#and locky too i suppose | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ukulelevillainwrites · 7 months

Text

who follows the rules anyway?

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9

complete

pairing : anthony lockwood x reader

word count : 6.5k

warnings : panic attack, anxiety, spoilers for lockwood's backstory

content : enjoy this part that has more plot, there's also angst but reconciliation too

taglist : @cassiopeiia24 @archiveoftara

note : time keeps passing faster it's getting out of hand, anyway i hope you like it !! and thank you everyone for reading and still being there as this fic keeps getting longer and longer

[from Lockwood’s POV]

He slammed the front door on his way out. It was probably loud enough to wake up the entire neighborhood. She had crossed a line and it was enough to make the anger he had felt the night before resurface. It wasn’t the fact that she had made everything to annoy him so early in the day, though it had played a part in it. What had set him off was her devising a plan right in front of him as if he was too stupid to notice. She hadn’t been explicit in what she wrote on the Thinking Cloth, but it was obvious that she intended to act on her theories today. And she was going behind his back. She was putting his company at risk and she didn’t even have the decency to be upfront. He thought he had earned her respect. Her disregard for his authority was a slap in the face.

He had gotten used to their fights by now. Even though they had gotten along pretty well for the past few weeks, their relationship had gotten off to a rocky start. But this was different. They had had disagreements in the past where he had been frustrated with her. She was always the one who got truly angry. It had made him laugh on occasions, like the night they met. She had the habit of taking things to heart. But she was passionate, a quality the three of them shared and it was probably what brought them closer. However last night the tension hadn’t been one-sided.

No matter how much he believed he was right, how he didn’t want her nor George to get into any more trouble, he kept wondering if maybe he’d been wrong. What if because of this he had ruined the relationship they had? Maybe he was being selfish indeed. Maybe he should consider their point of view more closely. George had never been the type to hold a grudge. He’d bring some doughnuts on the way home and they’d go back to normal. But y/n… it was complicated. It had taken them much effort to get along, and maybe now all that was gone. He’d need to do more. Get involved. Help her in her plan to stop this Dufour woman.

He stopped walking as the idea crossed his mind. What was he thinking? That was the whole point. It would put a target on their back. They would get noticed by every relic-man related to this case. It would alert the authorities, maybe DEPRAC would get involved. It was the last thing they needed. The publicity he was hoping for would shed light on the great work they did, not getting involved with a less than desirable crowd. And it applied for y/n and George too. Since Fittes didn’t work out for them, they should be doing their best to make Lockwood and Co noteworthy. To put the company on the map and guarantee them the future they were supposed to have. Why was he the only one to see that? It seemed obvious enough.

He went back and forth in his head as he followed the Thames for the next half hour. His thoughts were cut short when he noticed a familiar boat secured near a spot where the river was shallower. Instead of following the sidewalk, he jumped over a fence guarding a flight of stairs and climbed down to the banks. He had to walk a few minutes longer to finally spot a familiar figure. She was crouched down, digging into the mud, like he was used to finding her. He barely had time to walk closer to her that she was already greeting him, like she had sensed him coming from a mile away.

“Morning, Locky. Been a while.”

“It’s been far too long, Flo. I brought you some licorice to apologize.”

It was only when he mentioned the treat that she stood up and faced him. She took them nonchalantly. A wide bright smile lightened up her face after she took a bite.

“So, what brings you here?” She asked, chewing loudly.

“I just wanted to check up on you, see how you were doing.”

“There’s not much to tell. Business as usual. Except maybe for this new rich old man all relic-men wanna work for.”

“What’s that about?” Lockwood asked, frowning.

“You haven’t heard of the new traffic taking over the city? That’s surprising of you.”

“Oh please, not you too!” He was exasperated.

“What’s with you?” Flo teased him.

“Nothing.”

“I really thought you’d be more invested in all this.”

“A lot of people seem to assume that… What does this particular traffic have that’s so special?” His irritation was starting to show.

“It’s just such a mess that it’s killing people left and right. Relic-men who aren’t cautious…”

“They sort of had it coming.” He cut in.

“…innocent bystanders too. Some people get ghost-touched just by living nearby.” She had gone back to work, digging near the water as she explained the situation in a neutral voice. She didn’t seem particularly affected.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that they start moving dozens of sources at a time! They break into homes, antique shops, cemeteries or whatever potential place with relics they can find and just… don’t secure them at all. They’re being really dumb about it. A bunch of them just broke stuff and ended up with a new visitor.” Her tone had changed when she mumbled those last words. She tried being cautious when she explained further. But Lockwood wasn’t really focused anymore. The world stood still for a moment.

“Just because the guy who’s buying is paying more than the usual market price.” Flo concluded.

He had gone silent. It’s like he was reliving the scene all over again. This couldn’t be happening. Not again.

“That guy. Who is it?” he suddenly asked with a new determination.

“I don’t know… some posh old man looking to impress his friends I guess.”

“Tell me if you have any more information. Stop by whenever you hear more, alright?”

“Locky, don’t do anything stupid. You don’t have anything to do with this. It wasn’t your fault-”

“Keep me posted, will you?”

With that he started to walk back, more briskly than he had come. This wouldn’t happen in other homes. Not if he could help it.

He tried to ignore the sorry tone he had heard in her voice as he reached the steps that led back to the street. The news hadn’t been what he expected at all. He thought he was simply going to have a chat with an old friend. Instead, the past he had tried so hard to bury was back to haunt him. It had taken him by surprise, but it wasn’t anything to worry about. He had much to do, he didn’t have time to be distracted. He ignored the twist in his stomach as the sound of the source breaking followed by a scream echoed through his mind. He directed his attention to the next step of the plan they would have to follow. George would have to explain everything all over again, but he was sure he wouldn’t mind. And now that he was on her side, y/n would no longer be mad. Everything would be fine. He had everything under control. He mumbled to himself on the street as he thought about what they needed to do next. Obviously Flo was essential to the operation. Without her intel there was no way they could stop the dealings. Especially if every relic-man in the city wanted a piece of the business. They couldn’t target relic-men specifically. They needed to aim higher. George had already offered to follow her. He was probably right. But most importantly they needed to uncover who was this mystery man buying all those sources. They also had to find out why anyone would want to buy so many sources that they singlehandedly affected the entire relic market.

As he neared Portland Row he wondered how he could phrase his apology. He stopped at Arif’s before climbing the few steps leading to the front door. The house was silent. At first he thought he would find them in the kitchen, still thinking of potential links between the information they had like George was used to doing. But when he got down there the room was empty. He looked through the library, their bedrooms, down the basement. No one. He went back in the kitchen, put the box of doughnuts on the table and started reading the plan they had started to write on the Thinking Cloth. He smiled at the poorly disguised acronyms and anagrams y/n had used to hide what she was planning on doing. Though it faded quickly when he read the next line, something about going back to the south of London out of town. He assumed it was where her family lived. She wasn’t just planning on investigating Dufour behind his back then. She was leaving town. She was leaving him.

It was only a matter of time anyway. He should have known it was a mistake when he offered to hire her. It was always destined to end this way or another. Letting her in seemed like a good idea at the time. She needed a job and a place to stay, he needed another member in his team. That’s what he’d told himself. But he might as well have lied to himself all along. He’d been manipulative from the start. He always was, he did everything he could to get his way. And now it was time to pay for it. It wouldn’t surprise him if George went with her. After all, he had been selfish with him too. George had helped him set up his company and supported him when he didn’t have anyone else. And when he asked him for help he turned his back on him. Being left alone was all that he deserved.

He loosened his tie. It was getting hard to breathe. Guilt strengthened its grip on his lungs, contracted them until he choked. No matter how deep he inhaled, he was running out of air. He was falling deeper down a spiral. Memories he thought buried resurfaced, their long thin fingers clinging to him, pulling him deeper. They sunk their claws into his skin, he felt like he was being torn apart. Blurry faces floated in front of his eyes and remained when he closed them. He wanted them to go away, but the thought of never seeing them again broke his heart all the same.

He held on to the nearest chair, trying to steady himself, but failed. Everything was painful. Sitting down, breathing, thinking, just existing was too much to bear. He felt like his body was shutting down, giving up on him too. He knew it had to end eventually. He didn’t think it would end like this, but it was better that way. To leave this world behind.

He sat down on the kitchen floor, his vision blurry. He was staring off into space, his lungs hurting, his breathing hoarse and shallow. All he could see was the ectoplasm burn from the room upstairs. Jessica was glowing in the middle of it, her arms open, welcoming him into the darkness. The ache spread from his lungs to his heart but he also felt relieved. He would join them and everything would be better. She had a warm smile on her face, the one she always wore when she tucked him into bed every night. But she wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes were focused on something right next to him. He turned to look. y/n’s bag was settled against the next chair, packed with what could be qualified as an amateur surveillance kit at best. He frowned. Why would she leave her stuff here if she had planned on leaving? She wasn’t the kind to travel lightly. She always had a bag full of useless stuff “just in case”. He never understood her logic but he had always seen her with a heavy bag. Maybe she wasn’t gone after all. A glimmer of hope sparked. But then where were they? The ache clenching his heart turned to anxiety. What if something bad had happened to them? The whole Dufour case could have taken a dark turn. Relic-men could have gotten to them. He needed to find them. He wouldn’t leave this world without knowing they were safe.

His thoughts were racing. Adrenaline had replaced apathy. He didn’t know where to start to look for them and with every passing second they could be further into trouble. He frantically read the notes on the Thinking Cloth, searching for any indication of where they might be. His eyes couldn’t focus. He wouldn’t be of any help if he felt this way. He tried to remember the exercise George had made him do that one time he found him in the same state. He closed his eyes and focused on the air coming out of his nose. He breathed in deep, keeping his attention on his stomach rising. Breathe in. Breathe out. He looked down at the table. There was a map with different places circled. He wrote them down and walked out of the kitchen. He intended to check them all, even if it meant walking through every single street of London.

He headed for the door with a new determination. He put one foot outside and was immediately stopped in his tracks. He stood in the doorframe and watched as a car parked in front of the house. A tall gentleman got out and went to open the first backdoor. George got out the best he could with his hands in handcuffs. Lockwood felt instantly relieved. Though it was bittersweet. Seeing his best friend arrested wasn’t what he enjoyed the most. That was until he heard him give the man a piece of his mind before comparing him to an elderly turtle with all the grace George was known to be capable of. Lockwood couldn’t help but smile. They were alright. They were safe. y/n got out of the car shortly after. Though her handcuffs were already off. She slammed them against the man’s chest before heading towards the house. Lockwood realized he should have known better than to worry himself sick over her safety. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself and she had already proven that a thousand times. Before George or y/n could cross the iron gate, the man called them back in a voice that seemed unnecessarily loud.

“This isn’t over. Consider yourself under constant surveillance. If I catch any of you out of line I’ll have you thrown in jail. Am I understood?”

Neither of them reacted. y/n climbed the few steps, glaring at Lockwood. If looks could kill, he would have been dead in an instant. She bumped hard into his shoulder as she entered the house and headed immediately for her room. George reached the door. He didn’t look bothered at all. He frowned at him, indirectly asking what was going on.

“We have a lot to tell you.”

---

[back to reader’s pov]

It had been an hour since Barnes had dropped them off. She hadn’t moved from the foot of her bed where she was sitting still. She kept replaying the day in her head, trying to make sense of what they had been told.

The ride to DEPRAC had been a silent one. George didn’t look particularly worried, but y/n had a hard time keeping it together. She bounced her leg fast the whole way there. She was worried they took the accusation from the papers literally. Or maybe they were in trouble because they both tried to break into a supervisor’s office. George would be fine since he didn’t succeed. But she was a criminal. What if she was arrested for good? Was this really how it was going to end?

As soon as they arrived, they were separated. Inspector Wade led George in a different room than her and she was left alone with Inspector Barnes. He sat across from her while putting down a manila folder in front of him. He didn’t open it right away.

“Why were you fired from Fittes, miss y/n?” he asked her instead.

She didn’t know how much he knew about her already. She wasn't sure if the real reason had been written down in her personnel file.

“I broke into a supervisor’s office.” She reluctantly admitted after a few minutes.

“Why?”

“I thought she had something to hide.”

“And what would that be?”

She had the feeling he already knew what she was going to say. He wanted to see if she would say the thing he expected. But she couldn’t tell if he believed her.

“I thought she might be stealing sources.”

“You got that theory from your good friend Karim, didn’t you?”

She nodded, but he hadn’t waited for her answer to continue.

“You see, when I read the paper yesterday I thought that giving the front page to an article that seemed mainly exaggeration was a little excessive. But then later in the day a woman working at Fittes came by to report two ex-agents.”

She actually did it she thought. She couldn’t think of a word rude enough to describe her. She was already picturing herself back in that same interrogation room in a couple of days with a murder charge. Barnes must have seen right through her.

“I need you to remain calm for the moment, miss y/n. I had no choice but to bring you here to interrogate the both of you separately. Though I’ve been through your record and I found it very surprising that someone like you could be accused of such things. You rose through the ranks quickly, got to be part of several leading teams, including Mr. Kipps’, and even won several distinctions. Not one step out of line in your whole career.”

She remained silent. It didn’t mean much that she had been exemplary now, she ended up in handcuffs anyway.

“Something didn’t sit right with me. I could be wrong though. Maybe you’re just talented in more than one way.” She shot him another angry stare. He looked unaffected. “I need to hear your version of what’s going on. So I’m asking you to tell me everything you know.”

“How can I be sure you’ll believe me?”

“You won't know until you try.”

She hesitated. A part of her thought that it might not even be worth it. But on the other hand, she didn’t have much to lose.

She told him everything starting with her growing suspicions. The insistent tone Dufour had when she offered to bring back the source. The meet-up she had witnessed. The chase. The rumors Kipps had told her about. She tried to go into great detail. A voice in her head kept whispering that no one would believe her. But the whisper quieted down when she noticed Barnes listening intently, taking notes and rummaging through the folder he had brought. He took out three pictures.

“Do you recognize any of these men?”

“No… I’m sorry I was far away and I was hiding. I didn't get a good look at them.”

“And where did you say the meet-up took place?”

She took a second to answer. She had a hard time acknowledging he actually believed her.

“Um… It was near the Thames, around Scotland Yard I think.”

“Did you hear anything worth mentioning?”

“Well I did see Mrs. Dufour selling the clock we had taken from Mrs. Overton’s house. I heard her negotiate the share she would take on its price but-”

The other inspector entered the room before she could finish her sentence.

“Sir, I think you should hear this.”

“Excuse me.”

Barnes left the room with Wade, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She was deeply confused and didn’t know how to feel about her situation. There was an official report against her, that part was not good. But the inspector in charge didn’t seem to believe she had anything to do with it. She wanted to think there were some positive aspects, but she doubted she could actually trust the man who had arrested her. She remained alone for quite some time, impatiently waiting. She felt like she had been there for several hours already. Though without a clock or natural light it was hard to tell. Eventually, the inspector came back. He didn’t ask her to finish what she had started to say before getting interrupted.

“Do you have any contact with relic-men on a regular basis?”

“Aside from the time one of them chased me down to slit my throat, I prefer to keep a safe distance.”

He got up.

“Are we done?”

“Not quite.” He didn’t explain further and simply asked her to come with him.

She followed him down a corridor lined with a dozen doors. None of them were numbered. It must not be easy to locate anything in this gigantic building if rooms didn’t even have numbers on them. Barnes selected one of them seemingly at random and opened it. It looked like the same dark interrogation room she was just in. Sitting at the table was George, who didn’t seem to notice them coming in, too busy telling inspector Wade about something that required a lot of gesturing, probably one of the many theories they had been working on since their research. There was an extra chair next to him. Barnes told her to sit down. Only then did George look up and smiled at her.

“y/n! We were just talking about what we learned at the furnaces.” He exclaimed before going back to what he was saying.

