have your license, George? And since when did we have a car?” You asked, worry creeping into your tone.

“Since forever,” he said defensively, heading for the driver’s side.

Lockwood opened your door for you, revealing Lucy lounging comfortably in her seat. “Don’t worry, George is a great driver, minus his speeding and sharp turns.”

“Don’t forget about his routine traffic violations,” Lucy added with a grin. After noticing the look on your face, she made sure to say, “Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it.”

You, in fact, did not get used to it.

After Lockwood had settled into the passenger seat, the car jerked away from the sidewalk, and George directed the four of you to the motorway.

His driving was exactly like Lockwood and Lucy had described it.

“I don’t understand why we couldn’t take a cab,” you complained after thirty minutes of being pushed into Lucy whenever the car eased around a bend. The car stopped suddenly, and you had to catch yourself on Lockwood’s chair to keep from slamming forward.

George huffed. “Sure, because your average taxi driver would willingly agree to drive our getaway car.”

“Getaway car?” You asked, confused. “I doubt it’ll come to that.”

He whirled around to face you, and the car broke out into havoc as the car nearly drifted into another lane. Remembering he was the one driving the car, George fixed his focus back on the road. George signalled to make a left turn and sighed a bit dramatically.

“Yes, but we have to be prepared for anything, and I mean everything. We shouldn’t have to do any Visitor catching tonight, but I brought the kit in case anything goes wrong with the source. We also took the car and not a cab if the both of you do end up getting caught and we need to leave quickly.”

You felt a bit like a scolded child at his words. It made sense, but you didn’t want to entertain the idea of you and Lockwood being caught. “I can’t think about a case my team at Fittes has done that was this intense.”

“Well,” Lockwood said simply, “Welcome back to Lockwood & Co.”

“Don’t tell me that’s Chiara’s mansion,” Lucy gasped, nearly pressing her face to the glass. “It’s huge!”

After getting off the motorway, the car had entered a more wooded area, surrounded by thick greenery. Outside the window was a massive stone structure, protected by a wrought iron gate and even taller stone walls. It was less of a house and more of a castle. Gargoyles perched above doorways and windows, giving the entire estate a rather eerie feeling. You got the chills just looking at it. The house disappeared from view as the car continued down the road, being blocked by trees that were as tall as the castle itself.

“That’s the neighbor’s house,” George corrected as you rumbled onto a paved road. “This is Mossbank Grove.”

The manor put every other building to shame. The driveway leading up to the mansion was insanely long, giving everyone that drove past a nice view of the house. Even from a distance, the building loomed over everything else, making you feel like the size of an ant. The front of the mansion was perfectly symmetrical, and it looked like a massive clock was built into the pillar above the doorway. There were windows as far as the eye could see and what looked like a flower garden behind it. Perfectly manicured trees lined the road, and a grand fountain was erected in front of the courtyard, complete with beautiful lights that changed every few seconds.

Cars had already pulled up at the front doors, dropping off partygoers, and more were heading back your way. George pulled the car into a shaded area near the gate before unlocking the doors.

Lockwood furrowed his brows. “I thought you were joking when you said you were going to make us walk half a mile up to the entrance.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” George said. “It’s maybe an eighth of a mile.”

“Even better,” you sighed, as you leaned into the front row of the car.

George ignored you, instead choosing to pat the roof of the car. “I love her, but I think Trooper’s going to stick out like a sore thumb among those limousines up there. Best for her to stay back here.”

“Please tell me you didn’t name the car Trooper,” you pleaded as Lockwood swung his door open before getting yours too.

Clearly peeved, George was ready to defend his beloved scrap of metal before Lucy cut him off.

“Good luck, you two,” she said through your open door. “And remember—”

“Make good decisions?” Lockwood asked, eager to leave.

She winked at the both of you. “Yes, but also have fun. But not too much fun, alright, Lockwood—”

Cutting her off again, he promptly shut Trooper’s door in her face. You smiled at her apologetically before Anthony began tugging you in the direction of the trees that lined the road.

The plan was for you and Lockwood to blend in with the other party attendees before slipping off to look for the ring. George and Lucy were on standby in case there was a problem with the source, and of course, Trooper was there as your means of transportation, and/or escape.

Back at Portland Row, the idea of combing through the mansion for an object as small as a coin sounded difficult, but doable. But as you and Lockwood began your trek towards the house, it was beginning to look near impossible. The house only seemed to grow in size as the two of you continued through the grass, the ends of your dress hiked up around your calves to protect it from dirt and mud.

Your face twisted, a nervousness you hadn’t felt in so long beginning to take over.

Everything had to go right today, because it just had to. You had convinced Lockwood to let him take you on this job, and if you didn’t deliver…

You wondered how he would react. Would he scream at you? Tell you never to come back? It had happened before and it could happen again.

Your innate need to not disappoint him was getting into your head.

You knew Lockwood would never do that again. If there was one thing you were sure of, it was that. But you couldn’t fail again. Maybe it was dumb, but you felt the need to prove yourself to him, make sure he knew you were capable of getting things done, and done well.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be fine,” Lockwood said suddenly.

You turned away from the manor to look at him, confused. “I’m not worried.”

He tutted, a smile on his face. “You looked pretty worried to me.”

“I did not, you liar.”

“I’ve known you for all my life. I think I’d know something as simple as the face you make when you’re nervous.”

You stumbled a bit, surprised, and he caught your arm to stabilize you. The revelation that he noticed something as small as that had heat rushing to your face. It was quickly worsened by the fact that his hand didn’t leave your arm, even after you had regained your footing.

“Hole in the grass.” you explained, as if it wasn’t the most perfect lawn you’d ever stepped on.

If he didn’t believe your lie, he didn’t show it, nodding along casually.

