#adult!stan uris x imagine

[har-rison-s]

loving you

request: omg nsfw stan x reader where his wife (the reader) has been away on a business trip or something for her job (you can decide) and she comes home to stan and he’s all needy and clingy with her and just wants to make love to her bc he missed her ASKDKEXJ IM SOFT I-

A/N: Shdhfsbdfhdsb hello. We about to do this. I'm soft, too ahsbdfahshdshah. I sure hope it's good what I'll have written. I'm nervous about writing this. This is a first for me in some ways. I'm watching the Corpse Bride while I write. Fitting, I know. But it's one of my favourites and, since it's the 9th of halloween, what better cartoon to watch if I've already watched Coraline twice and the Nightmare Before Christmas? Three more horror cartoons to go! Happy reading!

This gon' be hot and steamy!

warnings: smut :)

IT masterlist

heaven masterlist

main masterlist

gif credit goes to owner, which isn't me!

Stanley had missed her a lot. Y/N's work trip to Europe had dragged much too long for his liking. He was so ready to see her again and wrap her between the white bed sheets, along with his love and his lust and affection.

He had waited for her at the airport and greeted her with flowers, the romantic. She had nothing against it, in fact, Y/N loves cliché things such as flowers and chocolates in heart-shaped boxes and rose petals and candles… She embraced him tightly, and he spun her like a ballerina in his arms. Her face was covered with his tender, quick kisses and she had smiled, blushing as deep a red color as the roses he brought her.

Sitting in their car, Stanley was craving the feeling, the touch of her so bad, he'd gladly let her sit in his lap. But that would be against many rules of driving and steering the wheel. Screw rules, right? No, Y/N wouldn't have allowed it.

So Stan settled for his hand on her thigh for the car ride. She told him about her work trip to Europe, told him how romantic it'd be to go to Paris together, walk the streets of Venice, visit Vienna's opera house. Stanley listened and even put her words in the back of his mind as notes for later anniversary, Christmas and birthday gifts.

But Y/N noticed his hand was making bold moves on her thigh. His hold was different from his previous ones, firstly, much more grabbing. She could feel it in only the tip of his fingers, his intentions and thoughts. How the digits were pressing deeper in her skin than usual. He was never bold, he was always gentle and careful, and she loved that about Stanley. This feeling she got from his hand now was exciting her, though.

She glanced over at Stanley when his hand grasped closer to her crotch. She was only wearing a dress and his hand would soon discover her underwear. Due to comfort reasons, Y/N chose to wear her favorite pair on her return day. Soft pink, they were. Hugging her bum and hip area perfectly. That sight Stanley about to behold in a few minutes time.

Stanley left the car with Y/N's bags in his hold in a hurry. And when the door was open and the bags were on the floor, Stanley couldn't hold himself back any longer. Y/N didn't wish he would have for a second.

The couple reached their bedroom in time before all clothes were thrown off and skins marked completely, though the competition was intense. Just as their everlasting feelings for each other.

Y/N hadn't seen such an eager and lustful side of Stanley in their years of marriage. The wedding night was very similar, but not the same in excitement, she must admit. This is more than marital love, this feels more than that.

Stanley's fingers are digging small holes into the inner thighs of his wife and his lips are covering any inch of her they can get to. His pants are already gone, as well as his jacket, and Y/N's still in her dress. They're moving against each other, the movements synchronised by some inner rhythms only love can create. Y/N can already feel the length and width of how eager her husband is and she moans at just the thought of what's to happen.

She's about to have an introduction because Stanley finally reaches beyond the limits of her pink underwear. Y/N sighs, gladness spreading over her face and through the body, and her grasp tightens around Stanley's arms.

“You've… no idea how much I've missed you.” Stanley tells Y/N. His hands spread her legs wider, as well as her labia lips. Stanley's digits are soft against her skin, her very soft, velvety skin.

Y/N moans, loud and whining. Or is it…? Craving. Longing. Hunger, you might as well. Her head presses into the pillow. “Show me.” She pants to Stanley who keeps on his sweet torture on her clit as teasing and enjoyable for both as possible. “Show me now.”

“I wouldn't hold it in for the world, baby-love.” Stanley tells her in response. They both giggle, Stan realises he's made an accidental joke.

Y/N pushes Stanley off her gently, with her little hands, and sits up on her knees on the bed. Stanley's hands reach for her waist while she tries to get her dress off.

The man is in complete awe watching her. His eyes only see her and he thinks he'll see only her for the rest of his life. She's in front of him and shining like an angel. There might as well be a light blasting from behind her.

Her pink underwear is the only garment she wears. Stanley's eyes fall upon her breasts, her stomach, her neck, her arms, her legs… There's so much for him to see, too much almost. God, the things he would do to her now and the following hours and nights and days… He's got too many thoughts and options to choose from.

His wife senses his fastidious expression and grins. She knows all about what's going on his mind. Y/N slides closer to him and starts lifting his shirt off of him. Time seems to have stopped, they're in no rush. Stanley's feelings, of course, stay as intense and blood-rushing as they were the whole car ride, and all the time he waited for her at home.

Y/N puts her arms around Stanley's shoulders and tilts her head slightly. There's a soft smile itching he corners of her lips while she looks at Stanley. She's finally home, and she's so glad to be. Y/N runs her hand slowly through Stanley's curls and touches his scalp on the way. Stanley smiles. He's missed this small gesture from her, he realises.

“Mind if I show you how much I've missed you now?” Stanley questions and his hand takes Y/N's waist in almost a possessive manner. She chuckles and nods, agreeing. “You were asking for it.” He points out.

Y/N pokes his shoulder. “Shut up and make love to me, you fool.” She commands and lets go of him, dropping back down on their bed. She lays there for a second, waiting for Stanley to join her.

“I promise to.” He says, and it's all quick and hurried and lustful and everything both of them want from that second on. Quick and grabby hands, bedsheets ruffling, hair getting in the way, pairs of underwear thrown in the air. All hurried and fast, as if they were losing time. But they had all the time they could wish for, and Stanley was sure to use every second of it.

He smothers her with kisses from her lips down to her knees. Each one makes her shiver, her whimpers like music to the man's ears. His curls tickle her skin and his lips crush against her. Y/N can't wait anymore.

She takes a hold of Stanley's face and brings it back up to face hers, and she gives him a tight kiss. He can feel her impatience and knows it matches his. Stanley grins. 

The second he's gone inside of her, they both feel like seven feet in the air. Stanley's head drops in the crook of her neck and he grunts, gripping the sheet under his hand. Y/N's eyes flutter shut. This is what she's been missing, what both of them have.

He's completely absorbed in everything she gives, her love, her body, her sounds, her juices and her lust. Stanley gives his love to her with every thrust of his hips and every kiss to her neck, gives his craving and tries his best to make up for the time lost.

Y/N's hands grip the back of his neck tighter and needier with each of his thrusts, and she tries to meet his hips with her own. They're not far from release, despite the desire to make this last longer. 

No words need to be exchanged. Stanley knows Y/N's body as well as she knows his, he can feel that she's about to reach her peak. Stanley makes her look at him, tilting her face and she meets his eyes. Desperation, excitement, lust. 

Cloudy eyes meet another pair of the same sort. Y/N nods at Stanley, encouraging him to quicken his pace and meet his release with her. She runs her hand through his hair again and pulls him down to her, their lips meeting in a kiss that make their heads spin.

Grunts and moans and whimpers, ones of success and reaching release, fill the room once the couple comes undone. Almost in sync—Stanley was only a second late. 

He moved them both closer to the headboards, where the heavenly bed of pillows lay, and wrapped his arms around his wife. They had to catch their breaths. Y/N had never had love as intense as this made to her before. She found Stanley's hand with her own and interlocked their fingers.

Y/N looks at Stanley from below, her head resting on his bicep, and he smiles down at her. He presses a kiss to her forehead and Y/N giggles, pulling herself closer into her husband's embrace.

“Hope you've got more in ya'.” Stanley says to her and Y/N raises her head in question. Stanley winks. 

“You mad man.” She tells him. Stanley laughs.

“A mad man in love.”

Permanent taglist:  @gabiatthedisco​ @v0idbella @inlovewithmiddleagedcelebs @works-of-fanfiction @destiel-stucky4ever-loki-queen @stfxlou @ur-gunna-h8-ths @empressdreams @betweenloveandfire @but-legendsneverdie @deardeacy @thewinchesterchronicles @mavieesttriste16 @mrsmazzello @benhardyseyes @langdonzvoid @intrrverted @the-freak-cassie-131 @sunshine-stan-uris @radiantrichie

Stanley Uris tag-list: @nightbu-g @sadhwstudent @shawni-h @gothackedalready @seasidecrowbar @starred-river @raspberryacid @facelessbish @tozierskaspb @plum-duels @whereyoustand @amira3113 

If you want to be added to any of these lists, let me know!

I haven't proofread, so this might be re-written someday.

A/N: the best thing is writing “nack” instead of “neck” multiple times in one request. ahsdbfhs. i love stanley. can i please have one.

[19tozier]

something human (richie tozier)

warnings: fluffy n sweet, 2019!richie x reader, assume this takes place before any events of chapter 2

based on the song something human by muse

[losers&reader are adults in this]

richie plasters a smile on his face, as wide as he absolutely can. the crowd is cheering for him, applauding and hooting and yelling, and it’s a sight that will never fail to make him feel warm. he’s worked his entire life for this, and it always feels good to have it pay off.

for now though, he’s drained, and all he can think about is the call he always looks forward to making when he gets backstage.

as soon as the curtains close, his smile drops, the bone-deep exhaustion making itself known. he goes through the motions of what’s expected of him: he drinks the water bottle thrown at him, he wipes his forehead on a towel he passes to some stagehand, and he only half-listens as his manager blabbers in his ear.

he manages to tune everyone and everything around him out until he’s safely in his dressing room, the door closed and no one to disturb him until he has to leave. it makes something in his chest loosen.

his phone is plugged in exactly where he left it, fully charged in anticipation for his routine. he picks it up and takes it off the charger, smiling at his lock screen.

it’s a picture of you and him from right before he’d left for this tour, sleepy and rumpled on the couch. you’re dressed in one of his sweaters, your cheek pressed into his neck as you smile for the camera. he’s pulling a goofy face, unable to keep serious even for a moment. it was one of the best nights he can remember in a long time.

the picture makes his heart feel three sizes too big, especially when he unlocks his phone to click on your contact. it only rings once before you answer it, breathless.

“hi, rich,” you murmur, your voice warm and bright and so deliriously happy to talk to him.

the tension in all of his muscles melts away at the sound of your voice, a tired but genuine smile creeping across his mouth. “hey there, angel,” he murmurs back, kicking his feet up onto the counter.

