#adult!stanley uris imagines

[the-angry-pixie]

Story time...

This face walked into my eating disorder clinic today. Slightly younger (teenage), but same golden curls. Same slightly blank, haughty expression. Still striking as all get out. Even the same sort of buttoned up fashion style (though my guy was wearing a white turtleneck).

And because Max (the model in the photo) for many years has been the face I think of when I think of young adult Stanley Uris... my imagination couldn't help running away from me.

I'm only on Admin so I didn't really have a chance or a need to look into what this young man was engaging with the clinic for, but if I had to hazard a guess I would say anorexia nervosa.

So now I can't help imagining an alternate universe where Stan's OCD and perfectionism develop into disordered eating (very common for those conditions to go hand in hand with an eating disorder).

What would that look like? Would his friends notice? How long would it take for them to notice if he was just careful with what he wore? Would the first thing they notice actually not be the physical, but more a personality change or a deterioration in cognitive ability because he is starved and can't think straight?

Its sad but fascinating to think about.

Especially since we already have a character who in canon displays a different type of disordered eating (Ben).

Sorry for the ramble, I just wanted to share.

[spider-self]

@loyaltybroken liked this for a starter

How easily they wandered back into IT’s web, responding to IT’s summons so readily. Did they so badly want to die? Children so rarely had a sense of self preservation. Caught in the euphoria of life, they could never imagine a scenario where they were killed until the moment it happened. IT had seen it so many times, the final flicker of recognition, the wild terror at the sight of their demise, death with a painted smile. Adults were more practical, far more likely to be prone to fanciful visions of their ends. But even these were abstract in their own ways, another stubborn denial of the possibility. Of course it couldn’t happen to them. How could it? They were special, they were far more alive and real than anyone else could ever hope to be. Someone else might die yes, but not them. Never them.

One of them at least had known that to stand against IT was futile. IT had felt his life snuff out a few days ago. The feeling like a soft brush against the back of IT’s mind. Stanley Uris.. It was a shame really, IT would have liked to him to have come back and done the deed at home in Derry. IT would have gathered his body and had it take pride of place in the depths of IT’s lair. There IT would croon over each lovely bone and let IT’s laughter gurgle out of every drain.

His loss would have hurt them badly. What seven children could accomplish was far more than what six adults could. They were weak now and IT was strong. IT had bided IT’s time, resting and dreaming, letting IT’s wounds heal in preparation for this final confrontation. They would lose and they would die and IT would keep them forever among IT’s other little trophies. Perhaps when all this was done, IT would seek out Uris and take his body. It would be good to have the full set.

Of all of their little club, IT found Richie the most irksome. Rather than cower or at least show some semblance of respect to IT’s power. The brat had thrown nothing but insults and sly quips, as if that might possibly make his death quick. No…Richie would die slowly, his throat ripped to shreds so that chattering voice was finally silenced forever. Perhaps IT would leave him alive long enough to make him think that if he’d only kept his mouth shut, IT might have spared them all.

A foolish notion, but it was one IT entertained as IT watched him, drumming IT’s fingers idly on the table IT was sat at. The human disguise was disgustingly limiting. All of IT’s glory compressed down into a creature constrained by its own mortality. The heart that beat sluggishly in IT’s chest reminded IT sickeningly of the meat that comprised this form. Weak flesh and brittle bones, human horrors. Hardly fit for a hunt of any kind. Even the thought of speaking felt disgusting, a heavy tongue so very inefficient in comparison to simply speaking directly into Richie’s mind. But even he, dull as he was would probably notice that. And IT wasn’t keen to reveal Itself just yet. IT wanted to play first.

“Hey excuse me. Are you Richie Tozier? I’m such a big fan.”

[har-rison-s]

heaven: 17

never let her go

request/plot: Stan x Reader where they were together back in Derry and kind of forgot about each other after moving away but they always had a void in their lives. And then when Stan is just about to do it after Mikes call his phone rings and it’s you and you’re crying after just getting off the phone with Mike to come to Derry. You both end up going back and seeing each other at the restaurant and you guys just catch up after all these years that passed and old feelings come back.

