so i got this idea that derry was the upside down of hawinks and someone told me to write it, so here i am.
however, my wonderful co-writer and beta @richiewheeler helped me out A TON and she’s gonna be helping me write this whole fic so pls give her some love as well pls and thx
i hope you guys like it! we are SUPER DUPER proud of it
without further ado, here is my stranger things/it crossover
summary: a stranger things/it crossover fic
pairings: reddie def, and lots of others to be determined
Will Byers always had to ride his bike home at night, it seemed. Mike’s Dungeons and Dragons games managed to always run way longer than the group had anticipated, usually, 10 hours was a normal time frame for them. School nights always ruined the flow of it, sure, but Will’s team always won. Sometimes he wondered if Mike let them win, or, perhaps, it was just luck.
His older brother Jonathan was working a late shift, as was their mother, which was a common occurrence. He didn’t mind riding his bike so late, he’d gotten used to it. Nothing happened in Hawkins, so it was almost therapeutic. The sound of his bike wheels thumping against the pavement and crickets that chirped in the darkness.
Mirkwood, a street so familiar to him he could almost see it just as he would in the day, stretched in front of him. Since it was only a fall Sunday, there was no one there. He hummed to himself and looked through the woods of Hawkins Forest. He’s almost home.
Will looked back at the road, and saw a tall figure standing right in the middle of the street. Yelping, he slammed on his breaks, nearly falling off the front of his bike as he skids to a stop.
It was a clown, with wild red hair and a pristine costume. If it were Halloween, Will would’ve been impressed. But the autumn holiday was last month and this didn’t seem like a costume. It was too real as if the face paint wasn’t actually paint at all.
“Hey there, Will. Where are you off to?” The clown spoke, his words causing Will to physically shiver in fear.
His mother’s warnings of don’t talk to strangers rattled in his head, so he just swallowed and wanted to leave it there. But he had to know.
“How did you know my name?” Will asked, his voice sounding scared to his own ears. He wished he could be stronger about it, but he wasn’t.
“I’m a friend of your dad’s,” The clown said. “He tells me all about you, Will.”
He hated the way this guy said his name, and he knew his dad didn’t say many positive things about him. He changed the subject, “Why the clown outfit?” “Well, I’m Pennywise the Dancing Clown,” The Clown- Pennywise- said, grinning. In the light of the moon, his eyes shined bright and his teeth looked so sharp. “I was just at a party, and I thought I’d take Mirkwood home.”
Will smiled awkwardly a little, “We call this street Mirkwood too.” He didn’t know why he continued to talk to strange man in a clown costume. He almost felt compelled to stay.
“I know,” Pennywise said. Something in Will’s stomach twisted and his fingers clutched the handles of his bike until his knuckles went white.
“My mom’s expecting me home,” Will started to excuse himself, but Pennywise frowned. That frown sent a wave of discomfort through his small frame. A frown like that wasn’t normal. It was far too sinister, too off to be ordinary. The clown tilted his head a bit, his hair staying in the perfect “windblown” shape it had been in. That wasn’t normal either. His eyes, Will noticed, were a bright orange color. Number three on the ‘not normal’ list about this guy. One was lopsided as if he had a lazy eye. One concentrated on Will’s figure, the other looming off slightly to the right of him. Number four, check.
“Let me show you something first.” The clown spoke slowly as if he was trying to be friendlier, more convincing. Will felt as if he didn’t have much of a choice. The man blocked his way regardless, so he stayed put and kept his mouth shut.
The clown smiled once more. His face suddenly contorted, his head snapping to the side violently at a 90-degree angle. That’s when Will realized it was no longer a person. This thing wasn’t human, it never was, to begin with. Will watched in horror as this thing transformed into a large-scale version of the Demogorgon, one of the many pieces in Mike’s Dungeons and Dragons campaign from today. He was terrified, slowly backing up with his bike in a vain attempt to separate himself from this monster as much as he could. Will glanced around him quickly, seeing if he had a possible escape route. He didn’t.
When he glanced back at the monster, it started to advance. With no choice, Will threw his bike down and ran down the street, the thumps growing louder behind him. The last thing he heard was his own terrified scream before he hit the pavement and his vision clouded black.
In a town closer than they thought, Georgie Denbrough bounced beside his brother, Bill, as he made a paper sailboat as a storm crossed through Derry.
This was a tradition they had when it rained, seeing how fast one boat could go in the pouring rain. Georgie liked that even though Bill was sick, he was still gonna let him play. It wouldn’t be the same without him, but they both agreed that tradition was important. They couldn’t miss an opportunity.
