Thank you loves for being so patient, my schedule is going to be a bit different this year because I am so stressed already but we’ll get there! <3
The two of you would have met at school, on the first day. Despite being incredibly nervous, when lunch time rolled about and you wandered out into the playground, you were immediately drawn to the curly haired, baby face boy sitting by himself on a bench at the edge of the playground. Sliding next to him, you push down the small set of binoculars that were too big for his hands, ignoring the little side eye he gave you.
‘Do you like birds?’ You nod.
‘Good, then I like you.’
Suddenly the two of you were constantly holding hands, tottering around together and sharing his little bird book as he grabs your intertwined hands and points towards trees and ‘birds’ you can’t see.
Little fake marriage ceremony in his back garden, his parents taking pictures with big happy grins that they keep on the mantle piece, showing it off whenever you come over, loving the groan that comes out of Stanley as he mutters how ‘embarrassing’ they are.
However, during dinners down at his house, be ready for him to turn into a massive, blushing mess as he takes a sip from his water, his head bowed and eyes scanning the tablecloth relentlessly as you feel something bump against your knee. The next thing you know, his pinkie is slowly sliding up your leg until it reaches the tip of your middle finger, before they land splat on top of yours.
Having to constantly help him with his bar mitzvah involves many, many sleepovers round at his house. He would become so disgruntled with himself, dropping the scripture as he thumps his head down onto the corner of his bed. Be ready to be constantly cradling his head in your lap, your fingers dancing tenderly over his head and rubbing the hair out of his eyes as he groans lightly, nestling further into your touch, and into your chest.
When the gang starts to form together, and he needs to get away from them for a while (especially when Richie starts obviously teasing/flirting with a very oblivious Eddie), he will pull you towards his bike, the two of you cycling away towards the little tree house his dad built near the quarry. He keeps a collection of blankets there, placing a shower cap on your head for the spiders before pulling you into his lap. He loves to place his head in your hair, breathing you in whilst releasing his tension during these colder nights, just the two of you in each other’s arms looking at the stars.
Although not very often, because although he wants to do it, he doesn’t want to get caught, he sneaks through your window to spend the night squished up against your side. Sometimes you’ll wake up without realising he’d been there, and would accidentally elbow him in the face.
Just everyone in the Losers’ Club thinks the two of you are the cutest couple. You help Stan feel alive, calming down his nerves with one touch and bringing the biggest smile to his face with one smile.
It feels incredible, and he never wants it to end.
When I’m With You (Ben Hanscom x fem! Maid!Reader, Soulmate AU)
A/N: Hello @may85, it is I!!!! Your Secret Santa revealed for @bowieandqueen11‘s Christmas event!! I hope you like it, I have never written for The Loser’s Club before and now this is the right time! I hope you like it!
Here is a link for the song at the end of the Oneshot, for anyone who’d like to listen!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P_VpBqHYv0M
Word Count: 2066
Warnings: maid/domestic work, a meet cute, drinking, swearing, a bit of angst, doggos, soulmate au with marks and the whole shebang and a bit of Reddie thrown in too!
You looked at the mark on your forearm under your stuffy black dress. A single red mark the shape of an oval, but all alone. No soulmate, no second mark. You covered it up before some old woman in a tiara could see you and spit at you for another Rose glass.
Snooty Architect parties made you want to crash your head into the wall.
Maybe it was because it was long, it took hours to prepare and hours to clean after, but that was not all. It was the people.
“Hey, gimme another martini, will you?” your boss asked. “And there’s something on your apron, sweetheart, wipe it off.”
You sighed. You knew that being a maid would not be easy. But the thought of dropping to become a stripper making a thousand a night seemed a little tempting that night.
You went into the bathroom and wet a towel to clean your apron, noticing a strain of meatball sauce, but as you squeezed out the surplus liquid you got a look at yourself.
Who would pay to see me strip, though? Your eyes looked puffy and your hair was a mess.
As you turned back to go to the party, you turned back to your senses to make it more enjoyable. There was beautiful jazz piano music drifting through the air along with some clicking heel steps and laughter that was small and polite.
Rarely, you would see a pair with the two red marks. It would peek out from a sleeve on the wrist or revealed on a shoulder thanks to a woman wearing a dress with no neckline. But there were a lot of double marks and happy faces to go along with them.
Armies of black tuxedoes and sometimes the glittery green and blue and red dresses the women wore would catch your eye. They smiled with bright pink lipstick and then men would take out a cigar occasionally, mixing it with the smell of flowery perfume and the spray you have been using to keep it clean.
And speaking of clean, there was a mess on the floor again.
Snapping out, you were about to run back to the cleaning supplies to fetch a mop when someone called
“OOOF!”
BAM!
You looked over and saw a man was lying down over the stain.
People turned around and gasped pretentiously at this event. You could swear the piano stopped too.
Hurrying over, you offered your hand to the man.
“I’m so sorry! I was just about to clean that mess up! Are you okay?” you ask in one breath.
As you got a good look at him you had to revise that second thought.
It was a handsome man who was lying over the stain.
