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ging-ninja · 8 days ago

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Can you make Anthony Lockwood where the reader is a spirit who suddenly appear inside on their house and only Lucy can see her and Lockwood and George don't know about and actually the reader is Lockwood girlfriend who is in coma and Lucy tell them about the reader and Lockwood just found out that reader is with him all the time and help the reader to go back to her body.i am sorry about my English but I hope you can make it

Haunted pt.1

Summary: A day Lucy believed would be completely uneventful proved to be anything but when she found her room inhabited by another. A girl her age, who doesn't look quite right?

Puppets: Anthony lockwood x f!reader

Word count: 2,962

Warnings: none

Elle yaps: im so sorry about how long this took me, all the Christmas stuff happened and i got food poisoning right after :/ ive made this a multiple part-er to get me back into the groove of writing, hope you don't mind!

Slightly proofread. No use of Y/N

Lucy began her day following her usual morning routine: she would gently stir from sleep as sunlight filtered through her curtains, take her time getting dressed in her favorite comfortable clothes, and make her way downstairs to enjoy a leisurely breakfast accompanied by a steaming cup of her preferred morning tea. With the entire week moving at an unusually slow pace, her schedule was remarkably empty of pressing commitments or urgent tasks. To make productive use of her free time, she made the decision to engage in some much-needed combat practice, descending the stairs to the basement where she could focus on honing her skills with her new rapier. The day had been progressing in an entirely unremarkable fashion, perhaps even verging on monotonous—that was, until the moment she pushed open the door to her bedroom and found herself face-to-face with an unfamiliar girl who was inexplicably standing in the middle of her bedroom.

Lucy froze in place, her heart pounding as she wrestled with an immediate dilemma - should she attempt to engage the mysterious intruder in conversation, or should she call out for Lockwood and George to come to her aid? Her mind raced through these options as she stood motionless in the doorway. The unexpected visitor appeared to be a young woman approximately Lucy's own age, with a peculiar familiarity about her that lucy simply couldn't place her finger on. When the strange girl finally pivoted to face Lucy directly, her expression displayed an almost amusing mixture of surprise and bewilderment, as though she herself hadn't expected to be perceived by anyone in the room, let alone its rightful occupant.

When the strange girl finally spoke, her voice emerged as a delicate whisper that cracked and wavered, betraying a profound disuse that suggested she hadn't engaged in conversation for an extraordinarily long time. The words that escaped her lips carried both uncertainty and astonishment as she asked, her tone tinged with equal parts hope and disbelief, "You can see me?"

Lucy's breath caught in her throat at the raw vulnerability that resonated through the girl's trembling question. The desperate yearning for connection and recognition in her voice stirred something deep within Lucy's chest, a mixture of compassion and unease that she couldn't quite shake. There was something profoundly unsettling about the way the stranger seemed to flicker and waver in the gentle morning light streaming through the windows, as if she weren't quite solid - her edges appearing to blur and shift with each subtle movement, like a reflection in disturbed water. The sight sent an involuntary shiver down Lucy's spine, despite the warmth of the sun-filled room.

Drawing upon her years of training and experience with the supernatural, Lucy's instincts kicked in, and she found herself automatically reaching for the salt-bomb secured at her belt. Yet something made her hesitate - perhaps it was the raw emotion in the girl's voice, or the way she seemed more lost than malevolent. With practiced caution, Lucy took a single step forward, her voice steady as she replied, "Yes, I can see you. Who are you, and why are you in my room?"

"Your... your room?" the girl asked softly, her voice trembling with a mixture of confusion and what seemed like deep emotional pain, as if the very concept of the space belonging to someone else caused her genuine distress. The words appeared to catch in her throat, and her expression shifted to one of profound disorientation, as if struggling to reconcile some internal conflict that Lucy couldn't quite understand.

Her gaze wandered deliberately across every corner of the room, lingering on each piece of furniture and decoration with an expression of deep, haunting recognition. Her eyes traced the patterns of shadows and light as if following the ghostly outlines of memories, each object in the space seeming to hold fragments of a past life that danced just beyond her grasp. The dresser, the window seat, the old wooden floorboards - every element appeared to evoke some profound emotional response that she struggled to fully comprehend or articulate. When she finally found her voice again, it emerged as barely more than a tremulous whisper, heavy with the weight of lost time and faded memories, "This... this used to be my room. before."

Lucy's mind raced frantically as she processed this extraordinary revelation, her years of rigorous training as a professional agent engaging in an internal struggle with the unexpected and powerful wave of sympathy that suddenly washed over her. The weight of her professional experience urged caution and skepticism, while her emotional instincts responded to the raw authenticity of the moment. The girl's words carried such profound and unmistakable loss, such genuine confusion and yearning, that it seemed almost impossible to dismiss them as mere spectral manipulation or supernatural deception. The depth of emotion in her voice, the way she connected with the space - it all spoke to something far more complex than typical ghostly behavior. Still, Lucy maintained her cautious stance, her fingers hovering near her equipment, knowing all too well from countless encounters and bitter experience how even the most seemingly innocent supernatural encounters could transform into dangerous situations in the blink of an eye. Years of training had taught her that appearances could be deceiving, and that compassion, while admirable, needed to be tempered with vigilance.