“how was your show?” you ask him, the same question you always ask, and you sound so soft and so sweet that richie almost has to scream.

he shakes his head even though you can’t see it. “same old, same old. got a lotta laughs tonight, you know how it is.” he pauses, thinking back to what he just performed. “the joke you wrote was the best part.”

you giggle, slightly breathless. “the one about your weird kink?”

he’s too warm at the sound of your voice to really take offense to your teasing of him, but he plays the part anyways. “yes, the one about my weird kink, asshole.” he rolls his eyes. “i still stand by the fact that just because i accidentally slipped into a voice one time does not mean i have a kink.”

you hum. he can hear the smile when you say, “sure, baby, whatever tickles your pickle.” you giggle to yourself.

he smirks. “well, darlin’, that would actually be you who—”

“richie!” you cut him off, laughing so hard you wheeze.

he can picture you in his mind: you’re probably curled up in the corner of the giant couch in the living room, some crime show paused on the tv. he knows you’re wearing one of his sweaters and some fuzzy socks, because the snapchat you sent him right before the show featured both. the phone is probably jammed against your ear and you’ve probably got a glass of wine sitting on the coffee table.

it sounds so cozy, and he knows it would be even cozier if he was there with you. all of a sudden, there’s a lump in his throat.

“i miss you so much, (y/n),” he rasps before he can stop himself. he usually tries not to break down like this, acutely aware that him being gone is already hard enough on you, but this time he can’t help it.

you’re silent for just a beat too long before you whisper, “i miss you too, rich.” the tears in your voice are painfully obvious. the mood from before has all but disappeared. “i miss you so much.”

richie swallows, trying to keep his composure. “only twenty more shows, doll. twenty-three more days, and then i’m right there with you.”

you sniffle and his heart breaks. “only three more weeks,” you repeat weakly. you sigh, the sound just barely loud enough for him to hear. “i hope they go by quickly.”

he sighs, letting his eyes fall shut. “me too, baby.”

he knows he doesn’t have long before he has to load onto the tour bus, and you’re probably just as exhausted as he is. it’s relatively late for you in LA and he feels bad keeping you up.

“i love you, angel,” he says, a bit desperately. he knows you know, the ring on your finger and the wedding on the horizon proof of that, but he’ll never get tired of telling you.

you make a soft sound, almost awed, and he’s lit up again by the reverent way you whisper, “i love you too, richie. i love you so much.”

he leans back, beginning to tell you some silly story of whatever happened that day. as he hears your giggles, he thinks, i really hope these next three weeks go by quickly.

***

it’s quiet in the apartment when richie lets himself in.

he’s certain it’s because you’re still asleep. it’s early in the morning after all, and you don’t know he’s home. as far as you’re concerned, his flight lands tonight. he didn’t tell you he’d managed to snag the last seat on a much earlier flight.

it’d been a hard tour, on both of you. this is the longest either of you have been apart, and his crazy schedule meant your phone calls after his shows were sometimes your only communication at all. it hurt to be away from you, but now he’s home, and he’s determined to stay at your side for as long as possible.

he smiles to himself, dropping his bags by the couch and gently placing his keys on the counter. he’ll deal with unpacking later, maybe after some kisses and a nap.

the bedroom door is slightly open when he gets to it, so it’s easy to push open without creating any noise. he quickly shuts it behind himself, not wanting the light from the windows in the hallway to wake you up and ruin his surprise.

he has to suppress his coo at how adorable you are, curled onto his side of the bed with your arms wrapped around his pillow. you’re only wearing one of his shirts and underwear, and it makes heat pool through richie’s veins. later, he tells himself.

quietly, he toes his shoes off and pulls off his jeans and jacket until he’s left only in a t-shirt and his boxers, much like you. only then does he let himself climb into bed beside you.

you don’t wake up immediately. you just scrunch your nose and murmur something unintelligible, rubbing your cheek against the pillow. it’s so adorable richie can’t help but reach out to cup your jaw, and that’s what finally wakes you up.

you blink your eyes open, disoriented, and you don’t really register that it’s richie in front of you for a couple of seconds. when you do, though, you gasp, quickly reaching out to pull him into your arms.

“what’re you doing home?” you breathe against his neck, holding him so tightly his ribs ache. he laughs into your skin. “i thought your flight wasn’t until later!”

he presses his lips to your forehead. “wanted to surprise ya, doll.”

his fingers won’t stop running up and down your back, and you’re so sleep-warm and soft that he feels his exhaustion begin to pull on him. you cuddle yourself even closer, leaning up to kiss him gently.

he hums against your mouth, fitting his hand to the back of your head to keep you there. it doesn’t lead anywhere, both of you too exhausted for much more, but it’s the thing he missed the most on tour. this simple intimacy with you, and the humanity of being in your arms. it’s more powerful than he will ever understand.

“i love you,” he mumbles into the kiss, tightening his hold around your waist. “i love you, i love you, i lo—“

“rich,” you laugh, pulling back to kiss his cheek. you gently take his glasses from his face and put them on the bedside table. the blurred smile on your face makes him more sleepy. “i know. i love you too.”

you snuggle back beneath his chin, your eyes already closing. he presses his mouth to your temple, holding it there as he, too, starts to drift off.

“i’m really glad you’re home,” you whisper into the quiet, your lips moving against his skin.

he smiles, pulling you closer. “me too, angel.”

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

I can’t keep my eyes of off you

A/N: this is my secret santa story for @liilaac, I really hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think! 

Summary: You can’t have a wedding without a ring, is his reasoning behind this, and so the first stop on his; propose to Eddie Kaspbrak and make that man his for the rest of his life- list, is a jeweler store. Or; Richie Tozier has no clue how to propose to Eddie, but that won’t stop him from doing it anyway. Featuring Stanley Uris. 

Read it on AO3 

[dreamdaydreamer]

27 Years [Adult Stan Uris]

A/n: This is over 2000 words, I got carried away, sorry about that! But anyway, hope you enjoy. Requests are open! :)

***

Twenty-two years. That’s how long it’d been since you’d last seen Stanley Uris. He left Derry in 1994, just like you, to go to university. You promised to keep in touch, to see each other as often as possible, you were in love after all. But for some reason that had never happened. At first you would call each other as often as possible. Then it slowly became less and less. Until one day you just stopped speaking. Stopped meeting up. Stopped everything.

Soon after you finished your degree, you ended up back in Derry, having to move back there when your father died and deciding to stay. Until then, you’d forgotten all about Stanley Uris, it was only when you had gone back to Derry that you started to remember. Started to remember him, and the days you would spend together, bird watching, playing board games, studying. You had a lot in common with him, at the time you had believed that you were soulmates, but you didn’t believe that anymore. You didn’t even believe in soulmates anymore. 

You’d tried to pursue some sort of happiness in Derry. You dated a few guys, no one special though, no one like Stan. You never fell in love with anyone like you had been when you’d been in love with him. So instead you settled by yourself, opening a little book shop in town, quite popular with the locals. You lead a quiet life, and for the meantime, you were happy with that. You attempted to push Stan to the back of your mind and, although you really did try, it proved very difficult, seeming to be able to relate anything to memories of him.

The autumn season had started to come into its own. The weather cooling down from the blistering summer, breezes whistling through town although it still wasn’t cool enough to wear a coat, orange and gold leaves scattered the path.

It was just a routine day in your simple life, stocking shelves and serving the few people who came in. It wasn’t really the shopping season yet, most of your customers came closer to Christmas, burdened with the rush to buy presents for others. And so today you mainly sat behind the counter, reading a copy of one of your own books, sighing to yourself from time to time when the reading strained your eyes too much and you had to put the book down, boredom overtaking you once again.

Stan made his way through the Derry streets, reminiscing about all the time he’d spent there as a kid. When Mike had first called Stan, memories of Derry had come rushing back to him. Mostly the Losers Club, what they had faced together, as well as the good memories they had made over the years. And then he remembered you. He wondered how he could have ever forgotten about you. You were his first love, his only love. Quite possibly his soulmate, Stan realised this was probably why he had never married over the past twenty-two years. He had tried to settle down, to be in a serious relationship, but he never could. The people he had dated were nice but there was always something that wasn’t quite right, Stan could never put his finger on it. Until now.

Throughout his short time back in Derry, Stan had wondered whether you were here. He knew that you’d gone to university, and he knew that you had bigger dreams outside of Derry, but maybe, just maybe you were here. Maybe he would get to see you again.

Derry hadn’t changed much since the last time Stan had been there. The shops were mostly the same. The antique shop, the pharmacy, the ice cream shop, all stood exactly where they had done twenty-seven years ago. It was like Derry was its own time capsule. History trapped in modernity. The buildings looked more derelict than Stan could remember, but the signs and decorations stayed the same, paint peeled off them now. There was something new though. A bookshop. A bookshop that stood on the corner of the street, the most recent shop to open judging by the appearance of it. The oak wood hadn’t faded, the windows were sparkling clean and the signs hadn’t started to peel off. Stan had to double-take when he saw the name of the shop. Y/n’s Corner. His mind instantly thought of you, you had always loved books. He crossed the road, moving to stand in front of the window, peering in. At first, he couldn’t see anything, and his heart sank. Of course, you wouldn’t be here, you were probably out living your best life, successful, married maybe, a family. The thought chewed Stan like a dog would a bone, sinking its teeth into his flesh. It’s not that Stan wouldn’t be happy for you, he would, he would just wish that it would have been him you had married, him that you’d chosen to settle down with. As he flipped the idea over and over in his mind, he caught a glimpse of someone at the counter of the shop, and with a closer look, he knew it was you. Even though it had been so long since you’d seen each other, he recognised you immediately, you were still the same beauty he had been in love with twenty-two years ago. You disappeared into the back of the shop as Stan entered, the little bell above the door chiming.

“I’ll be out in a minute!” God, Stan thought, even your voice is the same. Lilting, and made Stan’s heartbeat twice as fast. In a few moments, he would be face to face with you, after all this time. What would he say to you? He had too much to say, not sure where to even start. He wanted to apologise for being away for so long, for forgetting, he wanted to tell you that he’d missed you, even if he hadn’t remembered you, there was always a part of him missing, and that it was you, he wanted to tell you how much he loved, loves, you, and how, even now, after all of this time, his heart beats only for you. How when he hears your voice, a smile makes its way onto his face subconsciously, how when he sees your face, he can hear the blood pumping round his body, he becomes light-headed and his knees turn weak, just like they had done when he saw you for the first time. He feels like a teenager again, feelings all jumbled and messy but it’s perfect and he feels liberated for the first time in years. He’s planned a speech in his head of everything he wants to say and how he wants to say it, maybe it will be just him spilling out his thoughts and feelings into one big sentence, the words tumbling out of him before he’s able to pull them back into his mouth. But they’ll be there, out in the open, no matter how they get there, then you’ll know. You’ll know how much he loves you. But how will you react? What if you hate him? What if you resent him because he forgot about you? What if you don’t love him anymore? Stan wouldn’t know what to do. What would be the point in carrying on when all he’s lived for is gone. You’re the reason he forced himself to come back to Derry, to face this clown, the hope that he will finally be able to live the life he’d always wanted too, with you. Even so, he’s ready to tell you all that he feels, no matter the outcome.