The inspectors shared an exasperated look before interrupting.

“Mr. Karim, we appreciate your input but we have more pressing matters to discuss.” Barnes said in a serious tone. “There are strong accusations against you and they are not to be taken lightly.”

“But you believe us?” y/n asked tentatively.

“I believe that you make the perfect suspects.”

She gaped at him while George was outraged, telling them to learn how to do their job. Barnes raised one hand to silence them.

“However… I think there’s more to this case than meets the eye.”

“I’m glad to finally hear you admit it!” George said, leaning back into his chair.

“Thanks to your testimonies we can safely assume that your case is linked directly to the recent surge in relic dealings. Whether you have anything to do with it or not remains to be proven, but so is your innocence. For now I want you to lay low and not do anything stupid.” He turned to George, then to her. “Am I understood?”

Her frustration came rushing back. Yet another person telling her she shouldn’t do anything.

“So someone I saw commit a felony with my own eyes is putting the blame on us and you expect me to let it slide?”

“I trust that you’re smart enough to realize that the stakes are higher than you think. There are powerful people ready to sink you to protect themselves. It isn’t to be taken lightly. One more mistake would only make their case against you stronger. Believe me if you want to get out of this unharmed you’d better take my advice.”

She looked over at George. His expression was inscrutable.

“I also need to drive you home in handcuffs to keep up appearances.”

At first, she thought it was the inspector’s poor attempt at a joke. Her smile faded when he actually handcuffed them.

“Why would you need to do this? We’re not under arrest.”

“I need certain people to think you’re in more trouble than you really are.”

“Does that have to do with my Scotland Yard theory?” George asked.

“Maybe.” Barnes admitted at a volume barely above a whisper.

This morning, George had suggested the idea that the meeting y/n had witnessed happened so close to Scotland Yard, a risky and quite frankly stupid place for dealing stolen relics, because an officer working there was part of the deal. That would explain how Dufour could have filed an official complaint against them without any tangible proof of their link to relic-men. He had a satisfied look on his face and put out his hands graciously to be handcuffed. He undeniably loved to be right. She wasn’t as forthcoming. The idea of being paraded through the building as someone officially under arrest didn’t sit right with her.

The walk back to the inspector’s car had been humiliating. A few people stared at them as they walked by like they were putting on a show for their entertainment. Not only was she asked to lay low, she also had to pretend like she was guilty. It was infuriating. On the way back to Portland Row, Barnes felt the need to remind them yet again to keep a low profile.

“I’ll keep you updated if anything new comes up, but in the meantime-”

“Yeah yeah ‘don’t be stupid’, you’ve gone over that part already.” George interrupted.

y/n remained silent, picking at her handcuffs to distract herself.

Once they reached their destination, Barnes yelled something to maintain the illusion. His acting skills were terrible. Lockwood was standing in the doorframe, smiling. She couldn’t believe him. He was the one to tell her that this whole thing would blow over and that it wasn’t a big deal. Now he saw them getting out of a police car in handcuffs and he was smiling? She bumped hard into his shoulder as she entered and went straight to her room.

The sun was starting to set. She felt numb. This whole situation was getting too much to bear. Maybe she should just go back to her parents’. The thought had briefly crossed her mind this morning. It had been quickly chased by George’s enthusiasm but now that she was alone she considered it more seriously. She’d be away from trouble and rumors there. She would do what she was asked, laying low and fleeing, leaving DEPRAC to handle Dufour. Lockwood would keep his precious reputation intact. He’d have one less thing to worry about. She wouldn’t drag George into her mess. Everyone would be better off with her gone.

She jumped at the rapid knocks on the door to the attic. After a few seconds, the door opened and hesitant footsteps started to climb the stairs. Lockwood appeared. He tried to smile at her. She didn’t smile back. They remained in an uncomfortable silence for a few minutes. She hadn’t moved from her bed. He was standing awkwardly near the stairs.

“I wanted to see if you were okay…”

“You said to do nothing because it would blow over and the next day I got dragged in handcuffs for an interrogation. How do you think I’m doing?”

“You got out of those pretty quickly…” He joked quietly. “You’ll have to teach me that, it’d be useful.”

She simply stared back.

“I’m sorry. For unsuccessfully lightening the mood and for the way I acted.”

She didn’t say anything. He would have to do a lot more than that to earn her forgiveness.

“George told me everything that went down at the station. I want to say that the positive thing is that this Barnes inspector seems to be on your side. But it might be early to talk about silver linings.”

She raised her eyebrows. No kidding. He shifted slightly closer to her.

“I was wrong. I should have been on your side from the start. I don’t think you should listen to Barnes. Or leave town…”

She hated how he apparently had the ability to read her mind. He took one more step closer.

“George and I need you if we want to stop this. Please help us.”

She remained silent. She didn’t know what to think anymore.

“Or rather… please forgive me.” He concluded with a thin smile.

She looked up at him and was surprised to see him look so honest. His eyes were softer than they had been the night before. His smile was almost shy. It wasn’t far from his usual grin and yet it felt like it was a world away from what she was used to. She wanted to believe him. She nodded slightly. He relaxed instantly, letting out a long sigh. A satisfied look took place once more upon his face.

“Wait, no.” y/n said, renewing the tension that had left the room for a second.

“No?”

“You can’t just walk in here and perform your usual charming act hoping it’ll work again.”

“What do you mean?” Lockwood asked, confused.

“You know exactly what I mean. You act all sweet and flash your signature smile to get everyone to agree with you. You do this with every client we have. Hell, you even did it to me to get me to work here!”

“What? That’s not true!”

“Yes, it is. You acted all nice and sweet-”

“I was comforting you! I was offering my help. I didn’t lie to you or trick you to get you to work here!”

“In hindsight it’s what it feels like.” She finally admitted, dropping what had been on her mind for the past few weeks. There was a long pause. He stared at her in stunned silence.

“I’m sorry you think I’m capable of such a thing.”

He went back downstairs and didn’t bother to close the door.

The relief she felt was bittersweet. The truth was out, and she hoped it would help clear things up between them. Once the tension eased, she would maybe understand Lockwood’s intentions. Though that was a stretch, and she felt terrible, like she had crossed a line.

It was only because she was starving that she eventually came downstairs to help with dinner. George had her chopping onions, Lockwood was nowhere to be seen.

When he eventually made an appearance, they ate in silence. The few times they spoke, they barely said three words or they gestured vaguely. George poured himself a glass of water and Lockwood held out his hand to grab the bottle. She put out her glass but he deliberately put down the water away from her without serving her. She glared at him.

“I wouldn’t want you to think I have ulterior motives.” He shrugged.

He could be so infuriating.

“I learned a little bit more about this whole relic-dealing.” He said to change the subject. “Apparently this whole thing is happening because of one man who is singlehandedly raising the demand for haunted objects. He’s paying handsomely and it’s enough to make everyone go crazy.”

“Then following Dufour would definitely help us learn more about this man.” George answered.

“Maybe… I think we might have to think bigger. To aim for the leaders directly and not just for the leg men. We should probably start by collecting more information about what’s going on in town, in higher society, maybe some events or gatherings that could help us identify this man.”

“Sure I could go back to the Archives tomorrow.” George agreed.

“Yesterday you didn’t even want to hear about this and now we should just follow your every order?” y/n interrupted.

“What do you want from me? I tell you to let it go, you yell at me. I tell you we should get involved and you yell at me again.”

“Because we should always do what you decide!”

“Fine, what do you suggest we do then?”

“I have to think about it…”

“How surprising!”

“Oh shut-”

“Enough!” George slammed his fist on the table. “I’m sick of having to listen to you fight. Apologize to each other and let’s get this over with.”

y/n and Lockwood stared at each other in silence. Neither of them went first.

“Fine.” George said, standing up. “I won’t do any more research then. Until you both apologize, I’m on strike.”

He ignored their protests and went up to his room.

“See what you did?” Lockwood blamed her. “I don’t understand you y/n. I thought you’d be glad I joined you on your revenge mission.”

“You’re so used to getting your way that you can’t imagine things might be more complicated than that.”

“Then tell me what I’m doing wrong! You didn’t accept my apology… I mean, what more do you want?”

“I want you to realize that my career was my life and it was taken away from me. I’ve never felt more powerless than when I got fired and now I can’t even make my own decisions because you decided that you know better than everyone else. And the fact that you don’t even let me decide what to do about something that only concerns me and George…”

She broke off, not sure how to finish her sentence. He didn’t seem sure of what to say either.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t more attentive to this.” He sat in the chair next to her. “I guess I always saw Fittes like a prison and couldn’t see how getting fired from there was a bad thing. I’ll make sure to listen to your opinion… if it’s worth listening to.” He winked at her. She felt acknowledged for the first time since her troubles had begun. It wasn’t perfect, but it was an improvement. She smiled back at him. Though, she felt like there was more that he wanted to say. He hesitated, not sure how to phrase what he had in mind.

“Don’t take this the wrong way but the relic-dealing case isn’t just about you and George anymore.” He said cautiously. She frowned.

“People are dying over it.” He continued. “Dozens of sources are being stolen from any place that might have something of value and aren’t secured properly. Because of that some of them broke and let out a visitor that killed people nearby.” He looked into her eyes. “We need to stop this, y/n. Some relic-men managed to get their hands on relics that contained spirits that broke free when they mishandled the sources. This type of ghost will kill the first thing it sees as soon as it breaks free.” He grew more passionate as he explained what he knew. He was staring at something in the distance, his gaze focused, like he was looking through a window to the past. There was turmoil in his voice. It was unsettling, he was usually either indifferent or very professional when talking about visitors.

She listened intently, hanging on to every word. She realized she was staring at him when he suddenly stopped talking and looked down at the table. He looked haunted. She had never seen him so vulnerable before.

“How do you want to proceed?” She asked, trying to make him think of something else.

He looked back at her and blinked in surprise.

“I thought you didn’t want to take orders from me anymore?”

“Vulnerability’s a good look on you.”

The faintest blush appeared on his cheeks. He almost looked shy. She didn’t think it was possible for Lockwood to look anything other than proud and annoyingly attractive.

“I hope this isn’t another one of your acts to get me to forgive you.” She teased him. Though a part of it was true. She still didn’t know if she could trust his puppy eyes. She was about to get up when he took both of her hands in his to make her look at him.

“y/n, I need you to know that I never had the intention to trick you or charm or whatever you want to call it. I was always honest and I meant everything I told you.”

She could get used to seeing him like this. She actually felt like she got to see him for who he really was. And she loved this version of him. The real him. She took back her hands at the thought.

“Even when you said I was pretentious and helpless?” She said to ease the tension she was feeling.

“I meant the nice things.” He corrected. He laughed lightly and looked deep into her eyes with the same warmth from a few weeks ago, when he comforted her in the library. She had no idea how he could maintain eye contact with so much intensity in his gaze. She wondered if the oven was still on with how hot the room was getting.

“Though I wasn’t completely wrong when I said you were pretentious.” He winked.

“You’re the worst!” She laughed as she pushed him away and got up to go back to her room.

“I’ll tell George to get back to work on my way up.” She gave him one last smile before opening the door to the kitchen.

“Goodnight, y/n.”

Unfortunately, it wasn’t. Screaming filled her ears and she was paralyzed with fear. It was coming from everywhere, surrounding her and nulling her senses. At first, she couldn’t see anything. The place was pitch black and horribly cold. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dark. She had no idea where she was. It looked like some sort of warehouse, with industrial equipment resting under a thick layer of dust. Spiderwebs covered every inch of them and climbed up to the ceiling. That wasn’t a good sign. The screaming intensified. It sounded like a group of teenagers. Her psychic senses, usually sharp even under pressure, were blurry and didn’t give her any indication on what was going on. She noticed a door in the corner of her eye and tried to run to it but her legs refused to work. It was like she was fused in place, unable to move. She panicked as the screaming got closer. But the threat passed right through her. She felt a freezing bolt of energy crashing into her before opening two tall doors wide. A group of agents tried to close them back, they were losing control of the situation. y/n was forced to watch the scene, unable to help. One of them, she assumed the leader of the group, shouted orders that were barely audible above the wind that had risen up. The group went back through the doors, struggling to keep them close. At the last minute, two girls appeared right before they shut. One of them was injured, but she was too far for y/n to see her face. The second girl took off her jacket to tend to her wound. She looked like she was screaming at someone outside but y/n couldn’t see anything from where she was. She desperately wanted to help but her feet did not move. Suddenly the girl looked right at her. It was her. The one who had been haunting her dreams for weeks. She had accusing eyes and said something to her that she couldn’t make out. Then she started screaming. Louder than the wind, louder than the screams of her teammates, louder than y/n’s own screaming.

She bolted up in bed, her throat sore and drenched in sweat.

#ukuwrites #who follows the rules anyway #lockwood and co fic #lockwood and co #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x y/n #lockwood and co imagine #anthony lockwood #lockwood & co

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cameronspecial · 10 months

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Kitchen Disaster (Anthony Lockwood x Reader)

Pairing: Anthony Lockwood x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

Pronouns: She/Her

Request: How do you feel about writing a Locklye fic where Lockwood plans a fancy dinner for just Lucy and him? The catch is that he decides to make the food but he's totally not that great in the kitchen. You can make it as cheesy as you'd like! Hehe

A/N: This was requested by @fivecoffeemugs. Sorry it isn’t Locklye, but I hope this is okay. Also, on a side note, these are totally not things that have happend to me while I cook.

Anthony Lockwood loves Y/N Y/L/N and hates cooking, but when she is the one always taking care of him and making sure that he ate something, he wanted to do something special for him. It is safe to say that it is not going well at all. The carbonara recipe he is making seemed pretty simple to Lockwood, but he is proven wrong very quickly. He could smell the garlic bread burning in the oven. First, it was the fact that he accidentally turned on the wrong stove when trying to boil the water for the pasta, then it was the pot boiling over and now it was the garlic bread in the oven.

Lockwood quickly turned the stove off and took the baking tray out of the oven. The bread looked almost like coal. He didn’t have much time to worry about the bread as he moved on to focus on the bacon in the pan. At least that is still going well. Once he finishes with the bacon, he places it on a paper towel-lined plate and looks at the bacon fat in the pan. He remembers something Y/N told him once about not pouring bacon grease down the drain, so he grabs an empty plastic container he finds by the sink and starts pouring the grease into it. He is too impatient to wait for the grease to cool down. However, he starts to panic when he starts to see the plastic container start to deform and curl into itself.

Lockwood needs to think fast before the container melts completely and he finds himself with a greasy mess, so he grabs the container and puts it under cold water. Unfortunately, he isn’t as careful as he thought he was and some grease gets on his skin and he fears he is going to have a burn. “Ouch!” Lockwood yells in pain. “Oh no, Locky! What’s going on? Let me take care of that,” Y/N exclaims with worry in her tone as she comes into the room to see the mess and her boyfriend shaking his hand out. “Y/N, you weren’t supposed to be back until later and I had dinner all nicely laid out for you,” Lockwood complains as he watches her gently take his hand.

“I couldn’t find anything I wanted at the mall, so I came home early. Locky, you didn’t have to do all this for me,” she says as she runs lukewarm water on his hand. God he hated that nickname from anyone else but her. Lockwood pouts, “You always do so much for me and I really wanted to help you out. Now, you just have more of a mess.” Y/N giggles lowly as she kisses the pout off her boyfriend's lips. “Don’t worry, Locky. I’ll order us some pizza and we can worry about this mess tomorrow. Together,” she promises as she lays a kiss on his hand before going to the phone at the front entrance to order their dinner.

