Canon: Pennywise x Witch!Reader
Warning: Symbiotic Relationship, No Outward Affection, Pet Names, Hansel & Gretel: Witch Hunters mention/ vibe, Mentions of Killing, Shapeshifting
Summary: After awakening from Its long hibernation, Pennywise decided to change Its form—one that would make approaching Its food, especially children, far easier. Learning from the events of 27 years ago, the day It was defeated by the Losers, Pennywise resolved that this time It would choose a guise that was friendly, inviting—one that felt truly human. And the person It set Its sights on was the young owner of The Luverry Bakery: a girl with a youthful, beautiful appearance and a seemingly boundless kindness.
Note: This fanfic is set after It: Chapter Two.
THE LUVERRY DAILY Masterlist
Having existed for thousands of years, Pennywise believed Itself clever enough to deceive and devour humans—especially children, those who were always most terrified once It had set its sights on them. Fear was the finest seasoning for meat, after all, and Pennywise’s greatest pleasure lay in gorging Itself on the flesh of children steeped in sheer terror and despair.
It knew very well that with such a taste, It had to become something capable of luring the foolish children of Derry—or rather, someone—so It could drag them down into the sewers and butcher them at its leisure. That was why It chose Bob Gray as Its form in this world. The children of this town loved Pennywise the Dancing Clown, so It became Pennywise.
As time passed, awakening once every 27 years, It gradually began to realize that children no longer adored this Pennywise persona as they once had. There was the boy in the yellow raincoat who tried to retrieve his paper boat from the storm drain two cycles ago, and the girl with the birthmark on her cheek in the cycle before that. The common thread was that they recognized Its terror far too early. It didn’t want that. It wanted to toy with Its prey longer, to savor a meal seasoned with care and patience.
27 years after being “defeated a second time” by the Losers’ Club, Pennywise finally awakened from a painful hibernation, scarred by the torture inflicted upon It by the humans It had always despised. After abducting the first child as a waking feast, Pennywise chewed thoughtfully, contemplating a change of form—something more friendly to Its food—beginning with observing what children these days liked.
That was when It set Its sights on the young owner of a bakery across from Derry High School.
Pretty, friendly, gentle—always smiling at those pesky kids. She even kept a bunch of black bunnies behind the bakery, which the children seemed to adore.
Standing in an alley far from “The Luverry Bakery”, Pennywise watched her laugh and play with the children. It had been observing her from afar for nearly a week, and tonight was the night It would carry out its plan to change forms.
Unfortunately, she was not the pretty, friendly and gentle girl It thought.
That night, as she stood in the kitchen baking with her back turned, just as Pennywise opened Its mouth wide toward her head, she suddenly spun around and splashed a glass of something utterly vile straight down Its throat.
Pennywise had never expected to be discovered. It had entered the house silently, using Its overwhelming power. It staggered backward, coughing violently.
“What the hell is this?!” It snarled, Its yellow eyes glowing with ferocity in the darkness.
But just as It lifted Its head, ready to pin her down and devour her in rage, It suddenly saw the image of figures dressed in bizarre garments, wielding bows and swords.
The sight was painfully familiar—so familiar that it confused It. It had seen them before, back when It had transformed into a massive reindeer to hunt prey, long, long ago. Before It ever took on the form of Pennywise. Before the town of Derry was built.
“Have I slept too long…?” It wondered. Were the images of being defeated by the Losers its inevitable future? Or was the cage of Derry the reality awaiting it centuries later?
After all, past, present, and future were merely concepts to It.
“Good evening, Mr. Gallon.” Her sweet voice sounded right beside It. As It turned warily, just as It had expected, she stood there calmly. “Or should I call you Mr. Deadlights?”
Pennywise glared at her, shock and fury blazing in Its eyes. Its sharp teeth were still stained with flesh and fresh blood from tonight’s meal.
“Who are you? Where is this place?”
It felt no fear from her. More than that—It knew she was not human.
Yet to a supreme entity like It, her identity did not matter. It could devour her in an instant without the need for fear as seasoning. The only reason It hesitated was her ability—the power to create illusions, like that dark-skinned soldier who had struck It several cycles ago.
“I’ll get straight to the point.” She bent down to Its eye level. “I’ve lived in Derry for 26 years now. I want to continue living here. Please don’t eat me.”
Never before had anyone faced It so frankly—smiling, even, while making such a gentle request. But what was It? It was an Eater of Worlds. Whoever she was, she would die beneath Its claws.