But then suddenly you’re stood in front of him. And everything he had planned to say, everything he wanted to tell you, runs away from him so fast that there’s no point chasing after it. Neither of you say anything, there was no reason too. Everything that the both of you wanted to say hung in the air between you, hidden in the irises of your eyes, pushed out in the short breaths. You couldn’t believe that he was there, in front of you, and your face paled, like you were seeing his ghost. He’s looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his life. And to him, you are. You’re every star in the sky, every pearl in the sea, every flower on the land. You’re every breezy spring day and romantic winter night wrapped up into one, emitting warmth and light and love with every movement. He’s looking at you in awe, he’s making you feel like he used too twenty-two years ago. He’s making you feel loved.

Twenty-two years ago, you had been in love. Twenty-two years later, you were still in love. You wondered whether it was Derry, everything here always stayed the same, maybe that meant the people within it too, maybe the reason why you still loved him was because Derry had frozen you in time. Still ageing, but always the same. But you also wondered whether it was just Stan. Stan. The man you’d loved for so long simply because of who he was. Maybe you were still in love with him because it was too hard to fall out of love with a man like that.

Then he smiles at you shyly, almost like he’s embarrassed, and in that moment, he looks younger, much younger. Like when you first met and he was looking up at you from the floor of the school corridor, after you’d shouted at Henry Bowers for pulling Stan’s Kippah from his curls. Any thought that the man in front of you isn’t Stan, that he’s some kind of imposter, fades away from you as realisation sets in. It is him. For some reason the thought shocks you more than his presence, after believing for so long that you would never see him again, the fact that he’s here, before you, makes you violently shiver and you wrap your arms around yourself as a tear slips down your face. You don’t know why you’re crying; you’re feeling too many emotions at once. Elation, love, relief, but also sadness too, sad that you’d missed out on so much time with him.

Stan doesn’t know why you’re crying either, so he panics, maybe he shouldn’t have come back. Maybe you really do hate him. He’s hurt, of course, but he only wants the best for you, only wants you to be happy.

“I…I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have come. You must hate me, and I understand, I mean I…” Stan continues to ramble, listing all of the reasons why he should leave, and then he is. He is leaving and you’re pulled out of your trance. You can’t let him leave again. Stan makes his way to the door, but he’s stopped by a small tug on his woolly cardigan, when he turns, he sees you stood there, tears streaming down your face as you continue to cling to him.

“Please don’t leave me again, Stan.” You push yourself into his arms, burying your face into his chest and crying even harder than before. Instinctively, his arms come to wrap around you as he immerses himself in your scent. Your hair still smells heavenly and your scent takes him back to when he was young, warming him from the inside out and sending tingles down his spine, a feeling of safety blooming in his stomach. Stan doesn’t think he’s ever been as happy as he is right now, knowing that you’ve missed him as much as he’s missed you.

The past twenty-two years Stan had been frightened, frightened of his past. And sure, he has good reason, he was traumatised by a child-killing clown. He almost nearly skipped out on returning to Derry altogether, not sure whether he was brave enough to face his fears again, but now he’s glad that he did. Now, Stan’s more motivated than ever to kill IT, so that he can have the life he’d always wanted, with the person he’d dreamt about could never quite remember.

You and Stan spent the next hour catching up in the back room of your shop. It served as a mini kitchen, small but practical, with a little breakfast table pushed up to the wall. You both sat, sipping from your warm mugs, as your hands intertwined on the tabletop, neither one of you wanted to let go now that you had found each other. The way that you both talked, it was like you’d never been apart. Stan tensed up after you asked what he was doing back in Derry.

“It’s…a long story. A story I don’t think you would believe. Hell, I don’t think I believe it myself.” You nodded, in slight disappointment, Stan had never been the type to keep anything from you. “I want to tell you, I do,” Stan rushes out, “I just don’t want you to think I’m crazy!”

“You know I would never think that about you, Stan.” You try to reassure him, but he wouldn’t crack.

“When this is all over,” he starts, unsure that it ever would be over, “I’ll tell you, I promise.” You nod slightly. “I need to go. Duty calls.” A small chuckle escapes the both of you before Stan pulls himself out of the chair, reluctantly slipping his hand out of yours. He reaches the door, but then turns to look at you, a soft smile on his face.

“I’ll come back, if that’s alright with you?”

“Be careful, Stan.” You couldn’t explain it, but somehow you knew that this thing, whatever it was, was serious. Dangerous, even. “Promise me I’ll see you soon?”

Stan’s heart flutters, you did want to see him again. He nods,

“Very soon. I promise.”

[stanthemanstan]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒌𝒚 𝑰𝒔 𝒂 𝑺𝒂𝒇𝒆 𝑯𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒏 ❧ 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑰

A/N: thank you guys for a hundred followers! Sorry about the delay between the uploads, I haven’t been writing a lot lately and I’m still working on the chapter after this. I figured that posting this would be a good way to celebrate a hundred! Hope you enjoy the series, and remember that I’m always open to feedback, questions, etc :)

Word count: 1.4K

Series masterpost

It was twenty-seven years after your final encounter with It when you were called. It was funny, since, like you were of the passing of time, you were unaware of who was on the other line. It took a minute of recollection to realize what the Derry, ME on the phone screen meant to you, and who this man was saying he was. Then it all began to flood back.

“Hello?”

“Is this (Y/N) (L/N)?” you heard on the other line.

“Yes, who is this?”

“It’s Mike. Mike Hanlon, from Derry.”

Derry. The word was so familiar. So strange at the tip of your tongue, yet so… mnemonic. It was the name of your hometown.

“Oh my goodness… Mike, hi, it’s so good to talk to you again.”

It was the place that had seemed to escape your mind for almost twenty years. Where you grew up. Went to school. And, through odd circumstances, formed your strongest relationships and deepest fears. It also wasn’t just the odd place, you thought, that was flitting back into your memories; it was also the people.

“I agree. However, the subject at hand isn’t exactly the most lighthearted.”

It was also the events.

“Hold on… This couldn’t possibly be about—”

The dreaded summer of ’89.

“I hate to say it, but it is. It has returned, (Y/N). You need to come back home.”

The vivid image of that horrid clown pierced your mind for the first time in years. Those were the thoughts that were burned into your brain for the rest of your high school career, only fading when you escaped Derry to attend college.

“I’ll— I’ll make plans to leave as soon as possible, Mike. You’ve called the others? Are they gonna come?”

You remembered your friends, the Losers, the misfits that banded together. There was stuttering Bill Denbrough. Richie “Trashmouth” Tozier. Beverly Marsh. Eddie Kaspbrak the hypochondriac. Ben Hanscom.

“I’ve called almost everyone by now.”

And there was Stanley Uris, the boy who was there for it all.

He was your love and your fear— it was terrifying to realize. While the illusion of the tarantula towering over you was scary enough to your thirteen-year-old self, the thought that came after was much more shattering. The thought of losing him.

“…Do you have Stanley’s number?”

Even though you were deemed too young to have known what love was at the time, you knew that Stanley was too important to you to possibly lose. And that was exactly what you were shown. Being vulnerable, especially after Its assault on him, it was heartbreaking for you to see two of him.

One had begged for you to be okay, telling you that he was there for you, that he would never, ever, ever leave you, that you were everything to him. His voice was hoarse from his previous panicking, screaming, sobbing, and it was ever so desperate when he called out to you. He had blood and sweat and tears staining his face that was bent with fear and worry. He had fresh wounds on the sides of his face from where he was bitten by that horribly warped lady.

The other begged for you to save him, telling you to stop hurting him, that you were killing him, that he would be gone because of you. His voice was hard with disappointment and accusation, sharp enough to pierce your heart and break it permanently. He had blood dried in smears across his face and more of it leaking and sputtering from his lips as he berated you. He had the palest, most lifeless skin, and his eyes were even more so. This impression —Its impression— on your feeble mind was almost emotionally fatal.

The confusion and paranoia lasted a fair amount of time since then.

Completely unwilling to recover and clean up by yourself that day, you accompanied Stan home. You worried that if you weren’t there with him, he would be gone and you would see that deathly vision in his place.

You insisted on helping him disinfect his wounds, even as your hands were trembling, and he eventually had to take care of the matter himself. It was a bit of a predicament for the both of you. You did, however, manage to secure the bandages around his head when he finished. He then cleaned up your scratches for you. It was slightly difficult with one hand, for you were tightly gripping his other one in your own, but he was innovative and concentrated. You just needed to be sure he was beside you.

“Yes, I do. It’s four-oh-four…”

When the oath was made at the Barrens, everyone received a cut on their palm as a token of their promise. You winced as the glass shard pierced your skin, immediately cradling your other hand beneath the cut one. Soon, though, your bloodied hand gripped Stan’s.

You had felt him squeeze your hand, lightly and mindfully enough so that it wouldn’t hurt; a sign of comfort. You gazed at him with such a deep look of admiration in your eyes. The sight of his bandages made your heart ache.

On your right, you held Mike’s hand, and everyone together formed a circle. The eight of you stayed there for a few silent moments before letting your hands fall back to your sides. Your hold on Stan’s was more prolonged.

“Okay, thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Stan had glanced at you and then looked up at Bill, who was across from him. I gotta go. Your breath hitched and your heart dropped. I hate you, he told Bill. One by one, everyone cracked grins and laughed. Your smile was a weak echo of the others’. You were nervous.

When the laughter died down, Stan caught your eye. I’ll see you later, he said softly. He began walking, setting out towards home, but he also let himself linger a moment or two longer.

Yeah, same. Bye, guys, you said with a wave to the group. While you didn’t want to leave everyone so abruptly, you couldn’t be without Stan after what It had shown you. The Losers parted ways with the two of you.

“Bye, (Y/N). Be seeing you tomorrow. Travel safe.” Mike ended the call.

When you met up with Stan —you had to rush only a little since he had gotten a head start— it was oddly silent at first. You began overthinking. Does he notice how I’m practically following him around like a lost puppy? I’m probably annoying him really badly. Does he know what I saw? Why I’m so afraid?

You looked between your cell phone and the notepad that you had scrawled a cursory phone number onto. Stan’s number. You hadn’t even realized that your heart was throbbing until then.

Stan, I’m sorry, you told him on your walk. I just— I can’t be alone right now, after everything that’s happened. I should probably be going home, but…

With the foreboding weight of your fear on your shoulders and with shaky hands, you began punching in the numbers. Four… zero… four…

It’s okay, he said quietly in return. He didn’t prod or ask for an explanation, but it did seem like he already knew. However, at that moment, you had a tacit agreement not to ask each other what you had seen.

The dial tone sounded, echoing through your head. One ring.

You remembered spending that day at his house, practically locked in his room. Neither of you wanted to talk about what had happened —not then, at least— but it was evident that you both needed comfort and protection from it.

Two rings.