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

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disneyprincemuke · 1 month

Note

hiii!!!

i'm catching up with everything that i've missed this week and omg!!!! can't believe the mocky vault is finally out, ily ily ily <3333333

now on another note,,,,, wDYM THERE WILL BE NO MORE LOCKY??????????? THEY'RE MY KIDS!!!! but ngl, i get it, rocky deserves to be happy and i do love the idea of them just staying as best friends who had childhood crushes on each other but never were meant to be. i think that's kinda sweet and it makes you appreciate their friendship more 😞🫶

(btw i'm still halfway with catching up so i'll probably send in more asks as i go, i'm sorry if i'm annoying ajskdk)

OMG BABY UR BACK HI‼️‼️‼️

YEAHHH there’ll be more mocky (soon hopefully) because there’s a universe dedicated to them too (hehe)

anD YEAH NO MOre locky because i just want girl and boy best friends to work like at least once,, and rocky, logan and oscar was supposed to be just that.

(also pls keep spamming me,, i love to hear what u have to say and we can giggle and cry together yk? HEHE)

#disneyprincemuke asks #dpm x flwrclouds #disneyprincemuke vr #dpm vr asks

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snoozingredpanda · 5 months

Note

new character????? hand them over!! 🤲🏼

Captain — Lockie Richards

Fem!Reader

Warnings: just headcannons lol (more like her whole life story but yk sometimes you can’t stop writing I word-vomited cause I love her so much she fighting Benni for top spot rn), mentions of wars, injury, guilt, depression, anxiety, physical disability, vomit

—

• Lockie joined the US Air Force as soon as she turned 17. All her life she’d loved the sky, and everything to do with it, the stars and moon, the clouds, and of course, aircrafts. She liked all kinds, but planes were her favourite. From the age of 3 she was whizzing around the garden with her grandfather holding a luftwaffe, whom she was chasing with a spitfire, reenacting the battles of the wars. She’d always win, of course, since her grandfather made sure she held the plane whom’s side was victorious.

• Her grandfather had been in the Royal Air Force in Britain, after his parents escaped Eastern Europe with him in the early 1940’s. Having grown up watching the soldiers and pilots fight, he made it his dream to fight in the skies and protect his country. He passed this inspiration to small Lockie.

• Growing up, Lockie’s parents had tried to shield her from her grandfather. He was… a little too adult for her. They didn’t want her knowing about what happened in the wars, she was only small, not even in school yet. But hearing about all the courageous pilots made her just want to fight in the skies even more!

• Lockie was a bit different growing up. She was tiny until she was around 15, and then she shot up. Big time. By the time she was 17, enlisting in the air force, she was at a staggering 6’4, and had more muscle mass than most of her male peers, also shaving the sides of her head and keeping the top fairly short, just for that added oomph. This made her an excellent candidate, and due to her prior knowledge of flying, she was up in the skies by 18.

• She loved it. Waking up early, drills, cleaning, flying — all aspects of the army life made her so happy. All her colleagues loved her, she was so charming and smiley, and was the most loyal person you’d ever met.

• Lockie was often put on jobs that involved boldyguarding. Mostly due to her intimidating look, but also because her higher ups knew she’d take a bullet for a stranger. She didn’t mind these jobs, but would rather be in the skies.

• She was promoted to Captain in just three years of being there. She was just too good at her job. She was destined to be one of the greatest female flyers in history. If it weren’t for the mission on January 3rd.

• It never should have happened. Lockie was supposed to be in Washington, not flying across to Eastern Europe with her crew. It was cold and there were harsh winds, but the last crew had pulled out due to a wave of measles, and Lockie’s was next in line.

• They hadn’t even made it past France when the plane started to malfunction. Lockie and her five other pilots who’d accompanied her worked hard to try and figure out the problem, but they knew it was hopeless. Lockie knew she had to try and land, but the area was rocky and it would be practically impossible.

• The six huddled together for a moment, a final wish, a goodbye even, before Lockie tried her absolute hardest. But not even a pilot with 30 years experience could have saved them. The engine was spluttering and the body was shaking, and then they crashed into the hillsides of Germany.

• Lockie was the only one who survived, and she never forgave herself. She was so, so stupid, forgetting to check her plane over before the big flight. She could have prevented this but she didn’t.

• Lockie didn’t come out unscathed, either. She lost her right leg, to the mid-thigh, and was in a coma for a month afterwards. She lost her confidence, and her nerve. No longer was she Captain Lockie Richards, she was just Lockie. She became shy, quiet, troubled. Incredibly anxious.

• She could barely leave her apartment for months on end. People scared her, so much that she would freeze up and have terrible panic attacks when doing something as simple as taking the garbage out. Slowly, she managed to keep herself together to go out, but if people talk to her, she has an internal crisis and searches for any way out of the conversation.

• Her family and friends were worried. Having to learn to use a prosthetic while battling her mentality was clearly not working very well. Lockie was a shell of what she used to be, and since hid herself away from the world, ashamed, embarrassed and guilt-ridden.

• She became the mechanic of the air base, working alone, silently, never working on a machine that took to the skies. Just cars and artillery, even taking in some for the naval base nearby. She works with her headphones on, so that everyone knows not to bother her, not that anyone does unless it’s urgent. They know she’s struggling, and that talking to her just makes her want to throw up with nerves. And gosh… if anyone even mentions her flying… Way too many intrigued rookies have been dragged away by Lockie’s angry mates for making her hide in the storage cupboard, sobbing so hard she spews.

• She dreads flying now. Vows to never step foot on a plane or helicopter or anything of the kind. Has to look away whenever a plane takes off on the runway nearby.

• She visits her grandfathers grave and weeps, apologising for doing more harm than good.

• She needs someone to tell her to stfu she’s amazing and it wasn’t her fault.

• Will that be you? It better be cause I ain’t writing heartbreak for this girl-

• Oh yeah lol yandere. She’s the manipulative, clingy type. Doesn’t mean to but she can’t bare to see you leave. Won’t hurt anyone but will use her intimidated stature to scare people off. Probably wouldn’t kidnap you but maybe if you’re slipping from her grasp or have a dangerous job she needs to protect you from.

• :3

#yandere #oc #x reader #oc x reader #yandere x reader #fem oc #fem reader

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roris-ramblings · 1 year

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AU where The cast of Lockwood and Co. are Circle People Drawings with Arms And Legs (no hands or feet) and They Are All Different Colors but Their Hair Isn’t a Drawing It’s Human Hair Taped To Their Forehead We Can Call It The “McMaster’s AU”

Lucy’s soulless circles that were a sad excuse for eyes looked over to Lockwood’s. His grey skin tone complimented her dark blue complexion.

“Lucy,” he said. “I think you’re quite beautiful. Your circle is symmetrical.”

Lucy was oblivious to the fact that he was flirting with her. “Why, thank you!” She exclaimed.

George sighed. Though he had his unchanging smile, it still managed to look disappointed. His forest green color was perfect in their trio, and it sort of completed the look. He was quite disappointed in his friend’s inability to convey their emotions and understand each others.

“Lucy, I really like you. And I want you to know that.”

Lucy smiled. It didn’t get bigger or anything. It was the smile she had had her entire life. “I like you too, Lockwood!”

Lockwood sighed. “No! Lucy, I-“ he stuttered. “Luce, listen. I love you. I want to spend the rest of my pages with you. I love your laugh and voice, even though our mouths cannot open. I love how perfect the tape to hair ratio is on your forehead.” He touched the end of his right arm to the end of her left arm, a sign of affection in the not even a stick figure, “little Ms.” vibes but drawn by a four-year-old on crack world. “I love the way you float on the page, it’s like no others. I love the angle your hair sticks up. I love the way you care about even the smallest of creatures, except for spiders. I love the way that even when everyone doubted you could talk to that skull in a jar which makes no sense because there are no jars or skulls in this world you proved us wrong. I love your determination. I, Anthony Lockwood, love everything about you, Lucy Carlyle.”

George looked at Lockwood. “Lockwood you are so dead! You told me and Flo that you didn’t like anyone who went to our school at the sleep over Tuesday!”

Lucy glared at George. “WHAT? We aren’t even school, stop running the moment!” Lucy gulped. “Lockwood, I- I like you too. I love you in fact. I love you in fact. I love the perfect shade of dark brown your hair is. I love the sound of your voice early in the morning. I love the way you look when you sleep, with your soulless eyes wide open because we can’t blink. I love-“

Flo cut them off. “Get a room!” She had appeared literally out of thin air because she isn’t real so she can do that. None of them are real, they’re just circle drawings. “Anyway, Locky you need to check the cafe thing I took you too in the TV series’ board out. It had something I think will be useful too you. Oh yeah, and bring George and your little sneaky link.”

“How do you expect me to go to a location if we only exist in a blank piece of paper?” There was a pause. “WAIT. SNEAKY LINK?!”

George and Florence bursted with laughter. They soon walked to a different part of the page.

Lockwood and Lucy stared into each other’s eyes. Lucy pushed the side of her face against Lockwood’s which is supposed to signify them kissing, i guess.

And they all lived in a consistent time loop, because they are circles so time is also probably circular.

The end.

#McMaster’s AU Lockwood and Co.#Lockwood and Co.#locklyle #anthony lockwood #lockwood and co fanfic #lucy carlyle #George cubbins #george karim #flo bones #florence bonnard #Canon divergent #fanfic #lockwood and lucy #McMaster’s AU

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tales-of-two · 3 years

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Dorky's Soul Plea, the [ACT] Of Love / Part 1 / Comic / Story

Saide brought Dorky into the God's realm, this was good break for Dorky after snapping out of his whole bad guy phase, but Kaname wasn't expecting to meet him so soon.

Especially since Kaname knows that Dorky has been searching for him desperately.

Dorky looks around confused "u-um miss Saide where did you bring me?"

Karma was floating in midair lazily he waved to their new guest.

"Eyy sup lil double sided coin, you caused quite a havoc in the mortal realm, and if you're gonna ask why I'm lumped in here, I'm way too powerful to wander free, annnd I'mma god of bad luck, just my..'luck' huh." He shrugs snickering.

"Name's Karma squirt, looks like I'll have fun picking on ya' later."

Before Dorky could respond his attention is immediately fixated on his creator, is this really him? It must be him! After so long, Dorky gasped and opened his mouth. "It's you it's really you!"

Kaname tensed up hearing a familiar voice, his only thought was 'shit..! He wasn't supposed to come here, especially him, what am I supposed to do..?' he cleared his throat and sheepishly gave a peace sign.

"Heya Dorky, long time no see."

Dorky was about to respond but he felt something shoot through his mind he blinked in surprise, Kaname had established a link so the two could talk in private with one another.

Kaname was nervous but he did his best to act natural.

"Dorky look..I already know what your gonna ask, but my answer is NO, I know you've been searching for me so we could merge into one again but..I refuse to erase you from existence..so there."

Dorky's expression drops he gave a small sigh. "..Hear me out before you reject me, all I need you to do is listen and let me explain, my reason and want to be erased has changed, this time it has meaning and purpose.."

He explained his plea while flashing images through Kaname's mind.

"When I was in my..empty state..Locky and I were linked with one another. During that time I could faintly hear Locky's cries at the time I didn't feel anything so I didn't care."

"After I regained control of myself I thought back to what I heard and it turns out it wasn't LockHart who was crying out (after all he never cries), it was a part of him desperately wanting to escape."

"It was his soul / Emerald, Locky's soul was crying out in agony because it wanted nothing more than to return to it's owner...but it can't because Locky's original soul had been torn to pieces and made into soul thread by that mean ol' gaster..."

"This is the part I want you to listen to the most master..I know you aren't cruel.."

"I wanted to ask..if you could erase me and if you do..I want you to pass on my soul to my only best friend LockHart..please Kaname this is the only thing I want, not for me but for him."

"I know he can be cruel, hurtful, scary, a big baby, and mean, but..he's hurting and he doesn't even know it, I only want him to be happy and to actually feel positive emotions."

"I-I'd so anything for him because despite how mean he is to me, I love him he's my only best friend and he's lonely, he won't make friends or have a future the way he is..please.." Dorky did his best to hold back the tears in his eye sockets.

"Let. Me. Give. Him. A better life Kaname..please..he deserves it."

Kaname thought for a moment he knew he couldn't dilly dally knowing Karma and his love of his life were in the same room.

Soon a grin formed over his expression. "Ya' little bastard...I knew it was a bad idea to make 'love' your main trait..it's a powerful thing isn't it..? I would know, I'd give anything to make Saide happy." he pauses before exhaling.

"..Alrighty..my lil marshmallow..ya' got me.."

He glanced over at him giving him a half sad smile, but Kaname's heart was more so touched than sad.

"I'll come and get you when you're alone, but for now I want you to go and make amends for everything that's happened, and say your last goodbyes to the people you care about, they'd be devastated if you just up and disappeared without saying anything.."

Dorky's lil eyelights lit up "y-you mean it?! Oh Locky's gonna be so happy! Yes yes I'll do that! Thank you so much master! And thank you so much for giving LockHart a chance, I'll go home quickly and-"

Kaname had a smug expression over his face "not so fast lil marshmallow, looks like my girl has other plans for ya', safe travels~" he wiggled his fingers at Dorky.

Dorky tilts his skull confused, unaware that a portal had opened up behind himself.

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peterpandiedtoday · 2 years

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frickinnn first cats for me after locky and what was thaaatttt did some people have too much glüh or did sth happen backstage bc wowie. first one i truuly noticed was cori laughing all the time? at everything? tanto was a bit giggly too but the actress seems to be a bit like that anyway and thennn carbucketty. massive. no idea what was going on. i did notice he tripped a little during his first entrance but it happens, it’s just a lil trip. then he (and a few others) picked singing back up too early after the shoe throw (most of them laughed) but his dancing? was so off? and it showed sooooooooo bad during the ball? offbeat or just not rly doing the movements? (cori on the other hand almost overdid it if that’s even possible) and where it was the most visible was when he’s supposed to be in sync with misto and he just.. wasn’t? don’t even know what to say. obviously no idea at all what happened but he got replaced after intermission so oof

#personal Davy #i'm not mad or thinking badly of anyone i'm just v curious w t h was going on #at one point wondered whether cori was maybe high or sth it was so extreme #but anyway. now. if i struggle to notice anywhere else god is always real when it comes to cats fr fr fr #like i was feeling a bit meh bc i'd get the jenny cover that i absolutely do not like and also og griz but that's not aas important #then i saw carbucketty was misto and idkkkk i feel like his usual cover does everyone the same and it makes me sad?#he's not even bad (usually lol) or anything i guess subconsciously i just wanted to see og but whatever #but i love cats for cats and not necessarily the actors so it's not That big of a deal but gxd really graced me i just <333 #fetterle munk. i got a fetterle munk. i love him so muchhhh. so. much.#and then i also get two carbuckettys? hello? praise the lord?!#one thing i need to mention before it gets too long. the old deut decoy mask landed on munk. the implications..#it fell onto his head the right way round and stayed there. it wasn't completely chin to chin but still as if he had put it on

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

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Stark Spangled Destiny

Co-Created with @icanfeelastormbrewing

Chapter 1- Breaking Point

Chapter Summary: Struggling to cope following the birth of their youngest, Katie has been hiding her feelings from Steve until an incident at home causes her to blow. Later, she takes a drive to clear her head and ends up in a familiar place, where she encounters and even more familiar face…

Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words. Deals with the subject of Post-Partum Depression so please avoid if this triggers.

Chapter Pairings: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: So this little Mini-Series is coined from an idea @icanfeelastormbrewing sent to me a while ago. It deals with some gritty subjects and is going to be quite angsty in places. I really hope I’ve done this sensitively. Huge thanks to Storm and @southerngracela for being my unofficial betas here.

Please let me know what you think- comments and re-blogs muchly appreciated.

Chaos. That was the only word to describe the Rogers household at that point in time. Flossie was teething and screaming as a consequence whilst Katie was trying her best to sooth her, but to no avail. Emmy was supposed to have taken Jamie and Rori out for the day, but she’d been invited out with friend and because Katie didn’t want her to have to spend her spare time helping her out instead of doing something fun, she’d told her not to worry about it and that she’d manage. And for the most part of the morning she had.