The way he made it seem like such a basic fact about you had your heart beating a bit faster in your chest. It seemed like he was talking about something as simple as your favorite color, or the color of your hair. But he knew you better than anyone else, and he didn’t even think anything of it.

You felt your steps slow, wanting to make this walk last a lifetime. He matched your slower pace without saying anything, just holding onto you and letting you rest your hand in the crook of his arm.

The two of you walked in silence for a while, watching the house grow bigger and bigger before you were almost at the fountain in the center of the courtyard.

Upon further inspection, you noticed it was in the shape of Chiara herself. Sculpture Chiara was wearing a fitted leotard and a tutu, and it was carved so delicately that the frills on the skirt looked real. From her stone mouth, she was spitting water out continuously into the pond.

A rather… interesting choice.

“So,” Lockwood began, rolling his shoulders. “We get in, split up, find the ring, meet up at the powder room on the first floor, and then we leave.”

“And dance,” you added helpfully.

He made a face. “The only way you’re getting me to dance is if I have to win a dance battle against Chiara for the source.”

“Please,” you nearly whined. “We’ll look more like people who were actually invited if we dance. Literally everyone dances at these events.”

“That’s perfect.”

“How so?”

“If everyone dances, then no one will be able to tell that we haven’t.”

You fought the urge to shove him, because the two of you were nearing the steps up to the grand doorway. Lockwood smiled at another couple exiting their car, and you tried for a smile too before you caught something that nearly made your eyes bulge out of your head.

“Is that a horse-drawn carriage?”

Out of his inner coat pocket, Lockwood procured the invitation and passed it to the security guard at the front door. He looked over it briefly before waving you in. The man had a full length beard and did not bother acknowledging you when you told him to have a good night.

“Ready?” Lockwood asked as another smiling security guard opened the door for you both.

“As I’ll ever be,” you replied. Your shoes clicked quietly on the marble floor, and you tried to suppress your gasp of shock as you entered the foyer.

Straight ahead was a staircase that nearly reached the heavens. You had to tilt your head directly upwards to see the top, and the ceiling seemed nearly a mile above your heads. This was the grand staircase you and Lockwood would be navigating later.

The rest of the hall was practically golden and glowing. Paintings and art pieces that looked hundreds of years old lined the walls, reminding everyone that walked in just how rich Chiara Salvatore was.

There was a suited woman who waved you over with a bright smile.

“Hello, there! Welcome to Mossbank Grove!” she said with a blinding grin. “To your right is the coat check and bag room, and you can continue up your steps and to the left to the main hall!” Her pearly white teeth were arranged in such perfect rows it was actually a bit frightening. She then pointed to the green hat on her head. “If you need help with anything at all, just look for one of these hats! Everyone wearing one of these is a guard who will be more than happy to serve you!”

Her smiling was infectious, and you found yourself grinning back at her as the both of you moved to head up the steps. Up close, the staircase looked even nicer, if that was even possible. Instead of the usual vertical dividers on the handrails, a piece of metal had been wired to depict a scene from something you couldn’t recognize. Mossbank Grove was mind blowingly beautiful, and you couldn’t help but gawk at it.

You were still on Lockwood’s arm, so he had to duck down slightly to whisper in your ear.

“She’s like a robot,” he pointed out after you were out of earshot of the lady in the foyer. You peered back at her as you watched her ramble the exact same speech to the next group of partygoers. You watched as she even pointed to her hat in the exact same way.

“Chiara must run these guards like the Royal Navy,” you said, a mix between shock and respect.

Another man in a green hat opened the great hall door for you, and you didn’t bother hiding your exclamation of surprise.

The great hall was beautiful. Windows lined both sides of the room, and you could only imagine what it looked like a few hours ago at sunset. It was exactly like the charcoal drawings you had taken from Fittes, and you applauded the architect’s vision. The multiple chandeliers bathed the entire room in a bright light, and you could nearly see your own reflection in the shiny marble floors. The entire ceiling was taken up by an array of gorgeous Renaissance paintings. It looked like Chiara had hired Michelangelo to come paint it himself.

The entire center of the room had been cleared out for a dance floor, which was clearly well loved by the attendees. The party was already in full swing, couples dancing around in practiced motions. Candles illuminated the multitude of tables around the room, where other visitors were sitting and talking jovially. More green hatted workers in their black suits moved around the room, at everyone’s beck and call.

You and Lockwood took refuge against the wall, slightly behind a large marble statue.

“So,” you huffed, turning to face Lockwood so no one would be privy to your conversation. He leaned against the wall, and lifted a glass off a tray from a passing Green Hat. “I know George said to split up, but I think it’s better if we go together.”

He swirled the drink in the cup, watching the amber liquid spin before downing it in one go. He placed the empty cup on another passing guard’s tray before picking up another one.

You frowned. “Are you seriously drinking on the job?”

He offered the full glass to you amusedly. “It’s apple cider. But, about splitting up,” he said a bit blankly, his eyes fixed firmly on something behind your head. “I don’t think that’s going to be an issue anymore.”

Narrowing your eyes, you chanced a look back behind you, seeing absolutely nothing of interest. “What are you talking about?”

He placed his glass on the base of the statue next to you, which you were about to berate him for, before another Green Hat came and scooped it up immediately.

“How many of these people are there—”

Lockwood’s hands slid to your waist and he leaned in close, as if you couldn’t hear him clearly already. Turning you in his grip, he redirected your line of sight to a woman in the center of the dance floor, who was spinning around in a bedazzled pink gown. She had a wide smile on her face as she practically floated from partner to partner on the dance floor. Her hair was perfectly styled as well, not a brunette strand out of place of her precise updo. Two gems the size of rocks — diamonds, maybe — shone from her ears.