You made small talk as you sat about a foot apart on his neatly made bed. You learned more about each other. That foot was reduced to inches. You confided in each other. Those inches were reduced to closeness. You cried to each other. That closeness became contact— shoulder to shoulder. You consoled each other. That contact became an embrace.

Three rings.

You spent that night in his arms, needing the constant reassurance that he would be there. That he was real. That he was okay. That he still believed in you. There was always a raging mental battle going on— you could never tell if he was there or just another twisted illusion.

The line connected.

Was he there?

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

I'd like to thank It Chapter Two for not only scaring the absolute sh*t out of me, but for the burst of popularity and love my only (so far!!! I still write for the LC!!) Losers club imagine, The Tug has gotten suddenly. Glad to see ol' Stan the Man getting some love!

[bowieandqueen11]

IT Masterlist

Eddie Kaspbrak x Reader Wedding Imagine

Bill Denbrough x Reader Crush Fluff

One Of Us/ Bill Denbrough x Hurt!Reader Fluff

Worth Being Scared For / Eddie Kaspbrak Fluff

Beep Beep Richie / 2019 Richie Tozier Fluff

Run Towards Something / Bev Marsh Imagine

Worth Being Scared For / 2019 Richie Tozier Light Smut

I Loved You So Much / 2019 Bill Denbrough Fluff

Can You Move Your Foot? / 2019 Richie Tozier Fluff

Comfort / 2019 Richie Tozier Fluff

James Mcavoy Interview Oneshot

Lazy Sunday / 2019 Richie Tozier Fluff

Palpable Bond / Platonic Losers’ Club Imagine

Bill Hader Soft Boyfriend Headcanons

Not This Time / Richie Tozier Imagine

Too Late / 2017+2019!Bill Denbrough Angst

Drowning / 2019! Bill Denbrough Imagine

2019 Eddie Kaspbrak Relationship Headcanons

Perfect Match / 2017! Richie Tozier Fluff

I’ve Always Loved You / Denbrough!Daughter Angst

I’ve Always Loved You Part 2

Reunion / 2019! Richie Tozier Headcanons

Not Coming Back / Uris!Reader Angst

When You Need Me / 2019! Eddie Kaspbrak Imagine

Being Married to 2019! Eddie Kaspbrak Headcanons

R +E / Reddie Oneshot

Lose You / 2019! Richie Tozier Fluff

While They Were Thinking It Over / Bill Denbrough Angst

Calm After the Storm / 2019! Bill Denbrough Imagine

Fulfilled Live / Ben Hanscom x Beverly Marsh x Daughter!Reader

Heart Eyes Tozier / Reddie Imagine

Real Monsters / 2019! Eddie Kaspbrak x Pregnant!Reader Imagine

Monsters See Us as Weaker / 2019! Stanley Uris Imagine

Reddie Fatherhood Headcanons

Falling For You / 2019! Ben Hanscom Imagine

Adult Reddie Relationship Headcanons

Stanley Uris as a Husband

Dating Ben Hanscom Headcanons

If You Believe / Beverly Marsh Imagine

Meaningless Crush / Bill Denbrough Imagine

Lose This Time / Ben Hanscom Imagine

He Knew Well Enough / Reddie Imagine

Freaking Out / Father!Eddie Kaspbrak Imagine

Fussing / 2019! Stanley Uris Drabble

He Knew / Reddie Angst

Ben Hanscom Daughter Headcanons

Not Your Fault / Bill Denbrough Imagine

Who Are You Again?! / 2019! Richie Tozier Imagine

Stanley Uris Childheart Sweethearts Headcanons

You Lied / Losers Club Angst 

Carved / 2019! Ben Hanscom Angst Imagine

Neatly / Stan Uris Fluff

Underwater / Ben Hanscom Imagine

New Mom / Hanscom!Daughter and Bev Marsh Headcanons

Bravest Of Us All / Richie Tozier Angst

Inconvenience / Bill Denbrough Imagine

It Was Your Fault / Stanley Uris Angst

His Babies / Eddie Kaspbrak Fluff

Sweet Dreams / Benverly Daughter Imagine

New Baby / Reddie Headcanons

True Love’s Kiss / Reddie Imagine

Stubborn / Reddie Fluff

Toddler Troubles / Stan Uris Headcanons

All Was Right / Bev Marsh Fluff

Sleep Deprived / Reddie Fluff

Not True / Ben Hanscom Imagine

Trick or Treat / Bill Denbrough Short Fluff

Get Off Her! / Reddie Imagine

Got Him To Stay / Ben Hanscom Imagine

Scared and Alone / Ben Hanscom Fluff

Sunlight Dreams / Mike Hanlon Imagine

Left Behind / Richie Tozier Imagine

Stupid / Eddie Kaspbrak Fluff

Token / Richie Tozier Imagine

Richie Tozier Proposal Headcanons (Male!Reader / Reddie)

Derry Sunset / Richie Tozier Imagine

Twin Flames / Ben Hanscom Imagine

Positive? / Eddie Kaspbrak x Tozier!Reader Imagine

Abyss / Losers Club Angst

Noelle / Bill Hader Christmas Headcanons

Christmas Cookies / Bill Denbrough Fluff

Form Fitting / Stan Uris Imagine

Sleuth Brothers / Tozier!Reader Imagine

Treehouse / Ben Hanscom Imagine

Rambling Fool / Eddie Kaspbrak Imagine

Brownie Blunder / Bill Hader Fluff

Knocking Them Dead / Reddie Imagine

Feed on your Fear / Bill Denbrough Imagine

I Swear / Bill Denbrough Angst

Cared For / Stan Uris Fluff

Split in Two / Richie Tozier/Reddie Angst

Happiest I’ve Ever Been / 1990! Eddie Kaspbrak Imagine

Fortune Cookie / Ben Hanscom Imagine

Being Bill Denbrough’s Daughter Would Include...

Ignored/ Ben Hanscom Imagine

Overdue Stamp / Mike Hanlon Imagine

Bully / Stan Uris Imagine

Richie Tozier x Plus Size Reader Headcanons

Marrying Beverly Marsh Headcanons

Until It’s Too Late / Uris!Reader x Losers Angst

Bev Marsh x Female!Reader Pregnancy Headcanons

Benverly!Daughter and Losers Club Graduation Headcanons

I’m An Idiot / Richie Tozier Fluff and Part 2: You’re An Idiot

Bewitched / Mike Hanlon x Plus!Sized Male Reader Imagine

Quarantine / Stanley Uris Headcanons

Losers Club Halloween Headcanons

[good-doctor-imagine]

Comfort (Stanley Uris)

Pairing: Adult! Stanley Uris x Adult! Reader (IT Chapter Two)

Summary: Meeting up with Stanley for the first time in years is not only exciting but truly terrifying.

Request by anon: "Hi could I make a request based on 20 26 59 I know they're random but everyone likes a challenge hahah could it be with adult Stanley ik he dies in chapter 2 but could it be a version when he doesn't"

➢ 20. "I'm gonna hit you." "What?" "Ugh, that came out wrong."

➢ 26. "Too bad I wanted to see some ghosts."

➢ 59. "Can I sleep with you? I need someone by my side."

Word Count: 800+

Something about hearing your old friend made your stomach twist.

"(Y/N), it's Mike."

You had no clue what made you so nauseous but you packed your bags anyway, having an urge to listen to your old friend's request to go back to Derry.

That's how you ended up in front of a Chinese restaurant, staring up at the sign and taking deep breaths, preparing to walk in. You just about jumped out of your skin when you felt a weight be placed on your shoulder.

When you turned around, your heart stopped for a moment, eyes trailing over the familiar curly light brown hair and warm brown eyes. "Stanley?" You said almost breathlessly.

The brunette took his hand off your shoulder and placed it back in his pocket, offering you a small nervous smile. "It's weird seeing you again."

You couldn't stop yourself from grinning widely and wrapping your arms around your former best friend. Stanley returned the embrace, wrapping his arms around your middle. After a moment, the two of you separated, trying to keep your cheeks from warming.

"You haven't changed," Stanley smiled at you, taking a step back to put some space between the two of you.

"And you're still the same noodle boy," You teased, gesturing to his curly hair, "Has it gotten curlier?"

Stanley shook his head at your nickname and teased back, however, there was something off about his tone. "I'm going to hit you."

Your eyebrows furrowed at his serious tone, looking up at him questioningly. "What?"

Stanley's cheeks instantly heated up, a light pink dusting across his cheeks and to his ears. "Ugh, that came out wrong." He brought a hand up to cover his face, about to apologize before a voice interrupted him.

"Yeah, he meant to say 'I'm going to hit on you'. Come on Stan the Man, I thought you would be better at this by now."

You rolled your eyes, not even looking over Stan's shoulder to see who it was. It was pretty obvious by the attitude in his voice. "It's nice to see you too, Richie," Stan rolled his eyes as well, a thing that he found himself constantly doing around his inappropriate friend.

Richie walked up, glancing between the both of you before grumbling. "Why the fuck does everyone look so good?"

By the next hour, everyone was crowding out of the restaurant in horror, Richie a bit embarrassed from yelling at an innocent kid. As much as you were terrified, you couldn't help but be worried for your curly-haired best friend. You knew that even back when you were kids he was sensitive and if you were scared out of your mind, you couldn't imagine how he felt.

"We didn't come here for a haunted house, Mike!" Eddie yelled, starting an all too familiar fight.

"Too bad, I wanted to see some ghosts," Richie chuckled in an attempt to lift the heavy atmosphere surrounding the losers. He instantly shut up when Eddie returned his joke with a harsh glare.

You followed Stanley as he left without a word, his bottom lip trembling slightly as he opened the driver's side door. He didn't stop you from climbing into his passenger's seat, staying silent while gripping the steering wheel tightly.

"Are you okay?" Your voice came out soft, not wanting to startle him.

Stanley swallowed thickly, wide eyes slowly moving to meet yours. The fear was practically rolling off of him in waves. "I remember IT," His voice trembled, "I remember everything. E-Even that lady."

Your hand started to reach toward his in an attempt to comfort him but you hesitated, not sure if physical contact was the best for him right now. Stanley looked down at your outstretched hand before taking it in his own and squeezing tightly, reminding himself that his friends were here. You didn't leave him and no matter what, he was not letting you go.

Before Stanley could think about what he was going to say, the words were spilling out of his mouth. "Can I sleep with you?" I need someone by my side."

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding before squeezing his hand back, nodding your head. "Of course you can."

The two of you sat in silence for a few moments, trying to grasp onto what happened. You glanced over at Stanley, relieved to see his breaths significantly less frantic and his posture more relaxed. You gave Stan's hand one last squeeze before letting go, opening the passenger door again.

"I'll see you back at the hotel?"

Stanley nodded, watching in his rearview mirror to make sure you made it safely to your car before starting his own. The two of you had a rough night with all of the nightmares, but both of you were relieved to have each other's comforting presence.