But not now.

Katie sighed as the screaming from the Den grew louder and rolled her eyes. She turned to the only one of her kids that was quiet at that time, Harry, who was sat at the kitchen table colouring, his little tongue poking out in concentration.

“You ok for a minute baby?” Katie looked at Harry.

He nodded “Yes momma.” She looked at him, before she headed to the den to see what carnage awaited. When she walked in the door she saw Jamie stood there, the body to Rori’s Barbie doll in one hand, head in the other. Rori was screaming and stamping her feet.

“What the hell is going on?”

“HE BROKE MY ARMY BARBIE!” Rori screamed.

“Not on purpose!” Jamie said.

“YES YOU DID!” Rori continued “You PULLED it and said that…”

“Ok, ok…” Katie sighed, cutting her off. “Jamie, why did you even take it from her in the first place?” “She was hitting me with it.” “Rori is that true?” Rori looked down at the carpet, dragging her toe slightly across the light blue rug “Maybe…”

“You know, I don’t need this today.” Katie sighed “Flossie’s mouth hurts, your dad is busy with stuff at work…” “It’s a Saturday.” Rori pouted “He should be with us.” “Yes, and he said he was sorry.” Katie looked at her “But he explained to you this morning he had to help some of his students as they have exams next week. He’ll be home soon and said he would make it up to you both tomorrow…” “But I want him here now…” Rori stamped her foot and Katie felt her temper starting to snap.

“Well, too bad!” she said loudly and Rori looked at her “Sorry, but he isn’t so you’ll just have to put up with me, and I know I’m a huge disappointment compared to your father but…” she shifted Flossie in her arms who had finally stopped crying. “Now, Jamie, go put the doll on the side in the kitchen.” Jamie walked out of the room as she turned to Rori. “Daddy will probably be able to fix it when he gets home, ok?” “Ok.” She nodded.

“And In future, don’t hit your bother with it.” Katie looked at her “Because then stuff like this happens.”

Rori opened her mouth to argue but one look from Katie made her shut it again. “Now, why don’t you bring the Scrapbook and do it at the table whilst Harry colours? Let Jamie play his computer in here alone.” “Ok Momma.” Rori nodded.

Satisfied that splitting them up would at least, for the time being, solve the issue Katie waited for her to gather the various bits of craft stuff she wanted to use and she pottered into the kitchen. Jamie was stood next to Harry who was enthusiastically pointing at something on the page and talking to him animatedly. She had to give it to her eldest son, when it came to Harry and Flossie, he had the patience of a saint but Rori…well, she pissed him off and to be honest Katie could understand why. She could be a damned nightmare and when she was in one of those moods, the only person that seemed to be able to quell her bad behaviour was Steve. One annoyed look from her Daddy and she would stop dead, it normally took Katie a little longer and as for anyone else…well, they might as well just all go to hell.

Taking a look at Flossie who was now mouthing at her collar bone, she moved to the freezer, grabbed a teething ring and settled her in the little bounce chair, the 5 month old seemingly calmed for the time being.

“Mom, can I see if Seb can come over?” Jamie asked.

“No chance.” Katie shook her head “You just broke Rori’s doll, absolutely no way is your friend coming over.” “What?” Jamie blinked.

“Actions have consequences Jamie.” She shrugged.

“But it was an accident.”

“Yeah, the doll’s head just fell off in your hands did it?” she looked at him.

“No, it was…” “Did you pull it?” “Yes, but…” “So what exactly where you trying to do if not break it?”

Jamie fell silent.

“Exactly” Katie shrugged “So no, he’s not coming over. If you behave then maybe tomorrow he can come stay, you can play in the pool.” “Dad said he was taking us to Coney Island tomorrow!” Jamie whined “So Seb can’t come then!” “Oh, how hard it must be to be you.” Katie said sarcastically “Choosing the Fair or your friend…” Jamie glared at her, folding his arms. “Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.” “My dad always said it was a metric for potential.” She shot back, shrugging as she turned to the dishwasher which she had been halfway through unloading when Flossie had started screaming. “Guess I’ll be a great woman one day.”

With her back to Jamie she smiled gently at the memory of the words her father had once said, and Tony’s reaction. And had she been any deeper in her memories she wouldn’t have heard the little jab that Jamie made.

“God living here sucks…” “Well feel free to pack a bag and leave.” Katie said simply as she turned round to look at her son. “In fact, tell me where you wanna go and I’ll drop you off myself.”

“Maybe I will.” He shot back.

“Like I said, go ahead, I’m not stopping you.”

“Whatever Mom.” He rolled his eyes “You can’t kick me out. I’m only 10!” “I’m not kicking you out. You said you wanted to go, I’m simply not stopping you.” He arched an eyebrow, his action making him look even more ridiculously like Steve and his hands dropped to his hips. “Fine, then I’ll just go to Uncle Bucky’s.” “Ok” Katie said, closing the dishwasher. “Go pack a bag, Uncle Buck can deal with your attitude because I don’t want to anymore.” She held Jamie’s gaze, refusing to look away. Eventually her son’s eyes flickered away from her and he turned around with a groan. “God, sometimes you’re the worse mom in the world.”

It shouldn’t have annoyed her as much as it did, because God knows she’d said far worse to Tony when she was younger, and it was a stupid flippant comment, she knew that. But, coupled with everything that had gone on that morning and how much she’d been struggling in general with the kids recently, her patience which had been hanging by a thread, finally snapped. She could quite happily have slapped him right across the face but instead she took a deep breath and shook her head, glaring at him.

“You know what? I’ve really had my fill of you today James, get up to your room.”

“What?” “You heard me!” Katie’s voice rose as she pointed to the door. “Get out of my sight and up those fucking stairs now!”

Jamie blinked at her, she had never sworn at him like that before and his mouth dropped open and he swallowed.

“I’m telling dad you used bad language.” He stuttered in response and Katie gave a sarcastic laugh. “Oh, are you? Well guess what? I don’t give a shit. You can tell him about that one too!” she blazed “Now I won’t tell you again. Go to your room.” “I hate you.” Jamie seethed, and with a final glare at his mom, he wheeled round and stomped from the room. Katie heard his door slam before she leaned on the kitchen counter hanging her head, her eyes filling with tears. And then Flossie started to cry again.

“Momma?” Harry asked tentatively and she wiped her eyes and looked up, smiling.

“Yes honey?” “I no hate you.” He said softly and she gave him a little smile.

“Me neither.” Rori said softly. “Jamie was mean.” Katie shook her head as she crossed the room to pick Flossie up. “He’s just angry because I told him off, don’t worry about it. Now can you two just behave in here for a second whilst I take Flossie into the living room and try calm her down?”

“Promise Momma.” Rori said. Katie smiled softly, this was the other side to her daughter. The sweet, gentle, sassy but well behaved one that 9 times out of 10 the little girl displayed. She took Flossie with her, gently rocking her and soothing her again until her cries became little sniffles. And then she pulled her phone out of her pocket and called Steve.

***** Steve had just finished with the last small group of Students when Katie’s call came through.

“Hey honey, that was good timing.” He said gently, smiling “I’ve just this minute finished.” “Ok.” She said softly “I just wanted to check what time you’d be home.” “Oh, erm…” Steve hesitated, “Look, about that. Bucky called before and asked if I fancied meeting him and Sam for a drink before I come back for pizza like we promised the kids. Just I’ve not seen them in a few weeks really and…” “Oh.”

Steve frowned, that wasn’t like her. Normally she didn’t give a shit about stuff like that, in fact half the time she encouraged him to go out and socialise “Sweetheart if it’s a problem I can come home straight away?” “Please.” She said softly, and then to Steve’s horror she began to cry.

“Baby, what is it?” he said, grabbing his car keys and his jacket before he picked up his briefcase and strode from his office, locking the door behind him.

“I just…” she took a deep shuddering breath “The kids have been driving me crazy. Well, ok not all of them, but Flossie is teething and won’t settle, Jamie and Rori have been fighting and Jamie pulled the head off her doll…” “Hang on…” Steve frowned as he walked out of the main door to the Art Faculty and took a right towards the parking lot. “I thought Emmy was taking those two out to give you a chance to keep an eye on Floss.”

“She cancelled earlier, said she’d been invited out. I didn’t want to spoil her plans, I mean like she said, they’re not her kids to babysit…” “Woah, she said that?” Steve reached his car and unlocked it, his frown growing deeper. “She actually said those words?” “Pretty much.” Katie sighed “But she’s right, Steve. They’re our kids, my issue to look after them. Emmy has been working all week and…” “Katie, you asked her for one favour. One favour because Flossie hasn’t been well. It’s not like you ask her all the time. She shouldn’t have said that.” Steve tossed his jacket into the back of the car, shaking his head in frustration at his eldest. “Well that’s two of us saying things we shouldn’t…” Katie sniffed

“What do you mean?” he asked. “I really lost it at Jamie. I wouldn’t let him invite Seb over because of the doll and then when he threatened to leave I said I’d pack his back and drive him wherever he wanted to go and then he called me the worse mom in the world and…” Steve paused, leaning against the open door of his car taking a deep breath “He said what?”

“He hates me too, apparently.” Katie sniffed “And I know he’s lashing out and saying stupid crap because he’s angry but I lost it at him, told him to get up the fucking stairs and…Steve I really wanted to hit him.” She started to cry again and Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. He hated hearing her like this. She had been up and down since Flossie had been born but had insisted it was merely hormones and tiredness. As he stood there, the guilt washing over him at the fact he’d left her alone today in the first place, he was starting to wish he’d forced her to go to the Doctors months ago instead of accepting her insistence that she would be fine.

“Did you hit him?” he asked softly, already knowing the answer

“No, of course no!” she said back, angrily “What do you take me for?”

“I don’t take you for anything Sweetheart” he replied not rising to her anger, despite the fact he felt equally as pissed at his son’s attitude “I’m merely making the point that it doesn’t matter what you felt. The fact is you didn’t.” “But…” “Honey, stop.” He said gently “Look, I’ll be home in about half hour. I’ll deal with him then and I’ll take them all out for a walk with Stark before dinner ok? Give you a little peace.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t want to ruin your plans or…” “You haven’t. They’re my kids too. We’re a team, we always will be.”

She sniffed again “Ok, see you soon.” “Yeah, hey. I love you.” “Love you too.” He cut the call and got in the car, starting the engine and as soon as his Bluetooth had synched up, he instructed the voice control to call Emmy.

“Hey Pops…” “Don’t hey pops me, I have a bone to pick with you Emily Jayne Rogers.” He said sternly “Did you actually say to your ma that you weren’t helping out with Jay and Rori today because, and I quote, they’re not yours to babysit?” There was a pause “No, that’s…those weren’t my exact words.” “Well what were?” he asked, pulling the car out of the parking lot and onto the road.

Emmy sighed “I just said that I’d been invited out and seeing as I’d been working all week and they’re not actually my kids, I didn’t want-“

Steve let out a growl “For fucks sake Em…”

“Woah, hang on…” “We asked you to help us out today because Flossie’s been bad with her teeth and your mom needed a bit of time to just concentrate on her.”

There was a pause “Well why didn’t she just say that before?” “Because she’s your mom, and she won’t ever ask you to do something like that when you don’t want to, you know this.” Steve replied. “And now I’ve just had her on the phone, crying her eyes out as Jamie’s told her he hates her…” he sighed

“Sorry Dad.” Emmy said quietly “I didn’t….if I’d have realised it was that big of an issue…” “We know they’re not your kids but if we ask you to help out it’s a last resort.” Steve continued, “I’m well aware you and Queens have your own life to lead too and we don’t want to take it for-granted that you can drop everything to help out, but sometimes…well, especially with everything that happened with Flossie, your mom just needs a hand ok? She’s done enough for you over the years. She still does.”

“I know.” Emmy said. “I’m really sorry.”

“Ok. Let’s leave it there then.” He said, his tone softer “Are you home tonight or…” “Yeah, I’ll be home around 10. I’ll apologise to mom then too“ “Fine, I’ll see you later.”

After another apology from Emmy, Steve cut the call and took a deep, calming breath as he slowed to a stop at a set of lights. He was dreading what he was going to walk into when he got home. He hated being ‘Bad Cop’ but there was no way Jamie was getting away with what he said, regardless of whether or not Katie had snapped at him.

True to his word he arrived home just under 30 minutes after speaking to Katie. He let himself in, giving Stark a quick pat hello before he was accosted by a flurry of a pink t-shirt and brown hair.

“Hi daddy!” Rori grinned at him as he swept her up into a hug.

“Hey Princess.” He smiled, giving her a kiss to her cheek. He then smiled at Harry who was toddling towards him, and with his other arm he easily picked him up too. “Hey buddy.”

With a kid held by each arm, he followed Flossie’s soft cries to the living room.

“Hi sweetheart.” He said, smiling at Katie who looked at him as she gently rocked their daughter to and fro in the little rocking crib that stood by the sofa. He took a deep breath as he looked at her face. She was exhausted, he could see that. Her eyes were red from crying, she was pale but she still managed a soft smile at him.

“Listen, can you 2 go play and let me speak to momma for a few minutes? I promise I’ll come through in a little while ok?” he looked from Harry to Rori who gave a dramatic pout but one look from Steve stopped her in her tracks and she sighed.

“Ok Daddy.” “Thank you.” He smiled as he placed them both down and they headed out of the room.

“C’mere.” He said to Katie as he dropped down next to her and she leaned straight into his open arms as he pressed a soft kiss to her head. “You wanna tell me properly what happened?” So she did. She explained all about the fight between Jamie and Rori, the broken doll, her argument with Jamie afterwards. She was sobbing by the time she finished, and Steve simply sat still, his arms round her as she pressed her face into his chest.

“So you cursed at him.” Steve said, and Katie nodded “Ok, well, I’m sure he’s heard far worse from TV and Bucky and Sam for that matter.” “That’s not the point Steve.” Katie shook her head, pulling back “I lost my temper, big time. I shouldn’t have done. I could have quite happily smacked him straight across the face.” She sniffed “What kind of mother feels that?”

“Katie, what he said was downright nasty. I’m not surprised you flipped.”

“I know he was pushing the boundaries and what he had said was out of order but still, he’s a kid.” she swallowed “I should know better than to argue back with him or scream at him the way I did.” “Honey, you’ve had a really, really stressful year one way or another.” He took a deep breath and wiped her tears with his thumb “I do think though that you should see a doctor, just to talk about things.” Katie shook her head “I’m just tired Steve.” “Katie, you said this the other month when I suggested it and you’re clearly not.”

“Steve I don’t need to see anyone.”

“You trying to convince me or yourself?” he rolled his eyes.

“I just need a nap. I’m exhausted.”

“Katie…” “Just leave it Steve.” She said a little louder. “Please.” Steve took a deep breath “Fine, I’ll leave it for tonight. But this conversation is not over.”

She looked at him, her green eyes flashing angrily before she shook her head and stood up “Whatever, I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”

“Do you want me to order you any dinner?”

She shook her head “Just get what they want, I’ll eat something later.”

He watched her go before he glanced down at Flossie who was sleeping and headed through to the kitchen.

“Daddy we get eeza?” Harry looked up at him and Steve smiled, dropping his hand to the back of his head.

“Sure are.” He smiled “What kind d’ya want?”

“Ham and ineapple.” He nodded.

Steve pulled a face “Pineapple does not belong on pizza.” “Does.” Harry insisted giggling “You silly.”

“Oh am I?” Steve asked, his hands shooting down to his son’s side as he tickled him slightly, Harry giving a squeal as he squirmed away from his touch. Steve chuckled and dropped a kiss to his head as Rori watched him.

“I agree with Harry.” She said “Ham and pineapple is the best.”