“S-she’s all ready, Captain,” Bill said, coughing a little. Georgie nodded vibrantly and took the boat in his hands. Slightly sticky to the touch, he knew how much work his big brother put into it and made sure he handled ‘her’ carefully.
“D-don’t forget your g-galoshes,” Bill reminded as Georgie nearly raced out the door. “M-mom will k-kill you.”
Georgie made a face but nodded once more. When he ran down the stairs to the mudroom, he pulled on the dark green boots that chafed against his ankles.
He ran outside and Georgie turned, waving up to Bill’s window, showing off how well the boat was maintaining its structure in the downpour. Bill waved back at him, so he took that as his signal to start his boat’s journey. The static hum of the walkie-talkie in Georgie’s pocket made him smile, knowing Bill was sorta there with him.
“Be careful.” His brother’s voice crackled and Georgie was off. He placed the boat down near the street curb, watching with glee as it raced down the road following the direction of the water flow.
He tried being careful, he really did, but it was too easy for him to get distracted. Georgie wasn’t too surprised when he smacked into the orange sign, coincidentally at the perfect height to hit his head on. He didn’t want to lose the boat so he tried to keep up, but he cried out in horror as it fell down the sewer drain.
“Bill’s gonna kill me,” He moaned, disappointed in himself. He kneeled down and tried to see if it had caught on something. But instead of seeing the boat, he saw a kid.
Georgie yelped and fell backward, landing on his butt. Even to a little kid like himself, it was a little odd to see someone in a storm drain. The kid in the drain smiled meekly, holding up Georgie’s boat. He had brown hair, that was wet and flat due to the rain. His outfit consisted of a vest with a flannel underneath and a pair of jeans from what Georgie could see, but it was dark in the drain.
“Hey, Georgie, is it?” He asked, looking down at the paper boat. A drop of water landed on the ‘S. S. Georgie’ Bill had written on it, smearing the ink a bit.
Georgie nodded slowly, a little thrown off by his question but answered anyway. “Yeah, that’s me!”
The kid smiled. “Hey, I’m Will Byers. Nice to meet you.”
Georgie smiled back at him. “How did you get in there?” He asked, “Are you stuck?”
Will nodded solemnly, before his expression changed. If people got lightbulbs over their heads like in the cartoons, there would’ve been one above Will’s head. “If you help me out, I can give you your boat back! How does that sound? You can help a new pal out.”
The small Denbrough contemplated it for a second, before agreeing.
Will grinned. “Grab my hand.” He spoke, reaching his hand upwards towards the opening in the drain.
As Georgie reached down, Will’s face changed drastically. It contorted into something sinister, multiple rows of teeth baring in a mere instant.
His scream of agony could be heard all the way down the road but by the time anyone had checked, Georgie Denbrough was gone. The only evidence of that he was ever there was red water slowly flowing into the storm drain.
But no adult nearby saw it.
Will woke up with what he thought was the start of a migraine after the worst nightmare he’d ever experienced. A goddamn clown accosted him when he was just trying to get home. He just wanted to eat Jonathan’s breakfast and see his friends at school. He wanted to hug his mom and have her tell him the nightmare clown couldn’t get to him again until he believed her.
But instead of smelling pancakes and nearly burnt eggs, all it smelled like was like stagnant water and blood.
Will’s eyes snapped open, and all he saw was gray. He pushed up onto his palms and looked around.
He wasn’t in his room, safe in his bed under the covers and dry. Instead, he was in a wide, circular room covered in trash, soaking wet. How long was he asleep? Did he get knocked out?
Something dripped on his shoulder, and he looked up to see a trash pile that nearly skirted the tall ceiling. But more astonishingly, bodies floated. They floated around the room like limp rag dolls that Mike’s sister Holly played with. And they were all upside down.
A sound of squelching caused Will to look to his right, only to come face to face with the same clown that he saw on the street.
As if it wasn’t terrifying before, its clown face was now smothered in blood. It grinned, and the crimson-stained teeth looked even sharper than he remembered.
In its long, twisted fingers, it held an arm with a chunk taken out of it. In that quick glance, he could see blood and muscles and bone.
Will screamed and scrambled backward, a sharp pain in his side as his heart nearly beat out of his chest. How was this real? How was none of that a dream?
No. This is still a dream. This isn’t real, Will focused on convincing himself. He scrunched his eyes shut and dug his nails into his palms.
“Not real, Willie?” The clown’s scratchy voice said, sounding so close. But he refused to open his eyes. “Do you want to see a dream?”
He screamed and his eyes flung open. The clown grabbed him by the throat and leaned in close. Its breath was rancid like the trash that littered around them. It drooled blood and saliva all over him as he squirmed in a vain attempt to escape the clown’s death grip on him.