Masterlist

[darling-i-read-it]

Haunted Memories

Stanley Uris x reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: MAJOR IT 2 SPOILERS, SUICIDE, DEATH

Author’s Note: I’ve always had this idea that after the final battle Richie and the reader just go off together and mourn the love of their lives together and so I had to write it. For a happier version go read my other Stanley imagine but here is just pain

Genre: ANGST

Song:   (Pain!) already gone by kelly clarkson

(not my gif) (HI SOMEONE MAKE MORE ADULT STANLEY GIFS THANKS)

    “Uris! I’m home!” you yelled, throwing your car keys on the shoe bin by the floor and putting down your bag. Work sucked and you were just glad it was finally Friday. You threw your shoes in the hallway as you walked into the living room. 

    Stanley sat there, a puzzle placed in front of him just nearly finished. He looked up at you as you approached him.

    “How many times do I have to tell you you can’t call me Uris anymore,” he asked as you sat on the armrest beside him. You rolled your eyes and slung an arm around your shoulder, leaning into him.

    “I want to. I enjoy it. I’ve been doing it for 28 years.” 

    “We’re married now Y/N. Whenever you yell Uris people think you’re just stating your last name,” he said, looking up at you. You shrugged and kissed him. He, despite speaking like he was annoyed with you, returned the kiss. 

    The two of you had been together since Derry so you could put up with his little ticks if he could put up with yours. You pulled away with a faint smile. 

    “We’ve been married 10 years I don’t think people will quite notice anymore.” You looked down at his puzzle. Only one piece was missing and wasn’t anywhere on the table. The picture was beautiful, some farmhouse that Stan had been working on this week. Sometimes you helped him out with it but most of the time you watched as he worked. Pictures of puzzles were littered around your shared home from years of doing them. 

    You saw the last piece and slid off the couch, leaning down under the clear table to grab it. While you were under, the phone rang, startling you. 

    “Is it yours or mine?” you asked still grabbing at the piece. Stanley picked up the phone.

    “Mine. I’ll take it in here,” he said, standing and moving to leave. 

    “Wait!” you yelled, grabbing his hand. He raised an eyebrow and you gave him the piece. “Finish it,” you whispered. He rolled his eyes and put it in the spot it belonged. You smiled at him and let him move to his study. 

    You got up and went to the kitchen to make dinner. You were chopping food when you heard the study door open and close and the bathroom door open. You thought nothing of it. He took his call and had to go to the bathroom. 

    A moment that would play over and over in your head. After around 15 minutes you started to get a little antsy. You were keenly aware of Stanley always. You worked around each other or with each other. 

    Maybe he was taking a shower? 

    Usually he called you when he was taking a bath. 

    Curiosity got the better of you and you left the half chopped tomatoes on the counter, walking to the door. 

    “Stanley everything okay?” you called hoping he would hear you if the shower was running. It didn’t seem to be from what you could hear. You knocked again and still got no answer. 

    “Stanley?!” you yelled. You looked down at the door knob, turning it with ease. He left it unlocked. 

    “Stan I’m coming in.” You opened the door slowly in case he just hadn’t heard you. 

    When you saw him, you couldn’t even scream. Shock filled your body and your hands reached out for him as you ran to him. Blood trickled onto the bathroom but if it wasn’t for that you would have barely noticed he was anything but asleep in the bath at first glance. You got down on your knees and gingerly shook him. 

    “Stanley?” you whispered. His hand fell limp into the water. 

    That was when you screamed. 

    You didn’t get the call from Mike until 10 minutes after discovering Stanley. You didn’t bother telling Mike what happened. You were going to tell him in person. You were going to tell him in person that his phone call killed the man you loved. 

    Getting on the plane that night was hard. Not as hard as leaving your home. But you never traveled without Stanley, he usually held your boarding passes and you held the passports. You nearly forgot the boarding pass. 

    When you arrive at the place you were instructed to go for dinner you had sunglasses on. You hoped they would cover your puffy eyes from on and off crying throughout the night. Everytime you tried to fall asleep on the plane your brain kept waking you up, reminding you where you were going and why.

    The waitress guided you to the small room everyone was sitting around. They were laughing but the second you entered the laughter died down. 

    “Hey Y/N,” Richie called. You had always been close with Richie. When you were kids at least. You gave the group a small wave. 

    “Where's Stan the man?” Bill asked. The room was quiet. You had practiced this in the car on your way here, how to tell them but you had forgotten every word. 

    “Dead,” you told them with a conviction. There were gasps and surprised faces but you were numb to them. 

    “How could he be- I just spoke to him yesterday,” Mike said. You shrugged. Your black jacket seemed cold now. 

    “He killed himself in the bath after getting your call,” you breathed. Devastation hit the room. 

    But you didn’t come here for sympathy you were bound to get. You were going to kill the clown that scared Stan so bad he couldn’t stay with you. 

        After the final battle you weren’t sure where to go. Home wasn’t an option. You had to plan a funeral and you made no plans to do that. Stanley deserved it but you also deserved a moment to breath. 

    You decided to go with Richie back to wherever he was going. Stuck in the car, both of you crying about different things. Richie would always come to you when he needed to cry when you were kids. 

    You and Richie both got letters from Stanley. You couldn’t bear to open yours, knowing it was the last thing you would ever get from him. You figured it was different from Richies but didn’t want to find out after he read his to you. 

    “You know, Stan and I made bets on which couple would last the longest. Us, Ben and Bev or you and Eds,” you recalled as you sat in the car of the bridge. He looked at you and wiped his eyes a little.

    “Ben and Beverly weren’t even dating. Neither were me and..” 

    “Oh please. I’ve seen those eyes staring back at me every day. Days when I knew Stan loved me and the days when I knew I loved him. You can’t pretend you didn’t see them too,” you muttered, silent tears on your cheeks.

    “Fucking clown,” he grumbled starting the car. You sighed heavily.

    “Fucking clown is right.”

[har-rison-s]

lasagna evening

request: Could you write some domestic fluff with adult stan uris

A/N: (2020 edit: this was my first ever stanley writing :>) Man oh man do i love this concept. ajsndfjsdf i love, i just love. I apologise for the title lmao i dont have any other ideas alsdfsdjn. This is so fluffy and cliché that you're going to die :D Btw, gifs of Andy Bean are very hard to find and I'm mad about it. Hope this is what you were looking for. Happy reading!

IT masterlist

heaven masterlist

main masterlist

“Honey, I'm home!” Stan says in a louder voice so his loved one could hear him. For she's known to often leave music playing loudly through their apartment and go into another room to do something. He hears the smooth voice of Billie Holiday singing about autumn in New York and he smiles to himself, kicking off his shoes. The music is loud enough for her not to hear him at all. 

He walks into the kitchen, both hands holding a grocery bag tightly until he puts them both on the center counter. Her music is playing right in front of him, just a few feet between him and the sound system. 

“Baby!” He calls again. Stan leaves the bags be and they crinkle a bit, the products falling on top of one another. He walks over to the sound system and turns the song's volume down. And he hears her humming. It's coming from her study.

Stan jogs a little down the hallway to get to her and reaches the door frame of her study. He peaks his head in. “Babylove,” he says and smiles immediately upon seeing his girl sitting on her carpet, her back turned to him, still humming and obviously hunched over something. 

She whips her head around and smiles wide. There's a wicked glimmer in her eyes. “Honey!” She squeals and hurriedly gets up from her position, almost falling over her own legs, and tip-toes over to her one and only. 

He leans in to steal a kiss from her soft angel lips and she still has to stand on her tip-toes for him to succeed. She embraces him then, her arms around his neck, and smiles wide. Stan recieves a loving kiss on the cheek and smiles, too. His eyes are full of love for the woman in front of him. 

“What are you doing in here?” He asks, his hand going in slow circles over her back. 

“Before you turned my music down,” she says, pouting and pointing her index finger into the middle of his chest, “I was listening to Billie and making another small sculpture.” She smiles, proud of herself.

“You're getting inspired again?” Stan raises his eyebrows in happy surprise and his love nods, biting her bottom lip. “So, who's the muse?”

“You, silly.” She says and they both laugh. She notices Stan already glancing behind her shoulder to see what she's making. To not spoil the surprise, she brings his eyes back to her, holding his chin softly. “It's not finished yet. When it will be, you'll be the first to see. And you know that.”

“Of course. You know I'm impatient about seeing your art.” He tells her and tickles her sides a little, making her giggle in the most beautiful way. 

“So,” she claps her hands, “what are we making tonight?”

“Hmm, let's see...” Stan pretends to think, “seeing as I bought the ingredients for lasagna, I guess we're making... lasagna?” He squints, teasing his girl. She laughs and kisses him on the cheek again. And then all over his face, which makes Stanley laugh instead. 

When he's about to plead for breath, she stops and grabs his hand, closing her study door with the other. She drags them both back down the hallway and lets go of Stan's hand to turn the volume higher. Stan gives her a mock-annoyed look, but they both laugh.

One of the billion, trillion things he loves so much about his girl is her energy and youthfulness. They're only two years apart, but Stanley has always felt older than he actually is. And he wanted to enjoy his youth when it was happening, but a lot of things kept him from it. 

Her youthfulness and eagerness and sort-of hyperactivity brings joy in his life. Makes him happy about still being here, having a life. She's brighter than the sun to him in many ways. 

“Do you have the recipe?” Stan asks her as they're unpacking the groceries.

“Uh-huh, I printed it out. It should be next to the sink.” She replies, pulling tomato after tomato out of the bag.

“Terrible place for a paper to be, if you ask me.” He tells her, but she only laughs. Stan walks over to the sink and sure enough, there is a page with a recipe printed on it. And it's not wet. He quickly goes over the ingredients and steps. “So how was work today?”

She works as a museum manager/administrator in a pottery museum in town. Taking that she's an artist herself, she needs to be in an artistic place and area at all times. An administrator might not seem like the job to you, but to her it's the perfect one that pays the bills and takes her on holidays with her loved one. Many artists to meet, artworks to see and inspiration to suck in.

“Quite amazing. You know I met that one artist I've always wanted to host at my museum—”

“Emily Lacey?” Stan finishes instead of her. She nods.

“Yup. And she's even more lovely than I thought she'd be. She's got great sense of humor, a great sense of style, of course, and turns out we have a lot in common.” She tells him. Stan smiles, watching her rush around the kitchen and talk. “She likes to read books, go to the cinema, travelling, hiking.”

“Wow, you two are basically twins.” He states.

“I know, right?” She looks at him with wide eyes, clearly excited. Stanley chuckles. “How was your day?” She asks him. 

“It was good.” He says. “Better now that I'm home.” Stan states and they share a look of love and knowing. “The book is coming along well, there's not much left. And I had to teach a new class today! All the kids were sweethearts.”

“How old were they?” She asks and, while doing so, gives Stan a piece of dough to flatten out. They both start working on a piece.

“Uh, they're... I think second or third grade, so eight to nine.” Stan says in between grunts of pushing the wooden roll on the dough. “Why such a question?”

She shrugs. “Just wondering. Thought they'd put you in a college now.” She admits, and huffs.

