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stalkurs · 1 year

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Patrick Hockstetter x Fem!Reader

Words : 4,264

Fandom : IT (2019)

Y/N stared quietly at her cream colored and plain walls. She ignored the cold and numbness that was slowly spreading from her toes up to her legs. She trembled as she cursed her mother for her reckless spending, leaving their apartment cold and unheated. Despite the heat outside the cold still covered her body and feet as she stood. The pale colored wood floors creaking under the shift of weight.

A sudden film of black covered her vision as she got wobbly. Firmly placing her hand in her end table to support her weight she set the other in her head.

"Ugh, too fast."

Once the unsteadiness subsided she quietly walked outside her fairly empty room into the blue tinted bathroom. She stood quietly in front of the mirror, both hands holding onto the sides of the sink as she leaned slightly forward to view the dark bags under her eyes. The multiple nights of petrifying nightmares beginning to take a toll on her body. Turning the chilling metal knobs, she placed her hands under the faucet, allowing for the cool water to rush and pool into her hands. Letting out a deep breathe she quickly splashed the water over her face, a quick shiver running down her body.

Grabbing a red wash rag from the shelf she patted her face free of any left over water. Soon after pulling a makeup remover wipe from its blue bag and running the cloth over her eyes cheeks. Leaving black and red colors mixed together on the white cloth. Y/N balled up the freshly dirtied cloth and tossed it into the small trash can sitting next to the toilet. Using her foot she quietly closed the door, immediately locking it and preparing to take a bath.

Putting her hand under the faucet she quietly waited for the water to become warm. After the waters temperature making no different within a couple minutes she turned the knob to turn off the water.

"No hot water either. How amazing, just great." She groaned.

After a roll of her eyes she stood and wiped her hands on a rag before wandering into the kitchen. Opening the freezer and pulling out a box of toaster strudels she began the open the box as she headed towards the toaster. The freezer door making a puff noise as it closed on its own. Popping a strudel into the obviously old toaster she tossed the now empty box into the overflowing trash can, groaning as it simply slid off the pile and onto the floor. Taking a glimpse at the red bars on the inside of the toaster she crouched down and grabbed the box.

Folding the flimsy cardboard a couple times she pushed in and the pile of trash further down into the trash bag. The feeling of something moist touching her finger made her gag and rush to the rusty sink, running her hands under the cool water. After turning off the water she flicked her hands around, water drops landing on the overhead window. After letting out a deep sigh and wiping the rest of the water off on her pajama pants she headed back down the hall to her room. Taking a glimpse at her bedside clock to notice it saying 6:15 AM she took her time reaching her closet.

Pulling it open, followed by a loud creak that the downstairs neighbors definitely heard, she began to browse through her shirts. Deciding on a black long sleeve turtle neck with lace at the end of the sleeves and neck. Grabbing a pair of light ripped jeans to go along with the shirt she began to quickly get dressed as a ding rung through the small apartment. After tossing her clothes on she grabbed a hold of her white vans and rushed downstairs. The sounds of plates clinking echoed through the apartment as she grabbed a plate and set it on the counter.

She hesitated a bit before quickly grabbing the strudel and tossing the pastry onto the black saucer, then quickly retracting her fingers from the hot food. She tapped her fingers on the counter as she blew on the breakfast, attempting to quicken its cooling down. Within a minute she began to eat the breakfast, staring at the small TV across the room in the living room. Once she finished the the food she stacked the plate atop the rest of the dirty dishes in the sink. After stretching and popping her back she walked over and sat next to the front door.

Slipping on her shoes and tying them she stood and grabbed her lanyard from the key rack. She unlocked the front door and walked out, turning back towards the door and locking it with her key. After the sound of the lock clicking she wandered down the red carpeted halls, heading towards the steps. She quickly walked down them, hopping down the last three, stumbling as she nearly lost her footing. After balancing herself she headed towards the glass double doors, pulling them open and beginning to head towards the place she despised oh so much.

"Y/N!"

Turning her head to the side she was greeted with the sight of a familiar red head rushing over to her.

"When did you cut your hair?" Y/N tilted her head.

"Oh," she let out an awkward laugh, her hand resting on the back of her neck, "I cut it last night, felt like I wanted something new ya know?"

She gave a goofy smile to Y/N, getting a nod and smile in return as she looked forward again, continuing to walk, only this time a companion walking beside her.