A/N: Well hell to the low to you guys! I've missed being on here, and I'm so fucking glad that I'm back to writing and I actually have nothing else to do, really, except write. Oh, and fight for justice online, get to packing and moving and go to work. But other than that, I'm free as of right now. I came back to the document for this fic, and turns out I have material enough to post 2 whole chapters in a row. So, let's go. I'm glad you're all still here and I welcome every new-comer with hugs and kisses! So, happy quarantine reading and stay safe! Don't you ever forget - #BlackLivesMatter!

A/N: Also, quick note: if you're uncomfortable with me posting another chapter of Heaven or posting any writings at all, please don't hesitate to let me know. Writing, especially during times like these, and when I don't get any positive income from the real world or social media, writing is what helps me, and I think reading fics means you dive into another world, sometimes a better world, and you can live another life in them and feel better; I also know writing has helped some people fall asleep. That's why I'm posting. Again, if that makes you uncomfortable/you think I'm injust with posting, please let me know!

warnings: shorter than usual, water, over-thinking (lots)

word count: 2.2k

main masterlist

IT masterlist

heaven masterlist

previous part  next part

A/N: Where are my more gifs and pics of Andy Bean rights huh??

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

Oh, is clean water good. Clean, warm, soapy water. Better than sex, she even dares to think. She smiles to herself at the thought. Stanley looks at her, a soft question in his eyes. Not the sex she has with him. She shakes her head, and then rests it against his wet chest. The shower’s water streams down onto them, warm and welcoming, warm and soothing, warm and healing. It collects their hair into dark, thick locks. The shower’s floor shines with water that is now filthy from all the dirt on their bodies. 

Bill collected all their dirty clothing and went to wash it in the hotel’s washing machines. He’d get to shower the last, but he didn’t mind. All of them using water at once wouldn’t be useful, either, but that he’ll leave it to their concern. Mike offered to use his washing machine at the Library, but since he lives quite far from the Derry Inn, they all decided to pass this suggestion.

Y/N’s palms are flat against Stanley’s bare back. It’s littered with birthmarks all over, Y/N discovers when she feels small, almost unnoticeable bumps under her fingers. Stanley, instead, opens the shampoo bottle the hotel offers and squeezes half of it out into his hand. He then runs his shampoo-y hands into Y/N’s hair, against her scalp. She hums. Stanley moves the shampoo into her hair, massaging circles into her scalp. She smiles softly at the gesture.

He does the same to his own hair, and Y/N chuckles at how weird he looks with his hair slicked back. “Reminds me of your Bar Mitzvah hair.” She says and Stanley gives her an airy chuckle in response. He remembers his mom’s effort and frustration into gelling his unbending acorn curls down neatly to his head.

“That was horrible.”

“No, no, that was a statement.” She corrects him and they both laugh. Her arms around him, hands on his back and his arms around her waist, hands interlocked to keep her intact in his embrace, they look up dreamily at each other. The water frustrates their eyes a small bit, making them blink more than usual.

Gazing into each other’s eyes transmits more emotions between them than they could muster to say in the same amount of time. Words really are hard to find to say all that Stanley could say to Y/N, about how much she means to him, about how he can’t breathe without her, how he needs her, how he wants to cherish her and love her for the rest of his life, and how he wishes they never parted. He also wants to say a big thank you for giving his strength, courage and self-belief back simply by talking, by being with him. He could not have gotten into this shower-bathtub, for example, without her help, without her words. Let alone Derry or Neibolt House.

Y/N would like to tell Stanley how grateful she is for his love, and that it is he who loves her. She would want to let him know that he’s the most important person in her life, that he means the most to her, and that she’d do anything to turn back time and relive her—their both’s—life differently, together. Happy.

How happy, how much more happier they’d be if things had turned out differently. And she wants to tell him how grateful she is for him to be here, right now, as well as tell him how privileged she is to love him, and to have him love her back, how privileged it is to hold his hand and look into his eyes.

But to not waste any emotional and physical material, they suffice with a simple—

“I love you.” She tells him in a quiet whisper. It almost drowns with the water in the dark drain of the sewer pipes. She leans up to kiss his lips. She can taste the coffee he drank earlier still, and the water. She smiles, and she kisses him again. And again. She chases his lips with hers, her hands pushing against him slowly, not at once, but slowly, begging. She kisses him, and she almost melts.