He was slightly freckled with brown hair and a beard that seemed as soft as clouds. He was tall and muscular with high cheekbones on his face. And as for his tuxedo…well, you know what they say about a man in a tuxedo. He was like a walking ken doll.
Too bad it was now ruined, considering that said stain was over the seat of his pants.
You helped him up and led him to a back closet. Pushing aside from any snide looks at the sight of a man and woman going into a room alone together, you sat him on an upside-down bucket and began searching the containers.
“Trust me, this isn’t the first time this has happened, but I know how to clean it” you insist.
He looked down at his pants and then at you.
“Oh, thanks a lot! That’s very nice of you” he said cheerfully.
“I’m just doing my job” you replied with a shrug. A half-smirk made it’s way on you as you checked the stain conveniently on his gluts. It wasn’t a sight to complain about.
“A lot of people here would have just turned away…” he mumured, looking at the door back to the party.
You give him the bottle of the mixture you kept for stains and hand it over to him.
“What’s your name, by the way?” he asks politely. He looks down a little and puts an arm on his forearm, rubbing timidly.
You answer him with your name.
“Lovely, I’m Ben, Ben Hanscom.” he replies.
The party felt a little faster after meeting Ben, but once the clock struck midnight you sighed at the streamers and stains and bits of food everywhere. You had just gotten the broom and dustpan, ready to go only to notice that one guest hadn’t left yet.
“Ben? What are you doing here?” you questioned your eyes the size of the moon.
“I couldn’t just say thank you, look!” he points to his pants where the stain dipped.
It is barely visible.
“Let me return the favor, okay? I’ll help you clean up” he begs.
May 2019
Winter and Spring had long since passed. But your friendship with Ben had not. Just his face and the thought of his voice made every grueling day of scrubbing floors pass by with a smile on your lips.
Feeling a buzz from your purse, you looked down to see it was Ben’s name on top of that happy little green square. Joy buzzed in your guts as you sat down on your boss’s yellow couch, freshly vacuumed, and read the text, the phone almost to your nose.
Ben: Hey there, I’m having dinner with someone.
Now a different feeling buzzed in your guts.
Ben: It’s someone important. What kind of drink should I have? You’re a total drink expert so I wanted to ask you.
Someone important. Probably a female someone.
You texted back with an angry huff escaping your lips.
Y/N: Depends, what meat are you having?
Ben: I’m fixing a meatloaf. I know, it’s old fashioned. I’m a mom at heart, Y/N
IY/N: t’s alright! Well, since that’s darker meat, go with a bottle of red wine!
Ben: That’s perfect! Thank you!
Y/N: I swear Ben, you make buildings, cook, and you’re learning the piano! You’re a real Renaissance man!
Little did you know that Ben was roasting his mother’s signature meatloaf at home. The thought of your name made him feel warm, and not just from the oven.
Flutters aside from your comment, he reached over and texted.
Ben: You always help me give such good advice, it’s for my buddy, Ritchie! I haven’t seen him in years! I’ll tell him that the wine was your idea.
Y/N: Ritchie? One of your Derry buddies?
You got up from leaning on the couch and nearly let out a whoop, but stopped, knowing your boss was in the midst of his nap. That jolt of happy lightning was still going through you.
Ben: Yup! He’s coming over to discuss proposal ideas….
Y/N: Lucky girl.
Ben: Well, Eddie’s not a girl, but he’s lucky. I hope you like Pomeranian pics bc his new puppy is the cutest thing…
Y/N: Please send them!
He immediately sent you a picture of the sweetest looking Pomeranian curled up on a large bed, sleeping under the covers with his front paws tucked over like a polite child.
Y/N: Awwwww! Any name?
Ben: They don’t know. I keep trying to tell Ritchie that Punk Ass Bitch isn’t an option.
Y/N: How about Penny! Cause he’s the color of one!
There were five minutes of silence.
Not Penny was all that he said.
Tears returned.
August 2019
“I have never seen someone so disrespectful,” your boss glowered. From behind his desk, his shadow grew so large it seemed to swallow you whole.
“Sir, it was a mistake!” you begged.
“Not a mistake! An insult!” he screamed, banging his fists on his desk.
“Sir, please listen! I am truly sorry; I didn’t know this would happen! I didn’t know it was wrong! Here, let me take care of it, I swear…” you beg, your legs begin to buckle beneath you.
“Get out! You’re fired! And so, help me, I never want to even speak to you again!” he thundered, pointing to the door.
Nauseous and sobbing violently, you ran out.
But the sun was setting, and it seemed there was no one. Almost no one. There was one person you wanted to see more than ever now.
Nerves shackled your stomach. You hadn’t talked to Ben much since that day because you were so ashamed, but here you were. Knocking on his door, he opened wearing a button-up shirt that made you want to swear under your breath.
“Ben, let me just make this quick, I’m so sorry. I sent that text...”
“No, no, please Y/N, don’t worry! I’ll explain everything. You had no way of knowing, please come in!”
You walked into his house, admiring all his things. His black dog trotted over and smiled in a greeting, wagging his tail so hard that it hurt a little when it hit your leg.