Chiara.

And the cherry on top was strung around a pearl necklace on her neck. The ring.

The source of an extremely dangerous Type Two visitor, and it was looped around her neck like a cute charm on a friendship bracelet. And somehow, you and Lockwood had to leave this party with it in tow.

You leaned back against Lockwood’s chest, slumping a little. “Oh, goody.”

You could feel his breath on the back of your neck when he laughed lowly. “Looks like you might be getting that dance out of me after all.”

Spinning in his grip, you couldn’t control the smile that started to take over. “What are you planning?”

He had begun to sway to the music slightly, taking you with him. “We aren’t getting that ring by asking nicely, as I’m sure you know.”

“How unfortunate.”

“So, it looks like we’re going to have to take it ourselves.”

You froze in his grip, but he did nothing but keep swaying, the Anthony Lockwood Smile™ on his face.

“You’re not kidding.”

“Nope.”

“So, your grand plan is to do what, exactly?” You dropped your voice to a near whisper. “Bump into her and snatch the pearls straight off of her neck in front of half a million people?”

“No, we aren’t going to bump into her,” he said, as if that idea was beyond absurd. He looked up, deep in thought. “We’re going to dance, pretend like we were actually invited, and when we switch partners during the waltz, then I’ll snatch the pearls straight off of her neck.”

“That plan doesn’t sound any better.”

“Well, bumping into her directly would leave too big of an impression,” he explained, as if it were obvious. “She’d be more likely to remember one of our faces if we collided with her and caused a fuss. But she’s already danced with at least ten people since we got here. I can successfully take the source from her while dancing. She won’t remember the face of one man she danced with tonight.”

“You’re a man now? Let’s not be hasty with our words.”

He swatted your side. “What’s with your opposition to this idea? You were begging for me to dance with you a couple minutes ago.”

Not meeting his eyes, you reached over and drained his glass of apple juice. “For one, it’s a stupid idea.”

“And?” he pressed.

“And I don’t want to split up,” you mumbled into the rim of your cup.

He frowned, setting your empty glass off to the side so you could have a proper conversation.

“We’ll be in the same room the entire time, though.”

“I know,” you groaned, covering your face with the palms of your hands, embarrassed. “I just don’t want to see anything bad happen to you. What if you get caught? I’ll be able to get out, but what about you?”

“I understand what you’re saying,” he said, as he tried to pull your hands away from your face. “I get what it’s like to be worried about your best friend, trust me, I know. But you just have to trust me, okay? If I did get caught, I’d be able to make it out just fine, you know that.”

“I do.”

“You just have to have faith. And stop thinking so negatively. My plans work out great most of the time.”

“Most of the time,” you repeated in disbelief. “I can’t believe you’ve survived this long without me. Stealing a source directly off of someone’s neck has to be one of the most stupid plans you’ve ever come up with.”

“Well,” he said, deep in thought. You could tell you would not like the next words to come out of his mouth. “There was that one time me and Lucy jumped off a building and swam in the Thames.”

“The one time you what?”

“In our defense,” he said quickly, “it was that or get sliced to death by a man who was out to get us. It was simply the smartest choice.”

You pulled away from him this time, giving him a hard look. “I’m never letting you out of my sight again. Next thing I know, you’ll be swimming the English Channel,” you grumbled.

He pulled you against his chest, and you felt his laugh from where you were pressed against him. “So, any other great ideas? Because if we’re rejecting mine, we have a total of zero plans.”

“Oh, please.” You groaned, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve. “This plan of yours is so bad, it’s…”

He grinned, quirking his head at you. “It’s?”

“It’s basically in the negative of plans.”

“Ooh,” he sucked air through his teeth as if he just witnessed something particularly disturbing. “Run out of witty quips, have we?”

“Ha, ha.”

“I got you there, admit it.”

“My response was great, and I’m sorry you didn’t appreciate it for how great it was.”

“It doesn’t even make any sense.”

“Yes, it does,” you insisted.

“‘In the negative of plans’? What’s that even supposed to mean?”

“It means the plan was so bad, it doesn’t even count as a plan. It’s just that bad.”

“Not as bad as that explanation of yours.”

“Oh, whatever,” you sighed, changing the subject. “Another song is about to start. Are we doing this or not?”

“Thought you said my plan was in the negative of plans.”

“Lockwood,” you groaned, tugging him off the wall. “I trust you. And I trust your judgment more than anyone else’s. If you think we can do it, then let’s do it.”

He looked a bit stunned at your words, searching your face for something. Then, he flashed a grin at you. “I got it, don’t worry. Even though we grew up in that cushy house, I learned a thing or two. I’m more than just a nice face to look at.”

“If even that,” you teased.

You were lying through your teeth. Lockwood had more than a nice face to look at, you knew that more than anyone. You had spent nearly all your life memorizing the slopes and lines of his face and the way it changed as you both grew older. His beauty was written all over his face in the form of his strong jawline and perfectly sculpted facial features, and you were so jealous of the way he was the top winner of the gene lottery.

“Didn’t think you were much of a pickpocketer,” you said, suddenly. There was a time and place to admire Lockwood’s flawless face, and this very high-stakes mission was not one of them.

He held something shiny up at you, the object catching your eye before you realized it was your ring.

Or, his ring, if you wanted to be really technical about it.

Your thumb went to the empty space on your ring finger, and you felt the smooth skin there for what felt like the first time.

“Hey—”

He cut off your protest by bowing at the waist and extending an arm with a flourish.

“My lady, may I have this dance?”

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, before accepting his arm and letting him lead you towards the center of the room. “Sure, Mr. Darcy.”

“Does that make you my Elizabeth Bennet?” he asked as he slipped the ring back on your finger with a smile.

