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undignifiedaquarium · 1 year

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take my hand

for @locklyle-week day 5: love languages

a/n: listen, I’m obsessed with all the little touches and how they always reach for each other in the show. I wanted to add a few details on what I imagine is going through their minds in those moments. I feel like physical touch is definitely at least one of their love languages. aka 5 times lockwood and lucy reach for each other in the field and 1 time just because they can.

“Oh shit,” Lucy exclaims, gritting her teeth and backing up slowly away from the shades and lurkers that are closing in on them from across the park.

She feels Lockwood grab her arm and then slowly move his hand down to lace his fingers with hers. It’s such a natural gesture, and it suddenly fills her with calm.

There’s no need to panic, she thinks. She’s got Lockwood at her side. Everything is going to be fine.

“Well, we are right by Tyburn Gallows. It’s the most haunted place in London,” he says. “Frankly, you’re more of a liability than an asset, Lucy,” he adds, turning his head to look at her.

His voice trembles almost imperceptibly at the end, and she hears what he really means. I’ll protect you, even at risk to myself. No matter the odds, I’ve got your back. She’s a liability, and he wants her to stay anyways.

Lucy looks up at him, bathed in the soft yellow light from the flare he’s holding above his head. Lockwood, as he always does when they’re faced with danger, looks so sure, so confident, and only just a little bit scared. If he can be brave, then so can she. Lucy gives his hand a reassuring squeeze.

There’s no need to panic, she thinks. She’s got Lockwood at her side. Everything is going to be fine.

—————

Lucy comes to coughing and with a slight ringing in her ears from the explosion of the flare as it reached the bottom of the well. She just lays there for a second before turning her head and catching a glimpse of George unconscious on the ground a few feet from her. Shit.

“George!” She immediately gets up and shuffles over to him. Lucy grabs the collar of his shirt and attempts to wake him up with a few light taps on the cheek before giving up and hitting him sharply across the face. “George!”

This seems to do the trick, and he blinks his eyes open. “Are you okay?” She asks as she helps him sit up.

“My cheek hurts,” George grumbles.

“Lucy,” Lockwood says from the other side of the room.

She swivels, sees him crumbled against the wall across from her, and crawls desperately to reach him. Lucy grabs at his arm with one hand and puts her other hand lightly on his leg.

It takes him no time at all to reach for her, gripping her fingers and grounding himself with her presence, her touch. “Lucy…” he says softly, his eyes drinking her in and looking pained at the situation they’ve gotten themselves into.

“Oi, where’s his slap?” George protests.

“I deserve one. I’ve been an idiot. I should never have brought us here,” Lockwood says.

Lockwood grunts in pain as he reaches for something in his pocket and Lucy’s heart breaks hearing him in pain. He goes on to connect the dots for her and George about Fairfax and Annabelle, insisting that the old man brought them in for this job so that the house could kill them. She can hear in his voice that he’s distraught and blames himself for all of this. She can’t exactly argue. He was the one that suggested they take this job, after all. But that doesn’t stop her heart from clenching at the way his brow furrows in both physical pain and mental anguish.

Finally, she grabs Lockwood’s arm and hoists him to his feet. He steadies himself with a hand on her shoulder, and then quietly tucks his hand into hers as they move to search for an escape.

—————

This whole thing was a terrible idea. Coming to Bickerstaff’s house, listening to the skull, letting Lucy go in alone, it was all unbelievably foolish. Lockwood can still feel the panic clawing at him as he, George, and Lucy race through the lawn and towards relative safety. She’s safe, she’s safe, she’s safe, he has to keep reminding himself.

“What the hell happened back there?” Lockwood asks, trying desperately to catch his breath.

“He was a monster,” Lucy says, dazed and also panting. She’s clearly shaken up.

He looks at her, sees the furrow in her brow, the way her eyes dart frantically, the hunch of her shoulders, and wants more than anything else to be able to comfort her in this moment. He wants — no needs her to feel safe again. He needs her to understand that she’s not alone.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. We’ve got you now, you’re safe now, okay? You’re with us,” Lockwood says softly as he reaches for her.

He gently grabs Lucy’s arm and trails his hand down her sleeve until he he can take her hand in his. Lucy holds onto him like her life depends on it. He doesn’t remember when they started making such a habit of holding hands, but they can’t seem to stop. Lockwood thinks for a second about how close they were to losing her — how close he was to losing her.

