#sab writes

[talesofadragon]

“Whether in color or in monochrome, in words or emotions, art is a melodrama that lures you in, pulls you toward its undertow. Until there comes a time when you realize that all these stories were never quite this scintillating, they just were.”

A Steve Rogers fanfic coming to you soon! You can thank @crazyunsexycool for suggesting the best Stevie fic ideas! I’m so excited about this, I wrote 1600 words in one sitting, and it’s just the beginning. It’s gonna be a doozy this one. 🩵

[unsaid-stardust]

I Won't Go Home Without You

Lockwood had promised. He promised . "Just reckless enough".

Yeah, right. 

What complete and utter bullshit.

Because just under 24 hours after being shot and stitched up, Lucy witnessed Lockwood offer himself as a sacrifice to a type two. Luckily, Lucy had her senses (How these boys ever made it without her was beyond her). She found the source just a mere seconds before it touched him. 

Regardless, Lucy had just enough time for her to picture Lockwood in the same state as Norrie--and it was enough to make her blood boil.

Lucy didn't even look in his direction--if she had she would encounter those soft eyes saying everything and nothing at all-- after she broke the source turning fast on her heels and making her way to anywhere other than where he was.

"Lucy! Lucy wait!" Lockwood called after her, his voice strained with urgency. Lucy didn't look back.

She kept going. And going. And going until her feet didn't want to walk anymore. She didn't even care that it was past curfew and that she had no idea where she was. She only cared that she was away from Lockwood--at least that's what she thought.

Read the Rest on AO3 here!!

[unsaid-stardust]

Hate That You Know Me So Well

Lucy had never seen such a rarity; Lockwood was asleep. Body slouched, head thrown back in his brown-leathered chair, Lockwood looked at peace for once in his life. Lucy felt the familiar warmth in her chest that often came along with looking at Lockwood these days. As much as she tried to ignore it, it was always there. Especially now, seeing him take such a well deserving nap. She would never tell that to his face, of course. He already has too much of an ego for her liking (that was a lie that she was not ready to admit to herself). 

But, it was true. Everyone could see how exhausted Lockwood was. The dark circles around his eyes were more like tattoos at this point. And Lucy hated it. He was getting a lot better at being more open with her and George, but there were still secrets he kept close to his heart for whatever reason. It tore Lucy’s own heart to shreds if she thought about it too much. 

Lucy shook her head to snap herself out of it and instead, moved to grab a blanket from the corner of the room. She stepped ever so gracefully. One wrong step and the creak of the floorboard beneath her would be Lockwood’s alarm clock. That was the last thing she wanted. Lockwood needed as much sleep as he could get. 

Tiptoeing around the room, Lucy made it to Lockwood’s armchair and swiftly removed the book that lay open across his lap. Mentally patting herself on the back for a job well done, she then opened the folded blanket up and draped it across Lockwood’s legs. Nothing could prepare her for what happened next. 

READ THE REST ON AO3

[unsaid-stardust]

I Just Wanna Stay in That Lavender Haze

“Do you think George will be alright by himself? His fever was pretty high,” Lucy questioned as she and Lockwood made their way to the archives without their primary researcher. 

“He’ll be perfectly fine. George needs space when he’s sick and we left him tea and biscuits on his bedside table for when he wakes up. Besides, we still have a job to do,” Lockwood explained, opening the door to the archives. He motioned for Lucy to go through first; she ignored the heat that filled her cheeks as he did so. 

Lately, her cheeks have been feeling like that a lot around Lockwood. It was there before the events of the Bone Glass, don’t get Lucy wrong, but now that Lockwood was visibly working on himself, it was even more prominent. Old Lockwood would never willingly go to the archives, even if George was sick. But, this new and ever-changing Lockwood? He goes to archives when he can and when he can’t, he gives George the admirable amount of time needed before a job.

And Lucy liked that….a lot. It was almost starting to get distracting. Even now, all he was doing was walking next to her, shoulders brushing against each other every now and then as they moved, and it was enough for Lucy’s thoughts to be preoccupied with nothing, but him. She needed to get a grip. They had a job to do. George was sick at home. This wasn’t the time to be thinking about what it would be like if Lockwood’s hands were–

read the rest on AO3

[unsaid-stardust]

Just Wish Me Luck

A/N: Hi friends!! this fic features heavy panic attack imagery!! take caution!!!

Lockwood couldn't breathe. He saw his face again. Winkman's. In a dream. He can't even escape the bastard in his fucking sleep--It wasn't fair.

He sat in his bed gasping for air, holding onto his chest as if that would ground him somehow. His vision swirled--no longer was it his bedroom, but a dark wonderland of mismatched colors and strange creatures. His throat was tight and his clothes felt even more so. He needed to get out.

He thrashed his covers off of his body, expecting some sort of relief, but it never came. He slid down to the floor, his back against the side of his bed, hands forcing themselves to stick to the floorboards. He tried to focus on the rough wood beneath them and his bare feet thinking it might pull him back to wherever the hell he was; It didn't.