Looking over, you noticed a picture frame. It must have been Ben with his family but…there was only one kid. One kid that had his eye color but not his body type.
“Is this your family?”
“Yes, uhm…take a seat, Y/N, I have a lot to tell you.” He says, rubbing his hands together nervously.
“And is this you?” you asked, still looking at the frame.
He nodded “uhm…yes. I used to be heavy. I was bullied a lot. I spent all my summers at the library too.”
He lifted his shirt to show his stomach. Your eyes widened at the sight of some scars.
“Some bullies got me one day and almost stabbed me.”
“That’s awful. You’re lucky you survived.” you comforted, blinking slowly and trying to see it in your head. The thought of someone hurting Ben made your fists clench.
“That’s an understatement,” he said.
It was in the privacy of that house Ben explained everything. Derry’s curse. Pennywise. The deaths. The visions.
“But Ben….” You explain softly “I understand…I really do…”
You begin to reach over for his hand and instead, he hugs you deeply. Warm, soft, and safe, you feel some of his tears fall down his face onto your shoulder.
Suddenly you notice for the first time that his forearm has a mark just like yours. After the shaking and crying have paused for a moment, you touch it.
“Ben…look…” you whisper.
But he is staring at you back, mouth open and silent.
And your forearm is feeling very warm.
Ben barely gets the question out before you pull up your sleeve and show him your mark.
Only this time, there are two red ovals, just like his.
December 2019
“The day after Christmas has to be the saddest day in the whole year” you sigh, swirling the drink in your glass.
The sky was dark and full of gently falling snowflakes. You were lounging on your boyfriends' seat and his dog was curled up next to you. The dog’s hair was on almost all of your clothes now, but with such a sweet face (and an even sweeter owner), you couldn’t care less.
Ben looked at you, in his cream-colored sweater, and grinned. He then turned to the new piano he got for Christmas and sat down.
“Funny you should say that ever heard Alex Duffy’s music?” he asked, starting to play chords to get into the right key.
“No” you answer with your head shaking.
He offered an arm and gestured next to the piano. You walked over and stood still, watching him as he began to play and sing:
“I walk down the street and see a wintery wonderland
The candles in the windows and the salvation army band
All the people wandering 'round in a sudden state of glee
But all of those people, they ain't me
I smell in the air pine needles fresh and new
And everyone's cheeks have got a pleasant rosy hue
They've got visions of the gifts that underneath their tree will lie
But to that I say: not I”
He then looks at you, and plays a bit further, only glancing at the keys.
For I've got a secret that no one else can know
That keeps my temperament even during times of snow
I've got the perfect present, one not wrapped up in a bow
It lifts my spirits high when I'm feeling low
Others long for the holidays, yes indeed they do
But every day is Christmas when I'm with you”
You keep listening to the song, then go around and wrap him in his arms. He keeps singing softly, for only you to hear.
Now some might say it's unfair and severe
That I get a Christmas gift each day of the year
To them, I would say that I've no guarantee
But maybe one day they'll find someone as sweet as she
I've got the perfect present, one not wrapped up in a bow
She lifts my spirits high when I'm feeling low
Others long for the holidays, yes indeed they do
But every day is Christmas
Yes every day I deck the halls
Everyday is Christmas when I'm with you!
He gets up and hugs you deeply, your arms entwined and your marks touching together. It snows a little harder when you both kiss.
Reader: hey, would you write an adult!stanley uris x chubby!reader fic where she tries to wear something more form-fitting with the prompt:. “Your parents would be royally disappointed if they saw what you have on right now. Even more disappointed at what I’m thinking about doing to you.”
👀 I’ve written something like this before which thankfully was perfect for this prompt XD
Standing warily in the hall, a long shot away from the cramp and dusted Derry dungeons and clubhouse pits he was used to, Stanley bumps his glasses so they realigned perfectly onto his nose before he glances around the room of dancing people as they swirl in each others arms. Fiddling with the champagne flute in his hand, he backs himself up uncomfortably until he hits against the white oak of the large balcony doors, the inky night the only thing that dances behind him, the cosmos slow and wondrous in its movements that night.
‘I knew my wife was incredible at her job, but I didn’t realise she was this prominent’, he murmurs as he takes a sip and swipes the curls away from his eyes. ‘Sure beats another night listening to Richie’s stand up comedy anyway.’
Shrugging his sleek black suit jacket back up his shoulders, he pretends he doesn’t notice the slight tremor in his hands, the slight beads of sweat that slicken his palms as he places his drink down on the nearest tablecloth he can reach, glancing around the room and over the marble tiled floor in his ever constant search for you. He jumps from the grandiose winding staircase in the centre of the room over the pompous vases of beautiful roses that fill every available pillar away from the main floor.
He finally spots you across the way, watching you talk to your colleagues with a warm smile as he fixes his bow tie and lets his eyes dip. Before he had even begun thinking, he found his footsteps echoing heavily against the ground as he walked over to you, his curls bouncing with every step and his heart kicking up a notch as he reaches closer to you.