Within a half hour the two took their separate ways and went to their respected places. Beverly went to join the Losers club while Y/N continued on her own, heading towards her locker. Crouching down and quickly putting in the combination she pulled open the red door, taking a few seconds to view a few Polaroids varying from her friend and pets, to photos of lily of the valleys that she used to grow in the backyard of her old house. She quietly put her books onto the shelf of the locker, grabbing her thin science book and a few pieces of crumpled up papers sitting on the floor.

Making her way to stand she was roughly pushed back down by a hand on her should. She grimaced and looked up to see the bowers gang. Patrick, most likely the one who pushed her, as the other three stood around him. Except for Henry who stood next to the much taller boy. Y/N felt her heart drop to her stomach when Patrick crouched to her figure, now sitting on her hind end after being pushed.

Noticing the out of place group surrounding her, other student froze and stared on at the interaction taking place. Mumbles and whispers filling her head, everything else becoming blurry.

She was unsure if the blurry was was from the tears welling up in her eyes from fear, either from the bowers gang or everyone staring at her during an embarrassing moment. Or if it was her brain blocking everything so she could pay attention to what people were saying.

"Oh my god."

"I hope something happens, they've been quiet a couple of days."

"I hope she's okay."

"Someone get a teacher oh my god."

Before the gang could open their mouths her fight and flight instincts kicked in, and she kicked Patrick in the gut. Sending him onto his rear as she quickly stood, jumping over him, barely managing to dodge his hand that reached to grab her ankle. With missing, Patrick slammed his fist on the floor in reaction and quickly stood.

Belch laughed at the stumbling boy only to receive a swift punch to his punch from Henry, making him couch and put a hand to his chest as he attempt to regain his breathe.

"You numb nuts follow him!"

Henry yelled before rushing after the pyromaniac, soon followed by Victor and a still wheezing Belch.

Y/N skidded into the girls bathroom, locking the bathroom door. After turning she was greeted by a Greta and her lesser friends. The slamming of the door made the three turn their heads towards her, earning Y/N a scowl and snicker from Greta.

"The sow's here, how fitting! I was just talking about how I absolutely hate pork!" Laughs followed up Gretas statement from the two girls standing next to her.

A loud banging on the bathroom door caught everyone's attention from the inside.

"Ohhhh~ the sow is running? Did goody shoes get in trouble? Fufu how embarrassing it must be to get caught in the bathroom."

Greta walked to the door, roughly pushing the smaller girl out of the way of the graffitied door and pulled it open quickly after unlocking it. Y/N wasted no time in running and locking one of the stalls as Greta opened the door, surprised to find a seething Patrick on the other side.

"Move whore!" The Blackette pushed her to the side as he began to push open each stall door in search of Y/N. Noticing Henry Greta smiles and strutted over to the boy. She put her hand on his shoulder, followed by her head as she stared up at him as he side eyed her.

"Henry, why didn't you call me last night? You said you would!" She pouted up at the mullet wearing boy.

He scoffed and quickly shrugged her off of him, wandering into the he girls bathroom, following after Patrick. Victor and Belch stood outside the door, victor stood quietly, watching the two in the inside while belch looked at Greta and winked at her and her friends. Greta let out a groan and turned on her heel walking off down the hall followed by her also unresponsive friends.

As one of the stall doors didn't budge when Patrick pushed on it he chuckled.

"I found you~"

Y/N let out a yelp as he banged his fist on the door harshly, leaving her to wonder how the door didn't fall off it's already weak and rusty hinges.

On the other side of the door Henry jerked his head for victor to come over. As victor hesitantly enter the girls bathroom and walked his way to his leader Henry roughly grabbed his shoulder and leaned towards his ear.

"Crawl under the next stall and grab her leg. Try to drag her out enough we can also grab her. Since your weak ass probably couldn't handle pulling a struggling women all the way 2 feet."

Victor nodded, staring at the ground. He let out a breathe, preparing to get kicked in the nose as he got on his stomach and pulled himself towards Y/N. Once he was close enough he grabbed her ankle with one hand, receiving a quick yell as he yanked and pulled her to the floor and onto her side. The sudden impact knocked the breathe out of her chest as she wheezed and began to weakly kick her legs towards the blonde at her feet. She managed a hit to his right cheek, making him close his eyes in pain and groan.

Yet his grip didn't falter as she tilted his face down towards the floor as he moved in order to not get kicked once more. Once his whole body was out from under the stalls Patrick crouched and grabbed both her ankles after smacking away Victor. Roughly yanking her legs she slid the rest of the way out of under the bathroom stall. Patrick put his hands under her arms and lifted her up, grinning at her.