“I’ll show you a goddamn nightmare.”
i hope you guys liked that as we’d love to write a part dos
I crave the ones who’ve seen confusion and known struggle, who have pulled themselves up from the shackles of heartache and strife, disappointment and darkness, exhaustion and drain and have risen with a heart as open and unwaveringly wide as the ocean itself. Give me those people. The brave. The vulnerable, the wise, the ones who care for a world, and how to better it along with themselves.
— Victoria Erickson
Abhorsen: Who was foolish enough to assist you so far?
Kerrigor: One of the usual calling, but unskilled. He didn’t realize it would be in the nature of an exchange. Alas, his life was not sufficient for me to pass the last portal. But now, you have come to help me.”
Summary: When Hoseok refuses to feed, you get desperate.
Genre: angst, fluff, vampire au
A/N: soooo there will be hobi fluff duing my halloween daily post but i had to give the boy some angst
“Please Hobi,” your voice broke as the phone fell from your hand as you watched him shake his head on FaceTime; he looked drained, dark bags collected under his eyes and his face seemed to have lost all of its colour.
I still hope that we will see him once again, at least in a format of flashback. There are still a lot of questions about him. Where he comes from? How did he become a General? How did he kill Moon’s mother? Whether it was a fair fight or not? Etc.
P.S. - By the way, I had this strange idea that maybe Star wasn’t dead? Maybe she was in a kind of dark dimension, where magic drains. And there is a chance that there will be Toffee(because he absorbed a lot of that magic). Although I do not think that he’ll like it there. Just imagine spending eternity in company of Glossaric?
- You dream of the stage. The spotlight shines on you, the audience holds their breath for you to speak. Your lines, someone mouths to you. You do not know who, you did not see them, you did not hear them. You cannot remember your lines. You look down, a cold sweat forming on your brow. You notice that you are in your underwear. The audience stares. You are not dreaming.
- Backstage, you wait. Standing alone in the darkness of the wing, a black shape shifts past you. You have no proof of them other than the breeze felt by their passing and the shadow you thought you caught in the corner of your eye. Another shape moves past, behind you. Another, in front. Perhaps they aren’t passing you, perhaps they’re coming closer, together. The techies. They move.
- You wait in center stage for the light to come on. It is only dark. It has been dark for as long as you can remember. A low buzzing can be heard, and the stage lights begin to glow, softly, growing brighter, quickly. They are so bright now. You cannot see the audience. You look down, you cannot see your hands. It is so bright. You can no longer feel your body, you are no longer a physical form.
- You shower after the show, trying to wash off the stage makeup. The water runs flesh color at first, then black. There is so much makeup. Glitter falls from your hair. Why is there glitter? You think. I will never be clean, you whisper into the dark recesses beyond the drain. Eyelashes are falling now, in clumps, whether they are fake or real you do not know. Everything falls, everything is washed away. You become faceless, and yet streaks of waterproof mascara remain.
- You are only called by your character name, you can not remember the last time you were called by your real name. You can not remember your real name. You are changing.
- Red leather, yellow leather, they chant. The step closer to you, circling you. There is no escape. They chant softly at first, growing louder, walking faster. They break into a jazz run, they are screaming now. You try to chant as well, you try to keep up. You are sweating, yelling. Red leather, yellow leather. Red leather yellow leather. They are coming towards you, waiting for you to fail, to fall. Red yellow, leather pleather, you finally slip. They close in. You have lost.
Careful What You Wish For pt.2// Yoongi Angst // TRIGGER WARNING**
Trigger Warning // This scenario does involve suicide attempt and some harsh language, please do not feel as if you should subject yourself to this topic if you do not want to. If you ever need help dealing with an abusive relationship, bullying, etc, where you feel as if you want to commit suicide, please do not be afraid to message me and we’ll talk it out together, and we’ll get you the help you need lovely. You are beautiful and should never think of suicide as an answer.♥
Yoongi sat impatiently in the waiting room, completely exhausted and emotionally drained. The dark circles under his reddened and sore eyes was very much apparent that he wasn’t getting any sleep. Namjoon, Jin, Hoseok, were there to comfort him in his time of distress, but nothing they did helped him in his distressed state. The only thing that kept going through his mind was that this was all his fault. He’s the one who told you to disappear. He wasn’t being considerate and he should’ve stopped enticing the argument when you asked him to, when you begged him to. What the hell was wrong with him?
Namjoon kept trying to reassure him that you were going to be alright, but he couldn’t believe the younger boy. Even if you did live, what made him think that you would want to stay with him? He didn’t deserve you, what boyfriend drives their beloved to feel the need to kill themselves? He stood the second your doctor approached, searching for answers in his worn out eyes.