“Well I’ll get you a large one and you can both share it, that ok?” Rori nodded and he smiled “Ok, Rori I need you to do me a huge favour. I need to go and speak to Jamie. Flossie is sleeping but if you hear her wake up I need you to come get me ok?”

“He broke my doll.” Rori said, frowning, “Look.” She pointed to the side and Steve looked up, taking a deep breath as his eyes fell on the beheaded toy.

“I know, and that’s what I’m going to speak to him about.” He looked back at his daughter “Now, Rori, I want you to tell me honestly, what were you doing to him to make him break it.” She looked at him, her green eyes round as she blinked and then looked down at the table “I hit him with it.”

“Why?”

“He was being annoying, he wouldn’t let me watch my programme on TV.”

“Ok, well, you shouldn’t do that.” Steve looked at her sternly. “That was naughty.”

“I know. Sorry.” She looked down again before she glanced back up. “Momma said you might be able to fix her.” “I’ll have a look.” He nodded

“If not then Jamie can buy me a new one with his allowance.” Rori shrugged.

“Erm, no he can’t.” Steve shook his head “It serves you right for hitting him with it in the first place.” “But…Daddy!” Rori exclaimed, utterly horrified.

“Aurora…” Steve looked at her, shaking his head “Don’t argue with me.” She pouted and then let out a dramatic sigh “Fine.” “Now, can you do what I asked whilst I go speak to your brother? And then once I’m done we can go to the park for bit before we order dinner.”

“Yay! Park!” Harry cheered as Rori nodded. Steve ruffled her hair before he headed up the stairs.

He knocked on Jamie’s door and then walked in, closing it behind him. Jamie glanced up at him from where he was sat on his bean bag playing on his Xbox, and one look at Steve’s face made the 10 year old avert his eyes.

“Yeah, you might as well look like that.” Steve said sternly “James, I’m so disappointed in you. Do you have any idea about how upset your mom is after you told her you hated her?”

“I didn’t mean it.” Jamie said, his voice quiet.

“I should hope not.” Steve said, sitting down on the edge of the bed “Why did you say it?”

“Because she was shouting at me and she made me angry.”

“You make us angry too sometimes.” Steve looked at him “How would you feel if we told you we hated you?”

Jamie looked down, swallowing as she shrugged a little “Sad.”

“Exactly.” Steve watched him. “Now, you know why was your mom was shouting don’t you?” “Because I was fighting with Rori and broke her doll.” Jamie said, before he took a deep breath “But she was hitting me with…”

Steve cut him off, holding his hand up “Yes, I know she was being a pain in the ass but she’s younger than you and sometimes you just need to rise above it. We’ve told you before, if she’s annoying you, you come find one of us to deal with her.” “But Flossie was crying so I didn’t want to give mom more to deal with.” Jamie sniffed and Steve saw him reach up to wipe his eyes. “I’m sorry.” “It’s not me you should be apologising to.” Steve said gently.

“I know.” Jamie looked down “I’ll go find mom.” “She’s gone for a nap so you can apologise later when we get dinner.”

“Ok.” Jamie nodded “Do you think she will forgive me?” “Of course she will, she’s your mom. She loves you.” Steve shrugged “But that doesn’t mean what you said is ok or that it won’t hurt anymore. And if I ever hear you saying that to your mom, or anyone of us for that matter I’m gonna be really mad, you got that?” Jamie looked down, his tears falling onto his carpet. “Yes dad.”

Steve took a deep breath and then spoke again, this time his voice was a lot gentler. “You know Rori wants me to make you buy her another Doll out of your allowance.”

“I will if I need to.” Jamie shrugged and Steve smiled, reaching out to gently lay his hand on his son’s head.

“Well, I’ve told her if I can’t fix her doll then its tough luck because she shouldn’t have hit you with it” Steve said. Jamie looked up at him and gave a soft smile. “But that doesn’t mean you breaking it was acceptable.” Jamie nodded to show he understood.

“Ok, well, I’m gonna go check on your momma then we can take Stark for a walk. Get some fresh air at the park. But when we get back, you’re having dinner and going straight to bed ok? Actions…”

“…have consequences, yeah I know.” Jamie nodded.

“Ok, get your stuff and grab Stark’s leash and I’ll meet you downstairs in a minute.” “Ok Dad.”

Steve stood up and headed out of Jamie’s room, over to the landing. He quietly opened the door and as suspected Katie was curled up on the bed, the TV playing gently in the background, her eyes closed as she slept. He walked over to her, dropped a kiss to her head before he turned off the TV and headed back out of the room, closing the door behind him.

*****

When Katie woke the house was quiet and empty. It wasn’t quite 6pm yet, so she assumed Steve had taken the kids out as he had suggested before. But the quiet was as suffocating as the noise had been and she needed to escape. She headed into the hallway, grabbed the keys to her Range Rover before she hesitated, and with a smile took the ones to her Camero instead.

She drove and drove, not paying any attention to where she was going. Just letting the feel of her beloved car sooth her as she turned the steering wheel, the leather smooth in her hand, the noise of the engine reminding her of the day Tony had given it to her.

She drove and drove, and when she finally focused on her surroundings she realised she had driven herself to the old compound perimeter fence. She kept going a little further round, finding the parking lot for the Memorial Gardens before she parked and climbed out. She hadn't set foot on the Garden grounds since that day, 5 years ago almost, when the President has opened them. Once the rubble had been cleared from the grounds, the remaining area of the facility had been refurbished and she had agreed with Pepper to donate it to a Military Charity, although Katie had her suspicions that Ross had gotten his claws into it, even if she couldn't prove it. That area stood behind a huge fence but the rest of the grounds has been converted into public gardens. The lawns were well kept. Shrubs pruned, flower beds well-tended. You would hardly know that a brutal battle had taken place here. But Katie knew, she remembered it like yesterday, and her eyes could pick out that spot from here. The spot she had watched her brother succumb to the injuries he sustained from wearing the gauntlet. She didn't need the little plaque that told her where it was. She could find it in her sleep. Her eyes strayed to the right, to the path that led to the woods round the side which contained the clearing where she had spent so much time with Steve and Nat, and suddenly she craved for it. She craved the peace and sanctuary that little clearing has given her. She strode over the lawns, ignoring the curious looks she was getting from some people who were out in the gardens and slipped through the gaps in the oak trees and headed along the now overgrown track until she came to the little clearing. Smiling, she saw the initials still carved into the tree. SR KS in a heart, Steve's joke one afternoon as they'd snatched half an hour at lunch between his training drills.

“Seriously?” she snorted as Steve turned to her, grinning as he folded his pocket knife up and slipped it into his utility belt.

“This is what we did in my day doll, no graffiti…” he grinned and she shook her head, snorting.

“No, just vandalism on a poor, defenceless tree.” she laughed as his arms circled her waist, his chin dropping to her shoulder.

“Not like the tree can feel it...” He said, kissing her neck.

She gave a little snort at that memory, wondering what exactly Thor’s friend Groot would do if Steve tried to carve their initials into him... The ground was dry thanks to the summer weather so she happily dropped to the grass, her back to the trunk of the aforementioned vandalised tree and pulled her knees to her chest. She took a deep breath, allowing the silence to wash over her, to calm her. She thought about all the times she had spent here and on the compound. The good times had far outweighed the bad, in fact one of the happiest days of her life had been on the lawns out there- her wedding. What a beautiful day that had been some 15 years ago. A time before The Accords, a time before Thanos, a time before the death of her best friend and her brother had ripped a huge hole in her life. Laying her head back against the rough bark she took a deep breath and her mind flicked to the events of the day and how bad she felt about her outburst at Jamie. No one had told her motherhood would be easy. In fact, quite the opposite. But she had coped. And to be honest she thought that her and Steve had done a pretty good job so far. But Flossie had been hard work from the start. She had struggled to feed, struggled to settle at night, the only one out of her and Steve's 4 biological kids to ever fall sick for longer than a day at a time and all this coupled with the fact it had taken Katie almost 2 months to recover from her operation had left her feeling helpless.

She hadn't been able to drive to any of the paediatrician appointments, any of her follow up hospital appointments, hadn't been able to take the kids to school, sports clubs or take Flossie out anywhere to escape the house without help. Steve had stepped up, because he was that kind of man, a good one doing right by his wife and kids, but still the fact she was limited to leaving the house when Steve or someone else was there to lend a hand had been hard on her mentally. This hopeless, dark despair had festered in her chest and she felt useless because she hadn't been able to look after any of her kids alone. And then, as if by magic, the cloud had lifted. She had still been a little down on some days, but on the whole just better. She was given the all clear to exercise so threw herself back into that, losing not only the baby weight from Flossie but taking it a little further and finally ridding herself of the extra 15lb Harry had given her. She felt good, she looked good all things considered, and it showed. She felt happier at work, happier at home and far happier in the bedroom, Steve seemingly couldn't keep his hands off her...but she knew that he would have been like that regardless of what she looked like. That was one thing in her life she was confident in- that her soldier loved her no matter what.

All this meant the noise in her head had quietened to a point where she could shut it out completely, she could get on with life, concentrate on her husband and children, control her emotions...until her outburst today.

Fuck, maybe Steve was right. Maybe she did need to speak to someone. They had warned her at the hospital that she’d feel some mood swings- all part and parcel of recovery as her body went through the damned menopause, thanks to her hysterectomy, and they’d told her that support was available…but the thought needing it made her feel even worse. After everything she had faced, through her SHIELD and Avenging days, her suffering at the hands of HYDRA...she’d never once had PTSD or depression beyond a few nightmares and panic attacks. The thought that she now might need counselling of some description because she was struggling to cope with her baby and her damned emotions made her feel weak.

“What kind of mother can’t cope with her own children?” she mumbled out loud to herself. “I mean, what on Earth is the point of me even being in their lives if that’s the case?”

She fell silent again, as she wiped a tear from her cheek before she closed her eyes, remaining quiet simply listening to the birds and noises of the stream which ran through the woods to the lake…and then a voice spoke. A voice she hadn't heard for 7 years bar in her dreams. A voice she had known all her life. A voice that had comforted her, disciplined her, argued with her, encouraged her...

"I like what they did with the place. A little smaller memorial than I would have liked, but, suppose it’s the thought that counts." Her breathing grew erratic and her eyes flew open, the tears now steadily pouring from them. With a shuddering breath, Katie scrambled to her feet and looked straight into the deep brown eyes of her bother.

Her dead brother.

Her dead brother who was standing in front of her, dressed in one of his usual 3 piece Tom Fords, that typical Tony Stark smirk on his face as he glanced at her, his smile growing even wider.

“Hey Kiddo.”

#stark spangled destiny #steve rogers #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers x oc #katie stark

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chriscalledmesweetie · 4 years

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Fan fiction tag game

Thank you, @loveismyrevolution and @a-different-equation, for tagging me.

AO3 name: ChrisCalledMeSweetie

Fandoms: I mostly write BBC Sherlock, with a bit of Cabin Pressure and a smidge of Good Omens. I got my start in the Glee fandom (hence my username).

Number of fics: I currently have 233 works posted on AO3, but they’re not all traditional fics. Nearly 100 are Sherlockified song lyrics/filk in either The Ballads of John and Sherlock or my Johnlock Comes A-Wassailing series, and another 21 are nursery rhymes in my Mother Goose Ships Johnlock series.

1. Fic you spent the most time on: Although I haven’t updated in a year and a half, I’m still working on Sherlock of Green Gables, which I started posting over two years ago. Does that count?

2. Fic you spent the least time on: I really couldn’t say. A lot of the Johnlock songs I’ve written came to me in the shower, where I sang them over and over until I got out, and then just typed them up. Similarly, the nursery rhymes were pretty instantaneous. I suppose a proper ficlet that took almost no time to write was Cocky Locky (554 words) in which a bump on the head leaves Sherlock amusingly befuddled.

3. Longest Fic: My Johnlock and Mystrade version of Emma — Not Entirely Clueless — is 130,591 words, but Jane Austen helped me write most of them. The longest fic I’ve written on my own (i.e. not an adaptation) is As a White Knight on His Steed,which is 52,840 words of Glee RPF. My longest non-adaptation Sherlock work would be Divinest Sense and its sequel, Our Divinest Senses, which together come in at 38,750 words.

4. Shortest Fic: It depends on what you count as a fic. My Johnlock haiku for the Wits on Tap 2017 poetry remix challenge, Intimate Imprint, is only 14 words. My shortest ficlet (not a poem, song, or nursery rhyme) is Unconventional, at 54 words.

5. Most hits: Figuring It Out Together — in which demisexual Sherlock and bisexual John explore all of the ways they can be intimate — has over 17,000 hits.

6. Most kudos: Again, Figuring It Out Together, with 785 kudos so far.

7. Most comment threads: Nonsense and Insensibility — another Johnlock and Mystrade adaptation of Jane Austen — has 888 comments in 410 separate comment threads.

8. Fave Fic you wrote: This is a hard question, because it really depends on what I’m in the mood for. I’ve written everything from the fluffiest of fluff to the porniest of porn. I do a lot more listening than reading these days, so the ones I tend to revisit most often are the ones that have been podfic’d. @iamjohnlocked4life recorded April Fools and Midnight Becomes You. @podfixx recorded Seven Days of Ugly Christmas Apparel, Southanger Abbey, and Divinest Sense. @songlin recorded Sherlock in Oz. @brickgrass recorded John Watson and the Curse of the Were-Kitten and Johnlock Roulette. @boysinperil recorded Figuring It Out Together. @almosttomorocco recorded The Big BAMF John. @sevenpercent recorded The Mole. And @hpswl-cumbercookie, @fffinnagain, @morgendaemmerung89, and @daisyfairy1 have all recorded a selection of my filk.

9. Fic you want to rewrite/expand on: I’d like to continue to add to my Children’s Classics with a Johnlock Twist series and also my It’s All Fun and Games Cabin Pressure series.

10. Share a bit of your WIP or share a story idea that you’re planning: Here’s a sneak peek at the final chapter of Sherlock, Sherlock, Let Down Your Scarf, which I’ll be posting on Saturday.

John knew instantly that this young man – Sherlock – must be the violinist he had heard. He gazed up, spellbound, for the beauty of the young man’s face matched the beauty of his music. All too soon, though, Sherlock retreated back inside the tower.

I’m a bit late to the party, and I can’t remember who’s already done this, but I’ll tag @daisyfairy1 @imnova @alexxphoenix42 @fellshish @elwinglyre @reveling-in-mayhem @nottoolateforthegame @221b-hound @atlinmerrick @hubblegleeflower @iwantthatbelstaffanditsoccupant @sherlockedcarmilla @shiplocks-of-love and anyone else who’d like to share. Seriously, I’m tagging YOU.

#sherlock fic #johnlock fic #cabin pressure fic #glee fic #tag game #my fic

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silverspectre · 4 years

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en garde, pret, aimer! || lockwood & co.

pairing: light florence bonnard x anthony lockwood

genre: fencing(?)ish!au and also maybe straying away from canon bc what iS canon at this point, fluff, platonic main relationship, eventual angst, pre-canon??? aka beFore the series takes place

words: 3.8k

tags: fluffy!!, young lockwood nd flo, fencing stuff, apologies for the french (literally lol), i wrote this like half a year ago i’M SORRY-

what to expect: “’Why else would I be here? Tea time?’”

a/n: so this was beta-read and edited by two lovely people! i appreciate their help so much, as they’ve made this story what it is now. thank you so much @piratekingimogen and @willowwisk for your help! is this canon-compliant? someone ask jonathan stroud. this will be my last fic for a while, unless i have a spontaneous bout (pun intended) of inspiration. thank you all for your support!

translation: en garde, prets, allez = on guard, ready, go (used to start a fencing bout) / en garde, prets, aimer = on guard, ready, love (used to start this story)

The train ride from London to Paris is a particularly long, arduous journey. There's not much to see; reading a book 50 times or twiddling your thumbs is perhaps the most productive thing one can do. However, though a subjective opinion, it's a great deal less dull when in the company of a pretty girl whose name you learn through one piece of black licorice.