“Huh.” He turns to her, puts the roll down and crosses his arms over his chest. “Don't you think I'm good enough for primary school?”

She laughs and huffs again. “No, I think you're more than good enough for primary school, and better than perfect for teaching college kids ornithology.” She tells him, honestly.

“Listen, it's nothing wrong with me.” Stan insists, pointing at his chest and raising his eyebrows. “Ornithology is not the most desired class in college, even for biology majors. So they have one professor in each college that isn't exactly an ornithologyst, but knows enough and can memorise texts from books. And they put that guy to teach ornithology if it's at all necessary.” He explains in detail.

“But that is so unfair! I bet you're not the only ornithologyst without a chance to teach in college, and they put some knock-offs in your place.” She justifies.

“You have a fair point.” Stanley agrees. She smiles wide. 

“I know. You gotta fight for your rights, hon.” She tells him. “We both know that your passion is ornithology and that you're an actual ornithologyst. They should let, whoever's in charge of it, the people who really know what they're talking about teach ornithology. It makes a huge difference for the kids.”

“Listen, if your artist carrier ever flakes, you should become an education politican.” Stan says upon restarting to flatten the dough. His love laughs out loud, holding her tummy. Stanley only smiles wide to himself.

“Can you even imagine me dressed in formal clothes everyday, having that politician-lady haircut, wearing glasses and talking in a very serious voice about the issues of today?” She asks him, mimicking the way politicians speak in the last part. She even makes a funny face. “I could never. I mean, yeah, they pay you like, crazy money, but I'd never do that.” She shakes her head, still quietly laughing to herself. Stanley keeps smiling.

Merely two hours later, the couple have finished their lasagna. They had put on their food-making playlist, which is basically a playlist full of songs that they know all the lyrics to and sing together to at the top of their lungs. Includes ABBA, Queen, David Bowie, Journey, Elton John and many, many others. 

They're happily setting the coffee table in the living room, and they're almost finished. Stan is already turning on the TV, wrapped in a blanket and waiting for his one and only to join him. 

She's still getting them forks and spoons, and when she has, she turns off all the lights in the apartment. Except for the little light in the kitchen above the stove, that one always stays on.

She tip-toes—a habit of hers that is not entirely healthy for her feet—into the living room and puts the instruments down on the table. She collapses into Stan's open, waiting arms with a happy sigh. He wraps the blanket around her and keeps his arm around her, too. 

Her fingers push between his and they lock together. As if their hands were crafted just to be interlocked with the other's, no one else's. They feel like they're made for each other. 

Stanley presses a kiss into her hair. “What are we watching tonight?” He asks, his cheek now pressed where his lips just were.

“Hmm,” she thinks and watches Stan browsing through movies and tv-shows on the screen, “something funny. Don't you think?”

“Yeah, we always watch dramas.” He agrees. “I'm kinda sick of you making me cry every other evening.” Stan admits then, and they both laugh. Stan yawns.

“Do you have a favorite?” She questions, looking up at him. He looks down at her and almost gets hypnotised. Looking at her makes him go a bit weak, every and anytime. The years spent together either don't do anything to help it or even give more to the effect.

“I don't watch that many comedies, not my favorite genre.” He tells her as his hand caresses the side of her face. She closes her eyes to that. “You can choose. Show me your favorite!” He suggests and she smiles. “Just not anything dumb, okay? I know you like those a lot, but, please, spare me.”

She looks at him and rolls her eyes playfully. “Alright, alright.” She agrees and turns to lay on her stomach, over Stan's lap and takes the remote from his hand. “I'll spare your soul from the doom of dumb comedy movies, my prince.” She teases and Stan smiles. “Aha!” She exclaims upon finally finding the movie she was looking for. 

She pushes the 'play' button and reaches for their two plates of lasagna while the intro plays. She straightens her back, sitting normally just like Stan and giving him his lasagna piece.

“Hear ye, hear ye. Feast your eyes and ears with the wonder that is Bruce Almighty!” She theatrically introduces the movie. She likes Shakespeare and Old English, despite that she may not be the best at using it right. Stan smiles at her. 

They lean in to steal a few kisses from each other before indulging in their home-made (hopefully, well-made) lasagna and the world of Jim Carrey's comedy. 

Permanent taglist: @v0idbella @inlovewithmiddleagedcelebs @works-of-fanfiction @destiel-stucky4ever-loki-queen @stfxlou @ur-gunna-h8-ths@empressdreams @betweenloveandfire @but-legendsneverdie@deardeacy @thewinchesterchronicles @mavieesttriste16@mrsmazzello@benhardyseyes @langdonzvoid @intrrverted @the-freak-cassie-131

A/N: Tell me why everytime I look at a picture of Stanley Uris, I immediately want to cry. Oh my God. heurehuherufshfsdh. 

[fangirl-imagines]

Hi first off wanna say I love your writing its amazing, could I possibly request a 2019 Stanley Uris x reader? A soulmate au where Soulmates have each other’s unique nickname marked on their arm. Again love your writing, keep up the good work

I am living for adult Stan imagines rn so absolutely! 

[19tozier]

the hands of love (bill denbrough)

warnings: adult bill, stress/anxiety, mentions of canon horror, takes place after events of chp2, it’s not relevant to the plot here but eddie and stan are alive Because I Said So

inspired by the song hands of love by miley cyrus

[losers&reader are adults here]

you aren’t sure what wakes you up at first.

you blink a little stupidly, still caught in the wisps of whatever dream you were having. the room is dark and cool around you. moonlight streams through the gaps in the shutters, turning the air to haze that looks so solid you think you could pass your hand through it. and it’s quiet, the only sound the soft creaking of the ceiling fan above you. bill isn’t even snoring.

bill isn’t even snoring. you frown.

you turn onto your side, reaching onto his side of the bed. you expect for your hand to meet solid flesh, to trail up over his shoulder and splay over his heart, but all you encounter is emptiness. the cold sheets aren’t even rumpled.

you sigh to yourself. it must be one of those nights again.

the lights prove to be too much for your eyes so you leave them off, stumbling to pull on one of bill’s t-shirts over your bare body. you don’t bother with pants, only underwear. if all goes well, you’ll be back to bed in no time.

the rest of the house is just as quiet, all the lights turned off. your footsteps are soft as you pad down the hallway, instinctively turning the corner to get to the last room on the left. there’s no other place he could be.

just as you suspected, there’s a golden glow at the bottom of the door, casting the faintest shadows onto the wall across from it. if you strain your ears you can hear the sounds of his keyboard, and eventually, a stilted groan. resolved, you reach forward and slowly open the door.

it’s mostly dark in bill’s office, only a single lamp on his desk spilling slanted light over the floor. bill’s hunched over his computer, his face screwed up in a grimace behind his reading glasses. he doesn’t hear you walk in, even though you aren’t really trying to be quiet, too focused on whatever it is he’s writing.

he gets like this, sometimes, so into his own head that he can’t differentiate between up or down. he’s so easily stressed, your bill, when he tries to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. unfortunately, he does that too often, retreating further and further into himself until you have to gently coax him back out.

fortunately, you’ve perfected the best way to love him.

he startles when your hand trails over his arm, brushing up his shoulder as you tuck yourself against his back. his chair is uncomfortable where it digs into your side but it’s worth it to hold him for just a second. like second-nature, his hand comes up to cradle yours, slotting your fingers together.

“what time is it?” he mumbles to you, blinking like he’s suddenly aware of just how tired he is.

you hum, turning your head to kiss just behind his ear. “i’m not sure,” you admit quietly, rubbing your thumb along his collarbone. “but you should come to bed anyways.”

he sighs, leaning back against your chest before he shakes his head. “i need to finish this draft by thursday. i-i can’t s-s-stop now.”

you frown worriedly. his stutter only comes out anymore when he’s stressed beyond belief. if it’s coming out now, when the only thing keeping him up should be the words flowing through his brain, then things are worse than you’d originally thought.

“that’s three whole days from now, love,” you say softly, not giving voice to your worries just yet. “you’re already almost done, you said so this morning. you’ll have time.”

he groans, pulling out of your embrace to slump his head into his hands. you watch, feeling helpless, as his hands fist into his hair. “b-but it’s not perfect, i n-n-need to—t-t-to—fuck—“

your heart clenches. you move from your spot on the arm of his chair to sit on his desk beside his computer, pulling his glasses off and coaxing him forward until his head is pillowed on your lap. he’s so tense he’s trembling, or maybe that’s him trying to keep it together. either way, you’re suddenly terrified.

“what’s going on, bill?” you ask, your voice pitched so low that if he wasn’t so close he wouldn’t be able to hear it. your fingers brush through his hair, soothing where he had pulled on it. “this isn’t about the book, is it?”

he shakes his head, pulling himself closer to you. like this, he reminds you so painfully of the little boy you’ve only ever seen in the few pictures he has of his childhood. he doesn’t seem inclined to speak but you know you just have to give him time. you keep stroking through his hair.

eventually, he sighs, his breath warm against your bare thigh. he squirms a bit, not eager to open up, but he’s always been brave, and your heart swells with pride for him even as he mumbles, “w-what if they h-hate it?”

all at once, you get it.

“oh, baby,” you soothe, bending your head to kiss the back of his neck. he holds onto you tighter, not willing to show you his face yet. “is this about the losers?”

miserably, he nods, his forehead rubbing onto your thigh. he doesn’t say anything else but you don’t really need him to. you understand what he means now, because the book he’s writing—the book all about the childhood trauma he and his friends faced that, even now, you can barely hope to understand—is the most important thing he’s ever done. you know he feels the pressure to get the story right without telling too much, and you know he feels the pressure of telling his friends’s stories without doing it wrong. it’s a lot, and if this were any other book you might even tell him to do away with the idea, but you know that he needs to.

“w-what i-if they h-h-hate it?” he asks again, much quieter this time, the words smeared into your skin. his voice is damp and his shoulders tremble even more. “w-what if i-i f-f-fuck it up a-and—“

“bill,” you interrupt him, gently. you tug at his shoulders until he sits up, looking up at you with his watery blue eyes. you sigh, leaning down to press your foreheads together. “you know they’re not going to hate it.”

he whimpers, just slightly, and your heart breaks. “b-but w-what if—“

“but what if nothing, love.” you thread your fingers into his hair, scratching at his scalp the way you know he likes. “you’ve been talking to them about it the entire time. you haven’t made any decisions about this book without everyone’s approval. you know how much they already love it.”

he’s silent, just staring into your eyes, so you smile softly, bringing one hand to cup his jaw. “if you’re really so worried, call them in the morning and talk to them about it. they might be able to help.”

bill stares at you for a second longer before he blows out a sigh and nods. his shoulders slowly stop trembling, the tension leaking out of him until he slumps against your chest.

“t-thank you, baby,” he mumbles against your collarbone, adorable exhausted now that you’ve managed to get through to him. you grin to yourself, kissing the top of his head.