Suddenly, a powerful realization struck Lucy like a bolt of lightning, illuminating the mysterious connection that had been nagging at the edges of her consciousness. The strange girl's features, though ethereal and faded now, matched perfectly with an image that had been burned into Lucy's memory from months ago. "I know who you are," Lucy breathed out, her voice barely above a whisper, "You're the girl from Lockwood's photograph." The memory surfaced with crystal clarity - during one of the rare occasions when Lucy had ventured into Lockwood's private bedroom, rushing to wake him for an early morning case, her attention had been caught by a photograph prominently displayed on his nightstand. It was an intimate glimpse into what seemed like another lifetime - the same girl who now stood before her as a spectral presence, but in the photograph she had been vibrantly alive, her face lit up with an infectious smile that suggested complete freedom from worry or care. The contrast between that captured moment of joy and the current apparition before her was stark and heartbreaking.

In the photograph, she had been standing in this very room, though it had looked quite different then - filled with the vibrant touches of her own personality and life. Lucy found herself wondering about the story behind this mysterious girl's connection to Lockwood, and what tragic circumstances had led to her current spectral state. The weight of these questions hung heavy in the air between them as Lucy carefully considered her next move.

The girl's ghostly form seemed to flicker more intensely now, as if the recognition of her connection to Lockwood had disturbed something deep within her spectral essence. Lucy noticed how the temperature in the room had dropped significantly, and she could see her own breath forming small clouds in the increasingly chilly air. With growing concern, she observed how the ghost's previously lost expression was slowly transforming into something more focused and intense, though whether this change signaled danger or breakthrough remained unclear.

"We were on a case together, Anthony and I," the ghost began, her voice carrying traces of both nostalgia and deep sadness. "Most of the details are lost to me now, like scattered fragments of a dream that slip away upon waking. But there's one moment that remains crystal clear in my memory - that terrible sensation of emptiness as I plummeted from the third story window. I can still feel the cold night air rushing past me, hear the whistle of the wind in my ears, and experience that endless moment of suspended time before..." The ghost's voice trailed off as she sighed softly, the weight of the memory seeming to make her form flicker and fade slightly.

"You're not like any other ghost I've encountered before," Lucy whispered thoughtfully, her voice carrying a mixture of professional assessment and genuine wonder. The words emerged slowly and deliberately as she carefully considered the unique nature of this particular spectral visitor. Unlike the typically aggressive or disoriented spirits she regularly encountered in her line of work, this apparition displayed a remarkable level of self-awareness and emotional complexity. Her coherence and depth of memory seemed to defy everything Lucy had learned about ghost behavior during her years as an agent. The ghost's ability to maintain such a clear sense of identity and to articulate her experiences with such vivid detail was unprecedented in Lucy's extensive experience dealing with supernatural entities. This wasn't the confused, echoing presence of a typical ghost, but something far more intricate and thought-provoking - a revelation that both fascinated and unsettled Lucy as she continued to observe the apparition before her.

"The doctors told Anthony I'm not actually dead, though being in this state certainly makes it feel that way," the girl explained, her voice carrying a mix of confusion and resignation. "They say I'm trapped in some kind of coma, suspended between life and death. The strangest part is that I have no idea where my physical body is being kept - which hospital, which room, or even which city. I just drift here, anchored to this place by memories, while my body lies somewhere unknown, neither fully alive nor truly dead."

Lucy found herself grappling with the profound implications of this extraordinary revelation, her mind racing to reconcile this unprecedented situation with her extensive training and experience. The very concept of someone existing in this mysterious intermediate state - neither fully present in the world of the living nor completely crossed over into death - fundamentally challenged every principle and understanding she had developed about ghosts and the supernatural realm. This wasn't just another haunting or spiritual manifestation; it represented an entirely new category of paranormal phenomenon that defied conventional classification. As she carefully processed this information, weighing its significance against her years of accumulated knowledge, a determined glint appeared in her eye, accompanied by a surge of professional curiosity and human compassion. The unique circumstances of this case presented both an intellectual puzzle and a moral imperative - perhaps, she thought with growing conviction, there existed a way to help this lost soul navigate back to her physical form, to bridge the inexplicable gap between her spectral presence and her dormant body.

Lucy's gaze drifted to the window where the afternoon sun was streaming in, and a plan began to take shape in her mind. If there was even the slightest chance of tracking down this girl's physical body and reuniting her consciousness with it, Lucy knew she had to try. After all, this was precisely the kind of unique challenge that Lockwood & Co. had built their reputation on - taking on the cases that others deemed impossible or incomprehensible.