Clasping your hand, he makes you yelp a little in surprise. You’re not expecting the force with which he pulls you snug against his chest, your shoulders bumping together and hips hitting off one another before melting together, his arm snaking expertly around your waist, his feet starting the guide the two of you to the music in a long familiar dance. Your cheek lands against his burning ones, your skin rubbing as he turns to press a kiss against your ear, the two of you bursting out into giggles as his nose hits against your skin and he nearly jolts back at the impact. He raises your intertwined hands up to his side, nestling his head further against yours and just closing his eyes in bliss as he spins the two of you round in a tender and loving move, just revelling in the feeling of his thumb stroking against the arch of your back and the way your hips sway into his. The way his hair tickles against your forehead, or the warmness of your breath as it brushes like sun rays against the goosebumps that send shivers rolling down his body. The lights seemed to twinkle over you with every delicate circle spun, the pressure of his warm hand against you gliding your feet over the floor.
‘Come on, let’s get out of here for a moment. It’s too warm in here.’
Slipping out to the circular white brick patio and sitting down on the rose vined bench, Stanley slides his butt softly down as he moves closer to you. The rush of warm air that escaped his mouth as he left a dry kiss against your neck made you shiver against his grasp. Although you were enjoying the intimacy, you couldn’t help wondering why his hand was shaking ever so slightly against your skin.
‘Your parents would be royally disappointed if they saw what you have on right now. Even more disappointed at what I’m thinking about doing to you.’
Breathlessly, you gaze down at the adoration that floods out of the man’s eyes, before his concentration quickly turns to capturing your lips, parting your mouth as he bites your bottom lip gently, a soft groan rumbling from the back of your throat. He goes back down, hot wet kisses being peppered like summer rain against your neck as his hands reach down to slip by your thighs, finding the courage from the adrenaline to run his fingers over your tingling skin, tracing over every curve, trying to remember every touch and every caress that after this night will only have the moon as its witness.
Request: Could you write a story about 2019!Bill Denbrough and the reader taking their kids trick or treating for Halloween?
Happy nearly Halloween everyone!
‘Daddy!! My fangs won’t go in!’
‘Just- give me a sec, hon, I’m trying to help your brother’, Bill hurriedly replies, wrapping the last bandage around his son’s arm and tying it with a rushed, clumsy bow as you run down the stairs.
‘Don’t worry, I’ve got it!’
You quickly dribble fake blood down her chin and fangs, allowing your daughter to slip the fake teeth into her mouth and lunge at you with a fake hiss. You laugh as you push her away, her brother running into her on his way to grab his trick or treat bag, and as Bill wanders over to help you up, your daughter trips over her cape after him.
Placing a hand on Bill’s chest as he smirks gently, his jacket warm against your side on this cool Halloween night, nothing but flickering pumpkins and empty streetlights to warm the sidewalk, you look after your son with mild curiosity.
‘Didn’t you go as a vampire for Halloween once?’
Bill frowns slightly behind his glasses, concentration making him bite his bottom lip.
‘Yeah, I remember you went as Dorothy, and G-G-Geo-’
‘Georgie went as the tin man’, you finished for him, nodding your head with a pained smile. ‘You were ‘too cool’ for our group costume, if I remember.’
This elicits a laugh from Bill as he lets go of your waist, shepherding the kids towards the door.
‘Kids, what are the rules tonight?’
‘Don’t run away, don’t knock on any doors where the light’s off and don’t let go of each other’s hands’, they both rattle off with an air of impatience and boredom as you stifle a laughter, noticing the scared and concerned look on your husband’s face.
You pat him slightly on the shoulder as he closes the door behind you, rubbing your fingers against his tense shoulders which loosen slightly at your touch, a sigh escaping his lips.
‘They’re going to be fine- it’s going to be fun, I promise.’
Two hours and a heck of a lot of candy later the four of you had managed to visit every neighbour in the vicinity, Bill having accidentally stood in a couple of pumpkins along the way and having walked into a few skeletons with a small yelp as he approached the doorways with his kids. Bill had his sleeping son tight against his chest, whilst you held your daughter’s hand, her bucket full to the brim; it had been a successful night, even if Bill had jumped a little further into your side every time a small child ran past dressed as a clown.
Request: Could you do a Ben Hanscom x daughter reader imagine and it's the scene with the fortune cookies, and instead of Bev getting the one that said Stan on it, reader gets, and then all the other stuff happens and Ben protects her?
I’ve honestly missed writing for Ben, so thank you!!
I’m quite busy at the moment, so sorry if I seem a bit slow, but comments and requests are so appreciated! <3
‘Would you calm down!??’
‘Let him speak, man!’
‘I need my fucking inhaler!’
Eddie places his hands in front of his face, trying to stop his fingers from trembling, trying to pretend he wasn’t back here, that this couldn’t be happening. Pennywise wasn’t real, none of this was real, it was all just some far away dream he would wake up from soon. Mike glances over at him, trying to make the words form and escape from his mouth instead of the little ‘I-I’ noises that are leaving at the moment, Bill gently elbowing him out of the way to get all available table space. His fingers swing across the white lace of the tablecloth, ignoring the panicked shouts of Richie with a confused furrow of his eyebrows.