“come now, billiam,” you say, adopting the tone that richie or eddie or stan might use to make fun of your husband. “it’s time for bed.”

he huffs a weak laugh, pulling back to kiss you gently. “anything for you.”

it’s cheesy but you know he means it. your cheeks flush pink even as you hop down from his desk, twining your hands together to tug him out of the room after you turn off his computer and lamp. he just lets you lead him to your bedroom, his eyes barely staying open now that he’s broken his own trance. even now, after all your years of being together, after everything he’s been through and all that he’s told you of the horrors he faced, the fact that he trusts you so completely still makes your chest burn with your love for him.

your bedroom is just as dark and quiet as you left it and you waste no time climbing back into bed. you don’t bother taking off your clothes, you’re too tired and comfortable anyways, so you just lean against the headboard and watch him strip off his shirt and jeans until he’s left in his boxers.

he climbs into bed beside you, but instead of curling up and nodding off the way you thought he would, he cuddles up beside you, nestling his head on your shoulder and slinging a heavy arm over your hips. his leg nudges between yours and his other arm slides between you and the mattress, effectively trapping you against him. you don’t mind one bit.

“thank you, (y/n),” he says again, sweeter now in the darkness. he’s no stranger to intimacy and he knows exactly how to put his thoughts into words, but sometimes simpler is better. maybe it’s because you and him work together so well that everything becomes simple. no problem is too big with you by his side. “i love you. i d-don't know what i’d do without y-you.”

you press your lips to his forehead. “i love you too, bill.”

you want to wax your own poetry to him, go into all the intricacies of how much you love him and how much you know you are better with him by your side, but your eyes are suddenly too heavy to keep open anymore. he’s soft and warm on top of you, relaxed now as he slips into sleep, and you aren’t far behind him.

that’s alright, you think as your eyes drift closed. you can just tell him in the morning.

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

Color explosion  (stenbrough x reader)

A/N: This was requested by @stanleyurisgirl​. Thank you so much for the request! I hope you like it! Let me know what you think! Also yes I’m aware the titel sucks 😂

Summary:  If possible could I request a soulmate au where the reader's soulmate's are Stanley Uris and bill Denbrough, could it be where soulmate's are colour blind until they meet their soulmate and can see in color?

‘Can you fucking watch where you’re going?’ Your loud voice called out angrily to a woman who without even looking around flipped you off. You huffed, adjusting your skirt before continuing on your way. You grumbled the whole way, still wondering why you had said yes to this meeting in the first place. You were a illustrator for a marketing company, and you were on your way to meet the famous Bill Denbrough. You had read a few of his books, and beside the general outrage, you actually really liked the ending to his books, and you had a Knick for reading regardless of who the author was, but that didn’t mean you were all that excited for this project. You were supposed to read Mr. Denbrough’s new book draft, and design a book cover for it, but this was the third time already that you had tried to set up a meeting.

The first time mister Denbrough had cancelled, he said he had some family problems, and he had to go back to his hometown, though he didn’t offer up any other explanation. You had felt a bit annoyed, as you lived for away from Atlanta, where the meeting would take place, and you had already been in a hotel when he had called. Still, you understood that sometimes things could come up without any notice, so you politely said nothing and returned to Ohio, where you lived. You had never met Mr. Denbrough before, and the only reason he had your phone number was because your boss had given it to him. The second time your phone had rang and Bill Denbrough’s name popped up, he had said it was a ‘boyfriend emergency’.

Stanley Uris, you thought his name was. In the  radio interviews you had listened to, solely to prepare yourself for your job you insisted, not because Bill Denbrough seemed like an interesting man, he had talked about how much he loved his boyfriend. Stanley Uris was apparently just as blindingly pretty as Bill himself was. You had never seen either one of them, not seeing the point in that, but your friends had, and they loved to tell you all about them.

They suited each other. They weren’t pretty in the same way, Bill looked like he was a laid-back looking man. He wore a lot of plaid shirts, and he dressed casually, but somehow he made it work. Stanley Uris looked more fancy, he wore a suit and tie, his curls tamed as much as they possibly could, and his posture rigid. Both of them looked like models in their own way, and together, they looked even better. Of course, that wasn’t your perspective, but you did trust the judgment of your friends, so you were excited to finally meet him.

A coworker of yours gossiped that Stan and Bill had another soulmate that they hadn’t found yet, as Bill had once mentioned that he and Stan could only see blue colors, which was unusual to say the least. When people met their soulmates, they found out what colors were. It was a universal given, that everyone had a soulmate, and once you met them, you could finally see what the big fuss about  clothes were, your dad often joked that he wasn’t your mothers soulmate, because she still couldn’t match clothes at all. Your mom would huff lovingly and roll her eyes at that. It was rare to have more than one soulmate, but it did happen, yet it was very rarely talked about.

Having a second soulmate was seen as taboo, so when your coworker had told you Bill Denbrough had admitted to it on live television, you doubted it very much.  When people with more than one soulmate met their first one, they would see only one part of the color scheme, until they met their other soulmate(s). You didn’t know if that was the case with Mr. Denbrough and Stanley Uris, but you weren’t too bothered about it. Being happy is always the most important thing.  

You had also heard that Stanley Uris ended up in the hospital, though you didn’t know for what, so while it made sense that Bill was taking care of him, you felt irritated that you had yet again came to Atlanta for nothing. The hotel your boss made you stay in was comfortable, but it didn’t do anything to make you miss your own home any less. You missed your dog when you went away, even though your dog was content to stay with your parents for a couple of days. You had once more said nothing, instead wishing Mr. Denbrough luck. Afterwards though, you reached out to your boss. You weren’t close to her, but that didn’t stop you from telling her that if Bill Denbrough canceled one more time, you were not going to design his cover any more. Your boss complained, but ultimately agreed, which brought you to Atlanta for a third time, and you swore to your parents up and down that this would be the last time that you would drop your dog, stitch, off at their house.

They didn’t mind, in fact, they loved the fact that you were gone. Your mother told you one time that it might be the time Where you would finally meet your soulmate, which caused you to dismount very quickly. Soulmates were a touchy subject in the family, considering you had still not, found your soulmate. Your mother had often pushed on the issue, saying that your biological clock was ticking,

And that she would love to become a grandmother before she died. She had said it in a joking way, though you knew she meant every word of it. She had been pushing you to find your soulmate since you were only 12 years old, and so many fights in the family between your mom and dad went about you. You didn’t even know if you wanted children, because you refused to bring a child into this world that would have two bickering parents all the time.

Your words ran through your head though, and you had looked around Atlanta thoughtfully, hoping that you would suddenly see color. This was the third time you had been here though, and you still had no luck. You were starting to think that you may not even have a soulmate, that you were destined to live your life in a black and white world, I’m a world where you would never be able to match your clothes, or pick out wall colors. It upset you sometimes, like when your best friend got married and you couldn’t help her pick a dress because you couldn’t see the color it was in, but for the most part you had just accepted this as a part of you, and you were okay with it.

You had finally reached the address Bill had given you, not too far away from the train station which you had used, and took a deep breath before knocking on the door. You’re face lit up with a fake smile right away, because you were a professional, and even though Mr. Denbrough got on your last nerve, you were going to be polite

You were surprised that you had actually gotten an address from Mr. Denbrough, as the previous times you had an appointment, you were supposed to meet in a cafe nearby. It seemed like he know that you were close to quitting and decided that having you come over to his home would mean that you could relax a little more. You knocked, and for a few minutes nothing happened, then the heavy door creaked open and a woman stood in the door opening. She was smiling, and she looked absolutely beautiful, even without you being able to see color. ‘You must be Y/N? I’m Beverly, come in, Bill’s caught up in writing again.’ As she said it she extended her hand and you politely shook hers.

She lead you into the home, past the living room where shouting voices could be heard, ‘eat shit trashmount’, but Bev led you over to another door, opening without hesitation. She turned around motioning for you to get in and smiled once more. ‘Don’t get too caught up in how he looks, I swear he’s a professional’, she winked, before walking back to the living room. You wondered if you looked okay, considering you had no idea which colors you were combining.

You stepped into the room, the first thing you noticed was that it was messy place. There were papers everywhere, cups of coffee on the floor where you were sure you there shouldn’t be, and in the middle of it all sat a man, with his back towards you. In front of him, there was another door, leading into a room you couldn’t see from this angle. The man hadn’t appeared to hear you come in, too busy typing furiously.

You coughed lightly, trying to get his attention. His head shot up, and he turned around. ‘Oh I’m so sorry, I completely forgot you were coming today, you must be’. He cut himself off. You suddenly had a pounding headache, so extreme you stumbled backwards, keeping yourself upright on the door.

You squeezed your eyes shut, breathing deeply in through your noise as you tried to calm down. You heard Bill’s breathing pick up a notch, but you were too busy trying to deal with your own pain. After a few seconds of this, your eyes blinked open, heavy and you squinted against the light coming in through the window. Suddenly, your own breathing picked up.

You could see, what you guessed was the color red. It looked so beautiful, and you nearly cried. It was the color of Bill’s shirt, and a deviant of the color was on the walls, orange or pink, you remembered. When you were a child, your school taught tried to teach you colors, but it was hard when most of the kids hadn’t met their soulmates yet. You barely registered Bill, slowly rising from his chair. You looked down, and saw that you had were wearing a lighter red jacket. With tears in your eyes you looked at Bill, who himself was looking at you with tears in his eyes. ‘Hey, Bill would you like a drink’? Someone called out from inside the other room, his voice like velvet.

A confused frown appeared on your face, didn’t Bill have Stan as a soulmate yet? You looked around the room once more, and noticed that some of the colors still weren’t visible to you. You suddenly remembered what you coworker had told you, that Bill had said that he and Stan still hadn’t found their other soulmate. He was so close to you now, if he took one more step forward, the two of you would be pressed together.

Bill ignored his words, instead calling out a quick, ‘Stan, Stan get in here now please’.

Almost immediately, another man came running into the room. He looked scared, but when his eyes landed on Bill he let out a sigh of relief. Bill glanced at him quickly before turning back to you.  The man followed suit, and the second your eyes met, you felt the same pain once more. Your knees buckled, but Bill acted fast and caught you in his arms. You collapsed against him, but this time you opened your eyes quicker than before. ‘Stan’, Bill breathed, and ‘Stan’ looked up at him. His eyes were open as well, and he looked around the room in wonder, before his eyes settled on you, his mouth dropping open slightly.

You looked up at Bill, who helped you stand up again, but kept his arms encircled around you anyway. His eyes were blue, an amazing ocean blue. A smile took over your features once more, you could see every color now. Dark, light, bright, not so bright. Every single one of the colors were full of life, and you couldn’t get enough from watching them. Your friends were right, both Stan and Bill looked absolutely stunning in their own way. Stan’s curls were a dark color, and you reached up and whipped a curl out of his face.