"Glad you could join me! I've been meaning to talk to you!" Henry glanced at Y/N, but with a death glare from Patrick he quickly jerked his head away to stare at the old tiles on the floor.

Patrick set the girl down on her feet before wrapping his hand around her upper arm. He drug her along with him as he left the girls room as soon as the school security began to round the corner to check out what was happening in the girls bathroom. Once Patrick exited, the other three boys followed behind him like loyal dogs, the fear Patrick induced in the other three obvious. Y/N darted her head around as she looked at the other classmates who stared at her being dragged by the bully. Within the crowd she saw several people she had classed with, and as they all hid their faces immediately after making eye contact with her made her hopes of someone helping her diminish.

With all failed attempts of wriggling her arm out of his strong grip she simply gave up on the struggle.

Within a few seconds of walking they finally reached the heavy doors at the front of the school. Patrick pushed open the door with his shoulder and quickly went down the stairs, leaving her to nearly fall at his quick pace. He finally drug her to the side of the school and tossed her against the wall. She smacked her head and immediately leaned down and held the back of her head, which was luckily not bleeding, but a headache did begin to form.

"Oh shit my bad!" Pure concern spread across his face but quickly disappeared as he forced himself to simply stand there.

"What do you want from me!?" Her voice was slightly lowered due to her focusing on the pain in her head.

Patrick turned towards the other three and gestured for them to all go away, which they obeyed and headed back into the school as the bell rang, able to be heard from the outside. Once they left he bent his pointer and put it under her chin, tilting her head up in order to make direct eye contact as he gave her a slanted smile.

"I wanted to ask you on a date. Ya know, just us, maybe the arcade, something like that."

Without meaning too Y/N let out a sarcastic laugh before sapping his hand away from her face. Not knowing where all this confidence was coming from all of the sudden but she went with it, not like he was a pyromaniac who burns living animals or anything.

"The audacity you have to assume I would just drop all that, that you did! and to go on a date!? With you!? I've managed this long to go unnoticed by the school! By your dumb fucking gang! And you think I'd abandon all that progress for you!" She let out a groaned groan and quickly rushed off before he could grab her again.

Knowing she'd be late either way she took her time getting back to class, but didn't dally to long that Patrick could just come and drag her away once more.

I cant believe the audacity of that boy. He embarrasses me in front of the whole school, then thinks ill forget it all, just because he wants to take me on a date. She thought.

Oh my god Patrick wanted me to go on a date.. And I rejected him, god I hope he doesn't get butt hurt and sought to burn me like a frog for it..

Without realizing she had reached her classroom she looked up to be face to face with the plain wood and windowless door with a metal plate labeling "Human Resources." Perfect, an easy class to lead to an easy day.

She opened the door to see an unfamiliar face, a substitute. When questioned she simply said she was at the nurses office before sitting at her seat. Leaning back and beginning to mindlessly stare out the window across the room as a movie played on the projector.

Within what felt like minutes but was actually an hour the bell rang for the next class, and jerking Y/N out of her trance. The sound of complaining classmates and rustling clouded her mind as shoved her pencil into her book before heading out the door alongside the crowd of other students. Only to join another crowd of rowdy teens as they all went to their lockers and towards their next classes. Y/N mentally groaned realizing her next class was Gym, the feeling of dread building up in her stomach, nauseating her.

Once entering the large and cold room she noticed the group of students sitting in the bleachers, within that group being Patrick who was harassing a freshman. Tossing his bag above his head to only catch it moments before it reached his face. He chuckled darkly each moment he noticed the sudden face of fear covering the freshman's face as he thinks the bag is about to hit him. Y/N brought her hand to her face, shielding it as an attempt to hide her face enough that she wouldn't be noticed by the said boy. Luckily for her the coach called for everyone to go get changed before she managed to reach the bleachers, allowing her to sneak off to the girl lockers rooms that were opposite of the boys, where Patrick was going.

She entered the equally cold locker room before the rest of the girls and began to get changed. Replacing her jeans and turtleneck with black sport shorts and a white short sleeve shirt. After putting away her books in her assigned locker she joined the rest of the class on the gym floor, only to discover it was a free day.

Almost immediately Y/N and her "gym buddy" Brittney grouped up and began to kick a soccer ball back and forth to each other while others played basketball or simply walked around the gym.