Florence Bonnard. It was elegant and flowed off the tip of your tongue. She was pretty; her teeth shining white and her long, blonde hair practically another shade of gold, shimmering in the sunlight. Anthony Lockwood could only stare at her.

To Anthony, Paris was a dream of any fencer. It was hailed as the fencing capital of the world, home to countless famed swordsmen and agents. He could merely wish to be like them. He was sure he was on his way, however. He'd been invited to a DEPRAC-sponsored competition in France, and of course, he absolutely had to go. His supervisor, Nigel 'Gravedigger' Sykes, forced him anyways.

He made the acquaintance of Florence Bonnard only a few minutes ago, when she huffed into the train compartment that was otherwise empty except for Anthony's doe-eyed presence. Looking upset, she plopped herself down diagonal from him. She didn't even acknowledge his existence.

"Hi?" he squeaked out. His voice was a little scratchy. He coughed, then repeated the word in a much more confident tone.

"Well? What are you?" This was the first he'd heard the girl speak.

She spared a glance at Anthony.

"I'm, uh..." He thought fast. She didn't

know him; no one on the train, as far as he knew, knew his name. He could reinvent himself, banish the name used so fondly by his parents and sister. He could be...

"I'm, uh... Lockwood. Just Lockwood. Yes. That's me."

"Lockwood... classy," she commented. She paused, in thought. "Though... I think I'll call you Locky."

"L-Locky?" Lockwood stuttered. This was not how she was supposed to react to his name.

"Locky. It practically rolls off the tongue, don't you think?" She smiled, slightly exposing her white teeth. It was a pretty sight. He could've stared at her for a second or an hour before he registered her answer.

Lockwood was caught off guard. "W-well, what's your name, then?"

She smiled a pearly white smile. "Wouldn't you like to find out," she said slyly.

A sweets trolley rolled down the aisle, pushed by a plump old woman. "Anything you'd like to buy?" She popped her head in the compartment.

The girl scanned the trolley, then made up her mind. She turned to Lockwood. "You'll have to buy me a liquorice to find out my name."

"I'll have a bag of liquorice, please," Lockwood immediately said to the lady, pulling out two pounds and exchanging it for a bag. He didn't know why he complied so easily - maybe he'd fallen under a trance for her.

He handed one to the girl, who looked momentarily startled before recomposing herself. "So, what's your name?" Lockwood asked.

"Florence Bonnard," she simply replied. It matched her, Lockwood thought. Prim and proper, it matched her perfect posture and neatly combed hair.

"You fence?"

"Why else would I be here? Tea time?"

"O-of course not, but you're just so pretty-"

Oh no. He'd let it slip.

Florence Bonnard's lips curled upward. "Thanks, Locky. I'll remember that on the piste."

He was suddenly scared to imagine Florence Bonnard on the piste, with her blonde hair tied up and her body in first position, sword ready to attack. With her confidence, double of his, how good could she be? Lockwood felt his stomach turn queasy. How good were the others on the train?

She poked Lockwood lightly. "Worried?" she teased. "En-garde," she mimicked a referee, "prets-" she made a face, "allez!" She pretended to poke Lockwood with her rapier, then laughed.

Lockwood couldn't help but laugh with her at her imitation.

"What's your agency?" Lockwood asked.

"That'll cost you a liquorice," she stated.

He handed her one.

"Sinclair & Saones. 'm an apprentice for 'em. You?"

"Nigel Sykes."

"Really?" she drawled. "You seem like the Rotwell type - well, then again, you weren't sitting with the lot in the first place."

"Rotwell and Fittes agents always win, don't they?"

"I'll give 'em a run for their money. How old are you?"

"Ten."

She looked up and down. "Alright then."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She smirked. "Nothing... When's your birthday, then?"

He told her.

"I'm older than you."

"So what? That doesn't mean you'll be better!"

Florence Bonnard smiled. "We'll see about that."

Nigel 'Gravedigger' Sykes, or just Sykes, was Lockwood's mentor. He was a bit scraggly, but not enough to make him incompetent with a sword. He was on the slightly mad side, yes, but was an extremely skilled swordsman. Lockwood was constantly amazed by his ability.

"You rely on remises too much. Practice on your footwork, you're doubting yourself too much.”

They'd been practicing for two hours - maybe more. Lockwood didn't even bother trying to count the bouts. His hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, his breaths hot in the mask. Lockwood's legs were sore and his arms hurt from all the attack, parry, and riposting he'd done.

The competition started in three days - Sykes had decided Lockwood needed to cram in as much practice as he could. On and off the piste, Lockwood could hear Sykes' voice in his head, telling him to Parry quarte or Eat your breakfast, it's free food! Food was accommodated at the hotel which sponsored DEPRAC for the competition. The rooming was nice as well, Lockwood being lucky enough to get a room to himself rather than most participants in the tournament who had to share a room.

When the competition finally rolled around, he'd won the first bout easily - almost too easily. Regardless, a win was a win, even against some Bunchurch agent with half a brain.

The real competition - or so he'd heard from rumours - was Quill Kipps of Fittes. He was apparently a prodigy fencing-god in his mid-teens, favoured by the majority of the crowd. He was tall and ginger, from what people had been telling him. Easy to spot in crowds. Lockwood was curious to see the famous Kipps in practice - rather, he was curious to see what any Fittes or Rotwell agent could bring to the table.

Lockwood had yet to see the mysterious Florence Bonnard do her bout. He was eager to do so after showering and slipping into the stands to watch the next bouts. After a win from Alexander Fawley, and another from Emily Schreiber, Quill Kipps was up. The teen was fast, and his every move was clearly calculated. It was everything Lockwood could aspire to be.

Florence Bonnard was fast as well, to Lockwood's surprise. She was extremely quick on her feet and could get a touch faster than the referee could blink after saying allez. It was impressive, being younger than a lot of contestants- and she wasn't even a Fittes or Rotwell agent.

Lockwood considered what he'd do if he was ever tasked with being her opponent, but only for a split second. It was too unrealistic he'd make it that far. But still, he had a vivid image of her lunging, ponytail swaying and rapier thrust as the tip of her blade touched his side. Now was not the time to daydream.

The second bout passed, 14-15. Lockwood had won in a landslide, attacking the split second his opponent hesitated.

After, as Lockwood chugged a bottle of water on the side, still sweaty and clad in his fencing gear, Florence Bonnard approached him. "Good bout, Locky," she said in her sly way. "Although, your footwork could be better." His gaze was stuck on her, even as she stalked off in true Florence fashion.

"Th-thanks?" It was already too late; Lockwood just watched her straw-colored hair swish away. She was one interesting girl. He sighed, staring at her back.

Lockwood's days consisted of eating, practicing, and sleeping. He would occasionally watch other agents practice, to pick up on faults and techniques they used. That's, at least, what Sykes had told him to do. Half the time Lockwood just drifted off, staring at a wall corner or, as a current example, a blonde ponytail. ...Blonde ponytail...? It was Florence Bonnard in the flesh, practicing. Of course, Lockwood just assumed this fact, judging by the fencer's posture and hair. It was unmistakably her.

Lockwood hadn't seen her much, either because their schedules didn't match up or she barely practiced. She was very good, sharp on her feet and maneuvering like she was on ice. It was scary the way she got a touch so fast. He assumed she'd practiced a great deal privately; at least, that's how he comforted himself at the sight of her skillful rapier patterns.

Lockwood's eyes jumped to a tall ginger-haired fencer - no doubt Quill Kipps, practicing a couple metres away. He, too, was skilled. Close to Florence's level, but not quite. This could be the year someone from a small agency won - though, Lockwood couldn't keep his hopes up. Being the crowd favourite, who was to say he didn't have a couple tricks up his sleeve?

Bouts three and four passed, and just somehow, Lockwood had survived into the quarterfinals. The numbers were dwindling down; Florence Bonnard, not much to his surprise, was in strong.

The quarterfinals passed, but now that he'd won, more pressure had been draped on him. Practices stretched late into the night, leaving his muscles incredibly sore and eyelids drooping on their own accord. He almost forgot to shower one day, planning to sleep in his fencing gear. Sykes had been drilling into him much more. The lineup for the semifinals was posted; Lockwood would be fencing against Quill Kipps.

To say he was nervous was an understatement. He sweated at the thought of fencing the teen. No matter how much he analyzed Kipps' fencing, he never felt ready. Sure, he wasn't as good at Florence, but she was substantially better than Lockwood - as was Kipps. The day of the bout, Lockwood almost froze before walking in, trying not to look at the crowd. It was bigger than any he had fenced for before. He sucked in two deep breaths then pulled the mask over his face. Sykes patted him, whispered quick advice in his ear. Lockwood wasn't paying attention, more focused on the judges, rhe referee, and the feeling of his feet on the ground. He and Kipps did the salute, like any other bout.

The referee started to speak, also like any other bout. The words were muffled in Lockwood's jumbled mind. His thoughts were racing at 100 kilometers per second, tumbling around each other, unlike any other bout - but he didn't need to hear the words regardless. He knew what they were.

"En-garde."

Lockwood stared at Kipps.

"Prets."

He took a deep breath, readying himself.

"Allez!"

The bout began.

Immediately, swords clinked and clashed against each other as the agents attempted to protect themselves. Lockwood's mind went pure blank, and his body went into autopilot.

1-0. Sure, a rough start, but he could catch up.

1-1. Tied, that was okay.

2-3. Lockwood was in the lead-

5-7. Halfway there!

11-10. No, losing wasn't an option-

13-14. His sword was a blur in front of him, basically acting of its own accord. Parry, riposte, attack-! It was all too quick. Kipps had lost his balance, and Lockwood took the opportunity. He lunged, slashed with his blade just to earn a point. His blade felt something soft - he got a touch! - but then Lockwood actually looked at the tip of his blade.

Quill Kipps was stunned entirely. He'd fallen on the piste and stared up at the younger agent. The moment was silent; practically in slow motion. The crowd held their breath in disbelief.

Lockwood had struck Quill Kipps with his rapier on the bum. The judges were in shock. It was a touch, though, right? It... counted? The referee gestured, and Lockwood pulled his raper away.

The bout ended.

Lockwood won. Lockwood won, against the star of Fittes agency. Quill Kipps, meanwhile, fumed. His cheeks were redder than his hair, which was matted with sweat.

"I'll beat you next time, Anthony Lockwood..." he murmured.

The crowd was having its fun; booing in disappointment or cheering in amusement, Lockwood couldn't tell. He convinced himself it was the latter. He didn't mean to stab Kipps in the bum. It just happened. It's not like anyone ever goes into a bout thinking, "Oh, yeah, I'm going to riposte a clean one up his bum."

Sykes was impressed, though he seemed more pleased by the last touch Lockwood earned.

"You'll be going up against that Bonnard girl, so you better clean up that footwork of yours. Her bladework is quite fine, too, I'd say. Sharpen yourself up, Anthony - no pun intended."

Practice, as always, lasted to the evening - Lockwood had just gotten out of the locker room, hair wet from his shower when he heard a familiar rasping tone.

"Locky~" Florence Bonnard sing-songed, conveniently leaning on a pillar outside.

He approached her.

"Finals are tomorrow," she said, smiling. Her teeth glinted - it was charming. Her eyes shimmered a bright blue - when had he missed this feature of hers? She was breathtaking. He didn't react, dumbly nodding as he stared at her.

"Oh, and by the way? Stop staring at me sometimes, it's creepy, Locky. I know you like me, but you're too... you." She tapped his nose, ignited a blush across Lockwood's cheeks.

"Cute," she commented. "See you on the piste." She walked away in her typical manner.

Florence Bonnard beat him the next day, 13-15. It was completely fair. Her attacks were clean and precise, and she hesitated not a second. It was a blur in Lockwood's head; one second her blade was against his torso; the next, her blade had touched him 14 other times and the referee proclaimed her the winner. He wasn't disappointed, however - she, from a small agency, had won, not a Fittes or a Rotwell agent. He decided it was well-earned on her part, completely ignoring the way she had so softly put him down the day previous. She was just so attractive.

She gave him a toothy smile after the bout and patted his shoulder. "Don't be too upset, Locky." It was safe to say he wasn't.

2 years later.

It was terrible. It was one of those moments in your life where you can recount every detail of where you were and what you were doing exactly when it happened; heck, you could even recite the exact seconds.

Lockwood was reading the morning newspaper, sipping his pulp orange juice (the joys of being a blue whale!) when he read the news.

Both Sinclair and Saones (of the Sinclair & Saones agency) had died on a case, with poor Florence Bonnard being the only survivor. Florence Bonnard - the name reminded Lockwood of so much; mainly, his puppy crush on her when he was younger. He failed to see the appeal now, but platonically, she was wonderful, despite how much she demanded liquorice.

He visited her on the shorelines of the River Thames; it was mainly where she resided, to the most of Lockwood's knowledge. He slipped a bag of liquorice hidden under his coat for her.

Her appearance was slightly disheveled and a straw hat covered the half of her face.

"Locky!" she croaked, but her voice lacked its usual mirth. In fact, it was incredibly fragile; to put an exclamation mark after it would never properly do it justice. She looked cold, shivering in what appeared to be her agent clothing. Her rapier was still attached to her side.

"You're shaking." Lockwood sat beside her.

"A-am I, Locky?" she hiccupped. She took a deep, shaky breath, then laughed, an echo of bitterness and a sore throat.

"I heard what happened," he said softly. "How?"

"How else, Locky?" she said, less of a question than a horrible revelation. Her voice was terribly sad, full of pain and memories. "It was ghost-touch. I protected myself with an iron cross 'til dawn against the Limbless." Her fists clenched in her skirt. A tear dropped down her cheek - which Lockwood noticed to have fresh, small scars and what looked like to be traces of tears on her slightly muddied face. It was the exact opposite from the pristine, composed Florence he'd known for so long.

"I'm sorry."

"You needn't be."

"Did you get hurt anywhere?"

She shrugged, wincing as she touched her cheek.

"I could-"

"Don't. It'll heal on its own." He wanted to tell her to clean it as well, but he could tell she'd turn down the advice in the same manner.

"Well," Lockwood said, "what are you doing next?"

Her grip tightened on the fabric of her skirt. "I don't know."

"You could train with me," Lockwood offered gently. "I don't have an agency or anything, but-"

"I-I think I'll try that. Thank you, Lockwood."

"Also, I brought these." He handed her the bag of liquorice.

A slight smile appeared from under her hat.

Her swordsmanship was still intact. Lockwood could for sure confirm this after she'd disarmed him 5 times. She'd lost her will, though. She looked pained picking up a rapier and could barely glance at salt bombs. Lockwood didn't ask. It seemed too personal. Over the course of 3 months, nothing had changed. If anything, it seemed to be harder and harder for her to fight properly.

"Locky... I don't think I can do this."

"Do what?" Lockwood knew perfectly well what she was referring to. "You're amazing with your rapier, still."

"This whole... 'agent' thing. I-I don't think I can go back." She was incredibly vulnerable with no snarky remarks or sarcasm in her voice. It hurt him to see her like this. He'd once felt similar, in his pain-filled rage when Jessica died. He couldn't look at ghosts, couldn't bear to think of them. Unlike Florence, however, he'd had rage to direct toward ghosts; she just felt pain.

Lockwood nodded. "You're sure?"

"It's been 3 months. Every time- every time I can still see their bodies next to me. Hear the screams, see the Limbless. I can't do it."

He hesitated, then put a hand on her shoulder. "I understand. But- what will you do?"

"I'll find something, I'm sure."

"I'm always here, Florence. I've been thinking about starting an agency, so if you need anything..."