The two of you assumed your positions around the circle, and you noted Chiara on the opposite side. There would be about five switches until Lockwood would get his chance.

Your breath hitched when you felt his right palm landing on your waist. He took your right hand in his left gently, and you swallowed hard. Lockwood fixed you with a stare that had you squirming in place.

“What?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Briefly, he removed his hand from your hip to nudge your arm up from where it laid limply at your side.

“Keep that arm straight up. Did Miss Shannon teach you nothing at those lessons?”

You let out an awkward chuckle before getting into the correct position. “Sorry.”

He gave you a weird look before tightening his grip at your waist. “I’ll lead, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you affirmed. “Try not to step on my toes this time.”

He smiled, and the band began to play. The group sounded even better up close. You had never danced to live music before, and the real life piano and violin were otherworldly. The other groups around the circle seemed to be having a great time, laughing and dancing easily together.

Muscle memory really did seem to be helping you through this. Lockwood spun you under his arm and then outwards before tugging you closer to him, easy and practiced. You found your feet carrying you through the steps before your mind could even tell your body what to do, and you could laugh at the absurdity of it all.

You had finally gotten Lockwood to dance again. (Even though it only happened under these very specific circumstances, it still counted.)

Lockwood spun you again, and you realized you were approaching the partner switch.

“See you on the other side?” He offered.

Your lips quirked up into a smile, and you squeezed his hand. “See you. Good luck, Lockwood.”

He winked before passing you off to the next man in the circle.

“Hello, Miss,” the man said kindly. He was tall and had bright red hair, and you had to crane your neck up to look at him.

“Hi,” you greeted. This man was probably around Kipps’ age, and if you squinted, he kind of looked like him, too. When he went to spin you, you nearly tripped with the force of it, which had him frantically apologizing and you laughing loudly.

The next man was much shorter, and also much older. He was probably in his fifties, and had short gray hair. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere than here, but you found your heart warming when you saw the woman he had come here with. She was wearing a nice flowing purple dress, and had shoulder length gray hair. she was practically glowing, and was laughing loudly with the young man she was dancing with. When she turned in your direction, she winked at the man you were dancing with and he straightened up immediately.

Your next few dances went by quickly. You didn’t think much of any of them, too busy trying to catch glimpses of Lockwood and Chiara from over their shoulders.

She was getting closer and closer with each second, and you felt yourself nearly seize up when everyone switched once again, and she finally arrived at Lockwood’s side.

Your dancing partner was a boy not older than fourteen, who was clearly unsure of the dance steps. You didn’t mind leading him through the moves, and did nothing but smile each time he stepped on your shoes. It was like a younger version of Lockwood was in front of you again, the same one who would cut up fruit for you when you were sad and help you with your school work.

The real Lockwood had started up a conversation with Chiara across the room. She was practically glowing from the words he was saying, and you realized she looked even prettier up close. You saw her shining necklace gleaming from her neck, close enough to see each individual pearl.

You wondered if you were hallucinating when Lockwood went off script and dipped her suddenly. It elicited a loud laugh from her that reached the other side of the circle, causing other dancers to look over and do the same. Your partner gave you a look that made it clear he would not attempt the dip.

When Chiara came back up, her neck was bare. The necklace was gone.

This time, you were the one to stumble over your partner’s shoes, shocked to your core. Lockwood had done it. He had actually done it.

You gave your thanks to the boy you were dancing with—who looked very surprised at your fumble—before you switched partners again.

The band drew the song to a close before you ended up back as Lockwood’s partner, and you found yourself matching the funny smile on his face that he gave you over a girl’s shoulder.

Everyone clapped politely for the violin and piano players, but you couldn’t help but speed walk in Lockwood’s direction, unable to keep the smile off your face.

Throwing your arms around his shoulders, you exclaimed an excited, “You did it!” into his ear.

“I did it,” he echoed, pressing a hand into your back.

You felt the outline of the cool pearls through the fabric of your dress, and he slipped his hand into yours to pass them off to you.

He leaned down to whisper in your ear. You feigned a laugh to make it look like you guys were doing anything except planning your escape from the building.

“I’ll leave a few minutes after you,” he mumbled into your hair. “It’s fifty yards through the forest until the car, remember?”

“Be safe. Don’t trip in the dark,” you reminded him as he patted your lower back. You slipped the necklace into one of the pockets Cynthia had offered to stitch in for you.

“I’ll be right behind you.”

You squeezed him tightly before turning around, where you were met with the sight of Chiara being helped onto a table by a woman in a green hat.

Oh no.

“My pearl necklace,” she nearly wailed, sounding like a petulant five year old. She had taken off her gloves, and they now flapped sadly from her right hand as she gestured wildly. “It’s gone! It looks just like this,” she cried, holding up a crumpled piece of paper.

Around you, suited workers began to weave in between the massive throngs of people, distributing the same paper. One guard thrust a copy into your hands, and you unfolded it to reveal a headshot of Chiara. She was still looking perfect as ever, but her big pearl necklace was the main event of the photo. Your pocket seemed unnaturally heavy now.

How she managed to mass produce copies of this picture in such a short time was beyond you, but there was nothing you could do about it now. Everyone in this room now knew of its absence, so you had to get out of here as soon as possible. As long as you made it out of the room without face planting, you would be in the clear. Lockwood placed his hand on your back.

“Go.”

And you did.

Weaving through the crowd was easy, as you were used to speeding through the city and Fittes’ hallways. You smiled politely to people you passed, trying your best to look easygoing. The closest exit was just down the hallway, and you walked briskly over to the door, marked with a stone bust of a young man. You were about twenty feet away from it when you noticed most of the partygoers beginning to grow disinterested with Chiara’s necklace, wanting to dance again.