Lockwood needed help. He knew that. But, if he couldn't help himself, what could someone else do?

He didn't care; that's how he knew it was a bad one. He needed someone.

George was an option, but he'd probably murder Lockwood for waking him up if whatever the hell was happening to Lockwood didn't kill him first. Lucy--while he didn't want to wake her up either, Lucy was the best option. He just needed to get to her.

Hesitantly, Lockwood stood up with a slight sway and began making his way to the attic. He's not sure how many times he loses his footing on the stairs, his vision still swirling together like melted ice cream, but eventually, he finds himself in Lucy's room where he immediately finds solace on the hardware floor, his back against the wall. His breathing doesn't slow down, chest heaving.

Lucy is fast asleep in her bed in front of him. He knows he needs to say anything, do something, wake her. He can't just sit here on the ground like a creep staring at her while she sleeps. He can't. But, he does. Because that's all he can do.

And thanks to some kind of miracle or whatever it was at work, Lucy woke up. She sprung up in her bed looking for someone or something to attack when her eyes landed on Lockwood. Immediately, she threw her covers off of her body and sprang out of her bed.

"Lockwood?" She questioned, her voice coded with heavy concern as she rushed over to him. He didn't say anything in reply. He couldn't, even if he tried. His arms were now resting on his knees, chest still heaving.

"Lockwood? Lockwood, what is it?" Lucy urgently inquired, placing a hand on his knee. All he could do was shake his head as a response. Lucy pursed her lips and wrapped her fingers around his. Normally Lockwood would only be able to focus on the electricity that shocked his system when she did this. But, his head was still swimming at that moment.

"Hey, you're ok. You're with me and George is right downstairs. We're not leaving you. You're safe," Lucy whispered softly as she gently put a hand on his arm, her other hand never leaving his. Lockwood nodded in response, his eyes trying to focus on Lucy's green-infused irises. Lucy gave his hand a squeeze and slowly his breathing started to even out. She squeezed his hand once more, seeming to connect the dots, and his breathing continued to slow down.

Finally, it felt like he could breathe for once in his life. He let out a sigh of relief and put his hands up on his neck just below his ears as exhaustion came over him. Lucy sighed with relief too, sitting down on the ground next to him, her shoulders touching his. Lockwood wasn't sure how long they sat like that. Her shoulders connected to his, fingers still 

intertwined, her head against the crook of his neck as his breathing went back to normal.

"Do you--want to talk about it?" Lucy whispered as she looked up at Lockwood. Lockwood felt frozen for a moment. He didn't want to keep going around in circles like this. It was only fair to Lucy, to him , to let her in. He swallowed back any hesitation.

"It was. It was a nightmare," Lockwood started softly. He grabbed Lucy's hand with both of his and started playing with her fingers to keep himself grounded as he spoke.

"Winkman was in it. I know-I know he's in prison now, but every time he's in my dreams it feels like I'm back there with him and I just can't-" Lockwood stopped for a moment, debating on whether or not Lucy should hear the next part. But, he meant it when he said "no more secrets". He doesn't want to keep locking himself away.

"Can't what?" Lucy asked. Lockwood took a deep breath.

"I just can't. Can't breathe, can't exist, can't sleep. Everything. When Winkman's there....I-I'm not," Lockwood finished. He didn't dare look into Lucy's eyes. If he did, he was pretty sure tears would swell from his own.

Lucy had other agendas though.

“Shh, hey, just look at me, yeah?” She whispered softly as she pressed a gentle finger on his chin, turning his head so that he faced her. He complied, but her finger didn't leave his chin.

“Winkman's not here, he can't hurt you anymore. He'll never hurt anyone-- ever again. "

 She paused, as though to take a breath, but instead her finger slipped away from his chin. He couldn't even mourn the loss, before her hand reached out to cup his cheek so tenderly that his shuddering breath hitched, 

"It's going to be okay, Lockwood. Maybe not right now. Maybe not for a long time, but it will be. You're here. You’re home. And you're not going anywhere." When he doesn't say anything, Lucy continued, her voice soft and warm.

"You do exist, Lockwood. There isn't a world in which you couldn't.” 

Suddenly, Lockwood felt warm. And his eyes were wet. Oh my god. They were wet. Was he—crying?

Fuck.

He was crying. He hated when he cried. Especially in front of other people–in front of Lucy . 

He tried to stand up then, wiping his eyes with his t-shirt sleeve. He wouldn’t let her see him cry, not like this. Not for the first time. Lucy placed her hands on his shoulders to push him back down. 

“Lockwood, hey, hey. It’s ok. Just-let it out. I promise I won’t tell anyone that I’ve seen Anthony Bloody Lockwood cry,” She joked. Lockwood rolled his eyes and managed a slight chuckle as he wiped his tears once more. He sat back down then and let Lucy lay her head on his shoulder. She rubbed circles on his back as his tears continued to flow, no sign of stopping. 