Stanley moves her rogue hair strands out of her face, and holds her cheek while looking into her eyes. His orbs move back and forth only the slightest. A corner of his lips raises ever so slightly. “I love you.” He assures her and kisses her again. He then kisses her forehead and pulls her into an embrace against his chest. Even his chest hairs have flattened down from the water, she can barely feel them against her cheek. She closes her eyes, and so does Stanley.

Something about the way he holds her, something about the way he shuts his eyes when he does. Thoughts of what is to come creep into his mind now, despite how badly he wants them not to. What if this is the last time I have her to myself? Selfish to think of her like that, but… She’s the most beautiful angel I’ve met in my life. I want to spend my entire life with her, I want to give her what I did not for the twenty years spent apart. What if, when I go back home, my mind will be changed about her? What if we’ll forget each other again, like last time?

But what if you don’t go home, Stanley? Maybe go to her home, or go home with her. Not your home, but one that would belong to you both. And Patty? What of her? Do I not call her or visit her? Do I just leave her in the dark? I can’t do that to her. After all we’ve been through, after loving one another for so long… After being married, and happily at that, after her trusting me so much…

Do you still love Patty as you did before Mike called you? As you did when she helped you pack clothes and essentials for this trip? How will you tell her you’ve met the love of your life, the love of your childhood again and made love to her in another city, another state? Another place, or void, completely foreign and strange to Patty and her whole life, and how she knows life in general? It will break her. Would it be better if you didn’t tell her at all? No, no, I can’t leave her wondering in the dark.

What if you love them both? What do you do then? Marry Y/N and live together as three married people? That’s complete craziness, Stanley. You can’t do that. But if I can’t choose… If I can’t choose between the two women I love most, what do I do then? Leave them both and live alone? Or should I choose? Which option would be better for everyone involved? Do I choose to be selfish and choose Y/N or Patty for the rest of my life? That’s only fair to me, and I can’t stand by that. But…

Stanley can’t live without Y/N. Maybe it’s just what he thinks now because he’s met her again, but then again—there wouldn’t be these feelings if there wasn’t an old cause for them, old roots grow out of something, not nothing. And they do have roots. Childhood. High school. Before college. The first year of college. Then it faded away… But these feelings are still here, they’re still real, present and true. They’re as intense as before, if not more. It is beyond love and belonging and craving, it is far more than they as mortal humans can understand, can know that they feel. He can only give her the tip of the iceberg that is his whole love, emotions and feelings for him. He can only do so much with his human mind and body.

But Patty… He loves Patty so much. They’ve been married for more than ten years, and found solace in each other. They loved each other even when they could not get children, they loved each other when they’ve woken up to a sour day, they loved each other even when they drive each other nuts (which is rare in their earthly, calm marriage). What fun have they had in these happy, peaceful years… Stanley would not trade it for the world. Ah, then and there, maybe. But here and now...

He doesn’t know. He can’t decide.

But somehow… The marriage ring that lays in the drawer of this hotel room’s nightstand, it feels like an anchor. And it feels old, as well, as strange as it sounds. Old, as if Stanley had lived in a past life with that ring and the person who carries the other ring, the rigs a promise to be man and wife until death do them part.

But it’s not death that will do them part. The happy, peaceful years he lived with Patty were simply years and time that fed on forgetfulness of crucial things such as childhood, and friends, and dreams that little kid Stanley Uris wanted to achieve in life. They were years of tunnel vision, of ignorance, but not his own. His self-consciousness’ ignorance caused by the magical curse IT laid upon Stanley and his friends once they left the town of Derry.

It’s best to think about it on the flight home, not now, about choosing the best option. Shower, heal and spend time with her. Heal together. You’re both still here, so right now you might as well use it selfishly, while you have that. Stanley opens his eyes and looks down at Y/N. The water runs in his eyes a few times. She moves back to look back at him, feeling a slight change in his position. She blinks, because the water gets into her eyes, as well, but she smiles. Stanley does as well, and then he reaches behind her to turn off the shower stream.

Naturally, they both shiver out of loss of warm water, but then hurry out of the bath-shower to wrap themselves in towels. Stanley helps Y/N not fall over on the slippery surface, what with having as many fears as she does. It’s a bath, after all, and he feels they’ll always frighten him a little bit from now on.