“Min Yoongi?” he questioned, raising his eyebrows at all four of the boys that stood, awaiting for results.
“That’s me,” his voice was gruff as he spoke, “is she..?” He held his breath, preparing for the doctor’s response.
“She’s alive,” he reassured, lifting the weight off of all of their shoulders, allowing for Min Yoongi to finally breathe knowing that you were okay, “We had to pump her stomach three times, and she’s been placed on suicide watch for the next seventy-two hours, but we’re lucky you found her soon enough before her organs started to fail.”
“Can we see her please? I-Is she awake? I need to see her now, please..,” without even waiting for a response, Yoongi tried to move past the doctor, only to have his hand pull him back.
“I will have a nurse check with her, but honestly all visiting hours are over for right now, you’ll have to return tomorrow sir.”
“No, you don’t understand, I need to see her now,” Yoongi’s voice started to raise urgency, “I have to see her, she’s my girlfriend and I need to tell her—”
“I’m sorry sir, please come back tomorrow.”
Before Yoongi could plead his case and cause all of them to be thrown out, Namjoon and Jin would have to pull him back, speaking calmly but firmly.
“Yoongi, we’ll come back tomorrow, she needs her rest just as much as you do,” Jin would speak up, “We’ll be back first thing in the morning, you can bring her something back okay? We’ll come back tomorrow.” Reluctantly but surely, Min Yoongi nodded, feeling relieved but still unsatisfied with being unable to see you for himself.
He wouldn’t have been able to sleep that night. Yoongi hadn’t even returned to the dorms with the boys, he would head to your apartment, wanting to be close to you the only way he could. While laying himself down in your bed, he would hold onto your pillow, wishing that it were you while he quietly sobbed against it, repeating into the object just how sorry he was.
The next morning came around and Yoongi and all of the boys found themselves back at the hospital. He’d brought your favorite book, snack and blanket along with his sweater for you to wear if it got too cold in the hospital and your house slippers. None of the other boys said anything about his state, he still seemed very distressed not having seen you yet, not knowing how you’d react seeing him now, but still somewhat excited that he got to see you once again, alive with your heart still beating. He couldn’t even explain how grateful he was that you were still here.
“Hi, we’re here to see Y/n Y/L/n,” Jin would speak to the secretary as Yoongi kept quiet, staring down at where your room could be, holding everything he brought close to him.
“Alright, please wait in the waiting room, and we’ll have a nurse come and take you back there shortly,” she gave a small smile as she gestured for them to sit.
While they waited, Yoongi bit his lip in anticipation, unable to sit as he waited impatiently. The nurse finally started to approach the boys, her expression slightly perplexed.
“Y/n can see you now, but she has requested to not see someone by the name of Min Yoongi?” she furrowed her eyebrows as she looked over the boys’ expressions.
“What do you mean she doesn’t want to see me?” his voice was slightly cracked, yet raised in volume, “I need to see her, I need to apologize to her. Please, tell her I need to see her—tell her that!” The nurse would flinch back at his raised and desperate voice. Before he could do anything he regretted, Jin would step in between.
“Yoongi, we will tell her, okay? Maybe we can get her to change her mind, just wait here,” he stated.
“Jimin, V, and Kook wait here with Yoongi,” Namjoon remarked before starting down the hallway with Hoseok and Jin accompanying him toward your room.
You were dressed in hospital provided sweatpants, and a large white t-shirt. Being on suicide watch, they didn’t allow you to have anything with string, or pretty much anything at all that would cause you to harm yourself. They checked in on you every 15 minutes, and if you took too long in the bathroom, they would come in, invading all types of privacy.
The most ironic part was the medication they gave you. Giving you pills to keep you subdued from any thoughts of suicide, even though it was pills that caused you to be here in the first place.You hadn’t been there long, but already learned that if you refused the pills, they would sedate you by force and put you to sleep. You hated this place, you were supposed to be gone, it’s what Yoongi wanted.
You didn’t want to see him because of that. You thought that you had been doing him a favor and you were surprised he came in the first place. He was probably just here to remind you how pathetic you felt, and how much he didn’t want you around. You couldn’t face him and you didn’t want to hear that. There was no possible way you could bear hearing how disappointed he was that you were even still here, so you rejected seeing him. You’d rather hear it from Namjoon then to have Yoongi confirm your thoughts.
When you heard a knock at your door, you froze, tensing up a bit at the thought of any of them seeing you in this state. The door opened, revealing Namjoon, Hoseok, and Jin to see you. You could barely look at them, feeling embarrassed that you’d been led to this point.