Florence Bonnard smiled her classic grin. She patted his hair - he took so long gelling it in the morning.... Her blue eyes shone like the sea. "Don't worry yourself, Locky. I've got this."

For months, Florence wandered from thing to thing in search of replacement for being an agent. She hadn't found much. With the Problem raging, agents were in the highest demand, and it was hard to ignore all of the flyers and inquiries looking for one. Lockwood had been concerned she'd find nothing, constantly reminding her of his offer. One thing was clear, though: she was never becoming an agent again. She didn't need to say the words, but it was mutually understood even as Lockwood asked her to train with him.

Slowly, she gravitated toward relic collecting. It exercised her Talent, yet comforted her. She could be free from expectations, and not have to be perfect or clean; she could collect the relics on the River Thames and sell them. It would sustain her and calm her. Most importantly, it was an environment she was comfortable in.

As time went on, her straw hat became faded of color and gained splotches of mud on them. She traded her agent fit for a padded jacket and Wellington boots. It suit the job. For once, maybe she was happy.

"So, you're sure you don't want to become an agent?"

"Locky, the only reason I came was because you said you had liquorice. I'm perfectly happy as a relic woman." She smoothed down her padded jacket and adjusted her signature straw hat.

"I have my license now. I'm recruiting-"

"I'm happy where I am, thank you very much." She took a sip of tea and plopped a liquorice in her mouth.

Lockwood sighed. Florence Bonnard, as always, was impenetrably stubborn. she'd started going by Flo Bones, which was catchy, and fit her relic woman persona. Lockwood respected this. He could see how happy it made her, though not particularly sanitary. He recalled the day she'd first told him of her new occupation. They'd been sitting on the banks of the River Thames, near where Lockwood had comforted her the morning after tragedy struck her.

"So... you're becoming a Relicwoman? Where will you get the sources?"

"The river has enough," she gestured to the muddy shore of the river. "My Sight's been getting stronger."

"Be careful, Flor-"

"Oh, and Locky, I've started going by Flo Bones - it's quite fitting, don't you think? I like it. It's catchy." She'd lifted her hat, just enough to wink at Lockwood before pulling it down again.

"Well, my offer will always stand, Flo. You're a spectacular agent - you know my address. 35 Portland Row, hasn't changed."

"You haven't an agency to work for, Locky, have you?" Flo mused bluntly.

"Working on the license. I plan to open my own agency, agent run. What d'you reckon I call it? I was thinking 'Lockwood and Company.'"

Flo gave a grunt of approval. "'Lockwood and Co.' It's decent."

"Thanks, Flo."

She'd nodded. "Now go. I can't be seen hanging about the lots of the upper class. See you, Locky."

He pushed the bag of liquorices to her, the memory making him smile sadly. "It's all yours."

Lockwood couldn't find any agents willing to work for him. Flo, being one of his main friends, was painfully aware of this fact, subject to his forever hanging offer of employment.

"Oh, cheer up. Don't be lonely. You'll find someone. Lockwood & Co.! It'll be known through all of England." She softened for a second. "Anyway, I have an auction to attend." She stood up, bits of dirt falling from her jacket. "Bye, Locky!" He reached out to her then restrained himself - but she'd already exited 35 Portland Row, shutting the door behind her.

"Bye, Flo." He stared at the closed door, at his slightly outstretched hand. He could only hope she was right, and he'd find someone soon.

#lockwood & co #lockwood and co #anthony lockwood #flo bones #florence bonnard #lockwood #the screaming staircase #lockwood x flo #what is the ship name for them???#fencing #fluff #jonathan stroud #fanfic #angst #lockwood fluff #lockwood angst #lucy carlyle #george cubbins #*silverspectre

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ithinkthereforiamfandom · 4 years

Text

Extra Quarantine

Here is the first bit of my patreon piece. I’m extending it beyond the original parameters because I’m having fun with it. Whoops, its hella long, im gonna have to try and get a cut in here somewhere.

His head pulsed gently the throbbing timed to his heart beat, lubdub-throbThrob, John grit his teeth carefully and quietly sat up in bed, it had all been worth it.

…

A bored genius is a dangerous thing, a bored genius trapped in a London flat during a viral pandemic was about the worst. Evidence of this fact consisted of; a pattern of bullet holes in the wall, it was unbalanced! No remains in the fridge, all experiments concluded when John froze everything because nothing could be returned timeously, and finally said genius, laying his curly head on the couch. Stifled into stillness by the tragic circumstances afflicting him.

John was still working, but his hours had been drastically cut back so he was home far more frequently than he would have liked. Sherlock was spreading his misery is a quiet but uncontainable kind of way. He carried a blood sample home for the genius, having drawn it himself with a plan to let Sherlock have it and hopefully buy an evening’s peace with his own blood.

The evenings so far had consisted of concerts on the violin and most recently elaborate french dishes. It had surprised John at first but noise and heavy food every evening was beginning to tax him. He didn’t know what to do, so the blood would occupy Sherlock hopefully for a few hours.

…

“Here, take this.” Sherlock raised his head and took the warm vial. Blood John’s blood! His ears warmed in shock, John had refused all previous requests. “What’s this for?” “Experiments Sherlock, you’ve been nagging for ages. Do some experiments and I’ll cook. Let’s just have a quiet evening okay?” A deduction flashed across his mind. John didn’t like the playing, and the fancy dinners. Sherlock had played for John every night so far and cooked at the limits of his skills to reward his doctor for the hard work and risk he was enduring. And John didn’t like it.

…

John watched Sherlock’s face fall and felt like a heel. Sherlock had figured out of course that John was tired of his constant efforts. “Lock, no. I love your playing and your cooking is incredible, I just need some quiet, simplicity, some evenings. Let me cook tonight okay?” A quick hug saw some light back in the pale face and John set off into the kitchen. Toast and eggs was not the most elaborate meal but it was filling and just what the doctor ordered.

…

The next day on his way home John had been thinking about Sherlock’s efforts so far, it really was above and beyond but at the same time a very Sherlock thing to have done. Bombarding John with everything he liked, made John think… what does Sherlock like.

The answer was Embarrassingly simple: John. Sherlock liked having him to himself and John felt his cheeks flush at the realisation. Giving Sherlock all his attention was relatively easy and his upcoming time off would be ideal. John’s hours were now 1 week on and 1 week off. But how did he entertain his madman when there was no crime scene visiting, or morgue visiting, or Anything he could do!

He was deep in thought as he ascended to the flat, the smell of hot oil concerned him until the aromas of paprika and beer confirmed that Sherlock was making fish and chips. The mushy pea recipe that John had used once or twice had been such a hit with Mr I Don’t Eat It Slows Me Down that anything served with the peas was suddenly a very good thing. “John! I’ve made Fish so we need some of your" “Peas, yes Lock. I’ll do peas after I shower.” Sea glass eyes tracked him to the bathroom with a grin and John felt a chuckle bubble out of his throat. That would do.

…

The next Monday he woke beside dark curls, Sherlock didn’t sleep frequently but could burrow in like a badger when the mood took him. He hadn’t told Sherlock he was off all week and quietly got on with his normal morning prep waiting for the inevitable. “Jaaaawn" a baritone whine escaped the cocoon of bedding. “Yes Sherlock?” “I feel very sick, you have to stay home.” John released the fond sigh he would normally suppress.

…

Every few days since the Lock down had started they danced the same dance and Sherlock never won. John would sigh, and pet him, and leave anyway. So when the bed dipped behind him and… Tea, John didn’t smell like tea. He spun around as best he could and there was his doctor, clean shaven, dressed, but no tea. “You’ve not had tea John" “No.” “You always have tea before you go to work.” “Yes.” John’s eyes sparkled at him. “You’re not working.” “No. I have a weekly rota. Wanted to surprise you.”

Sherlock wrapped around John’s smaller frame and hastily recovered him in the duvet lest he escape. It was perfect! A week of John to himself. “I like this surprise John.” Strong arms looped around him and squeezed his ribs, before a sandy grey head settled under his chin. They drifted off back to sleep.

The week had begun with John’s marvellous surprise and it seemed all of London was feeling agreeable. The sun shone warmer when it was seen on John’s skin and the neighbours were less noisy when he could hear John’s voice. A contraption appeared in their lounge one afternoon. “My old printer from Uni, stopped working. I kept meaning to have it fixed but I suppose it’s a museum piece now.” John was giving it to Sherlock to do with as he pleased! A piece of John’s history.

…

John grinned as Sherlock set to delightedly deducing his old printer. His love of taffy was evidenced by a few sweet wrappers that had left traces on… hell’s John had no idea but Sherlock was smiling. He left cups of tea to grow cold next to the man and dropped kisses onto his dark hair as the printer came apart piece by piece, spreading across the floor. Reminding himself not to scold John stepped around the mess.

Hours later a grinning lunatic bopped him on the head with a piece of paper. “It works.” Came a proud announcement. “What?” “Your printer works John, I fixed it.” And true to his word the printer stood on their desk with a small pile of still warm printed pages. “It will be very useful for printing the files Lestrade sends.” John was shocked, quickly returning the kiss Sherlock pressed to his lips. “Necromancy" He stated in awe. “But we can’t print out police files Sherlock. It’s no legal.”

By way of demonstration Sherlock use the page he was holding to light a fire, the evening was turning cool. “I’ve ordered take away Lock, dimsum should be here soon.” A picnic blanket was soon set before the fire, wine was opened to breathe, and John was happy to let Sherlock estimate the ratio of blonde or grey hairs he had. Dinner arrived in good time and the evening went wonderfully, finishing with a very happy Sherlock dragging John down in front of the fire. “Just lie down a bit.” They woke on the floor the next morning.

John was nowhere to be found! Sherlock was to have John to himself for a week but their night on the lounge floor ended with him alone. Scanning the kitchen from his spot before the now cold fire place there was no John making breakfast and the bathroom failed to yield a soapy wet John in one of his customary boiling hot showers. A thunk drew Sherlock upstairs to where John stood, very dusty, cursing quietly at a very old tent.

The fucking thing had tangled itself! It had been packed scrupulously into place and now it was bollocksed! A polite throat clearing told him he was busted. Sherlock had risen early from their cozy nest before the fire and was watching him in that annoyingly studying way. “Stop, “Stop deducing me.” “Of course John.” But the reply was far too knowing. “Go put the kettle on.” “yes John.”

He watched his partner slip like a shadow down the stairs and hefted the whole disaster into his arms to follow a few minutes later. He could fix this after a cup of tea, he knew he could!

…

Sherlock set the camping kettle on the hook and stand he’d had next to the fire in case the power went out. John was staring at the camp set up like it had grown two heads and was speaking to him. “The camping rig has been next to the fire since winter started, you see but you do not observe. You want to camp out in the lounge, that’s what your old tent is for.” “Yes.” Sherlock grinned because he’d been bothering John to go camping for ages! For science, naturally but mostly to have John to himself.

Now they could camp in the lounge and there wouldn’t need to be dreary drives into the country side to shag his partner in a tent… for science.

…

His ribs creaked as Sherlock hugged him. John returned the squeeze with a slight chuckle. “I know you wanna shag in a tent LovelyLove. Now we don’t have to wait.” The kiss he got in response curled his toes! “We have a week Lockie, we’re gonna do everything you like. I’ll make sure of it.”

Sherlock likes coffee for breakfast so John presented him with a brand new bag of dark roast arabica beans. The genius was soon weighing and grinding to his heart’s content sighing in satisfaction as he sipped at his perfectly brewed cup. John had placed a grocery order which arrived a few hours later.

He was planning to cook for Sherlock that afternoon but the MRE package that Murry had stowed in his old gear as a joke was deemed more interesting than actual food. There was no way it was safe to eat but it was gladly handed over for experiment purposes. The cooking itself surprised John as it turned out that his madman actually enjoyed the chemistry and had taken over.

…

Sherlock didn’t trust John’s cooking skills. His gun hand, his sutures, and his heart were infallible but the man was a doctor, not a chef. It’s not that John couldn’t cook it’s just not his forte. The army had taught John to cook for a hundred men, returning had taught John to cook on a shoestring budget and sometimes it could be tasted through an entire dish. Sherlock had eased him away from the dinner prep to finish dressing the tent that had eventually been set up after John had expended a few feet of extra space and most of the swear words in his vocabulary… some of them in languages Sherlock only knew by name. The lasagne came together easily, the long process of making bechamel and tomato sauces, the careful construction, it was all relaxing. Sliding it into the oven passed John’s happily sniffing nose was pure satisfaction.

Tuesday saw the pair in their tent. John’s finishing touches had been lilos, bedding, and a small space heater. Not to be deterred Sherlock’s contribution was revealed as an Actual inflatable mattress, John hadn’t known they possessed such a thing, a very old and clearly sentimental quilt, and every ounce of camping gear London has stocked in the last two years.

Their arm chairs were replaced with camping chairs but this was very quickly changed back when John pointed out that one camping chair won’t support both of their weights. Sherlock chuckled with John’s throaty laugh as they replaced the arm chairs and put one to good use.

…

Strangely pleased to be allowed to make the breakfast porridge John stirred the pot over the fire. “No microscopes on camping trips Sherlock, you know you’d never take one into the bush right? Sherlock?!” The Sherlock in question didn’t look up from his microscope. “Of course I would John, plenty of things to examine in nature.” “My blood sample?” “Your blood sample of course. You may become ill with some unrecognized symptoms. I would need to run tests!”

His blood sample had become a bit of an obsession since it was handed over. It was flattering as hell but also kinda creepy. “At least stop for breakfast Love.” The fire burned almost constantly now. Porridge this morning then it would be set up to slowly cook Cod au Vin. They had received a case of wine from a client and finally had occasion to drink it.

…

Cod au Vin, it was the only dish his father had taught him to cook. Mummy had been vigilant in ensuring both the brothers could cook reasonably well from primary school, when they were both in their early twenties Father had taught him Cod au Vin, it was a Brilliant memory. All three men were huddled in the kitchen for hours. Slicing, browning meat, and drinking almost as much wine as they put in the pot.

Then Mummy had remarked that at least one of them had been conceived because of it and Sherlock had never made it until tonight. John had relinquished his spot by the fire in the early afternoon and admired the view, Sherlock applied the same focus to dicing onion and browning chicken pieces for John that he did examining John’s blood. A beautiful man in every way by firefight he was breath taking.

“So I have this dish to thank for your existence right?” Fire lit contrast made Sherlock’s face dark as he turned to the smirking doctor. “That’s the theory Beloved… and I’ll thank you to not repeat it while I’m seducing you with good food by fire light.” “I consider myself seduced my LovelyLove. Please do continue.” John had a fine view of Sherlock’s butt and the breadth of his shoulders, he was thoroughly seduced! It was fantastic!

Sherlock was delighted, he could feel John’s eyes on his body and felt his face flush over the heat of his gaze. The food would take several hours to cook over a fire and John was being deliciously indulgent. “May I seduce you back?” Sherlock startled having missed John’s approach with his mind in the gutter. “of course"

...

The room was cold as he towed Sherlock through the door and a quiet gasp released condensation into the air. Their camping set up in the lounge was comfortable but a bit austere This, this was luxury heaped upon itself. John smiled as long fingers flexed and caressed the pulse in his wrist. It was a habit that had developed quickly, a violinist's flexibility allowed his LovelyLove to hold his hand and take his pulse at the same time.

He had raided his old army locker for every blanket he possessed, even the old furs from his grandmother’s holiday home. Pillows and blankets piled high and looked marvellously inviting in the cold room. Quickly pulling the heating bags he had snuck in earlier John turned from the bed and undressed the most beautiful man alive. Each inch of exposed skin was met with a smile or a tender kiss and he chuckled to himself as he all but poured Sherlock into the bed. “John, John please.”