They both reach for the towels hanging on the heating pipes, and Y/N hums at the contact with her towel. It’s better than nice, and it’s better than perfect. She feels like falling asleep in this towel. Surprisingly soft for hotel towels.

They dry their hair out as much as they can with single towels, and then wrap the towels around their bodies. Non-verbally, maybe telepathically, they decide to wash their teeth. Stanley uses his own toothbrush and paste, but Y/N uses the tools their hotel provides—in the rush to catch the first flight to Maine she forgot to pack her tooth essentials. How silly and unhygienic of her, you might think. Not in her situation, not this time. Tooth cleaning essentials were really the smallest and most unimportant thing then.

Nor Stanley, nor Y/N speak much. There’s silence between them, tense but peaceful. So many questions nag at both their minds, so many questions they want to ask each other, mostly many uncomfortable questions. Answers to them would be too painful, too frustrating and hard to deal with, in general. Hence the questions are not asked. Many things they’d like to say to each other, but neither of them want to make this a book or movie scene, understand, with confrontation and dramatics. They just… They just really want to be here. They want to live and breathe and move without any complications or heavy-weighing anchors.

Y/N steals a shirt from Stanley, he’s already used it in this trip, and he had folded it to pack into his bag. He snatched his hand after her, but she’d already pulled the shirt over her head and naked breasts and stomach, too late for him to get it back. He looks at her, defeated, and she gives him the tip of her tongue sticking out between her lips. Now he can’t help but smile at her, she never fails to make him smile. With her simple enchanting grace and comedic mannerisms. Sometimes Stanley thinks her funnier than Richie Tozier himself.

Stanley now straightens up in his other button-up and underwear and watches her gracefully waltzing back into the bathroom, only in his shirt and her knickers. He can see wet spots on the shirt’s shoulders and over the breasts and back from her free-falling wet hair strands.

How magnificent is she. Arms like feather wings, legs like intertwining ribbons that dance so easily to their own beat. Hair of a color that reminds him of sunny summer and spring days, as well as dark winter afternoons, autumn mornings. Hands with the pads of cotton, cheeks plump and full of color like bright red roses. Her weight almost non-existent, so light and bird-like she carries herself. Her eyes of eternal kindness, the smile of a thousand little suns. And when you add all that together, it seems unreal, doesn’t it? She does. A fantasy only staying for a few moments until it swims away, to someplace else, to someone else. Stanley sighs.

He cannot let this fantasy go. He cannot let her go.

Permanent tag-list:  @gabiatthedisco​​​​​​​​ @v0idbella​​​ ​​​​​@inlovewithmiddleagedcelebs​​​​​​​​ @works-of-fanfiction​​​​​​​​ @destiel-stucky4ever-loki-queen​​​​​​​​ @stfxlou​​​​​​​​ @ur-gunna-h8-ths​​​​​​​ @betweenloveandfire​​​​​​​​ @but-legendsneverdie​​​​​​​​ @deardeacy​​​​​​​​ @thewinchesterchronicles​​​​​​​​ @mavieesttriste16​​​​​​​​​​​ @langdonzvoid​​​​​​​​ @intrrverted​​​​​​​​ @the-freak-cassie-131​​​​​​​​ @eddie-spaghetti-boi​​​​​​ @anxiousanakin​​​​​ @terratori812 @urban-dreams​​​​​​​​ @beverlyparkerr​​

Stanley Uris tag-list: @nightbu-g​​​​​​​​ @sadhwstudent​​​​​​​​ @shawni-h​​​​​​​​ @gothackedalready​​​​​​​​ @seasidecrowbar​​​​​​​​ @starred-river @raspberryacid​​​​​​​​ @facelessbish @tozierskaspb​​​​​​​​ @plum-duels​​​​​​​​ @whereyoustand​​​ ​​​​​@kimseungminsgf​​​​​​ @stanstan-the-manman​​

Heaven tag-list: @lovvliies​​​​​​ @kaspbrak-uris​​​​​​ @happy-at-home​​​​​​​ @jars-of��jupiter @violetzendaya @veronicapuff​​​​

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

[running-through-honeyvenom]

Losers Club HeadCannons?