"So, what about you and the bowers gang now?" Brittney glanced up casually at her after returning from retrieving the ball after Y/N overshot.

"Ugh don't even mention that. Literally tortured me so Patrick could try and get his dick wet."

Brittney chuckled as she kicked the ball, which whizzed right past her partners face and slammed into the wall 10 feet away.

"Maybe asking someone on the soccer team to play kick was a bad idea."

Said person laughed as Y/N turned and began to walk to get the ball. Without a moment to react a sudden pain spread through her eyes and nose and she crouched, soon after sitting as she felt her face as a throbbing pain spread through it.

Brittney quickly ran over and crouched down, putting her hand on her friends shoulder.

"You okay there? I know those frisbees don't feel to good when they get the face."

Y/N removed her hands, a familiar red liquid covering her hands, some dripping down to the floor. The dark red a large contrast against the pale brown wood floor. Looking over she could see one of the schools white frisbees sitting right next to her.

Not a moment after a guy rushed over and grabbed the frisbee. He didn't stay long as after he muttered a "sorry" he returned to his unbothered friends.

"What a dick!" Brittney furrowed her brows and helped Y/N up, but before she could begin walking her to the nurse Patrick appeared seemingly out of nowhere and wrapped his arm under Y/N's.

"Shoo soccer rat, I'll take her." he scowled at her, getting one in return before Brittney left, too scared to do anything against the pyro.

To pained to worry about who took her to the nurse she simply wrapped her arm up and around his torso as she couldn't reach his neck. Once they left the gym and into the empty and silent halls Patrick began to speak.

"Rough day huh? At least you took that frisbee to the face like a champ." He chuckled.

"No no, I've just been hit so hard I forgot how to cry.."

The rest of the walk was full of awkward silence. Once he dropped Y/N off on of of the beds in the nurses office and told her of Y/N being there he left.

The nurse after caring for her left her to sleep off the rest of the pain. Which she slept the rest of the five hours of the school day, only waking when the nurse woke her up when the final bell rang. With a still blurry mind Y/N went to her locker and went to put away her books only to realize she left them in the locker room. She shrugged it off, deciding to let the janitor just throw it away. Not like shes going to be using it during the summer time.

She lagged behind all the rushing student, all excited to leave the school and start their 3 month vacation. As she sluggishly walked behind the group she was joined by Beverly, who attempted conversation.

"So, I heard about the frisbee. Is your nose okay?"

Y/N gave her a look that said it all, as her nose had a purplish hue as the bruise was forming.

"I just want to go home and sleep. Maybe eat some ice cream, and maybe share it with somebody." She nudged Beverly's arms with her elbow as she lightly laughed, getting one in return from the red head.

"I'll see if i could sneak in your window. But it all depends on when dad gets home early."

Y/N nodded and finally got outside, looking over in time to see Henry run his saliva covered hand across Bill's face, making her scrunch up her nose, immediately regretting it as a burning pain filled her nose bridge.

Beverly and Y/N continued on their way to their apartment building and went their separate ways after reaching it. Bev headed up the fire escape to get to her bedroom window and Y/N headed inside and up the stairs to her floor. After going to unlock the door and for it to simply lock instead made her perk up. Re-unlocking the door and entering to see her mother standing at the counter, wearing an apron she had got her years ago as a child and a towel sitting on her shoulder. Hearing the entrance of her daughter the older and tired looking woman turned towards Y/N and grinned.

"Welcome home! Come help me finish decorating these cupcakes would you?"

Y/N rolled her eyes and slipped off her shoes, leaving them on the shoe rack next to the door before joining her mother in covering the baked treats in butter cream frosting.

The very uncommon reunion of Y/N and her mother didn't last long, as after only decorating 2 cupcakes she left the rest to Y/N and fell asleep on the couch. The cooking channel long gone and now played a re-run of some antique auctions. Y/N set the treats into the fridge for tomorrow and kissed her mother on the forehead before tossing an old guilt over her sleeping figure.

Didn't even ask about why my nose was bruised, or why my eyes were red and swollen. Even accusing me of smoking weed would've felt better than her saying nothing at all..

Y/N quickly changed into some plaid pajama pants and a long shirt before sitting on her bed. she rubbing her head as she let out a deep sigh. Laying back in bed after turning off her lap she held a large brown stuffed bunny in her arms. Just as she about to fall into darkness there was a knock on her window, sending her heartbeat crazy. Seeing enough horror movies she stood out of view of her covered window and while pulling back the curtains while out of view she peeked at the other side from the side of the curtain.