Feeling exhaustion take him over, Lockwood let his head lay on top of Lucy’s, the smell of her peach shampoo providing him comfort. He realized then that he was getting the top of her head wet from his tears. 

“Sorry. I’m getting your hair all wet,” He mumbled, removing his head to take a look at her. 

“Hey, don’t you dare apologize. I’m just….I’m really glad you told me all of this. It means a lot that you.. felt like you could share that." With me goes unsaid, but he can almost read the words in her gaze, which are filled with so much gratitude that his eyes swell once more. 

Lucy gives a sympathetic smile and lays her head back down on Lockwood’s shoulder. He returns to the same position he was in beforehand and takes a deep breath in. Somehow, someway, he knew he was gonna be ok. He was Anthony Bloody Lockwood. She was Lucy Carylyle. They were going to be ok. 

[unsaid-stardust]

Sleep with The Light on

Anthony Lockwood couldn't say exactly when the habit started, but he could tell you exactly when it ended; sleeping with his beside lamp on, that is. And that abrupt end was when none other than Lucy Carlyle climbed into his bed at 3:30 am on a random Tuesday night. He supposed she had a nightmare of some sort, but they didn't talk about it. They didn't say anything at all because nothing needed to be said. She crept into his room and Lockwood knew exactly what was happening for it had been forming in the background since the day they met.

He motioned for her to join him and she complied with barely any hesitance. As Lucy shifted under the covers with him, Lockwood scooted over and hesitantly switched off the lamp on his bedside table. It's not that he wanted to. It was more so that he didn't want Lucy to think of him as a pathetic child that still needed a night light. Because it was stupid, wasn't it? That he needed the light to sleep.

But he did. Because between the inability to cross the invisible line, cut sharp between them on the mattress, and checking each crevice for newly emerging death glows, he could barely sit still. Let alone let sleep claim him. It was as though his insomnia had skyrocketed to level one thousand.

Still, he tried not to shift too much as Lucy laid with her back facing him. He tried not to stare and dwell on the fact that a girl was laying in the same bed he was. It was strictly platonic. Friends could sleep in the same bed. Especially when said friend was facing demons she did not talk about. Suddenly, Lucy stirred and Lockwood wondered for a moment if she could read his mind. He hoped not. There were things in his head that he didn't throw out into the universe for a reason.

Lockwood sighed and rolled his eyes as he shifted to face the wall instead of Lucy--the clock practically screaming at him. 3:50 am and sleep still had not found him. Nor Lucy apparently as she shifted once more next to him.

Just as Lockwood thought it was going to be another long night, the bed shifted as it creaked, the floorboard following in suit. A frustrated sigh escaped from Lucy and Lockwood turned toward her. He expected her to still be laying next to him, but instead, she was walking around to his side of the bed. Lockwood felt his body tense, unsure of what was happening next and it definitely wasn't what he expected in the slightest.

Lucy Carlyle turned the light back on.

Lockwood's body relaxed as Lucy made her way back to her side of the bed. She moved underneath the covers again, this time though, she laid so that her head was closer to Lockwood's shoulder as her eyes closed shut and a smile formed on her lips. Lockwood's own lips matched the expression and he slid further down the mattress so that his head could lay above hers.

He didn't remember falling asleep, but it must've been quickly after that because he woke the next morning feeling the most rested he had in months (maybe even years). The sunlight was pouring into his room and Lucy was still in his bed, her head using his right arm as a pillow. His lips curved into a smile as he resisted the urge to kiss the crown of her head. Instead, he focused on the clock on his wall--10:30 it read. That couldn't be right. He had never slept past 8.

At any other time, Lockwood would have sprung out of bed immediately, racing to deny whatever judgement George claimed for his sleeping so late. But, he had a sleeping Lucy laying on his chest. And what kind of person would he be to wake up such a sleeping masterpiece? Besides, if he did wake her up, Lockwood was pretty sure he'd be a dead man--if George didn't kill him first for missing the biscuit rotation.

tagging: @al-ghvl

[sambvcks]

eddie munson x reader (stranger things)

standalones

of first, second, third, fourth meetings | on ao3

the four times it feels like meeting eddie munson for the first time. loosely inspired by ‘when harry met sally’

wanting was enough (for me it was enough) | on ao3

eddie munson was not used to being someone’s first choice

bucky barnes x reader (marvel)

multichapter

crawl home to her | masterlist | on ao3

neighbors! au. bucky isn’t as receptive to this new life of his as everyone had hoped. he’s cold, sharp tongued, and closed off. except to the tenant across the hallway who always wear pajamas and bakes a dozen too many of his favorite cookies.

standalones

redefined | on ao3

just because those ten words no longer wreak havoc on his mind does not mean they are gone. just redefined. 

bruce wayne x reader (2022!batman)

standalones

i can go anywhere i want (just not home) | on ao3

six months of silence from your on-again, off-again vigilante patient comes to an end

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