The crowd was sparse towards the outer areas of the room, and you offered more nods of courtesy to strangers as you went to push the heavy wooden doors open.

However, it seemed that you didn’t account for obstacles out of your line of vision. Something caught onto your dress and you were stopped from continuing forward.

You looked around, seeing everyone deep in thought over the case of this stolen piece of jewelry or encouraging the band to start playing again.

“Miss, I like your dress.”

You snapped your neck downwards to the voice coming from very low to the floor. Diverting your attention to the ends of your dress, you saw a wide eyed little girl at the end, gripping onto the green fabric in a fist.

“Thank you,” you said quickly, trying to untangle her fist from it.

A woman that looked like her mother came rushing over, ready to apologize on behalf of her daughter. You smiled awkwardly up at her, still trying to get the little girl to unhand you. She refused to budge, holding tight. “Sorry, sweetheart, but I have to go now, so I need you to let—”

One more harsh tug from her had you surging forward, knocking hard into her mom, nearly knocking her over.

The necklace clattered to the floor at her feet.

You couldn’t tell if the music screeching to a stop was in your imagination or not. You froze in place, staring at the girl’s shiny shoes, and the pearls sitting directly in front of them. Your neck craned up slowly to look at her horrified expression.

Two options presented themselves to you.

One, you could play it off casually, and claim you were taking the necklace back to Chiara. But this woman had clearly seen you making a quick exit from the room. There was no way she would believe it.

Two, you could pick up the necklace and make a run for it.

Lockwood was somewhere on the other side of the room, living in peaceful bliss. To him, the plan was going great, and both of you were headed back home, necklace in possession. You had to succeed, if not for yourself, then for him.

Your only option was to go for the second plan.

Scooping up the source, you shoulder checked the girl as you shoved your way through the doors.

You heard the woman scream out, “Thief!” and then heard the loud gasp of Chiara that had your heart rate skyrocket. Almost immediately, you could feel footsteps behind you, so many that they nearly shook the floor. You careened around a corner and shot down the hallway.

The next time you saw George, you were going to have to kiss him. Seeing the house blueprints and memorizing its nooks and crannies made this mansion feel like it was your own. You knew exactly where to go.

The footfalls of the guards behind you had you moving your legs even faster. You wouldn’t be able to outrun these guards who probably ran marathons in their free time, and you knew that. Your eyes scanned the hallway, recognizing each doorway and window. Whipping around a corner, you tore open a door that you knew led to a lounge room. You pressed yourself against the wood and listened as the wave of people ran right past you, splitting up at the hallway intersection.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly, adrenaline coursing through your veins. With shaking hands, you fumbled to see if the necklace was still in your pocket, only relaxing when you felt it still sitting there. You wished you could sit in this room until a miracle happened, like they gave up looking for you, or you magically gained the ability to teleport. You wondered what Lockwood was doing.

The moon shone on you through a window across the room, and you already knew there was a fifty foot drop to the ground greeting you if you attempted to escape through the window. The only way out was through, unfortunately.

Centimeter by centimeter, you worked the door open and looked through the open sliver. The hallway was silent. Everyone seemed to be gone.

You respected Chiara’s scary ability to mobilize her guards so quickly, the echoes of their footsteps behind you ringing in your head.

You slipped into the hallway as quietly as you could, before hurrying in the direction of the nearest exit. The red crosses drawn on top of the blueprints were practically embedded in your mind, and you knew where the closest one was. You only had to get down two hallways and make a right, and you would be in the clear.

Thankfully, your shoes made no noise on the floor. While you had been running for your life, you didn’t have any time to take in the halls, but they were exactly as gorgeous as you thought they’d be. What was once a blur of gold now revealed itself as more intricately designed walls and glimmering chandeliers. The house was big enough that you could probably hide here and never be found.

You were coming up on an intersection, and you pressed yourself against the left wall, checking to see if anyone was coming on the right.

“I look away for one minute, and suddenly you’re being chased by a sea of people with green hats on.”

Fighting your first instinct, which was to punch the danger in the face, you settled for violently flinching away from the boy next to you.

Lockwood held his hands up in surrender. “It’s just me, don't worry.”

Not bothering to ask him how he found you, you slumped against the wall. Your legs were shaking from the temporary scare, and you were forced to lean on something to catch your breath. “I’m literally never running again.”

He smiled at your dramatics while his eyes flitted up and down, checking the state you were in. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, placing a hand on his shoulder to urge him forward. “We have to go. Guards are crawling over every inch of this house.”

The footsteps seemed to be coming from each hallway now, the guards having spread out even further. You hurried down the empty hallway, Lockwood watching your back while you checked for clear pathways.

“There’s an exit to the right,” you said quietly after the two of you had passed the second intersection. This hallway was on the far side of the house, and was completely free of guards. Lockwood followed after you closely, and the two of you were nearing the turn before a voice had you backing up.

“Think I heard something from down here, Marvin!”

Your feet seemed to be frozen in place, your mind shutting completely off. You were so close. The exit was right around the corner, maybe fifty feet away, but more voices from behind you let you know that you were trapped.

Thankfully, Lockwood still seemed to have his wits about him, because he had the mind to drag you behind him to a stone statue. It was the only spot in the entire hallway that provided a form of cover, which was barren of rooms or closets. You would be completely out in the open if someone were to turn the corner.

“I can leave the necklace somewhere, and when they catch us, we can just come back for it later,” you offered frantically, getting ready to pull it out of your pocket.

But Lockwood didn’t respond. He caught your hands to stop your movement and pressed you even closer to the wall. He was crowding around you now, and you couldn’t see anything past him, just the dark color of his suit and the line of his jaw.