…

He needed John Now, the stupid jumper had to go, burrowing under the covers he pulled John with him, the bastard was chuckling having gotten Sherlock so worked up. “I’m coming Lovely, you can have me. Gimme a sec.” There would be so seconds as he pulled and tugged the clothes off his partner. Finally, naked, warm, and wrapped around his Beloved. Sherlock Holmes got Everything he wanted.

…

“Foods going to burn.” An Incredibly smug voice murmured to his shoulder. John always ended up as the big spoon and Sherlock could never figure out how he did it. “No it won’t, there’s too much wine in the pot.” “It is a nice wine though… Showers first Lovely, come on.” Sherlock was strangely okay with getting up. Thoroughly satisfied, and very much cuddled he felt quite ready to start the evening after a nice hot shower.

…

John stood by the fire with a naked chicken bone between his fingers. “It just came out.” “It’s Cod au Vin.” Sherlock smirked like that explained everything. The chicken pieces were permitted to fall apart on their plates as a couscous salad and plenty of the pot's other contents joined it.

John groaned, it was amazing. “I can see how this resulted in kids. It’s fantastic!” Praise always had the same effect on his genius, cheeks flushed and his chin dropped. It was excruciatingly cute. Not wanting to push it, they were neither in their twenties anymore John just smiled and ate.

…

“You know you’re not gonna be able to tell me food just happens anymore. I know you can cook now.” They were back in their camping bed having agreed to leave the luxurious pile in the bedroom intact for later use. It was actually early Thursday morning already by the time they settled down to sleep. “Yes, I can cook Beloved, doesn’t mean I am going to.” An icy cold hand settled on his belly and he shivered. “Sorry Lovely, Doctor and all.” He didn’t sound sorry at all but John’s arm followed his icy hand and a casual strength pulled Sherlock’s back against a warm chest. “Good Night Lovely.” “Good night John.”

_______________________________________

Thursday afternoon, John grinned to himself as he quietly got today’s event set up. Their laptops had initially been banned as not camping appropriate but John was busy getting the files set up on his machine. He has requested, not bullied… John did not bully, he had requested cold case files from Greg and after a few days of requesting the good DI had come through.

The cold cases were not digitised so it took a lot of scanning and sorting to get anything into an email and John knew he was putting a lot on Greg to get it done. Fortunately the lock down had slowed down most crimes and well he owed Greg rounds in the pub until 2022! “What are you up to?” a chocolatey voice asked and John jumped.

“Just sorting some paperwork Lovely. I know -” “You're the one who banned the laptops John” Elegant fingers wrapped around his computer and lifted it swiftly off his lap. “Here’s your bloody files Watson, you’re getting as bad as he is. Just promise me this will keep himself satisfied for a few more weeks.” Sherlock read under his breath as John’s face pinked. “You got me the cold cases, How?”

…

John was blushing, he had got Sherlock the cold cases he had been nagging for since the lock down started and was now flushed at having been discovered. “By pointing out to Greg that it would keep you busy but mostly by persistence. I didn’t lope off to pout after the 4th No, or even the 14th. Now Greg has had to scan and sort and email everything… I wanted to surprise you.”

Sherlock felt his own face heat up. “That’s why you banned the laptops, so I would stop bothering Lestrade and I would not find out what you were up to. John this is amazing! you are fantastic! I can finally fix the stupid mistakes the Yarders have been making!” He pulled John’s laptop into the lounge and settled it on their desk, scrolling with a triumphant laugh through the files that were now his!

He turned his eyes to his brilliant partner, John leaned against the door frame watching him. It was a proprietary posture but he did not mind at all. He did not mind being John’s to watch and smile at. Another email dinged and he opened the pop up. Emelia Riccoletti and half a dozen dead men, Brilliant! But she was dead before they all died.

…

John grinned at the frantic clicking from the lounge, he had watched his partner light up at the news of cases to solve and the chance to prove he was indeed smarter than the professionals. He made pasta on the stove for a change, the novelty of cooking over the fire had dulled quickly.

“She didn’t do it! Not after the first one!” His Sherlock, clearly on a mission, strode into the kitchen still carting his laptop around and nearly destroyed it by putting it down on the stove top. An inarticulate noise of protest redirected the mad man to set it on the counter. “She might have faked her death and killed her husband but the other murders, the other men, they died in their homes or in familiar places. The bride didn’t need to walk through walls if she was already in the house, not the bride but a bride. Any bride could kill now and London has always been full of them.

John set the meal down on the kitchen table, it would be ignored for a few hours and no doubt moved to the fridge to face the exile of all meals when Sherlock had a case. He finished his own food while Sherlock rambled on and on. He took a minute to just take in the sights. Eyes sparkling, cheeks flushed, body in constant motion. Yes, this was a happy man and John felt proud that he was his.

_____________________________________

The mad bastard hadn’t slept for the last two days and this was the last day of John’s leave. They had migrated back to their bedroom and John had almost got Sherlock to sleep but there was no winning when the game was on.

“Come to bed you mad bastard!” John yelled from the blankets but knew the resignation would be clear in his voice. John rolled over to get some rest as Sherlock came in through the door. “John? Why are you sleeping?” “It’s 2am!” Is it?” Yes Lovely, its 2am and I have work tomorrow.” the mattress bounced as Sherlock dove under the covers. “Thank you John, this week has been fantastic.” As he spoke Sherlock’s arms and legs wrapped around the doctor and squeezed. The was an amused huff as John tried to reclaim some lung capacity but there was an octopus in his bed.

…

Sherlock held onto his Beloved. The week was over! He was tempted to not sleep, if he never slept maybe the morning would not come. It was irrational but at 3am with a snoozing John Watson in his arms anything seemed possible. A warmth seemed to be exuding itself from the sleeping doctor and Sherlock felt his eyes slide shut.

The next morning Sherlock burrowed stubbornly into the bedding. John had already left for his shift and there was no reason to get up now at all… Apart from all the cold cases he had to solve, and the fact that he needed a shower, and bacon. He could smell bacon.

…

John grabbed his bag, mask, and mobile. He had left a beautiful man in bed this morning so the day would have to count for something! He grinned all the way to the Tube station, he couldn’t quite stop himself

He got to work and took a few moments to compose himself but then his phone went off. The picture showed a very happy Sherlock Holmes sitting behind a huge stack of the bacon pancakes John had made that morning. John had slipped out of bed early to prepare the pancakes for breakfast and to make sure the leftover risotto was still okay.

He had left everything in a low oven to keep warm and left a few notes for Sherlock to find through the day. Breakfast instructions seemed hardly necessary but the “I Love Yous” and “Drink some Tea Lovelylove” post its would be if he wanted to come home to a content and hydrated partner.

…

Sherlock heard the street door open and tried to stop himself bounding down the stairs like a puppy. Instead he picked up his violin and started a gentle waltz. He didn’t realise what he was playing until steady warmth on his back started to sing in a low tenor. I know you, that gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam. They swayed together for a while as John hummed and Sherlock played on till. I walked with you once upon a dream.

“Disney Lovely?” Sherlock smiled and laughed at quizzical blue eyes. “I play plenty of Disney John. You remember that stint we did at the children’s hospital for the Angel of Mercy killer nurse case… well I go back sometimes while you’re at work.” “You play disney for the kids.” “Little people love Disney” Sherlock chirped and moved smoothly to the kitchen before John could process what he had said.

#patreon #johnlock

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ally-writes-many-things · 5 years

Text

As your family (Antonio Dawson)

Summary: You think theres someones stalking you and you called Antono

Words: 1957

Requested: yes

Prompts:

Warning or A/N: I aged up Eva to being a freshman in college. Also reader(18)xdawson platonic.

You had just gotten to your apartment from college around nine, your roommate wasn't there which was normal due to she works nights. You dumped all your stuff in your in your bedroom and went into your kitchen to make you something to eat and you looked out of your kitchen window and you have seen a random person that was acrossed the street. You couldn't tell if the person was looking at your apartment or something else, you shrugged and continue on with making dinner. You soon forgot about the person across the the road until you finished your dinner and went to take your dishes to your sink. You saw that he was still there and it was starting to freak out. You closed the curtain and turned off all your lights and sat in your room til your roommate got home. You heard the door open and shut, but you stay quiet untill you heard her. "Y/N?"

You let out a sigh, got off your bed and walked out of your room. You saw her standing there with her dinner. "Why is it do dark in here?"

You walked over to the kitchen window to look and see if the guy was there and thankfully he wasn't. "There was a guy standing across the street and I wasn't sure if he was looking into our apartment or what,"

Eva sighed and put down her food and walked over to the fridge and wrote a number down on the pad of paper that was magnetized to it. "This is my father's number. He's a cop. Well, a detective. Next time you see the guy call him,"

You walked up to the number and looked at it for a few seconds. "Thank you,"

She nodded, grabbed her food and went to her room.

-----

It had been a week since you saw the guy at your apartment and to be honest you had forgot about it. You just had gotten out of your car and as walking to your door when you noticed your door was ajar. You walked close enough to see in the crack of the door and from what I could see your apartment was trashed. You left the building as fast as you could and called Antonio, Eva's dad. He picked up on the third ring. "Hello?"

You looked back at your apartment as you walked towards your car. "Hi, this is Y/F/N Y/L/N. I'm Eva's roommate,"

You could hear Antonio shuffle through the phone. "Is Eva okay?"

"Yes, she's fine. Shes at work. I'm calling to say that our apartment was broken into and I dont know if anyone is still in there or-"

"Don't go in there, I'll come check it out,"

"Thank you,"

You had waited for like five ten minutes till a car showed up and someone got out of the car. You rolled down the window and shout at him. "Mr. Dawson?"

He turned to look at you. "Yeah,"

You nodded and rolled up your window and got out of your car. You walked up to him and shook his hand. "Sorry we had to meet this way,"

You shook your head. "Its fine,"

Antonio looked towards the building. "Show me the way?"

You nodded and walked into the building and up a flight of stairs and walked close enough that you could see the door but far enough to run if you needed too. "120,"

Antonio nodded and walked towards the door and slowly opened the door. "Anyone in here?" Chicago P.D,"

He didnt come back out for a few minutes but then he stuck his head out of the door. "Its safe,"

You slowly walked into your apartment and saw there were papers thrown around. You bent down to to look and all of them were just your papers and belongs. "There one bedroom that is completely trashed and the other is left alone. Which one is yours?"

You pointed to the most right door. "That's the one that's trashed,"

You quickly ran to your room and saw that he wasn't lying. Your bed was messed up, your clothes were everywhere, everything that was organized in your room was not anymore. You walked into your bathroom and flipped on the light and you were greeted with a messy bathroom as well. You look into the mirror and saw that someone had wrote 'MINE' on it i. your favorite lipstick color. Your heart started to race as you slowly back up out of your bathroom and into Antonio. "What's wrong?"

You pointed towards the bathroom and Antonio walked into the bathroom. You immeditely thought to the guy that was staring at your apartment. "I must've missed that when I was clearing it. My unit doesnt usually do these types of cases but I'll make an exception and get them to take it on,"

You looked over at him. "About a week ago there was a guy that was staring into our apartment. I didnt think anything of it at the time but do you think he could've done this?"

Antonio took out his notepad and wrote down some things. "Have you seen him since?"

You shook your head no. "No, but then again I've been keeping all the curtains drawn,"

Antonio nodded and wrote something else down. "Any idea who this could be?"

You shook your head as you started to cry. "No...I-I just moved here a few months before school started and Eva was the first person I met due to her being my roommate. I-I havent had the chance to go out and meet new people yet,"

Antonio walked over to you and pulled you into a hug. "Shh. It's okay. We'll figure it out. I'm gonna get my sergeant to put a patrol car outside,"

You heard your front door open and you froze. "Dad? Y/N? What's going on?"

You body relaxed when you realized it was Eva, you pull yourself out of Antonio's arms and turned to face Eva. "Someone broke in and wrecked all of my stuff,"

---

Ever since that day someone broke into your house, you were on edge. Every little noise made you jump. Every little touch made you jump.

You were walking back to your car a few days after the incident after class when you noticed a hooded figure was by your car, you stopped in your tracks when you saw the figure. His back was towards you so you were pretty sure the figure didnt see you, so you slowly backup and turned around. You looked at the building you just came out of, it was dark and you knew it was locked. You looked around and everything was dark, you weren't paying attention to what you were doing and ended by kicked a can that was on the ground, you froze but didnt turn to see if the guy was coming or not. "Hey!"

You heard the guy's voice and you took off running, Distrist 21 was just down the road so that's where you decided to run too. Eva's dad worked there. You heard the guy's footsteps running after you, you picked up your pace and may it to the district within a few minutes. You quickly ran up to the steps and into the stationstation statmm nnmbbmmmmnnnm

. You walked up to the front desk, you started to say something but Antonio beat you too it. "Y/N? What's wrong?"

You walked over to him and grabbed his wrist and was trying to check your breath. "Guy....following....me...didn't know what to do...so I ran here,"

The desk sergeant looked at Antonio. "You know her?"

Antonio nodded. "Yeah, she's Eva's roommate. Come in here,"

Antonio walked you into a room and shut the door. "What happened?"

Your breath finally started to become normal and told him what happened. Antonio nodded and held out his hand. "Here's what we are gonna do, do you have money for a hotel for a few?"

You nodded. "Yeah, I got money,"

"Go check into a hotel. I'll take care of everything and I'll tell Eva,"

----

You were sitting in a hotel room alone because Eva was saying with Antonio and Antonio was staking out the house. You flipped through the channels and sighed as there was nothing on tv. You walked over to the window and pulled it over just a bit and you saw the hoodie figure standing on the hood of a car looking into your hotel room. Your heart started to race, you quickly go to your phone and dialed Antonio. He picked up on the second ring. "Hell-"

You didnt let him finish. "He's outside my hotel room,"

You heard Antonio start his engine. "I'm on my way,"

You hang up the phone, heart slowing down just a little cause you know that your apartment is just about ten minutes from the hotel. You walked back over to the window and the guy wasn't there anymore. You sighed and sat on your bed anxious, waiting for Antonio to come.

---

It had been about five minutes since you called Antonio and you havent bothered to look outside because you were too scared to so. Your heartbeat and anxiety had gone back the close to the ten minute mark. You sighed and were about to call Antonio again when the window shatters. You quickly jump off of the bed and backed up, scared to do anything. You see hands pulling apart the curtains, you scream. You looked at the time and it was still fives minutes till Antonio was suppose to be here. He walked up to you as you took a step backwards and pinned you against a wall. The next thing you feel is two sharp pains that you cry out about it. "This will teach you not to ignore the small guys,"

He stabbed you a third time. You couldnt focus on what was going on due to what you believe was blood lost. The last thing you remember was his weight being pulled off you.

----

You woke up to machines beeping, you opened your eyes and immeditely closed them due to how bright wherever you were was. You slowly opened your eyes and everything started to come into focus, you looked and saw a bunch of health posters. You were in a hospital. You looked down and moved your arm to where you could lift up your shirt to see your wounds. "Woah there. Take it easy,"

You turned your head and saw Antonio was sitting next to you. You dropped your hand and tried to talk. "What-"

He cut you off. "He had stabbed you three times, you lost a lot of blood. You were in a coma for three days. He's been arrested and is being charged with criminal stalking, and attempted murder,"

You felt tears run down your face, Antonio walked up to you and wiped them away. "Who was it?"

"A Oliver Lockie?"

You shook your head. You had no idea who he was. "I dont know him. Did he resists?"

Antonio nodded. "Yes, I beat him to the brink of unconsciousness,"

Your eyes widen. "Why?"

Antonio grabbed your hands. "Because when I saw you, you remind me of my daughter. You can always come to me for whatever you need, okay? For anything,"

You nodded. "Thank you, my parents disowned me basically when I moved up here,"

Antonio squeezed your hand. "Screw them. You have me and Eva as your family now,"

#chicago pd #antonio dawson x you #antonio dawson x reader #antonio dawson imagine #antonio dawson #antonio

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