Instead of a murderous killer there was a Patrick, equally terrifying but not as bad. The look of confusion was replaced by joy as she moved in front of her window and opened it.

"What do you want?"

"Oh don't act like that, its only 8 PM."

Before she could protect the tall boy climbed into her room and sat criss cross on her bed. Leaving her dumb founded in front of him.

"I came over for our date!"

"I never agreed to that!" She whisper yelled.

"Well, you didn't decline either. How about we just watch a movie, I won't do anything, pinky promise, drown my lighter if I lie." He held up his hand, pinky extended.

Without thinking Y/N rolled her eyes and giggled before wrapping her pinky around his.

"Fine then."

She hopped next to him on the bed, turning on the TV that sat on her dresser opposite of her bed. Turning to a channel that was currently halfway through some old black and white horror movie, she leaned back to lean against her wall, soon after joined by Patrick, who grabbed the rabbit she was cuddling moments ago and held it in his lap, eyes glued to the screen.

By the end of the movie Patrick broke his promise, his hand resting lightly on Y/N's knee as he slept. His head leaned back on the wall. But she wasn't upset by his lie, as she scooted loser and rested her head on his arm, closing her eyes and falling in a comfortable sleep.

#patrick hocksetter x reader #patrick hocksetter imagine #patrick hockstetter #it 2019 #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #fem!reader #imagine #pennywise #henry bowers #victor criss #losers club

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billdenbroughsgirl · 8 months

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nap time ♡ bill denbrough

♡ pairing: bill denbrough x fem!reader

a/n ♡ first tumblr post! i’ve been writing fics for a few years now, but i’ve started to really like my work & want to share it! please send requests !

♡ summary: reader goes to bill’s baseball game, and afterwards, they fall asleep cuddling <3

♡ word count: 376 :)

♡ one week ago ♡

you climb onto the bed, and lie your head on bill’s chest, your cheek against his shirt. “i missed you.” you mutter lazily. he’d been at one of his baseball games, and you’d been bored out of your mind at home. “it’s buh-been an h-hour.” he replies, his hands moving to your head, starting to play with your hair. “a very long hour.” you hear him chuckle softly. “muh-maybe you should c-come next t-t-time.” he suggests. “really?” you lift your head from his chest and look at him. he nods, a small smile on his face.

you bounce on your heels, waiting for bill to come over to the bike rack, where you’d agreed to meet. after what feels like forever, you spot him walking towards you. “bill!” you exclaim, running towards him with your arms out. you see a smile light up his face, and he stretches his arms out as you reach him. “that was so cool!” you say, your voice muffled by his arms around you. “y-yeah?” he asks, and you nod. “mhm! you’re really good.” he kisses the top of your head, “th-thank you,” before pulling away from the hug, “you r-ready to go?” he asks, and you nod. the two of you walk the short distance to the bike rack. you hop onto your bike, a cherry red cruiser with a woven basket, and bill gets onto silver.

you’re lying on your back on bill’s bed, waiting for him to get out of the shower. “hurry up!” you call out, partially joking. a moment later, he opens his bedroom door, and you sit up. pulling a ringer tee over his head, he says “j-jesus christ, y/n, be puh-patient.” you shake your head. “i was! you just take forever in the shower!” he rolls his eyes, but you can see a small smile on his face. “yeah, oh-okay.” he walks over to his bed, and you move so he can get comfortable. lying down on his back, he motions you back, patting his chest. you smile, and lay your head down, closing your eyes. “‘m gonna take a nap,” you mumble sleepily, feeling his hand on your head, stroking your hair. “a-alright. s-sleep well, y-y/n.” you smile. “you too, bill.”

#bill denbrough x reader #bill denbrough #bill denbrough oneshots #it (2017)#bill denbrough x you #it x reader #it 2017 x reader #losers club x reader #jacob barber x reader #jacob thrombey x reader #bill denbrough x fem!reader

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lilhoeforevanpeters · 6 months

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Haunted

"Give me something that'll haunt me when you're not around"

Stanley Uris x GN!reader angst

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You put your car in park once you reached your destination. Your tragic destination. You grab the bouquet of flowers from the passenger seat beside you. Sitting in your car for a few minutes, you eventually get out, the cool Autumn air hitting you. You shrugged his jacket on you further, stuffing your hands in the pockets. It doesn't smell like him anymore.