The voices seemed to be getting closer, now, and your heart hammed hurriedly in your chest. There was no point in hiding when you would be caught at any second now. It was over.

Lockwood’s soft murmur of your name brought your attention away from your impending doom and back to him. He was surrounding your line of vision, making you unable to focus on anything else. He leaned in closely before he whispered a single sentence, low enough so you could barely hear it.

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

And you guess he did, because then his lips were on yours, and you found it increasingly harder to start a stream of thoughts that wasn’t just Lockwood Lockwood Lockwood LockwoodLockwoodLockwood.

He didn’t bother going slowly, pressing himself as close to you as humanly possible. His right hand was planted firmly against your face, nearly covering the entire expanse of it as he kissed you fervently. His left arm coiled around your waist to pull you even closer and…

Well.

You wondered how on Earth he learned to kiss like this.

All of your worries about the guards and the necklace and Chiara were officially put on the backburner. The kiss was heated from the start, his mouth burning directly against yours. You hoped that your heart wouldn’t give out, but if it meant that Lockwood kept kissing you like this…

You guessed you didn’t mind it that much.

Your hands trailed up his shoulders and into his hair, something you had done countless times before. The stark difference between the action now and then had you feeling warm all over. Lockwood grinned against your lips after feeling you reciprocate, and your knees nearly buckled on the spot. One hand slid down from his messy hair and to the nape of his neck, and he made a noise in his throat that sounded a bit like him choking.

He pulled away for a second, and you stared up at him, your chests heaving in sync. Your heart stuttered in your chest at the sight of his eyes. His pupils were dilated, and you could just barely make out the brown of his irises against the black of his pupils.

“Anthony,” you breathed out, trying to get his attention.

It had the opposite effect.

He captured your lips again, beginning to trail his kisses down to your jaw and then across the bare skin of your neck.

The kisses he left there were slow and open mouthed, and you couldn’t help but tug a bit harshly on his hair when his lips hovered over your pulse point. He pressed his mouth to the skin there and watched as bruises began to form in his wake. You cursed quietly at the feeling, prompting him to press a couple softer kisses there as an apology. You had just tilted his face back up to you before he turned away abruptly, effectively dodging your kiss.

He straightened to his full height and flattened you further against the wall as he grumbled out, “Can we help you?”

It was only then that you realized that there was a man standing almost right next to the both of you. You didn’t expect Lockwood to sound so casual, like the security guard checking for a stolen necklace was nothing except for an inconvenience for him. Lockwood was standing so closely to you, near enough so the man definitely wouldn’t be able to see your face and recognize you. The perfect distraction.

You wanted to kiss him again.

The man cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting on his feet. Lockwood was the picture of pure dishevelment, his hair sticking up from you running your hands through it and his tie loose around his neck. It was glaringly obvious what the two of you had been doing before he had shown up.

“Excuse me, sir, but I’m… I’m going to have to ask you two to make your way back down to the main hall.”

You watched as Lockwood smiled sardonically, and you swear you watched the man shuffle back a little. “We just got caught up back here. We’ll head down in a bit.”

The guard coughed, nodding slowly. “Yup. Don’t linger around.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Lockwood called to his retreating back as he frantically ushered him and his fellow guards away from the scene.

Your heart was racing. You wondered if it was from the kiss or the adrenaline from almost being arrested.

If the way your heart nearly stopped when Lockwood looked down at you told you anything, it was that your palpitations were not from the adrenaline.

You had it so bad.

“Come on,” he said softly, fixing the strap of your dress that had fallen off your shoulder. “We’re almost there.”

You nodded, letting him take your hand and lead you down the hallway. If another guard stopped you, you would be much too out of it to remember, your head still spinning. It felt like you were half awake, drowsy from the kiss and the adrenaline crash.

The chill of the outside air woke you right up. It was like you were being dipped in an ice bath, and you gasped loudly, as if coming back to yourself for the first time.

You were in the clear. No one moved to follow you, and once you made it through these woods, you would be home free.

Something heavy and dark was placed over your shoulders, and you were surrounded suddenly with the scent of cinnamon. Lockwood’s jacket.

“You’re shaking,” he said, running his hands down the length of your arms and back up again. He was trying to raise your body temperature when you hadn’t even realized you were cold. “Let’s get to the car.”

He was standing in front of you in his white dress shirt and no jacket just because he didn’t want you to be cold. Your heart was doing leaps in your chest, pure longing poured into every beat. You tugged on his sleeve to get him to stop walking.

You didn’t want to wait anymore.

“Lockwood, I want to come home.”

It was freezing outside and you were in the middle of nowhere, but you were confessing to your best friend all the same.

He was confused at your words, rightfully so. “We are going home.”

You shook your head, tugging him even closer, just because you didn’t want to stand so far apart. “I don’t want to beat around the bush anymore. I missed you when I was gone, and I miss you right now.”

You gave him a watery smile.

“Lockwood, I want to come home to you forever.”

I love you.

He processed the words slowly, before his entire face lit up. He was smiling softly at you, his real smile, the one you hadn’t seen in months.

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask.”

I love you, too.

Then, he leaned in closer, like he was going to tell you a secret. Whispering lowly, he said, “I didn’t want to get my cast cut off.”

You squinted a bit, wrapping an arm around him to share your warmth. “What do you mean?”

“The cast I got from our last job together,” he clarified. “I had it on for three extra weeks because I kept pushing back the appointment. Getting it cut off meant I’d lose the last thing I had of you, and it only came off because George finally made the appointment for me. I’ve been in love with you for a while. Since before you even left.”

Your heart swelled, and he pulled you in again to press a kiss to your forehead, and then to your lips.