“Bold words, Bunny. That confidence of yours—does it come from being able to see my memories?” It straightened, looking down at the girl who seemed so small and easily torn apart. “Why trap me in an illusion you made? Trying to scare Ol’ Pennywise? Oooh… you’re terribly mistaken, brat. What could someone without fear possibly be afraid of?”
Saliva dripped from Its mouth, soaking Its cracked white chin.
“I will EAT you. I’ll devour you and take your body. Become a sacrifice to Pennywise.”
Just as It lunged, she raised a small vial and smiled brightly.
Black fragments struck the glass with a weight so immense it felt as if Its chest might explode like molten lava. Though they were tiny shards, they were fragments of the meteor that had brought It to this world.
Pennywise growled and retreated. She did not move, nor did she intend to attack. It could feel that clearly.
“I can show you what makes a fearless being panic,” She said softly, gazing at the black fragments. “I call it surprise. You were wondering what was in that glass I gave you earlier, weren’t you? What if I advised you to be more careful about what you put into your body? What do you think it was?”
Pennywise thought rapidly. Even thinking with Its knees, It understood. Its gloved hands moved to Its stomach—It had swallowed that liquid earlier. What if she had added even a tiny amount of meteor fragments?
There were no signs of danger. It couldn’t feel that black substance inside Its body at all. Which meant… she was bluffing.
“You—YOU DARE threaten me!” Pennywise’s body twisted, iron claws tearing through its white gloves. Its eyes burned with murderous light.
“YOU DARE THREATEN ME, THE GOD OF THIS WORLD! I’LL KILL YOU!”
She remained still, the vial in hand, knowing It could do nothing against a fragment of the substance that had imprisoned It in Derry for so long.
“You can’t,” She said calmly. “You can’t kill me.”
“I’m not threatening you,” She continued, finally slipping the vial into her pocket. Pennywise released a quiet breath of relief. “I want to make a deal. I only want to live peacefully in Derry. I don’t eat humans—which includes children—so I won’t compete for your food. Derry remains your territory. Think of me as… a symbiotic entity. That way, we both get what we want.”
Pennywise scowled. “What’s a symbiotic entity?”
“We?” It snarled. “There is no we. There is only ME—Pennywise the Dancing Clown!”
She tried again. “Then how about this? I’ll teach you the easiest way to hunt good prey. In return, you leave me alone whenever you awaken every 27 years.”
Pennywise laughed. “What makes you think I’d listen to you?”
She smiled. “Then why do you think I’d offer advice at all?”
“Hehehe… because you want to live,” It declared smugly, though It still sensed no fear from her. “If you weren’t carrying that thing, I’d have eaten you long ago.”
“Why do you want to eat me?” She asked, puzzled—then answered herself. “Ah… You want to take my form.”
She sighed, and Pennywise felt a strange helplessness radiating from her.
“Do you know the difference between you and Bob Gray?” She asked. “Even though you’re both Pennywise.”
“Don’t spout nonsense,” It growled. “I’m not Bob Gray.”
“Bob Gray had admirers,” She said calmly. “You don’t.”
It suddenly understood why the children who once adored Bob Gray never approached It—even after It became Pennywise.
So? As long as It could hunt and eat fear-soaked children, that was enough.
“Then what?” Pennywise sneered. “Whether I listen or not, I’ll still eat them. I’ve lived in this town longer than you’ve existed.”
She looked surprised. “You only wake once every 27 years. Do you realize how much the world shifts while you sleep? Children aren’t the same anymore. And with your current… style, they might not even notice you at all.”
Pennywise glanced down suspiciously at the clown outfit that had accompanied It through countless long cycles. It was the form It favored most—and also the most convenient guise for approaching children. True, not many kids came near anymore, but every cycle It still feasted well before returning to hibernation. So what was the problem? As long as It was full, that was all that mattered.
“If you don’t believe me,” She said gently, “go hunt one.”
“I already did,” It snapped. “I ate the boy. Can’t you smell the blood? Three kids in one week. One wandered into my sewer. One snuck into my house. The last was the boy who bought cakes from you today—Billy. Ehehehe... you even gave him cookies.”
She stared at It in disbelief.
“Three children in a week?” She said sympathetically. “Witches catch more than enough children during Sabbaths.”
For the first time, Pennywise doubted Itself.
It finally began to question its own existence. Witch or not, she could wait—first, It needed to worry about Its stomach. It was true: the number of children it had caught had dropped significantly. If It remembered correctly, during the first week of previous cycles, It had always driven dozens of parents to plaster Derry with missing posters.
It glanced at the girl standing before It. She looked unnervingly calm, as if she were chatting with a friend. That only made It want to devour her out of spite—yet at the same time, It found Itself more curious, more intrigued by her. Still, food came first. What had she just said again? That witches always caught more than enough children for each... festival?