Richie is struggling with addiction, being a famous comedian has its perks, but it also doesn’t. Sure he has met some actors here and there, but he has a crippling addiction. He refuses to admit it until returning back to Derry. He realizes that Beverly is in an abusive relationship with a man who has the spitting personality of her father. Eddie is married to his mom essentially. Bill is a romantic mess, doesn’t know what he wants or who he wants. Mike, ha the poor man probably hasnt gotten laid, ever. Richie jokes about how the only ass he would be getting is from old ladies, or porn. Ben, well he has an alcohol addiction. But Richie thinks you wouldnt even be able to tell if he didn’t know the man. But I guess no one would know he’s addicted to cocaine unless they knew him either. But what can Richie say, “All the cool kids are doing it,” no because then he seems like an old man, and he would prefer to stay far away from that title. When Richie arrives at the Jade of Orient, he meets Bev and Ben first. He is honestly shocked because Ben really had a glow up, Bev had too. But she still had the same sad eyes when she was younger. I mean they all did. They all looked frightened to be here. Except it was almost enlightening to see they were all alive. They were all alive right? He walks into the restaurant and immediately clenches his fist. Pulsing his fingers to calm him down. This all was so surreal to them all. Bill, Ben, Bev, Richie, Mike, Eddie, and Stan. Wait Stan? Stan wasn't here, It was just the six of them. Where was Stan the Man. Richie keeps pulsing his fingers in his palm to calm him down. His mind was pacing every memory so fast he felt like he was about to throw up before he ate. He needed to step outside. Richie excused himself, “Hey I am gonna be right back,” everyone looked at him with concern, Richie was pale as a ghost and his smile was gone. Eyes that crinkled with lines when he smiled all seemed to flatten against his face. Eddie peeked up from his arms against the table giggling, he was a little bit tipsy, and far to tired to keep his head up. “Where ya going chee’ I haven’t said hello to the trash mouth yet.” Richie knew it was time to strike, “I am going outside I am getting a booty call from your mother, I have kept her waiting for 27 years, I need to go show her some love,” He jokingly pointed to his phone that he struggled to get out of his front pocket of his jeans. Making aggressive moaning into the phone. “Oh Sonya, I have missed your sexy voice for so long. Oh Mrs.K you know I love it when you talk to me like I am a disgusting bug on the wall.” Everyone rolled their eyes, chatting amongst themselves again. Joking and catching up with each other. Eddie peaks up again, looking around the table to see if Richie left. He grumbles, “He actually left, that fucking troglodyte.” Richie continued to walk to the exit of the restaurant where he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. Lighting it with a match as soon as he steps outside.

[in-my-clown-era]

wait...so richie tozier has his voice named “kinky briefcase” who’s a sexual accountant...mayhaps he needed some accounting work and met a sexy accountant who may or may not have been named stanley uris??? he just changed the way the voice sounded but thinks of the sexy accountant (cough cough, STAN cough) for inspiration 👀👀👀

[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 

[overheardlosersclub]

Do not tell me richie tozier did not make this tiktok

[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.”

[lecircusfreak]

Richie: [eating a greasy burger] hmm, you can really taste the heart-attack in this.

Eddie: [flabbergasted] Rich, that's not a good thing.

[sejanusbaby]

Pressure — Stanley Uris

A/N: I find the lack of Andy Bean gifs disturbing. I found myself relating to this a lot, because I’m in my last year of high school and I am utterly terrified. Regardless, I loved this request idea, so here you go!

Anonymous asked: could you please write a oneshot where you're Stanley's daughter and you're about to go to college but you feel as if Stan is putting too much pressure on you so you break down. But then you guys make up and stuff? Thank you so much!

Warnings: Maybe light swearing, a very stressed reader and a very stressed Stanley.

Your bedroom was empty now, except for the bare mattress that lay on your bed frame and a few small items. Sat on the floor, you places the last few items into the small cardboard box, feeling some of the stress lift off of your shoulders.

“Y/N?” Your father, Stanley, interrupted your thoughts. He noticed you packing the last of your things and gave you a smile.

“What, Dad?” You asked him, watching him plop himself onto the floor in front of you. He had been hovering over you for so long for the last five months that it was driving you crazy.