Stan smiled, his hand cupping yours, grabbing your hand tightly. Bill turned your head, leaned down, and kissed you without thinking twice. You kissed him messily, at first hesitant, but after a few seconds the both of you pushed your nervousness aside, and kissed like your life depended on it.

You felt dazed, so full of happiness. Stan and Bill shared a kiss too, and you felt a bomb of happiness in your heart. You had not one, but two soulmates, how lucky were you?

Stan leaned forward a bit, but instead of kissing you on the lips, he pressed a kiss to your forehead. ‘I’m sorry’, he murmured, ‘I’m not good with germs’. You laughed, reaching your arms around his midsection, shaking you head. ‘Don’t apologize.’

‘I’m Bill, but I think you already knew that’, Bill laughed, his hand reached out for Stan, who immediately took it.

‘I’m Stan’, Stan continued, still leaning close to you.

Still dazed from the amount of love you were feeling, and from all the color attacking your eyes you merely replied with; ‘I have a dog called Stitch.’

The loud laughs both Stan and Bill let out made you laugh too, and you had never felt more at ease than you were now. Thank god for your boss.

[yikestripes]

Just Believe

Stanley Uris x Reader!

A/N: I always feel like stanfics don’t get enough attention so here’s a super cute one I thought up in the shower! Enjoy! (also, someone find me a man like this DAAAAMN)

OH and they’re aged up in this one; not a specific age, but just older than 13 i guess? so likeee 16-17. alright cool ENJOY!

(y/f/g): your favorite gem (emerald, sapphire, ruby, etc)

“Believe in what your heart is saying, hear the melody that’s playing,” Josh Groban’s deep voice rang out from the tv set, and bounced off the walls in the living room as Stan looked at you with stars in his eyes. You were watching the end credits of your favorite Christmas movie “The Polar Express” so intently, all the while Stan remained focused on you. He grinned at how adorable it was that you were so invested in just the end credit scenes, quietly and subconsciously humming along to “Believe” by Josh Groban playing through the speakers.

Suddenly, Stan reached out and took your hand, breaking you out of your trance. You made a face as he pulled you off the couch and let his hands come to rest on your hips, a small smile playing at his lips. You relaxed at his touch and let your arms come to rest around his neck as you slowly swayed around the room, pausing to giggle at Stan’s goofy grin.

“You know, as many times as I’ve looked into those beautiful eyes of yours, I have never come across someone with quite the same color.” He whispered. You giggled again as a blush rose to your cheeks.

“Oh really? What color do you think they are, then?”

“Some mix between (Y/E/C) and (E/C).” He said, scanning your face with his big brown eyes.

“I’m so in love with you, Stanley Uris.” You whispered back, pressing a light kiss to his cheek as his grin reappeared.

He picked you up and spun you around, before putting you back down and letting his hands return to your hips, still swaying around your living room. You lay your head on his chest, listening to his heart beat so quickly, both afraid it might spring out of his chest.

You stayed like that until the song ended, and as you pulled away to turn off the TV, Stan stopped you. You raised your eyebrows as he picked up the remote and rewound back to the beginning of the song.

“Children sleeping, snow is softly falling.

Dreams are calling, like bells in the distance.

We were dreamers not so long ago.

But one by one we all had to grow up.” Stanley hummed along, and reached out his hand again. You pretended to not want to, and Stan made a shocked face, when you kissed his wide open mouth, causing you both to giggle.

“If you just believe,” You sang quietly, letting your forehead come to rest against Stan’s, a stray curl falling into place.

You got on your tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss on the lips before pulling away to clean up the room before your mother got home, while Stanley watched, still amazed at how he was currently dating the girl he knew for a fact he wanted to marry one day.

-----------------------------

Stanely paced the floor of his office for a straight hour. You had dinner plans with your friends that night in the heart of the city, and were due back at any moment. It was the middle of December and you had promised Stan a night together earlier that week, saying you could sit down together and watch a movie like you used to when you were younger.

You were both relatively introverted, quiet people who enjoyed the simple things in life, like spending time with one another and watching movies while cuddling on the couch. It was Stanley’s favorite thing in the world, and you knew that; you always would make special time to sit and watch a movie with him.

Little did you know what Stan really had going on in his head. The ring box sat open on his desk and stared at him as he continued to pace. Suddenly, he heard the front door open and you call out, alerting him that it was time while his heart leapt into his throat.

“Hey Stanny, I’m home!” You called, hanging your coat up in the closet in the foyer.

“I’m in my office, I’ll be out in a second.” Stan said, his voice cracking. He was hoping the shaking in his voice wasn’t too obvious as he negated the thought and shoved the ring box back in his pocket.

“Hi gorgeous,” Stan grinned, joining you in the hallway.

“Heya handsome.” You kissed his lips softly and pulled back, wiping away some lipstick that smeared on the corner of his mouth.

“What movie are we watching tonight?” You asked as you entered the kitchen. Stan grinned wide.

“I was thinking ‘The Polar Express’,” He bit his lip.

“Aw, I haven’t watched that movie in forever!”

“Yeah, you save it for Christmas time every year, babe.”

“Oh, right.” You ran upstairs to change into more comfortable clothes while Stan lit the fire and quickly hung some mistletoe in the living room to mark the spot where he would propose to you, the love of his life.

You returned quickly and popped some popcorn, settling into your spot curled into Stan’s side, preparing for your all-time favorite Christmas movie. Stan could hardly pay attention, he was too busy with a million thoughts running around his head.

What if she says no? Or what if she laughs in my face? What if she was planning on breaking up with me? I can’t do this, it’s too much.

A familiar sound began playing through the surround sound, causing Stan to swallow hard. Whether he liked it or not, now was his perfect chance.

Just as they had been when they were younger, (Y/N) was absolutely entranced by the end credits and the familiar melody and deep voice of Josh Groban.

Stanley cleared his throat, grabbing your attention away from the screen. Stanley gestured up with his eyes to the mistletoe above your heads. As you were busy focused on that, and wondering how he got it up there without your knowledge, your attention returned to Stanley, who had gotten down on one knee. Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped, as the most beautiful (Y/F/G) sparkled at you in the firelight.

“(Y/N), will you please do me the absolute honor of being my bride, my wife, my lifelong love?” Stanley asked, his eyes shining.

“Yes, yes of course, oh my GOD yes!” Stanley barely got up when you slammed your lips onto his, and threw your arms around his neck, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He breathed a sigh of relief as you dismounted to allow him to slip the ring on your finger.

-------------------------

“And do you take this man to be your loftly wedded husband?”

“I do.”

“By the power vested in me by the great state of Georgia, you may now kiss. Congratulations, you two.” Similar to the day Stanley had proposed, and multiple days before and after that, you slammed your lips onto his and found your hairs exploring his curls as cheers exploded around you.

You ran down the aisle, hand in hand, giggling and screaming with excitement, as you ran towards the fountain in front of the museum.

Once you were alone, you turned to face your new husband, and grinned.

“Hi.” You said, slightly out of breath.

“Hi.” Stanley replied.

“Ready to go into the reception as the Uris’s?”

Stan sighed a little bit, then laughed.

“Dammit, I knew I should’ve taken your last name.”

You rolled your eyes but grabbed Stan’s hand anyway, and led him into the ballroom.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, for the first time ever, let me introduce to you, The Urises!” You were met with a deafening cheer from your family and friends, as you caught your mother’s eye, who wiped away a few tears.

She knew you were going to marry Stan from the first moment you’d told her about him. The way you described him, and how your eyes lit up, there was no way you’d ever find someone so perfect for you as Stanley Uris ever was. Boy, was she right.

“Are you ready for your first dance?” You looked back at Stan and he nodded, leading you to the dance floor.

“Children sleeping, snow is softly falling.

Dreams are calling, like bells in the distance.

We were dreamers not so long ago.

But one by one we all had to grow up.”

Tears welled up in your eyes a little bit as you wrapped your arms around Stan’s neck like you had the previous year, and multiple years before then. He smiled down at you with the same goofy grin, and watched as your eyes shone brighter than ever.

“You know, as many times as I’ve looked into those beautiful eyes of yours, I have never come across someone with quite the same color.” Stanley whispered.

“You know, I’ve actually heard that before.” Stanley burst out in laughter, and shook his head, pulling you a bit closer. You swayed around the dance floor for the length of the song, allowing your head to come rest on Stan’s chest. You could hear his heart beat so loud and so fast, that you swore it was going to fly out of his chest.

[stanthemanstan]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒌𝒚 𝑰𝒔 𝒂 𝑺𝒂𝒇𝒆 𝑯𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒏

"It has a place for both of us... For you with the birds, and for me with the stars."

TSIASH masterpost...

Summary:

A phone call: a reaching out.

Memories of several forms of fright returned. Moments spent with old friends —moments spent vanquishing the unknown forces of evil that plagued the town— came back to mind. The thoughts of terror that you had managed to bury had resurfaced. You’d have to return. You’d have to face them again.

Another phone call: a final conversation.

Memories of young love returned. Moments spent with someone held impossibly close —moments spent admiring and comforting each other over those other recollections— came back to mind. The thoughts of perpetual affection that was only buried with distance had resurfaced. You thought you’d return to that, but you never faced those anticipations— only with thoughts of grief.

By the time you arrived in Derry again, Stanley Uris was gone.

When you finally meet up with the remaining Losers after all of those years, you realized that there was still danger lurking in the town. As a result, you were tasked with remembrance. Remembering everything, memories from the past, little moments, the good and the bad. And with those memories came new fears to accompany the old.

Links: Chapter I ... Chapter II ... 

Pairings: Stanley Uris x gender neutral reader (as well as platonic!Losers x reader, background Richie x Eddie, Beverly x Ben, and slight Bill x Mike)

Warnings: suicide, trauma, blood, death, entomophobia, arachnophobia, spoilers for both It movies

A/N: takes place mainly in It Chapter 2. Likes, reblogs, and feedback are appreciated!

[beepbeepliv]

Stan Uris Moodboards (2/?)

I can vividly imagine Patty and Richie meeting up after IT is finally defeated.

Like he shows up at her door, still grimy and smarting over the freshness of Eddie’s death and she just gives him a sad, soft look because she’d been expecting him. He finally loses it because she’s the only one who truly understands how he feels and vice versa.

Like the only two people Stan loved with his whole heart comforting each other and trading love stories - Richie, from when they were young, wild and passionate. Patty, from when they were older, happy and intimate.

Then just as they’ve calmed down and are composing themselves, there’s a long, sad, silence and then “I love you” rings out across the room.

It’s Stan’s Parrot. Stan’s Parrot that hasn’t said a word since his owner died.

Richie is frozen in shock while Patty’s tears just start up all over again.

“Stan leaves the group momentarily to retrieve a discarded Coca Cola bottle. He breaks it on a nearby rock, and uses a shard of the glass to cut the palms of all the Losers. Stan makes a joke about cutting his wrists instead of his palm (a foreshadowing to his death as an adult), and Bill even considered trying to stop him as he was unsure whether Stan was joking or not.” - Stephen King’s IT

(x)