There were many other grieving families there, grieving husbands and wives like you, however, it was eerily quiet, no one dared to even mutter a word. You locked the car, walking through the main gates of the dreaded place.

You stared at the gravel path as you walked mindlessly, not needing to look up for directions as you've been to the location so many times. Clutching the fresh flower bouquet in your hands as your heeled boots make a click-clack sound against the pavement.

You took a right, then a left, until you were finally in the shaded area where he was. Your heart felt heavy, as it had for weeks. You took a shaky breath before looking up.

You sat down on the slightly damp grass, not caring if you got your clothing wet. You looked at the headstone in front of you. The headstone of your husband. Your now dead husband.

You set the flowers in your hand down next to the gravestone. "Stanley Uris, July 13 1976- September 5 2016". You looked at it briefly before looking down at the grass you were sitting on. The cold air blew through your hair that was up in a low ponytail, and you tugged on the jacket that was one your husband's further onto your body.

Pressing your lips together in a tight line, eyes watering as you looked up for a split second before letting out a breath, tears falling down your cheeks and onto the ground in front of you. Your gaze falls back down to the headstone. "Loving son and husband".

"Asshole."

One simple word. A word that held a lot of anger and was typically for people who you hate- but you didn't hate Stanley. You couldn't. He is was your husband. But despite still feeling the love you had for him, you couldn't help but feel angry. Not angry- livid. Livid at the world, at the entire town of Derry, at that fucking clown that terrorized him, at yourself for not going up to check on him sooner, at your husband for killing himself.

It wasn't fair. The entire situation wasn't- it wasn't fair that you were angry at him, or that you were now alone, desperately holding onto the small pieces of him that you had left. It wasn't fair how your home that once brought joy and comfort brings nothing but despair and pain. It wasn't fair that the stupid clown scared him so much and he felt like he had no other choice.

You felt empty, like everything had been stripped from you. It had been. You lost the one person you thought you'd never lose. Your best friend. Your husband. Your Stan.

"You left me. And I hate you for it. I hate you. I hate you for leaving me alone, I hate you for not thinking there was a better option. I hate that I still love you. I hate that I expect you to be there at the table every night after I come home from work, doing your stupid puzzles."

Tears streamed down your face as you spoke bitterly to the tomb. Using the sleeve of his jacket, you wiped away the tears, but they were only replaced with new ones. You hated it all. How your bed felt cold and empty. Or how you still expected him to be there. Memories of what once was haunted your house. They haunted your mind.

You glared at the headstone, as if expecting Stan to respond, to tell he was sorry, and he'd be coming home soon. But you knew that wouldn't happen. It was impossible. His body was in the ground, he'd been gone for three months. You couldn't bring him back; no one could.

You wanted your husband back. Your best friend. He was your everything, and now he was gone. You looked away from the dumb piece of stone that really didn't mean anything, yet meant so much to you.

If Stan had died in a car accident, or something else, maybe you'd be able to cope better. It would be hard- maybe as hard as it was now for you, but you couldn't help but feel that this storyline hurt more. It hurt so much, and the impact it left on you was huge.

That night would stick forever in your mind. How could it not? He was so obviously upset over the phone call- but you brushed it off. And you would blame yourself for that for eternity. You didn't think anything of him taking the bath until he wasn't answering and he'd been in there for half an hour. You felt sick when thinking of it. You had knocked on the door, asking if he was okay, but when there was no answer you went in.

Your husband laid dead in the bathtub, his wrists slit, the word "It" written in his own blood. You let out a scream and rushed over to him, pulling him out of the water and holding him in your arms as you cried and called 911. He was declared dead on the scene.

His lifeless face was burned into your mind. When you close your eyes. When you try to sleep. Everywhere you look- his lifeless face is there. That scene is there. His bloody wrists. How you tried to save him, knowing it was hopeless. The door to the now clean bathroom has been closed from the moment he was declared dead. You couldn't go in there. Hell, you could barely go in your bedroom where you two slept every night.

With tears rolling down your cheeks, you close your eyes and pressed a hand to the ground, grasping at the grass lightly where you knew his body was- six feet under, in a casket. You felt pathetic and broken, but you couldn't help it, you had lost your everything. You just wanted him to hold you in his arms and tell you everything would be okay like he normally would've. However, the only thing you got was the cold wind hitting your back, no warm embrace from your now dead husband.

"I'm sorry I couldn't help you. I'm so, so sorry. I should've gone up sooner. I should've pressed you harder to talk about it. I shouldn't have let you go upstairs."