“Oh, nothing. Just came to see the progress you made.” He said, plainly, his eyes moving around the room. Maybe he was in hopes that he would notice something off, something worth jumping onto you about. But he didn’t. You made sure of that.

“Yes, Dad. I’m a big kid. I know how to get my own shit together.” You said, snapping a bit, but laughing to disguise the attitude you had towards your dad. It didn’t go unnoticed by him, though.

The packing tape made a loud, harsh sound as you unrolled it, sealing up the last box you had. You felt like you were about ten seconds away from a mental break down. The thought of school, strangers, and your entire future. It was almost too much.

“Well, Ms. Big Kid. It took you two weeks to pack up the small amount of ‘your shit’ that you had left. I thought I’d have to do it myself.” He said, pulling himself up off of the ground, to a standing position.

“You know, funny that you mention it. You haven’t helped me with a damn thing leading up to me leaving. All you seem to care about is how fast I’m going to get out of here. You even made comments about my own intelligence last night! Calling me stupid, basically. When will I ever be good enough, Dad? Like you used to tell me I was!” You were yelling, hot tears rolling down your cheeks and neck.

And of course, your dad just stood there, shocked. You fell to your knees, burying your face into the palms of your hands, sobbing.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I just worry about you. I want your future to be better than what mine is.” He sighed, resting a hand on your shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t even think about how you feel.” By the look on his face when you looked up at him, you could tell he was sorry. His face flushed and wet with some of his own tears, he gave you a weak smile.

You used your sleeve to wipe your nose, sniffling, and finally catching your breathe. “It’s my last night. I don’t want it to end this way.”

You dad smiled,“It’s okay. Let’s go do something, yeah? Let’s enjoy ourselves tonight.” You nodded in agreement.

“I love you, dad.”

“I love you, too, Y/N.”

So, the rest of the night, you and your dad spent time laughing, crying, and having a good time together. As terrified as you were for the next day to come around, at least you had today.

[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?

[randoms-world]

Imagine advent day 24=This is love (Richie x Eddie x oc x Stanley x bill)

It was the trip they had all been planning for months when the topic of their new mate came up, they could all tell they had one more mate and they had made plans to go to a witch that could tell them were they are. Bill was just brushing his teeth when there came a nock at the door "love we're now leaving" stan says threw the door "now coming" bill says and he makes his way to the car seeing the 3 others sat in there "ready to go?" Eddie asked from the back as richie was say next to him. They drive to the dock then catch their boat to get the to the island of the witch "olay this is the most nervous I've ever felt" eddie admitted "listen it will be alright, besides ben & bev are meeting  us their for support" richie says and they make the trip. After an hour they arrive and ben and bev are waiting for them "thank god you guys are finally here, this is place is amazing" bev says as she and ben helped the others with their bags and that night they had been shown where they can hunt. This is just what they need since their vampires but only feed on animal blood, what they didn't seen was a group of young dragonswas watching them from the cliff

The little ones where curious of these new comers as they had never seen anything like then before "hey guys look" stan says as they looked up at them "wow" is all richie says as the distant call of what must be there mother is heard. The 3 little ones flew towards her and the men Followed close behind them and soon the babies had landed and what the guys saw had them awe struck at what they were seeing

It was incredibly beautiful to them and what they found a little weird was that this was their mate "okay that's a little strange" richie says and they saw what they guessed was the witch they were meeting tomorrow. She did a small bow "look I know it's out if the blue but I'm meeting 4 vampires tomorrow and you need to be there" she says "need the kids too?" The dragon asked "yes, that would be even better actually" she says "yay we meeting new friends mummy" the baby that's white and black with green eyes says. The guys oddly couldn't wait till tomorrow for this meeting now "okay we'll get our answers tomorrow" stan says as they made their way back to the hotel their staying in.

*the next day*

As they finally arrived at the meeting location they had seen that the dragon from yesterday was there and it looked right at them

It let a cooe out as its babbie played close by "I see you've met her" the witch says as she steps into sight "okay now please explain" bill says "okay, jane you can change back now" she says and the dragon transforms into a very beautiful woman. The guys were in complete awe at her beauty "wow" is all she could say as she looked at each man closely "I can now say it, this is your other mate" the witch says and of course everyone was a little surprised. That's when the little ones came running over with smiles "who are they?" One of the kids asked "I guess you do deserve an explanation" jane says as she explains carefully the truth. The oldest looking one looked to then men and she grins happily "I think she liked you already" jane says smiling and they all got to know one another, what kinda saded the guys was that jane had a mate before them who was the farth to the kids but he was killed protecting them from hunters. Jane sighs a little bit "listen we promise we'll always be there for you" stan says and that made jane smile, her smile grew as she watched her kids interact with the guys.