Pennywise’s eyes lit up, but what It said aloud was, “You eat kids too?”
Her smile faded slightly. “I don’t eat humans. I’m different from other witches.”
She continued softly, “If you eat me and take my form, you’ll only succeed for a short time. A year later, you’ll sleep again. 27 years after that, no one will remember the kind owner of Luverry Bakery—just like Bob Gray or Pennywise. What the children—especially the Losers' Club—would find instead are reports about a creature living in the sewers of Derry.”
“You are a divine being from the cosmos,” She whispered. “You don’t eat children because they taste good. You eat them because fear is richest in the young. What you truly enjoy is the hunt.”
Pennywise stared at her in silence.
For the first time in Its long, endless existence, It felt as though Its mind had been flung open like a broken door. She was right. Beyond devouring children carefully marinated in fear, what It enjoyed most was the hunt Itself—and somehow, in this cycle, the flesh of the three children It had taken during Its first week awake no longer tasted as good as it once had.
NOT enough. Their fear had NOT satisfied It.
So even if It succeeded in stealing her form—or anyone else’s—It would never taste that exquisite flesh again?
Pennywise refused to accept that.
It wanted to bring terror to the children of this town. It wanted Derry to drown in despair and loss during each of Its twenty-seven-year cycles. Only then could It truly feast—only then could It be full.
“Think about it,” She smiled. “Don’t you want to taste that exquisite fear again?”
And thus began a new cycle.
Sitting inside a bakery stall with the lights turned off was a novel experience. Pennywise had hunted in bars before—humans always dimmed the lights in places like that—but sitting in a gloomy bakery like this was a first.
Furry, round little black rabbits had appeared out of nowhere, carpeting the floor. They crowded around Pennywise’s feet as if standing guard on her behalf. On impulse, It grabbed one of the bunnies to take a closer look—purely out of curiosity.
The soft, pitch-black fur brushed against Its white gloves. Even through the fabric, It could feel the tiny creature’s breathing, its heartbeat—there was fear, too.
“Snff…” It lifted the rabbit to Its nose and sniffed. A familiar, richly seasoned scent gradually flooded Its senses.
It heard the rabbit’s voice—yet it also wasn’t the rabbit’s voice. After all, how could a rabbit possibly speak?
When she stepped out of the kitchen, what greeted her was the sight of It gnawing on one rabbit, while clutching the ears of two others in Its hands.
Its glowing yellow eyes flashed. It didn’t care what she thought—first, It would finish chewing this rabbit. Why did they taste so much like human flesh?!
“It seems you’ve found some comfort here,” she said with a soft laugh. “Though it’s a bit late, I hope you enjoy your meal.”
Pennywise squinted as It continued eating, watching her bring out a pile of witchcraft tools and lay them across the counter. The pastel-pink, frilly aesthetic of the bakery clashed absurdly with her occult instruments.
Back to the real question. After one rabbit, then two, Pennywise finally voiced what had been bothering It:
“So you don’t eat humans—but you turn humans into rabbits and eat the rabbits instead?”
“No,” She answered immediately. “I’m a vegetarian.”
A vegetarian? As in—no meat. Ever?
It stared at her from head to toe with open suspicion. By Its (entirely reasonable) understanding of the world, witches who didn’t eat humans were already rare enough. Vegetarian witches were practically mythical. And considering that discovering she was a witch had already been a shock, Pennywise had assumed all witches were gloomy, twisted, and unpleasant.
“This was a human,” Pennywise said, holding up half a rabbit leg. “Or used to be.”
She didn’t deny it. “Yes.”
Driven by curiosity, It asked, “Why did you turn her into a rabbit?”
“Because she almost made me shut down my bakery.”
“Oh… ohoho…” The bells around Its neck suddenly rang through the darkened shop. Though It hadn’t moved an inch, she could feel Its presence everywhere within The Luverry.
“Forgot to ask,” It said lightly. “About our deal. You said you’d help me hunt meat as good as the old days. I agreed. But what about you? This symbiosis you keep talking about—what do you get out of relying on me, when you can do everything yourself?”
She sat down on a chair behind the counter. When her smiling eyes met Its, Pennywise almost believed the person before It was an easy meal. Yet just as the urge to kill flared, her gaze turned icy—despite the gentle smile never leaving her lips.
That was when It realized: she, too, was a primal predator.
“I want to live and work in Derry,” She explained softly.
“For a very, very long time, I’ve wanted a place where I wouldn’t have to rack my brain every time I had to send a stalker, a harasser, a molester—or someone who broke into my home with vile intentions—back to the Great Witch.”