“That’s the last time you go and do a job on your own,” Lockwood breathes out.

He can’t shake the feeling of panic, the feeling that he had failed her, that she was trapped and alone and there was nothing he could — no. He has to stop.

“I don’t care what the skull says. We’re your team, not him,” Lockwood says instead.

“Did you find anything?” George asks.

They both turn to her as she gives a slight nod and says, “Yeah.”

“You’re incredible,” George says. They all let out small laughs of relief.

Lockwood agrees, she is incredible. Lucy’s hand is still tightly clutched in his. Not for the first time, he thinks to himself that he never really wants her to let go.

—————

They killed the DEPRAC agent. They just killed him as if he was nothing, and it’s all Lockwood’s fault. Lucy’s words from before the auction ring in his ears, about how he’s out of control and only cares about winning. That’s why he knows this is all his fault. It was his choice to stay, his choice to risk everything. Lucy only stayed because she refused to leave him behind, and now she’s in danger too, all because of him.

Lockwood can’t get out of his own head, banging against the confines of mind like he’s been locked in a prison. He knows that they don’t have time for this, but he can’t look away from the violent scene unfolding on the other side of the doors. He feels Lucy dragging him into the elevator, but he just can’t stop thinking about everything that’s falling apart around him. He can’t stop the chant of all my fault, all my fault, all my fault from running on loop in his head.

It suddenly feels too stuffy in the elevator, he feels like he’s choking and tries to pry his tie away from his throat. In the on the edges of his consciousness he hears Lucy yelling, panicking, calling George on the radio. But it’s no use. The elevator comes to a lurching halt and Lucy drags him onward again as they stumble out of the elevator and up the stairs.

It’s all too much. The agent is dead, the agent is dead. All of the guilt and regret and terror that comes with knowing he’s responsible for a death comes crashing down on him. It’s happening again, why is it always the people around him who die? Why can’t he ever do anything to stop it? He can’t move. He can’t even stand on his own. He crashes into the wall at the landing and just stops.

“Lockwood, snap out of it!” Lucy’s voice, desperate and scared and real, washes over him.

“They just killed him like that,” he gasps.

“I know. We need to go,” she says, trying to drag him with her once more.

“What did he die for?” Lockwood asks, not knowing what sort of answer he’s looking for. He reaches for her, leaning into her for support.

“Because they’re bastards!” Lucy cries back.

No. “It’s because I am,” he says.

“Lockwood! Please, Lockwood you can’t do this right now!” Lucy pleads.

People yell from somewhere below them. Winkman and his men are closing in on them.

“Lockwood, look at me!” Lucy cries as she drags him away from the wall.

Lockwood feels his hands move towards her face before coming to rest against her neck. Lucy’s here, he reminds himself. He needs her to be okay. She needs to make it out of here. He hears her say something about the mirror, but he’s having a hard time focusing on her words because she’s got her hands on his face, gripping him like her life depends on it. She rubs her thumbs against his cheekbones and places her forehead against his. She’s pleading with him to focus so they can get out alive — so she can get out alive — and he’s letting her down.

Lucy grabs another source from his bag and hurls it down the stairs as the men round the corner. She really is one of the bravest, smartest, most incredible people he’s ever met. Lockwood feels the fog lifting from his head, he feels grounded to the moment again and remembers the urgency of their situation. This time, when they run for it, he keeps pace with her.

—————

Lucy feels absolutely drained. She knows they’ve been running on fumes for a while now and with the fighting over, she knows her body is crashing. But she can’t relax or let her guard down quite yet because Lockwood got fucking shot.

She hasn’t let go of him since he collapsed in her and George’s arms. The imagine of Lockwood she saw in the bone glass by way of the skull won’t leave her mind. When she closes her eyes it’s his face, pale and frost covered, that appears. And when she opens her eyes it’s him, unconscious and bloody, that she sees. It makes her want to break down and cry.

Lucy has Lockwood’s head cradled in her lap. She has one hand on his arm and the other carefully cups his face. She rubs her thumb gently against his cheek. One of his arms is tucked against his chest and the other is flung out over the side of the catafalque. Lucy drags that arm back and collects the loose flaps of his jacket too, so neither get caught on anything as they rise to the surface.