[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!

[myriadimagines]

[x] // requester: anonymous (edited) // request here

You can sense the apprehension amongst the other Losers to confront Pennywise again, but after receiving the news of Stan’s death, you’re all the more determined to kill It once and for all. Stan was the first person you ever loved, your childhood memories all featuring him, and you want nothing more in the entire world for him to still be alive.

But you know that can’t happen. So, you’ll settle for killing It instead, for taking the boy you once loved away from you.

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

Reunion

Summary: could you do a stan x daughter where she meets the losers club for the first time? like maybe at the restaurant scene from CH2? 

warnings: swear words

In spite of the fact that the temperature didn’t differ much from outside, Dalia’s glasses fogged up instantly upon entering the restaurant. The abundance of spices assaulted her sense of smell, but the combination of herbs formed a plenary attraction, opening a black whole in her stomach from hunger. Her last meal was a sandwich she ripped from home, hours before landing in the airport of Maine and purchasing the first rental car they found.

Her dad offered to buy her something to eat on the way over, but she declined. She picked up part of Stanley’s quirks growing up, and though not nearly as bad, food originating from a place she didn’t thorough investigated was a big no go. Not only that, but finding food that qualified as kosher is hard to do, and Dalia didn’t think it was worth the hassle.

Blind thanks to the fog clogging up her specs, Dalia removed her glasses and squinted around the entrance hall, waiting patiently for the mist to retreat.

Her dad did the same thing, only he didn’t necessitate the usage of them, so he tucked them away in his front pocket. Dalia could tell his hands were dithering, aiming wrong twice before finally managing to slip them in.

‘Dad, are you okay?’ she asked him, worried for her father’s sanity. She had been repeating the question ever since they left Atlanta to reclaim Derry, but so far Stan dodged the truthful answer.

‘I’m okay.’ He lied again, a sweat drop slithering down his forehead, smiling reassuringly.

The haze cleared, Dalia slipped her glasses in place and returned the favor, coming to grips that whatever it is that her father is struggling with, he’s not about to spill the beans.

‘Chin up dad, I for one can’t wait to meet your friends I’ve heard nothing about for so long. Should I tell them you did? Should I introduce myself with: ‘I’ve heard so much about you?’

Stan laughed winded, shaking his head dismissively. ‘No, that’s alright. They won’t mind, trust me.’ A waitress approached them with two menu’s in her hands, her heels clicking on the marble floor.

‘Good evening, how may I help you?’

‘Good evening, I am meeting my friends tonight. I assume the name the reservation is placed on is Hanlon Mike?’

The warm and greeting smile on the waitress face turned sour, scrunching her nose up in distain. ‘Of course, follow me.’

She led them deeper in the restaurant, and the more distance they bridged to the reserved table, the more it became clear why she didn’t appreciate two others joining. The ruckus the group havocked audible from the buffet counter, loud voices banding together in loud and abrasive symphonies. A chair was left unattended, presumably for Dalia’s dad, in between a man she watched on tv occasionally, against the wishes of Stan, and a smaller, pensive man.

‘Here you are,’ she explained, halting just outside their line of vision, making a getaway as fast as possible, forgetting the menu’s in her hands.

‘Okay, okay please. Come on guys is Stanley coming or what?’

A loaded silence fell over the group, but Dalia’s father suppressed his announcement, simply looking at the group and letting his gaze swipe over all of their faces.

‘Stan?’

‘Stan, Stan urine’, The famous man murmured, tasting the name on his tongue. Dalia witnessed the exact moment it caught on who they were talking about, his face breaking open in a grin.

‘Stanley Urine, no he’s a fucking pussy he’s not gonna show.’