With renewed determination, Lucy rose from her contemplative position by the window and strode purposefully toward her desk, her footsteps echoing softly against the wooden floorboards. She pulled out her leather-bound notebook from the top drawer, its worn edges testament to countless previous investigations, and settled into her chair with practiced efficiency. Opening to a fresh page, she began methodically jotting down everything she knew about the mysterious girl's case - physical descriptions, temporal details, emotional observations, and possible connections to Lockwood's past - determined to piece together this unprecedented supernatural puzzle. The familiar scratch of pen against paper filled the room as she worked, her hand moving swiftly across the pages as she documented every potentially relevant detail, from the ghost's unusual level of awareness to the peculiar circumstances of her suspended state between life and death. From her position near the bedroom door, the ghost watched Lucy's focused efforts with a complex mixture of emotions playing across her translucent features - curiosity about this methodical approach to her situation, cautious hope that this determined young agent might actually be able to help her, and a touching vulnerability that seemed to make her spectral form flicker in response to each new line of notes being written.

Suddenly, the ghost girl inhaled sharply, the sound cutting through the comfortable silence that had settled over the room like a delicate veil. Her ethereal form seemed to flicker more intensely than before, and a look of urgent distress crossed her translucent features. "I need to go," she announced with unexpected urgency, her voice carrying notes of both reluctance and necessity. The words seemed to echo slightly in the still air of the bedroom, hanging between them with an almost tangible weight that spoke of unfinished business and untold stories.

Lucy felt an inexplicable tug at her heart as she watched the spectral form begin to fade, her form dissolving like morning mist in sunlight. The sight stirred a complex mixture of emotions within her - professional curiosity intermingled with a deeply personal concern for this unusual spirit who had shared such intimate revelations. "Wait," she called out softly, her carefully maintained professional demeanor momentarily giving way to genuine concern and an almost desperate desire to maintain this extraordinary connection, "Will you come back?"

The ghost's response floated through the air like autumn leaves on a gentle breeze, carried on the last wisps of her fading presence. Her voice, though barely more substantial than a whisper, held an unmistakable note of certainty and what might have been affection: "I always do." The words seemed to linger in the air even as their speaker disappeared entirely, leaving behind only the faintest trace of supernatural energy that made the hairs on Lucy's arms stand on end.

Not a moment after the spectral figure had completely faded from view, the sharp sound of knuckles against wood broke through the lingering atmosphere of otherworldly encounter. A familiar voice called through her bedroom door, tinged with unmistakable concern: "Luce? you alright in there? i heard you talking"

Lucy's heart skipped a beat at the sound of Lockwood's voice, her mind still whirling with the implications of the extraordinary encounter she'd just experienced. Her pulse quickened as she considered the weight of what had just transpired in this very room - a paranormal encounter unlike any she'd documented in her years as an agent. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she glanced around the now-empty room, noting how quickly it had returned to its normal temperature, as if the supernatural presence had never been there at all. The familiar furnishings and mundane shadows seemed almost surreal after such an otherworldly interaction. She knew she would have to make a decision, one that carried significant consequences for both her professional relationships and personal loyalties: whether to share this incredible discovery with her colleagues immediately, potentially disrupting the delicate dynamics of their team, or keep it to herself until she better understood the mysterious girl's connection to Lockwood and the profound implications it might have for everyone involved.

Her hand hovered uncertainly over the doorknob, fingers trembling slightly as she felt Lockwood's continued presence on the other side of the door, patiently waiting for her response. The weight of this extraordinary secret pressed heavily against her chest, creating an almost physical sensation of pressure that made it difficult to breathe normally. This moment of decision challenged her long-held commitment to complete transparency with her closest friend and colleague, a principle that had been a cornerstone of their professional relationship and personal bond. Her mind raced through potential consequences, imagining various scenarios of revelation and concealment, each path seeming to branch into countless possible outcomes. After what felt like an eternity of internal struggle, though it was merely moments, she made her decision - a choice that carried with it the heavy knowledge that whatever path she chose would fundamentally and irrevocably alter the delicate balance of trust, understanding, and unspoken expectations that had defined their relationship since the beginning of their partnership.

Taking a steadying breath, Lucy called out with carefully measured casualness, "Everything's fine - just talking to myself while working through some case notes." The response felt hollow in her throat, the weight of concealment already settling uncomfortably in her chest. As she finally turned the doorknob, Lucy silently promised herself that she would find the right moment to share this discovery - but only after she had gathered more information about this mysterious connection between the ghost and her closest friend.

Her fingers traced absently over the leather cover of her notebook as she settled onto her bed, mind churning with questions about the extraordinary encounter. The weight of this new secret felt both exhilarating and burdensome, like a delicate glass orb she needed to protect. Through her window, she could see the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across Portland Row, marking the beginning of what she knew would be a long night of careful contemplation and strategic planning.

She ended up staying awake through the entire night, moving quietly down to the kitchen after everyone else had retired to their beds. In the dim light of the kitchen, she meticulously poured over her detailed notes, occasionally reaching for comfort in the form of shortbread biscuits from the tin (admittedly helping herself to far more than just one or two). The hours slipped by unnoticed as she remained absorbed in her work, her tea growing cold beside her as she scribbled additional observations in the margins of her journal. However, this extended late-night research session proved to be an unfortunate decision - she was startled awake by the sharp sound of shattering porcelain, only to find Lockwood standing above her with her journal clasped firmly in his hands, fragments of her fallen teacup scattered across the kitchen floor.

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