“Y/n..,” Namjoon came over to hug you first, being enveloped in his arms was the first type of warmth you felt in all the time you’d been here. The other two boys joined in making a short lived, yet comforting group hug. “Why would you do this to yourself? We were so worried about you, all of us. Yoongi could barely sleep—why don’t you want to see him?” Your voice was caught by the lump in your throat, you wanted to cry, but the pills made you feel sort of emotionally numb. You shook your head and shrugged nonchalantly.
“He shouldn’t want to see me Joonie,” your voice was husky and low as all three boys watched you intensely, “He wanted me to go away. I don’t want him to see me like this.” It hit you when you said it, seeing you like this, you meant seeing you alive; he wouldn’t want that.
“What are you on about Y/n? He’s basically out there about to get dragged out by security because they won’t let him see you,” Hoseok spoke up and looked at you with a pout, “Yoongi-hyung didn’t even want to leave you here last night.” There was no possible way that your sugar bear was causing a fuss over you. He wanted you gone didn’t he?
“I know that Yoongi is one to lash out when he’s angry but, what did he say to you Y/n?” Namjoon made his presence known again, “He was in a state of panic, and he’s the one who made me call 911. What happened?”
“I-..,” the tears were finally forming on the rim of your eyelids as you shook your head, “Remember how I spilled water on his keyboard Joonie?” He nodded. “He was so mad at me. I don’t know if you guys knew this, but a lot of your fans bash me for dating him. I try not to listen, but when you’re being told hurtful things over and over, you start to believe it. He knew that I was struggling with my insecurity and he would be there for me, but he lashed out like never before—I mean he threw it all back in my face.”
The three boys were listening to every shaken word come out of your mouth, feeling torn. None of you noticed that Yoongi had escaped the watch of the three younger boys, and was standing outside your door listening to the sound of your voice. Your words breaking him apart.
“I wish it didn’t escalate, but he snapped and I just thought that he wanted this,” you scoffed at yourself as the tears finally broke free and streamed down your face, “You have to listen to what people tell you when they’re angry, that’s when the truth comes out. I-I just didn’t want to be a burden anymore, you guys should just go, really I’ll be fine. Tell Yoongi that I’m sorry to disappoint him…I tried.”
At your final words, Yoongi would burst into the room and stride over to your bedside, dropping everything he’d brought for you at the end of the bed. He was sobbing, a complete mess in front of you as he grabbed for your hands desperately.
“No, Y/n, n-no,” his voice had pain lingering in it, “No, no, I’m s-so sorry. I love you jagi. I would never want you to disappear. I’m hot headed and stupid and an asshole for e-everything I said to you. Please don’t say that.” Min Yoongi was coming undone before you. Begging for you to listen to him, begging for you to believe him and not caring that the other members saw him in this vulnerable state.
Even though you were already crying, seeing this site before you made your tears pour down your face harder than before.
“You mean that Yoongi?” you managed to get out between sobs. All he could do was nod as he wrapped his arms around you tightly, crying with you, refusing to let you go ever again.
circling this dark drain of summer,
everything goes Bad under the humid
fog of it. every year. another boring
dirge about the heavenly hierarchy of heat. the broken bicycle wheel of summer. the yellow cat that didn’t make it to september.
just as well. not looking to the
tarot cards this time. belly up on abandoned bleachers & giving poetry a break from me. only the good vibes get wind, dandelion smoke in the still empty breeze.
this august there was rain. no grass the colour of dead angels. it wasn’t for nothing, then. this sudden downpour. a collective breath-holding as we wait for that great torrent of water to hit the ground.
As weird as it was as you hit the wall hard, head connecting
with the brick building behind you with a thud that could be nothing but
dangerous to your consciousness all you could think was how utterly typical it
was that your already horrible day had to descend into absolute hell.
The man who was at the moment trying to detangle your bag
from your arm growled angrily when the strap refused to move and you could do
nothing but slide down the wall, seeing stars as he lost what little patience
he had left and ripped the bag from you, the leather digging into your skin as
You couldn’t help the whimper that escaped your throat as
the man turned evil eyes back to you, seeming to realise that you were
according to your friends an attractive young woman he hauled you back up to
your feet, putting his face close to your own. You could smell his rancid
breath and doubted he’d bathed in the past few days. Finally finding some sense
you did the only thing you could think of and screamed loudly straight into his
ear, all this got you though was a wince and your head connecting with the wall
once more as he shook you like a rag doll.
You were fairly sure that something even worse than loosing
your bag was going to happen when all of sudden the guys hands had gone,
without him holding you up you slid back to the floor, head spinning as you
heard and vaguely saw the outline of another man landing a fairly devastating punch
to the back of your attackers head.