Stay with me, stay with me, she thinks.

—————

Lucy still can’t get the image of Lockwood’s unconscious form or dead eyes scrubbed from her mind. She’s tried everything, and nothing will make it go away. She reminds herself over and over again that he’s alive — that he’s safe. It doesn’t help.

So she’s taken to the basement to exhaust herself with rapier practice instead. Lucy swings and slashes and screams, twirling in circles around the room and trying to banish an enemy that isn’t really there. She manages for about a half hour before she gives up and collapses into a frustrated, sobbing heap on the floor. Her rapier clanks to the ground next to her.

She sits with her knees pulled up to her chest, rocking back and forth ever so slightly and trying to calm herself down. But it doesn’t seem to matter what she does, she can’t get the panic to subside.

“Luce?” A voice calls from the doorway. “Lucy, are you okay?”

Lockwood.

Alive and well, he approaches her tentatively, as if he’s afraid he’ll spook her. He has a pained look on his face, seemingly in more anguish now, at the sight of her sobbing on the floor, than he was when he came to them with a bullet would in his shoulder.

It’s more than Lucy can take. She promptly stands up and strides over to him, engulfing him in a long overdue hug. She’s hyper aware of his injured right shoulder, instead burying her face against the left side of his chest.

Lockwood seems momentarily stunned, but recovers quickly and draws her closer, wrapping his good arm around her. He strokes her hair gently and leans his head down against hers.

“Hey. Hey, Luce it’s okay,” Lockwood murmurs. “It’s okay, I’m here. I’m here, I’ve got you.”

There’s no need to panic, she thinks. She’s got Lockwood at her side. Everything is going to be fine.

#locklyle week 2023 #locklyle #locklyle fic #lucy carlyle #anthony lockwood #lockwood and co #lockwood & co #can’t believe i wrote this just to make myself cry #smh honestly #this hurt my heart a bit I’m not gonna lie #you really feel for them tbh #mwrites

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acacia-may · 1 year

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FOR THE RECORD: This Blog Is a Respectful Place, and Respect Is a Two-Way Street, so Disrespect Will NOT Be Tolerated Here.

I wish none of this needed to be said. My heart is heavy, and I apologize in advance for the little bit of venting here, but in light of some disrespect and negativity I recently, unfortunately, received because someone disagreed with some of my inconsequential opinions about fictional media, I did want to make just a couple of things clear about this blog. I’ve put them under the cut, so I don’t clog up the feed.

I feel like this shouldn't need to be said, but this blog is a respectful place. It is okay if we disagree, but only if we treat each other's opinions with courtesy, sympathy, and respect.

I try to keep things very positive here, and I really try my absolute best to be kind and respectful to everyone and give the benefit of the doubt. In the occasions that I am critical of an element of a fictional media (i.e. a character, relationship, or plot point), I try my best to keep my critiques constructive. If I have failed at this point, I am genuinely sorry. My intention is never to hurt anyone.

I am here to have fun and discuss media that I am passionate about, and having heated arguments on the internet is not fun for me. While I am open to respectfully and constructively discussing differences in interpretations or opinions, I will not tolerate being harassed or disrespected because I don't agree, especially over something so unimportant in the grand scheme of life as a fictional character, relationship, or story.

If an argument gets too heated and/or disrespectful or is clearly nothing more just picking a fight, I will politely ask that we just agree to disagree and drop the topic. If that is outside of someone's capabilities, they will be blocked. Thank you.

To end on a more positive note, I do want to thank everyone who is kind, respectful, and supportive even if we have differing opinions. This blog exists because I love getting to interact with you. ❤️

Honestly, I am so sad and exhausted right now, and I think I might need a break from the internet. If I have genuinely hurt someone, I am sorry, but I'm not changing or wasting my time and energy trying to justify my opinions about a fictional character, especially not for someone who can't respect my right to have my own, different interpretation in the first place. It’s a fictional character for goodness sakes! It’s just not that important. Live and let live, friends.

#why can't we have nice things?#this blog is respectful to everyone & all opinions #i don't think it's too much to ask for the same courtesy in return #and seriously of all the blogs to pick a fight with--why mine?#it's nothing but peace love & good vibes here friends #(at least i hope it is)#smh honestly #there is some venting here--i apologize #acacia's ramblings

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