“I might’ve kissed you as a distraction earlier, but it was also because I’m selfish and couldn’t help myself.” He trailed off, running a hand along the fabric at your hip. “Your dress is the same color as my ring. And I nearly kissed you earlier in front of George and Lucy when I realized it.”

You looked down at your intertwined hands, where his ring with the viridescent stone was sitting, next to the material of your matching gown. You looked up at him with all the love in the world and wondered why it had taken you both so long to get here.

“I have a stack of newspaper clippings in my room,” you admitted. “Whenever I saw you mentioned in the papers, I would cut it out to keep. I’d look at them whenever I missed you, and they’re all sitting in my drawer right now. Kipps wouldn’t let me live it down when he found them.”

He pulled ran his thumb over your knuckles. “I’ll give you a real ring one day,” he promised, peppering kisses all over your skin like freckles. “I’ll make you mine forever.”

You pulled him down to kiss him properly again, a tender and soft press of lips. “I’ve been yours since before you even gave me this ring.”

—

When the two of you got into the car, you blamed the wind outside for Lockwood’s flushed cheeks and your messy hair.

—

“I have something to show you,” Lockwood said out of the blue one day.

It had been two weeks since the Salvatore job. That meant two weeks since all members of Lockwood & Co. were paid generously for their work, and two weeks since you had moved back in.

You ended up making a compromise between both of your hard choices. You would keep working with your friends as a researcher for Fittes, while still being able to come home to Portland Row.

“And when will I find out what this surprise entails?” you asked, not looking up at him, flipping to the next page of your book.

“Right now, if you get up and come with me.”

You put down your copy of Frankenstein that Lucy had given you, openly intrigued.

“There she is,” he said by the doorway, nearly bouncing on the balls of his feet.

You smiled softly at him and the excited look in his eyes.

It had also been two weeks since the two of you had confessed.

Or, as close to a confession as the two of you were going to get.

The two of you were in love. You had both known that for a while, and you didn’t need a public declaration with tears to make it clear. Your talk on the hill outside Mossbank Grove just marked the start of your official forever.

You got a little giddy thinking about it sometimes. Neither of you were surprised at your confessions. It was instinctive in the way you both just knew.

Pushing up off the couch, you trailed after Lockwood to the kitchen, where he picked up a long black bag on the table. Although you were confused, you followed him out to the backyard.

It was nice out, the sun just beginning to set and painting the sky a beautiful array of colors.

Something metal clinked inside the bag as you went down the steps. “Is there a shovel in there, Lockwood? Have you finally done it? Are we burying someone?”

You could practically see the way he was rolling his eyes at you. Once he successfully led you out to the center of the grass, he dropped the bag on the floor and turned around to face you. “Open it.”

“Awfully suspicious, Anthony,” you said, prodding the sack with your shoe. “You trying to get my prints on the bag? I can’t be an accomplice, I’d miss Lucy too much if I went to jail.”

He did nothing but continue to smile at you, still buzzing with excitement. “I might just call up Barnes to arrest you if you don’t hurry up and open the bag.”

“I’m going, I’m going,” you said, giving in. You unzipped the duffle, and came face to face with…

A rapier.

“Anthony,” you said, surprised. “This one’s gorgeous. It’ll look great in your collection.” You pulled it out of the sheath, feeling the way it was the perfect weight in your hands. Not too light, but not too heavy. “I might just like this one more than the one you use right now.”

He shook his head. “No, my rapier is inside.” He pointed to the one in your hands. “That one’s yours.”

You frowned. The feeling of a weapon in your hands was one you hadn’t felt in a long time. You shifted it from your left to right hand, a bit awkwardly. “I haven’t used a rapier since I left, you know that. I don’t know if I even remember how.”

“I know,” he replied. “I got it for you if you ever decide that you want to relearn.”

You looked down at where your hand was gripping the handle of the sword, and you spun the blade around, trying to remember what it used to feel like.

You missed it, undoubtedly. The rush you got when picking up a rapier, the adrenaline coursing through your veins when securing a source. And the memories you made alongside your friends, fighting off ghosts. You wanted it back.

You paused. “Would you teach me again?”

Lockwood was watching you with a smile on his face. “Of course.”

He came closer, and adjusted your grip on the handle while fixing your stance. A familiar feeling shot through you.

You looked up at him then, a smirk on your face. “Bet I’ll be able to beat you once I relearn.”

His face split into a grin. “We’ll see.”

—

It was dark out, and George and Lucy were downstairs in the kitchen.

They were having some late night tea and splitting the last donut from Arif’s. George had just finished the book they were reading together, an old classic that both of them had been interested in. He had called Lucy downstairs to talk about it, and she was scribbling one of her favorite quotes onto the Thinking Cloth as George rambled on about how terrible the ending was.

“The characters infuriated me so much,” he complained, throwing the book down. “Don’t even get me started on—”

A loud crash from outside cut off his speech.

“What was that?” Lucy asked, shifting her attention to the window.

George got up to peer through it, confused as to what was causing a ruckus outside so late at night.

You and Lockwood fighting was the last thing he expected to see. The both of you were trading blows faster than he could keep up with his eyes. One of you would gain ground on the other before losing it immediately, and he watched in awe as you seemed to read each other's minds, able to predict where the other one would strike and being able to defend flawlessly.

George’s eyes widened when he watched you get a hit on Lockwood’s chest with the blunt end of your sword.

You were grinning wildly despite the obvious exhaustion from your fight, and Anthony clapped you firmly on the back, pride written all over his face despite his defeat.

George turned away from the window with his own smile on his face.