The new man came and crouched down in front of you, hand reaching
out to gently turn your face up to his, in the semi gloom of the evening you
could just make out dark eyes and the fall of long dark hair hanging around his
shoulders, you were being moved again before you could complain or try and
escape this new man who was apparently just as dangerous. His hands were gentle
though as he lifted you back to your feet “can you stand?” he asked you quietly.
You tried to speak but all that came out was jumbled letters
as you swayed on the spot. Before you could fall the new man grabbed your arms
“Head… hurts” you managed to say, finally connecting
letters into words.
“Can you at least see?” you were asked once more in that
You nodded then regretted it as the action made you head
spin and your stomach threatened to empty its contents. You groaned without
meaning to, the man apparently took this as a sign as sighing he swung you up
into his arms and carried you bridal style back onto the street, looking around
he found an all-night cafe and went in, the district of New York you had been
walking through was rough and the cafe owners found nothing out of the ordinary
about a young woman being carried into their establishment.
You were placed onto a chair by a table where you could lean
against the wall, you heard the man order some tea and ask for some cold water
before sitting down beside you once more.
In the bright light you could see more easily, your rescuer
was an extremely attractive man. Dark hair hanging into his eyes, and a gaze
that probably should have made you nervous however it was hard to be scared of
the man who had just saved you from a probable rapist.
The cold water arrived along with the tea, “drink this” he
ordered handing you the cold water.
Doing as he asked you drained the glass of cold water,
afterwards pressing your cold hands to your cheeks trying to fight through the
haze currently enshrouding your brain. The cold helped more than you would have
thought as your voice finally returned “thank you” you said softly.
He smiled briefly at you pouring tea for the two of you and
handing you a cup “no problem” he twisted and from behind him brought out your
bag “I presume this is yours as well”
You nod and took it from him “thank you” you say before
smiling slightly “again”
“No problem” he repeated “you hit your head pretty hard, you
should get it checked out”
Wincing you lift your hand to the back of your head, there’s
no cut but you’re sure you’re going to have a bump the size of an egg in the
morning “I think i’ll be alright”
He looked out of the window of the cafe frowning slightly
“what are you doing around here at night?” he asked, eyes returning to you
“this isn’t a good neighbourhood to walk around alone in”
You put the tea cup back on the table suddenly embarrassed
“I live close by” you admit making his eyes widen, suddenly defensive you scowl
“not all of us can be famous soldiers and live in that hideous Stark tower,
some of us have to live of a waitresses salaries”
The man jerked, eyes narrowing “you recognise me”
You nod once, now your brain has started to function again
you have connected the dark eyes and piercing stare to Bucky Barnes, the glint
of a metal arm coming from the neckline of his shirt not helping hide his
identity either. “Yes” you say simply “my flatmate likes Captain America. So I
know who you are. Bucky”
“Your flatmate likes him. You don’t Steve or the others?” he
You find a smile from somewhere watching as his eyes widen
once more at your grin “I think they may be growing on me after tonight”
Bucky laughed finishing his own tea and placing the cup back
down on the table. “So you know my name, fairs fair what’s yours?”
“Y/N” He smiles and glances outside once more, obviously
still not happy with where you are. “What are you doing this far downtown?” you
ask him “after all, it’s dangerous to be outside after dark”
He suddenly looks embarrassed a blush staining the tops of
his ears and cheek bones. “I… umm… I might have gotten lost” he mumbles.
His admission startles a laugh out of you as his blush
deepens. “Well couldn’t you just ring one of your team mates?”
Bucky sighed loudly before showing you his phone screen, it
was dark and obviously drained “the stupid thing ran out of battery 3 hours ago
so even if I remembered how to use it properly I couldn’t”
“I guess it’s not just me having a bad day then huh?” you
Bucky manages to smile slightly at you, his own smile
lightened up his face and you found your stomach spinning for a different
reason this time. You might have not been entirely truthful when you told him
your flatmate liked Captain America and The Avengers, she did but that didn’t
mean that you hadn’t enjoyed staring at some of her posters or imagining
meeting them all.
You’d always expected Steve Rogers would be more your type
though, smiling and light. Bucky however, who was dark and had a dangerous aura
clinging to him was definitely giving your brain idea’s of things you were sure
you weren’t allowed to do to a super human assassin.
“So” you continue “maybe I can save you this time?” You
rummage through your bag until you find your own phone handing it over to him.
“Call one of your friends to come get you”
Relief fills Bucky’s face as he gratefully takes your phone
and dial’s in a number, you only half pay attention to the conversation to busy
staring at the planes of his face and the muscles of his arms. You zone back in
when his hand waves suddenly in front of your face, he’s still on the phone but
smirking enough that you know he’s caught you checking him out. Refusing to be
embarrassed you listen once more to his question.
“Where am I?” he asks you.