You blamed the world and that fucking clown, but mostly, you blamed yourself. Deep down you knew you shouldn't. Deep down you knew he wouldn't want you that.

"I love you. And I always will."

You whispered the words to the tombstone, knowing it was foolish to believe he could hear you, but if he did, if there was a chance he could hear what you were saying, then you wanted him to know that you loved him.

So you sat at the grave for three hours, as you did every weekend since the day he was buried. You didn't speak anymore, instead pressing your forehead against the headstone and closing your eyes, his jacket wrapped around your body. This was the closest you had to him now. And you would take whatever you could.

When the air grew colder and crisper, hours later, you got back into the car, sighing lightly and drove home in silence. Driving up to your house, you parked in the driveway as the feeling of heartache crept over you once more.

You walked into the house you once lived in with your beloved husband, memories of all the times you spent with him there still living rent-free in your mind. Sliding your shoes off, you crept up the stairs, avoiding the pictures on the wall on the way up of him smiling at the camera while holding you, or him as a kid. The bathroom door was still closed, and it would remain that way for possibly many more months, and you averted your eyes- even looking at the door made you sick to your stomach. You walked into the bedroom you once slept in peacefully with Stan, not bothering to take your jeans or his jacket off as you crawled into the bed and laid there underneath the comforter, closing your eyes, but not sleeping, as you did every weekend since he died.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you can't help the hot tears that trail down your face as the feeling of hopelessness crept up on you, swallowing you whole like a black hole.

#stanley uris #Stanley Uris #Stanley Uris x reader #Stanley Uris x fem! reader #stan uris #Stan the man #Stanley Uris angst #IT #it #it chapter one #it chapter 2 #it chapter ii #Stanley Uris x male!reader #Stanley Uris x GN!reader #loser club #wyatt oleff

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artsy-cactus · 10 months

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The Well House; 29 Neibolt Street

+ detail shots

++ background

PLEASE click for better quality!! ❤️❤️

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ithoughtghostsjustfloatedaway · 7 months

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literally haven’t posted/reblogged anything for m o n t h s but here’s a preview at a bigger piece i’m making

(don’t worry, mike is gonna be in it too, she was just homeschooled so she doesn’t have yearbook pics

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babybluelove2 · 4 months

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what listening to too much lesley gore as a thirteen-year-old in the present time will do to you (if you are a female ben hanscom and also being stalked by a demon clown) (alternatively titled: i’ll cry)

is this anything ? does anyone care about the extremely niche version of the losers club that i made up in my head where they are all girls and also dating ? ive been having fem ben hanscom thoughts so much that i thought i would share. u can take this if u want to

~♡~

Ben Hanscom was having a bad day, to put it in schoolgirl language. The talking-to-your-mother-crying bad day, the she-holds-you-and-tells-you-everything-will-be-alright bad day. Except that wasn’t it. Because Ben Hanscom has had bad days before. Schoolgirl bad days. And she has learned to not go to her mom after them; it just makes her feel worse.

Anyway, she had this feeling, gut deep, higher-power-level, that this was not a schoolgirl bad day. That this was just going to be a bad life, at least for a little bit. Things were bad. She could deal. She was good at distractions, at keeping herself company.

Ben Hanscom was a dreamer. A Lisbon girls dreamer. (Her words; she had watched The Virgin Suicides once when she was eleven because she heard one of the characters was named Bonnie, like her. Upon watching, she felt connected to the Lisbon girls. Like if they were her friends, they would understand her in the ways her mother never could.

Bonnie Lisbon hangs herself at the end of the movie.)

She was thirteen now, Cecelia’s age, and had taken to writing in the margins of her favorite books, the ones she kept close to her heart. She liked poetry the best, it described the things she couldn’t form the words to herself, the liminal loneliness that permeated her very being.

Thirteen-year-old Ben Hanscom’s existence was poetry and music. Because music could fill a room. Music could be laughter or tears. Music could be It’s My Party by Lesley Gore.

According to the tobacco-chewing man who worked at the Virginia record store, Miss Lesley was “vintage”. Ben hadn’t known that by vintage, he had meant irreparably damaged. It’s My Party was one of the only songs on her I’ll Cry If I Want To vinyl that played all the way through. She didn’t mind much. It was her favorite song on the album. A basic pick, but Ben didn’t pride herself on her individuality. The things that made her noticeable in a crowd were the things she hated most about herself.

