hi omg i loved stalker!reader, she's literally me with penny lol i'm that level of unhinged for him ⋆. 𐙚 ˚🤭
but could i request a pennywise fluff oneshot idea?
like maybe it follows stalker!reader, and he saves you from a scary situation involving ppl in town, allbeit begrudgingly, but then carries you home and makes sure you're okay, and he holds you as you fall asleep ⋆˚꩜｡♡💋🥺
i think it could be an interesting challenge to write him being sweet to reader, but in his own way, while keeping him as in character as possible
It Keeps You Safe.
pun intended
Pennywise x fem!stalker!reader
☞ fluff & comfort, snuggles, townsfolk prick, catcalling, possessivess, vague mentions of canon violence, Penny being Penny-yay!
This fic is directly linked to my Adoration Headcanons, where stalker!reader made her first appearance 🩷
Hope you enjoy, lovely moot!
Alertness.
It's the kind that goes under the skin, a subtle shift in the air when someone is watching you too long.
You're just walking home, shoes a little muddy from the Barrens, head full of things you shouldn't love this much.
You've been out too late again, too close to the drains. Too close to him.
The town is half-asleep, streetlights humming low and orange.
And then someone whistles.
Your stomach drops.
The sound follows... Sloppy footsteps, lewd laughter. Some guy from the pub, or maybe he just looks like someone from the pub. You don't look long enough to find out.
You walk faster.
He calls something after you.
Something that's supposed to sound flattering but drips instead, thick and mocking and objectifying.
When you don't answer, he gets bolder.
Boots scuff the pavement.
You turn a corner and that's when the air goes wrong wrong.
The wind dies entirely and the lights flicker momentarily.
And from the gutter comes a balloon.
Crimson like wine—or blood.
It bobs once, twice.
The man behind you laughs, nervous now.
"The hell is that—"
You don't have to see what happens next.
You just hear it... Garrulous laughter. Not human...
Then the man is gone. Just gone.
Running, screaming something about a clown.
And suddenly, everything's quiet again.
Not peaceful though.
You're shaking, clutching your own arms, trying to remember how breathing works.
Then a huge shadow moves in front of you.
Pennywise steps into the streetlight like a nightmare unfolding.
Ruffled collar, too many teeth hiding behind a smile that's only now turning back to gentle. His eyes are gold, fixed right on you.
"You're trouble" he says, voice low and lilting. "Little thing wandering around my streets… collecting attention that doesnct belong to you. Oho..."
You swallow hard. "He—he followed me."
His head tilts, curious.
"I noticed... *sniff* You smell like fear. Not yours anymore, though. His."
He giggles.
Your pulse stutters.
You open your mouth to thank him, to say something sane, but then he's crouching, face inches from yours.
His gloved fingers trace a smear of dirt on your cheek.
"So fragile" he murmurs, almost to himself. "Soft little thing, all cracked china and heartbeat."
You forget to breathe—again.
He sighs dramatically, theatric as ever.
"Humans, humans... Always needing rescuing."
Then he stands, looming impossibly.
"Up up up!"
"What?"
Clawed hands slide around your waist before you can argue.
Effortless.
Like you weigh nothing.
He scoops you up against him, your shoes dangling, and the air hums faintly where his skin touches yours through fabric.
You cling out of reflex.
He chuckles, deep and sharp.
"Oh relax, little magpie. I'm not hungry tonight."
That shouldn't be comforting, but somehow it is.
The world blurs.
You blink, and then you're home...
His way of moving, reality bending to suit his whim.
He sets you down on the bed, surprisingly careful. His claws catch the blanket, tucking it under your chin.
"You—you scared him off."
"I do that." He grins, the corners of his mouth twitching wider than humanly possible. "Scaring is easy. And fun! You're… harder."
He studies you for a long moment then, gaze flicking from your eyes to your trembling hands.
Then, almost absently, he sits beside you, weight making the mattress dip.
The room feels too small with him in it.
His voice softens.
"Don't go walking out there alone again. Unless you want to see good old Pennywise go all angry."
"Mhm... I like seeing you" you murmur, half-asleep already.
He laughs quietly, an eerie musical sound. "Of course you do."
One gloved finger taps your forehead, then your collarbone, then he pokes your knee just because.
"Hmm. Still in one piece. Mostly."
You blink up at him.
"What'd you mean? Mostly?"
He leans closer, eyes glinting.
Now electric blue.
"No bite marks, no missing bits… Shame. You mortals bruise so easily. It's adorable!"
Then, without warning, he pinches your cheek like a nosy grandmother.
"Soft! See? Perfectly soft. Very snuggleable."
"You're mad." You say, entirely smitten...
He looks equally delighted.
"Awee... Compliment accepted."
You're soon drifting, warmth seeping through your limbs, safe in the strangest way possible.
Somewhere above you, the bed shifts, and you feel a heavy arm curl around your waist. Claiming.
He's really warm for something that shouldn't have warmth at all, or pulse.
Is It simulating all these things for you? Knowing humans find comfort in them.
The ruffles of his collar brush your neck.
His chest rises and falls slow and deliberate, like he's mimicking your breathing just to lull you.
Here's your answer. Even him breathing is intentional.
Long fingers trace patterns over your ribs, almost like he's mentally counting them.
You burrow closer anyway.
His laughter fades into something like a purr.
When you wake in the morning, he's gone. Only a single red thread is tied around your wrist, knotted neat.
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