“You’re in Hell’s Kitchen but do you want to just have them
come get you from my apartment?”
He nods “sure. Where’s that”
You reel off an address that Bucky repeats back into your
phone to whoever is on the other end of the line. Soon after that he hangs up
the phone and passes it back to you.
“So, we should go?” he asks.
You nod and attempt to get back up to your feet, your head
however even though it seems to be working again doesn’t like the attempt at
movement and the world spins dangerously.
Bucky frowns “I really think you should get that looked at”
he insists while holding out his hand for you to take, he pulls you up to your
feet with little effort before throwing some money down on the table for the
“Maybe in the morning” you admit, worried now that actually
you have done some damage.
Bucky accepts your words and leads you back out into the
night, you quickly point him in the right direction to your flat and you walk
back together in semi quiet. It’s only when you’re nearly at the door to your
apartment block that you realise Bucky never let go of your hand, even when it
was obvious that you didn’t need his support anymore to walk. Your heart
clenches up a little bit as you notice other things as well like how every few
minutes he glances over at you, or the way he’s biting his lip nervously like
he wants to say something but isn’t quite sure how to start.
“This is it” you say breaking the silence and pointing to
your building. You were desperate for him to say something to you, ask for your
phone number or indicate slightly that he might want to see you again but car
headlights suddenly light up the street pulling to a stop next to you and Bucky,
who dropped your hand quickly as the window of the car was rolled down and a
head poked out shouting for him to hurry the hell up.
He smiled down at you awkwardly. “Get your head checked out
ok” he said once more “and stay out of dark alleys”
You smile “thank you, seriously, thank you for saving me”
without thinking too much about it you reach up on tip toes and gently kiss his
Bucky stands there shocked for a moment before nodding, “its
ok” he mumbles. He sends you one last small smile before pushing you towards
your door “go inside before I leave” he says forcing you through the doorway
which you manage to open with shaking hands.
You manage to say thank you once more before he’s gone, the
door shutting and soon after you hear a car engine starting up and vanishing
down the street. You sigh softly on the stair well rubbing your head and
starting the long climb to the top floor.
You’re coming out of the doctor’s office the next morning,
with a prescription written for headache tablets and some cream for the
bruising on your shoulder when you feel your phone vibrating. Pulling it out of
your pocket you frown at the unknown number, opening the message you find your
frown disappearing into a huge grin
I’m lost again, come save me. Bucky
How can I save you when I don’t know where you are? And how
did you get my number?
It was on Steve’s phone memory! And I’m outside
Outside? You look up and cover your mouth in shock when you
see Bucky standing outside the glass doors of the doctor’s surgery. Smiling at
him you slip the phone back into your bag and go outside to meet him.
“Hungry?” he asks after a moment of silence.
You nod “sure. I could eat”
He hesitates a moment before holding out his hand, you look
up at him then back down at his hand, before reaching out and lacing your
fingers with his own. He smiles before leading you towards a restaurant close
by. Maybe yesterday wasn’t such a bad day after all you think to yourself.
Here’s a cool Dan fact for you today: Growing up, Dan remembers an intense debate going on in Jersey where people would ask if you were more into Bruce Springsteen or Bon Jovi, since they both came from there. Dan says he was more of a Jovi guy.
Description: WARNING this is about a Suicide Attempt so please if talking about suicide or mentions of blood trigger you, please do not read!
Okay so as above indicates lots of angst, angsty angst.
Word Count: 2431
Author’s Note: So this is my first fic based off of song lyrics. I was super nervous about it so please let me know what your think. If you don’t already know @redstringlovers is the best and always has my back with reading my shit and cheering me on.
As always feedback would be awesome and let me know if you’d like to be added to my Forever Tag List.
Loving and Fighting
I can’t imagine a world with you gone
The joy and the chaos, the demons we’re made of
I’d be so lost if you left me alone
“You don’t understand Scott,” you yell in his direction, pacing backwards and forwards across the room. “What if someone dies because of me? What if I hurt you, or Stiles, or Lydia?” A lump forms in your throat as you think of your best friends in the entire world.
Scott stood up from his perch on the end of his bed. He placed his hands on both of your shoulders, pausing your frantic movements and making you look into his eyes.
“Y/N, you’re not going to hurt anyone. I’ll make sure of it, okay?” He raised his eyebrows when you didn’t reply, instead looking down at your feet. He gently placed a finger under your chin and lifted it so your eyes connected once again. “Okay?”
You sigh and lean into him, burying your face in his chest. “Okay,” you murmur against the fabric of his shirt, relaxing slightly as his arms wrap around your body, cocooning you in a bubble of safety.