Cut it? Guess it couldn’t...cut?
‘This makes no sense.’ His words seemed almost like a whisper in the pained commotion of the room, not one of the Losers’ Club able to form a coherent train of thought.
Bill pauses, however, when he sees you start to shake in your seat.
‘Y/n...what was in your fortune cookie?’
Fear curled up inside you, clinging to your ribs and leaving an unsettling feeling in your chest as your thumbs began to crinkle the slit of paper. You could barely open your mouth, could barely breathe, choosing instead to bite back your tongue and hold back the tears that threatened to leave your eyes. All you could do was shake your head.
Ben let go of Eddie’s elbow, leaving the man to back up to the wall, instead squatting down by the side of your chair. His pointer finger comes up to wipe away a few crystal beads that had managed to escape your right eye. You can feel their warmth trail down your cheek, rolling down your chin until your dad smudges them away. Sniffing slightly, you look into his eyes, feeling your heart lurch with the small smile he gives you in return. He wants, beyond anything, to tell you that everything was going to be alright, but he couldn’t lie to you. You shouldn’t have to be here in the first place; he should have stopped Pennywise the first time. You feel his thumb stroke a little deeper into your wrist.
‘It’s okay, Y/n, give Uncle Bill the paper.’
Bill takes it from you without a moment’s hesitation.
Placing it on the table, Eddie nearly squeaks in fear as he figures it out. Figures out what Pennywise has done to one of their own. Eyes widening in shock, he pulls his hand away as if someone had tried to torn it from his body, his face scrunching into a look of absolute turmoil that even Mike starts to become rustled.
Guess. Stanley. Could. Not. Cut. It.
‘No no, no no no, what the f-’
‘Eddie, not helping’. Ben turns around as if to tell him off, but the look of pure terror in Eddie’s eyes as his hands fumble back to the corner wall of the restaurant make him hesitate. Jumping up, he starts to hear the table shake, Mike grabbing onto his chair as a fortune cookie jumps off the table and in front of your seat.
‘Guys, this fortune cookie is looking at me!’
You scream as an eyeball starts to crack out of the fortune cookie, crawling its way across the wood, leaving a trail of goo and blood in its wake. You fall out of your seat as Richie hits into the cabinet, taking a moment to knock his glasses back up his nose.
‘Y/n!’
You stumble onto the floor, feeling your dad’s hands underneath your armpits, pulling you up and into his side. You hear something else cracking, and what you can only guess as Beverly screaming in fear before you hear the tiny beating of wings, followed by the crack of Mike’s chair onto the dishes.
‘It’s not real. It’s not real!’
The bats you were taught about in school were lean, black and leathery. They beat the night air with those wings of tight skin and fled into the night. But the bat in front of you was horrifying, and coming awfully close to your face with its bared fangs. It's features reminded me of a cat, but perhaps crossed with a pig. It had two bald ears, a snout-like nose and fangs nestled within its mouth.
Ben hits into the air, tucking you into his side. He feels himself screaming at that stupid clown inside: you come for her, my daughter; I will end you with my own two hands. You taunt her, threaten or come near and I will demolish you. I will show you every ounce of my power because I love her. She is my child, my only daughter and I’m not afraid of you. Not anymore.
As soon as his thought ends, he feels the air steady around his fingers. There’s nothing but silence, emptiness and shock in the room before Richie coughs slightly, jumping off the edge of the furniture he had tried to clamber upon.
‘Great reunion, Mike. Glad to be here.’
You can’t even hear the thankful, tittering laughter of the rest of the Losers. All you can see the putrid black smile that still drips slightly off the edge of the table, before disappearing completely.
As if he had read your mind, a hand touched your shoulder, Ben’s arm tightening its grip as he bent down towards you. Your face found the crook of his neck easily. His fingers found your hair, winding in the strands and stroking downwards, gently and patiently untangling any nicks as they went from root to tip.
Your arms went around his neck and you pressed your face into him, your eyes stinging as you tried to stop your body from shaking.
'It’s okay love, it’s alright, it’s not real. It’s not real.’
You could never tell your dad, but the head of your Uncle Stanley that lay winking at you from the fish tank would haunt you for life.
Request: could you maybe do an IT 2019!Richie imagine set during the reunion like your others where the reader and Richie were together as teens and reader stayed in Derry like Mike so when the losers come back reader is really happy to see Richie and tries talking to him a bunch ect and Richie’s being nice because he DOES know reader but doesn’t remember everything until it all comes back to him, or something?? idk, i’m bad at asks😂
and: @barnesbabes hey lovey! how have you been? could I request something 2019!richie tozier fluff with a male reader? I have a more specific request but I think I’ll leave that for another day :)
This is such a dream, thank you lovelies! <3
Starting to step into the restaurant, your heart beats painfully hard in your chest, glad to be stepping out from the inky darkness of the town’s chill night and into some kind of warmth. As you enter the Jade of the Orient, stalling slightly as you swear you feel eyes burning into the side of your face, you look behind you quickly, searching into the deserted street for some kind of movement but the only thing you feel is a flash of pain in your palm, a reminder of the promise you made many summers ago. You had wished, prayed for years that you could forget that promise, forget all the memories of him, Richie Trashmouth Tozier, the boy with the buck teeth and glasses too big for his face, the boy who had left you all those years ago, but that was your curse. Your burden to bear. You still loved him with all your heart, but Derry needed you, and something in your brain would never let your mind falter from the task at hand.