She poured a cup of tea and slid it toward It, gesturing for It to drink while eating.
“When I found Derry and began to study it, I noticed how your presence had altered the ecosystem here. The people of Derry are… indifferent. They don’t care if a child is beaten to death right outside my bakery. And I found that fascinating. I thought this place would be perfect for blending into human society. After all, I can’t live in places where I’m always the prime suspect whenever someone dies.”
Outwardly, Pennywise seemed intrigued—but internally, It had already assessed her territory. Not all the rabbits were human, It realized. And no matter how sweet and warm her public persona was, she couldn’t conceal the scent of blood staining her path.
“You’ve killed many people.” In Its mind’s eye, Pennywise saw a chaotic crowd at the edge of a forest cliff—children bound and locked inside wooden cages, forced to watch as witches in black dresses slaughtered their parents.
It didn’t see her—but It knew she was the cause of it all.
It spoke her true name, lips curling into a delighted grin.
“You’re the witch who developed the formula that lets witches survive fire. You’re also the one who established the tradition of eating human flesh during witch festivals.”
Drool trickled down Its chin. Now, It wasn’t merely intrigued—it was enthralled.
At first, It had thought she wanted to share food resources. But Pennywise never shared. Derry belonged to It. Everything within the town fell under Its dominion—including her.
A strange, intoxicating joy surged through It. These unfamiliar emotions whispered that It didn’t need to kill her to steal her form. She was fascinating. She could become a loyal servant—one who would spend 27 years preparing the way for Its return from hibernation.
It wanted to possess her.
“You turn humans into rabbits so they can understand the pain of becoming pets—playthings for others,” Pennywise continued, gleefully peeling back the layers of her past. “You make them suffer illness, reproduction, and ultimately a swift death. You don’t eat humans because you despise them. You believe they aren’t worthy of being eaten—not worthy pawns. They have no value to you.”
“Hahahaha… even though you live among them?” It tilted Its head, grinning. “You don’t love those tiny, pitiful little bunnies?”
She merely smiled and said calmly, “I don’t grow feelings for pawns—nor for humans.”
The joy swelling inside Pennywise, they grew and grew. At last—It had found a kindred spirit.
“What is this?” Pennywise held up a fork between two fingers, examining it. “Do humans use this to comb their hair?”
She snatched the pink fork from Its hand. “No. If you want to comb your hair, you’ll need to turn into a human first.”
It frowned in irritation. “I have to become human? But this form is much scarier. I like being a clown.”
“That depends on your goal,” She replied, arranging her magic tools on the table.
“If you keep that form, you won’t be able to approach children. They’ll mock you—maybe even curse at you—just for being a clown.”
The memory of the Losers resurfaced. Pennywise shook Its oversized head, bells jingling. Wasn’t it obvious? 27 years ago, the reason It had gone into hibernation half-dead was because those Losers had insulted It to death.
“So all I have to do is become human.” It shot her a warning glance—as if to say that if this plan failed, she would be the first to die. And It meant it. If this sacrifice proved pointless, It would gladly send her back to whatever Great Witch she worshipped.
When Pennywise’s human form appeared, shock and disbelief flickered across her composed face. It was beyond her expectations. She had never imagined that a man-eating creature lurking in sewers could sculpt such a flawless human body.
Well—not completely flawless.
She stood frozen for a few seconds before finally speaking.
“I’d prepared tools to adjust your face in human form,” She admitted. “But it seems unnecessary.”
She praised honestly, “Even if you paint clown makeup on now, children—especially girls—will swarm you like bees to honey.”
“I can really do that?” It asked eagerly. “I’m used to being Pennywise, not human.”
She nodded. “When necessary.”
She beamed. “Like volunteering for the upcoming event at my bakery. There’ll be cotton candy, popcorn, balloons, and—”
“Exactly.” She leaned forward, palms on the table. “That’s why our plan to make you adored begins now.”
Pennywise was thrilled. For the first time in Its life, It was learning a new way to approach prey—an entirely different kind of hunt.
So what would the first lesson be?
Turning a child into a rabbit, letting it live out the rabbit’s brief lifespan, then transforming it back—stockpiling fear of death?
Or abducting a child, torturing it physically and mentally, then releasing them so It can hunt them—turning her garden into a predator’s hunting ground?
Her voice echoed Its ear. “You need to take a bath first.”
She laughed. “You smell like a wet rat. Children don’t like the smell of wet rats.”
Pennywise didn’t want to bathe. But It couldn’t refuse her.
After all—everything was for the sake of eating well.