Word count: 887 Disclaimer: I’m broke, don’t own IT or any of Stephen King’s novels, don’t sue me
Ad Infinitum -
Latin endlessly; forever (literally ‘to infinity’)
A/N: This is a Soulmate AU, I’ve had it stuck in my head for a while, soooo yeah! Lemme know what y’all think!
Tears cried from the clouds and poured upon the houses of Derry’s citizens, water slowly flooding the underground, unprepared for the storm brewed. A bright yellow-clad boy held the paper boat gently but firmly in his hands as he walked down the side of the street, though no one was driving in this weather so he could have walked in the middle with no possibility of being hurt but something in him said ‘stay by the sidewalk’.
Setting it afloat in the water, it gently sailed in the current, heading straight down the road, little Georgie triumphant grin shown on his youthfully chubby face, he moved quickly to match the pace of his boat. Shouting in nothing short of pure happiness he jumped in excitement and kept chasing the paper constructed boat. Glancing upon the roadblock he ducked under one, but just as he rose back up he ran straight into the second one. Water soaking his jeans and his shirt under his coat, he groaned and rubbed his sore forehead.
Getting up, he quickly remembered his toy and screamed as it neared the sewer drain, “NO!” his shrill screams to be heard by old neighbors who ignored the youngster.
Just as his fingertips grazed the rough yet pressed material of the boat, it dove nose first into the drain. “No,” George’s defeated voice cried, going on his hands and knees to look into the dark and wet drain. Nothing, absolutely pitch black.
Just as the tears almost started to form in realization he wouldn’t get his boat back and began to turn away. Two bright blue eyes peered up at him, a painted smile in a pouty grin, a clown… In the sewer?
"Hiya Georgie!“ his raspy yet pleasant voice set the boy’s heart on a race, a subconscious voice told him to run fast and never look back.
“What a nice boat” the clown chirped, “Do you want it back?” Georgie paused, “Um… Yes, please.” he pushed his fears back and remembered that his brother made that special boat, just for him.
The blue-eyed creature spoke once again, “You look like a nice boy, I bet you have a lot of friends.” his head cocked in interest. Conflicted on whether or not his mom or aunt would be less than pleased for talking to a stranger, Georgie quietly whispered, “ Three. But my brother is my best’s best.” glancing from the corner of his eye he quietly hoped someone would see him.
“Where is he?” “In Bed. Sick”
“I bet I can cheer him up! I’ll give him a balloon. Do you want a balloon too Georgie?” Now, this set off more tingling vibes, his aunt would be coming to the house any minute and would see him.
“I’m not supposed to take stuff from strangers.” He tried to politely bow out of a conversation with the man, but always having been taught to respect adults he was in shambles trying to figure out what to do or say. “Oh! Well, I’m Pennywise, the dancing clown,” he jingled slightly and tiny bells tinkled.
Georgie’s fear settled and he laughed, a grin settling on his face. The clown talked to him more and more till he mentioned popcorn. “-pop, pop! pop, pop!” Pennywise giggled and paused, a string of drool trickling from his puckered ruby lips.
Seeing that set off a fierce reaction like never before in the little boy’s body, “Um, I should get going now.” Turning away, the clown called out almost desperately
“Oh! Without your boat? You don’t want to lose it Georgie, Bill’s gonna kill you! Here, take it!” His hand holding up the boat, nevermind the fact he never told the clown his brothers name, he NEEDED that boat back. Slow and cautious, he moved to outstretch his arm, when the startling honk of a horn blasted from behind him.
Whipping around he saw his aunt, she looked like she’d seen a murder happen, she got out of her car and he ran to her, hugging her waist tightly. “George! What the heck are ya doin’ in that drain?!” She demanded, pulling him off and looking for any marks and scrapes. “I uh, lost my boat aunt Y/N! Penny the clown was gonna give it back to me.” He stammered, Y/N looked at him in disbelief before looking into the sewer and seeing nothing, but she could feel eyes on her. Grabbing his hand she rushed him into the car and quickly drove around to get to the house.
It’d been years since Y/N returned, 5 approximately, but there were reasons why she’d never come back, hearing about a clown was nothing new and that wasn’t what frightened her. “Georgie, what was he talking to you about? Um, balloons, candy? Anything!?” She gulped, her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. Georgie unsure why his aunt was panicking answered slowly and unsure, “Um, he was talking about balloons and popcorn, why auntie?” She shushed him and reassured him everything was alright.
Glancing down at her wrist, where 80% of the population had their soulmate mark, was a single red balloon, a symbol that’d brought pain to her, burned slightly. Quickly she brought her sweater to cover her hands up till her fingertips. Maybe she shouldn’t have come back after all.
OK! So tell me what y’all think, if I should continue etc!