Perhaps there is hope yet, you think. Perhaps Derry’s, and your abandonment was a temporary thing, that the universe would bring joy and life back this place. You just needed to bring the magic eight back together.
‘Hey, Eds, what the hell happened to your fanny pack?’
As Eddie turns away from the fish tank, a little more hyped than he should be both in total terror and the slight relief his heart still feels at having escaped Myra, of having been taken back to the one place he always knew where he belonged, where he was always destined to be, his mouth twitches into a smile as he sees you standing gingerly next to the giant gong, letting out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding in.
Looking around at the three boys you had spent nearly every day of your childhood with, the boys who look back at you with equally devoted and terrified eyes, a smile twitches at your lips and you run over to them, engulfing them all into the biggest, tightest bear hug you’ve had since the day they left Derry.
‘Why the hell did you guys never visit Mike? Or, hell, even me?’
‘To be honest y/n,-’
‘w-we didn’t r-e-ember.’
‘I don’t even remember forgetting this place’, Eddie chimes in, biting his bottom lip as he looks at you with nothing short of unbridled terror.
‘Yeah, it’s like coming back to a place you never left, right?’ Swinging round, you smile as you see Bev standing in the entrance way, a smile not having made its way onto her lips yet as her hands gingerly play with the strap of her backpack, slight tears welling in the corners of her eyes.
As the ripples of the gong fill the otherwise silent private room with a dull thudding beat, it’s final shrill crescendo making you wince back a little into Eddie’s maroon jacketed arm, you’re surprised to look round and find the boy who had owned your heart all those years ago looking back at you, as if you were looking into a mirror. The two of you just freeze, standing on the slightly stained and sticky carpet as if in the middle of a Western movie, both of you afraid to draw first and speak in case of ruining this moment. Hell, you don’t even realise for the first few seconds Ben was standing next to you at all, and as Richie fumbles his hands back into his pockets you feel like he doesn’t either.
‘Y/n? Oh Jesus, hey Y/n. It’s been way, way too long, nearly thirty years huh, and yet here you still are. Like a dream. Like you never left. Like I’m fifteen again, oh god, I’m going to be sick.’
‘Oh god, beep beep Richie’ the rest of the guys groan out, laughing timidly amongst themselves as they move to sit down, but thankful for the little sliver of familiarity the moment had allowed them to revel in before the more serious business began, before playtime was over and they had to face up not all of them came here for a pleasant little reunion dinner. Richie bangs his fist against his chest, fighting back the nausea that licked against his tender throat like someone had shoved embers in his mouth.
Shoving past Ben, Richie comes sliding over to you, his sleek black shoes nearly tripping him up on the carpet with the grace and skill of a new born giraffe, his desperation to be near you again evident in every movement as his hands fumble onto your shoulders to upright himself, reminding you of the scared brash little boy you used to know. The boy who, at the age of fifteen, would never leave your side on the bright days you used to cycle down to the quarry. The boy who would lie next to you on the stony gravel that cut into your skin, a thin blade of glass clenched between his teeth as the radio blares next to his ear, slight chuckles erupting from his mouth as he listens to his favourite comedy radio show like a rusty tuba being played for the first time in years every time Richie guffaws, not a care in the world. The boy who in reality lay there, afraid to move in case you would run away from him, scared that he meant nothing to you as he threw heated little side glances your way whenever he thought you were looking down at the emerald water, the shy little smile on your face making his heart starts performing back flips and raising his mouth in a dopey grin. The boy who would sit up, a soft look lining his blank face as he raises a finger to push his glasses back up the brow of his nose before saying, ‘hey, y/n, um, can I talk to you for a second?’, only to push himself forward onto the palms of his hand and press a short and tender kiss against your lips, pulling away after a few seconds to fiddle with his hands as a rising blush covered his cheeks. The boy you had spent the last thirty years crying over whilst he slowly forgot you.
Yet here he was, a man standing in front of you looking exactly as you had remembered, just a little more exhausted looking and with a lot more stubble. He glanced back, wringing his hands in a familiar and subconscious frightened action he hadn’t done since that day at the quarry, glancing down at you over the tip of his black rimmed spectacles, his eyes searching yours, little flickers of gold swirling in their dark mix that you had forgotten about.
‘I’m sorry-I’m sorry I never wrote, or called very often like I promised to. I did write some jokes about you, if that makes you feel any better?’
He scratches against his neck as neck as you stare up at him, wondering whether to take him seriously or not.
‘Richie- did you, did you forget me?’