So it was an It’s-My-Party bad day, although Melanie Martinez’s rendition of the melody was more fitting objectively. She sat on the cheap mattress on the floor of her new bedroom and cried, Lesley Gore singing slightly off-key in the background. Today, the middle of March, was her first day at Derry Middle School. It was shit.

As a sort of first-world survival mechanism, and because of her destiny as an empath, Ben could sort out the good people from the bad. When she was little, she insisted on seeing the good in everyone, but she found with moving and new schools and a distinct lack of friends that she never got close enough to anyone to find their good. Usually this meant a lot of neutral. People would blend into the background, the type to not interfere if things got ugly when the bad presented itself.

At Derry Middle School, there was no neutral, just bad. It vibrated in the sound waves of her teachers’ voices refusing to call her Ben (“Don’t be silly, Bonnie. Ben is a boy’s name.”), dilating the pupils of her judgmental classmates’ glares. At lunch, the only flavor she tasted was the putrid peach of anxious nausea. There were no empty tables when she entered the cafeteria, so she stood around awkwardly for about a minute-and-a-half and then hid out in the bathroom for the rest of the period.

The people were mean. It took her all of five minutes to run into Henry Bowers, who told her she’d better leave his town before she regretted it, like she had a choice in the matter, and said a few choice words about her weight that would inevitably take residence in the back of her thoughts always. She slipped out of the back door after the end-of-day bell, avoiding him and going back to her aunt’s house, her new home.

The record skipped. It’s my party, and I’ll cry if I want to. Cry if I want to–cry–cry–cry–

Like a girl with a car-crash-induced stutter, the song caught on the word cry, over and over. It was enough to elicit a reaction from the distraught teenager in the room. A little on the nose, she thought bitterly. Ben rubbed her tears into her complexion as she went to remove the record.

She had meant to hit the off button. Someone else would say their finger slipped, but Ben knew better.

Her book of fairytales was packed away in a box somewhere. It was pink with golden sparkles and a built-in ribbon-bookmark. She didn’t need it in front of her to recount any of its tales. Sleeping Beauty was her best friend in second grade, far more reliable than anything else in her life. She used to write little confessions to Aurora, schoolgirl-bad-day musings next to her hopes and dreams.

Sleeping Beauty was cursed to prick her finger on the spinning wheel, just like Ben Hanscom was cursed to prick her finger on the needle of her record player, only she didn’t fall asleep for a hundred years.

She gasped a breath in when it happened, sticking her pointer into her mouth where it was bleeding.

The music was still playing–cry–copper was on her tongue–cry–everything felt surreal; maybe she had taken her daydreaming habit too far this time–cry–her mom always said she was too separated from reality.

The vinyl shattered. She screamed, startled, covering her face out of instinct. A shard lodged itself into her arm, right through her baggy hoodie. Another cut through her baggy sweatpants.

She scanned the room, maybe looking for her fairy godmother to step into view, rambling about how that wasn’t supposed to happen and she’s sorry, let me clean you up, darling. Or for someone entirely human to tell her she was going insane. But she was alone, the sudden quiet buzzy and disorienting.

After a pause that ensured one of her cousins wasn’t going to come and investigate, Ben moved to the bathroom so she wouldn’t have to look at the vinyl residue littering the carpet.

She was crying again by the time she pulled the pieces of vintage Lesley Gore out of her body. She had stopped some time before and was paying for it. Her tear ducts had finally caught up to produce sobs that died with the air that struggled to reach her lungs. Her clothes were ripped, and she wasn’t really in a position to afford new ones. She was in pain too, though she didn’t really feel it; all of her senses were being eclipsed by phantom hearing–cry–cry–cry–

It met Ben Hanscom that day, and her life would never be the same.

(@amorasalvatore i posted this whoops ty for listening to my ramblings)

#has anyone else ever thought that fem ben hanscom would listen to 60s girl groups and lesley gore and subsequently ended up listening to #lesley gore #sorry about the long title i learned from lana del rey my lord and savior #had to come up w a title on the spot for this it is in google docs as “ben angel loml sweetheart hanscom”#ben: im so boring i blend into the background my favorite lesley gore song is its my party #also ben: *buys all her favorite 60s albums on vinyl*#fem ben hanscom #fem losers club #it 2017 #ben hanscom #is using the main tags misleading ? this is so far removed from canon its probably easier reading with no knowledge of the actual source #ok bye <3 #if anyone wants to know more about my fem poly losers club brainrot hmu PLEASE

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