“Looks like she’s finally home.”

notes: and it’s over??? omg… thank you guys so much for following their little adventure they r so in love. here is my masterlist if u want to read thousands more words of my love for lockwood. feedback is of course appreciated bc this series is like my child!!!!! thank you again for all of your love and support on this series i will be writing much more for him don’t worry

@fox-bee926 @meg-the-second-greatest @deadsnothere @this-is-mycrisis @wordsarelife @vividvioletta560 @simrah102 @always-spaced-out @myxticmoon @maraschinomerry @adajoemaya @gayandfairycore @iovaki @belovedviola @zzoz942 @unwanted-15 @bilesxbilinskixlahey @idkbubs @frogmanfletch @novausstuff @haileybugulug @for-writing-shit @pr3nt1ss @danis-stuff-is-here @tayswiftlovebot @breadbrobin @theamuz @mywellspringoflife @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @lovemss @ettadear @elizabeth-anya-knight @mellowarcadefun @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @venomsvl @tigerthealien @tattoo-of-a-bird @tom-foolery-time @imaginebeingmentallystable @m4rreads @batknot @sociallyinepludi @omnipotentruleroftheuniverse @blueoorchid @bunny24sstuff

—today was a fairytale

pairing: quill kipps x gn!reader

summary: you and quill go on your first date at arif‘s

warnings: mentions of sex at the very end

notes: this was such a cute thing to write and i think we need more domestic quill kipps fics… or fics of him in general.. get to work, people!!

arif‘s was pretty busy that morning. it was winter and you were watching the snow fall from the window of the little shop. you could hear people talking lowly, almost slipping into a chorused whisper around you. the coffee in front of you was still hot, so you couldn’t drink from it just yet. quill had just brought you this new one after the first that you had already finished.

Quill slid in the seat across from you. you turned your head at the sound and smiled at him. the moment your eyes met his, he was already sipping on the second cup of hot chocolate, that he had just ordered at the counter, seemingly uninterested in waiting until it had cooled down a bit.

“isn’t it a bit funny, that you ask me on a coffee date and then continuously drink hot chocolate?” you asked

quill shrugged his shoulders “nah”

“okay” you smiled brightly

the both of you had been here for over an hour, talking with no end. when quill had asked you to go on a date with him, you had never thought that it would be so entertaining, or that you both would find that you had so much in common.

in your eyes, quill had always been pretty strict and serious, turns out he could be quite funny, making you laugh with almost everything he was saying.

"can i ask you something personal?"

quill nodded and you smiled softly.

"lockwood told me that your talent faded some time ago. why did you choose to continue to work against the problem? why not do something else?" you asked interested "i've been an agent for all i remember, i do get the grind, but doesn't it get tiring after all that time you worked as one?"

contrary to your belief, that he might get offended at the question, quill smiled. "i don't know" he said truthfully "the thought of quitting did enter my head but it never stayed for long. i love the people i'm working with and i want to make a difference in the world"

"i like that" you replied "i always admired you for it, honestly. the way you carry yourself and stick up for your team, like it's more than just a job"

"it is more than just a job" quill insisted "it's our lives and from what i've heard and seen you don't seem to hold back either" "thank you" you laughed, before you got serious again "do you think we will some day get rid of the problem?"

“we will” he assured. you couldn’t tell if he was really thinking that or if he was just saying that to ease your nerves. he knew that you were always worrying about the problem.

you would sometimes work together, him with his fittes team and you as a member of lockwood and co. this is how you had met as well. even though lockwood never held back with comments about quill, you had grown to like him.

lockwood had thought you had made a joke when you had told him about the date.

one of the first things you had noticed was that despite you mentioning them all the time, quill did not say one bad thing about your friends. it wasn’t your intention to test or annoy him, but they were your whole life.

every story you could tell happened with them, they were your family and you were surprised how quickly quill had understood that.

he even praised lucy and george, when you told him the story of annabel ward and said that he would have been glad to have them on his team as well.

you could notice the stiffness in his face, every time you mentioned lockwood, there was just too much to just forget it, but he didn’t say anything at least and you registered that he seemed to really like you.

“maybe we could repeat this some day?” quill asked when the two of you had left arif’s and were walking down the street to portland row.

“yes” you smiled, glad that he was thinking the same as you. you didn’t want to wait until some day though. “how about tomorrow?” you asked “i’m free the entire day”

quill laughed at your eagerness. “tomorrow sounds great. i’m glad you suggested it, i didn’t want to pressure you, but i’d love to meet up again tomorrow”

“good” you breathed relieved. and somehow his agreement seemed to have made you brave, so you quickly added: “i really like you, quill”

“i really like you too”

you stopped in front of the stairs to portland row and on quill’s face rested a lopsided grin, as he noticed the curtains moving and lockwood’s face pop up in the window.

his smile wasn’t mean though. for a short second, the time you had taken to notice lockwood as well, you had thought that he was only smiling because it was annoying the boy. but now it seemed like that was just a plus and he was going to do what he wanted, regardless of lockwood watching or not.

he bend down and pressed a featherlight kiss to your cheeks and the heat entered your face almost immediately.

“bye, y/n” quill waved “i’m gonna call you tomorrow at noon, if that’s alright, then we can arrange something” he was already starting to walk away

“that’s good” you called “hey, wait, what do you want to do tomorrow?”

“whatever you want to do is fine with me” he smiled “i’ll call you!” he assured again, before he finally turned around and walked away

“stop being so smitten with him” you turned your head to look at lockwood, who had opened the front door and was now leaning against the frame.

“i think it’s already too late for that” your eyes returned to quills frame again, that was almost too far away to see.

lockwood sighed. “never have sex in my house”

you walked through the door, giggling at his seriousness. “i won’t promise anything” you laughed, quickly sprinting up the stairs

“what was that?” lockwood called behind you, but you ignored him, just smiling to yourself and feeling excitement bubble in your chest to tell lucy everything.