He starts to blubber, leaning his head back and sliding his glasses back up his nose but you interrupt him before he starts blabbering, ‘it’s alright if you did, that’s just what happens when you move away from Derry. But I didn’t. I didn’t.’
He glances shyly at you, wringing his hands before letting out a shaking breathe and taking the seat next to your legs, shrugging off his jacket. He leans over to his left to pull out your seat, hitting the cushions with a small pat as you lower yourself down suspiciously.
As the night progresses, and Richie downs more shots, dropping the glasses to the floor with a light clink, laughter fills the room as the food slowly decreases and decreases. But Richie’s heart eyes grow only more and more, his mind beginning to fill in blanks he didn’t realise had been missing as he looked over at you from the rims of his glasses, watching the dips of your cheek, the way your eyes still sparkled as brightly as when you were stupid children playing street fighter.
‘Hey. y/n, is the arcade still here?’
‘You remember!’
‘Of course I do, how could I forget where we had our first date.... And our second, and our third.’
‘God, you were soo romantic.’
‘Hey, I took you to that new ice cream parlour for out fiftieth date!’
‘Yeah, because Eddie had given you a coupon!’
You giggled, a bright, starry sound that seemed to knock Richie’s mind back into his sixteen year old self. It was a reminder of all the summer days by the quarry he had spent telling stupid jokes to try and get you to laugh and notice him. It felt like being back there again, but this time, he actually was being noticed. He shoved you lightly in the shoulder with a thankful smile, leaning down quickly to kiss your forehead before you shove him with a kuagh. Looking back over to your side with hot glances, as Bill and Bev start wrestling each other, he notices your eyes had a softness to them, there was something so welcoming in the rich doe colour that swirled like comet tails, deep set in your face and wiser than when he was young, than he remembers, but still as beautiful. Richie felt just a little more lost, a little more at home, each time they met.
Richie feels the heat rise to his cheeks as you looked in his direction. He could feel they were still on him, burning into his cheeks with a silent confusion but light hope.
‘I remember it all, you know Y/n. How could I ever forget you? My first love... and my only one.’
Richie glances over at you as his words falter off, his breathing becomes softer, the pensive look melting into a smile as his body squirms just a little as his muscles relax. There is something about that gaze of his, as if in that moment their souls have made a bridge that can never be broken again.
‘Yeah, I still love you too, Richie.’
His heart thumped so hard that he swore it was audible, his knees knobbling underneath the table as the others start to natter warmly again, filling the room with a familiar warmth that ripples over Richie’s skin, not even realising the long coming declaration of eternal love that had left his mouth, not realising two soulmates had finally reconnected, had finally realised it had been each other all along. That their hearts, no matter how far apart, had always belonged to the other.
Request: Hiii! When and if you have time could you please write an Imagine for spending your first Christmas as Bill Denbrough’s girlfriend? Thank you!
I wasn’t sure whether to write this as young or old, and I made it a small fluff piece, so I hope this is okay! <3
Comments are very very much appreciated!
Smiling, you put the last drop of charcoal icing in the piping bag before spurting it onto the nose of the snowman cookie. Trying to straighten up his tilted hat, you place your flour covered hand on the table, pleased with your efforts. You hadn’t baked cookies since you were a teenager in Derry, a yearly tradition that had ended after that summer when you were thirteen, and everyone had moved away, but with Mike, Ben and Bev, and Richie coming over tomorrow for Christmas dinner, you thought it was time to start again.
Taking another blank cookie after rubbing your hands on the red apron tied around your waist, you paint it green before adding a few sprinkles onto the sides. Trees were easier to decorate, and you giggled as you licked a spare bit of sugar off your finger, somehow tasting better than it ever had before.
It was over, it was all over. It felt so surreal. Yet you still couldn’t use red icing. The colour just made your stomach churn.
After a few more cookies you were running out of room on the cooling rack to set them, as well as table space with all the cookie cutters that lay abandoned. Walking towards the sink to wash your hands, you heard the familiar pattering of feet creaking down the wooden staircase, the tell tale sign that your boyfriend was taking a break from writing his latest novel to follow the smell of candy canes and chocolate that filled his nose.
‘Well hello there.’
You rolled your eyes as he came walking into the room, taking off his glasses and holding them in one fist, rubbing his left eye with the other. You were glad his temporary loss of vision meant he couldn’t see the small smile and blush that came with his voice. After drying off your hands on your penguin tea towel, you turn just in time to see Bill reaching for the cookies.
‘Hey, get off! Nice try Bill Denbrough, but just because you’re famous now doesn’t mean you can steal my cookies without any consequences. Don’t forget, I have many pictures the press would like to see of that bang haircut you gave yourself when you were five years old-’
‘Okay, okay, you win. You win!’ He laughs as he raises his brow, shouting a loud ‘hey’ as you whip at him with your towel.
‘It’s so w-weird seeing you make cookies. We haven’t done this since before Ge-Geo-’
‘It’s okay, Bill, I know.’
‘No, it’s alright. Before G-Georgie.’
Swiping out past your waist, he grabbed a cookie and took a bite as he grinned at you, humming out loud.
You giggled at the crumb covered smile he gave you, grabbing onto the lapel of his green and blue plaid shirt as he pressed a crumbly kiss against the tip of your ear.
‘Do you want to help? I still have about a dozen cookies left to decorate, and not enough space to put them on, which means-’
‘I can eat them?’
‘Yes, Bill, you can eat them. But not too many, Richie is like a human cookie vacuum, and I promised him a plate full.’
Bill didn’t respond, but instead reached onto the rack again and pulled off a couple more cookies. Smiling and shaking your head lightly, you sat back down and began decorating the rest of the cookies.
After debating for a second, Bill pulled out the stool next to you and sat down. Picking up a wreath shaped cookie he glanced at you with raised eyebrows. Smiling encouragingly at him, he picked up a knife and started to spread gold icing on it.
‘We made way too many cookies.’
‘Bill, you should know that you can never make too many cookies. Get a grip.’
Request: First off, thank you for writing the Eddie imagine title ‘stupid’ i requested i loved it! Second, could you write an imagine with adult!stanley as the reader suffers from insomnia but it got worse after the final battle with IT and Stan helps her? Thank you so much!!
Oh bless you love! Sleep is always an issue for me in so many ways so it would be my pleasure! <3
Eleven o'clock morphs into twelve and then one finally slouches around like an unwanted old friend.
Soon he’s gone as well. And time continues it’s trick of trickling along, movement only marked by the changing glow of the flipping numbers. Your mind wants to be blank; you want dreams to replace the heavy darkness and feeling of dread, of Derry, of Pennywise that seems to permeate every corner of your mind with his sick, childish laughter. Your eyes rest stationary on the silhouette of the yellow bedside lamp, not allowing yourself the victory of closing your eyes in fear you’d see them again.
Eddie. The blood. The grief stricken look on Richie’s face as he’s pulled out of his grasp. The dirty water. The tears that felt worse when mixed with relief.
After some moments you recall something Eddie used to say, allowing it to mull around your head.
‘I would die for my friends.’
The room is too dark suddenly. The curtains are drawn in a vain attempt to filter the orange glow of the streetlights right outside the front door. Knowing you’re not going to sleep that night, you decide to slouch up on the bed, placing your back against your goose feather pillow and stretching your legs out of the warm duvet.
Your thumb slid almost mindlessly over your temple when the feeling of someone placing their hands on your shoulders sent you jumping from your skin, a gasp escaping Stan’s lips.
‘Sorry hun’, Stan starts with a small sleepy smile, schooching his side over the bed and leaning his head up against the side of your neck until his stubble tickled your chin. He could see the sleepiness in your eyes as you slowly blinked them open and closed, looking up at you with those big doe eyes underneath thick lashes, concern whirring in them despite his state.
‘Why are you still awake little birdie?’
‘I can’t sleep anymore, Stanley’, you breathe out between soft laughing sobs.
‘Hey. We’ve been through a lot, but I’m right here. For better or worse, so will you please, please wake me up the next time. It breaks my heart to see you go through this alone, because you don’t have to.’
He reaches up to kiss each one of his knuckles, punctuating each press of his lips with a low, ‘we. are. safe. Now come on, if you’re awake, I’m awake too. Let’s go watch a movie.’
~
As the whirring, colourful images flicker past Stan’s drooping eyelids, he feels his legs tingle with slight numbness on the black foam padding of the sofa both of you are sprawled upon, your legs entangled with his warming up the goosebumps on his legs. As he shifts slightly, pulling himself up into a sitting position whilst raising his arms above his head in a long stretch, chuckling gently as he hears the lonesome groan you give at the loss of contact, his heart starts to beat more rapidly, pounding slowly in his ears as an idea pops into his head.
He reaches behind your back gently to grab the tartan blanket you had haphazardly thrown against the edge of settee before reaching down and intertwining your tired fingers with his, pulling you up tight against his chest. He unfurls the corners of the blanket, softly wrapping it around both your shoulders, revelling in the toasty snugness as he wraps his arm tightly around your waist, his embrace strong and protective to match the vigorous feelings of love for you that swelled suddenly in his heart, so violently he was sure they would spill out and leave him faint and trembling, but he settled slightly as he sensed the weight of your head gently landing on his shoulder.
Leaning back softly against the sofa, trying to re-engage with the movie he never really had paid attention to most of the morning, he’s surprised to hear gentle snores radiating from his side. His slender fingers tenderly trace slow circles up and down your arm, revelling in the softness of your skin whilst his face stays turned towards yours, enamoured with the soft lashes that hid your flickering eyes, before slowly and steadily raising his other hand to peacefully trace the curves of your cheeks. Once he’s satisfied, he leans in to place a small but powerful kiss, filled with so much emotion and joy, on the tip of your scrunched up nose. And as the credits of the movie roll to an empty audience, the first stray beams of spring light fall through the window upon two lovers entangled in a tranquil embrace, Stan’s head has fallen softly onto the small of your upper chest, his lips slightly parted as his hand clenched in the fabric twitches slightly, dreaming of you.