Dalia snorted, curious as to what the reaction of her father would be, while Stan grinned extravagantly. ‘Are you going to let him talk about you in that way dad?’ She elicited a response, dying to get to know the people who unhabitable spoke about Stanley Uris in such a way. As far as she knew, people in Atlanta held Stan in high regards, only to slander his name behind his back, but they never dared refer to her dad as Urine.  

‘Speak for yourself Tozier, as I do recall correctly, I jumped down from the barons to retrieve your coke bottles. Would a pussy do that?’

The group was surprised Stan showed up, their faces betrayed their mindsets, but they were even more flabbergasted at the girl Stan brought with, her hair and stance a carbon copy of Stanley Uris himself.

“Tozier” jumped on his feet first, enveloping his former best friend in a hug, patting him on the back at the same time.

‘Can’t believe you fucking showed up dude.’

‘Believe it’, Stan added dryly, his full warms already filled with the only girl in the group, a hug between two people that obviously care for the other. “Tozier” then addressed her, not hugging her but instead offering up a high five, as one does to a toddler renouncing, but Dalia grants him one anyway.

‘Guys, this is Dalia, she is my daughter. Dalia, these are Richie, Eddie, Ben, Beverly, Bill and Mike.’ Stan point each of them out, a wave hitting your way at each name.  Mike nods thrilled, sticking out his hand for you to shake, which he then does excessively. ‘We talked on the phone’, he reaffirms, the brief two second conversation you engaged in as you answered Stan’s phone brought to the forefront of your memory.

‘Yeah that’s right. Nice to add a face to the voice.’

‘Here sit, I’ll ask for another chair, I wasn’t sure you were coming along or not.’ Mikes eyes dash over to Stan, searching for something there, retreating after Stan gives a firm nod. An extra chair is shoved along side the table, a bit to tiny to fit everyone perfectly, your arm squashed against your dad and Eddie on the other side.

It’s not as cumbersome as Dalia feared, everyone reverts back to their rolls in the group, easily distinguishable even to an outsider like herself, the losers club Bill elucidated they preferred to be called, and they take her in as if she always belonged in that spot.

‘Wait, wait I have to know, is your daughter into birds as well?’

‘Kinda, I grew up with bird facts so I know a lot about them, but I don’t do any additional research.’

‘Oh Stanley you’ve made your kid into the same dork as you were?’

‘As I said all those years ago, birds are intricate little things and if you cannot wrap your brain around that that is your loss.’

Richie narrowly avoided sticking out his tongue, a piece of food landing in his hair, the culprit being Eddie in retaliation.

‘Hey’, Richie called him out, fishing out the bit with a giant smile.

‘Dalia’, Bev addresses her, hands clasped around her glass, ‘do you have any stories you’d like to share with us?’ A glint of a twinkle sparks in her eyes, fishing for juicy stories about her friend, and quite possible on Dalia herself.

‘Eum, well there was that time dad forgot about date night with mom and was in the doghouse for a week.’

S-s-stan, tell me you didn’t, that’s grounds for a d-d-divorce.’

Richie yawned. ‘Boring.’

‘What can I say Richie? Some of us have common sense and prefer a household over binge drinking at forty.’

Dalia’s mount gaped. Never had her father spoken to anyone in that regard, the wit and dry humor he bounced of Richie sure was a sight to behold.  

‘Stan the man I am offended. How are you so sure I don’t have a wife waiting for me, her beau? She’s terribly sad to see me go, but I promise her I’ll never meet anyone as cute as her ,’ he grinned shark like, teeth baring and preparing for the backlash of the joke about to emit.

‘Don’t you dare’, Eddie grit out, catching on to the joke.

‘Well, no one besides little Eds of course.’

‘I’m not fucking little, I’m average sized. Stan tell him.’

Dalia’s dad raises his hands in surrender. ‘Do not involve me in your antics, I have nothing to do with this.’

‘You are tiny Eds, always have been and always will.’

‘Fuck you I’m not.’

‘Wow there are children present Edward, language.

Dalia twisted in her chair to face her father, inching closer to whisper something only he was to hear. ‘Are they always like this?’

‘Oh you have no idea,’ Stan confirmed, fondness hiding behind a mask of indifference.

‘Yes,’ Ben staunched with hopeless eyes. 

‘They’re fun.’

‘Yeah they are.’

‘Thank you for taking me with you dad, for sharing your friends with me.’

Stan squeezed her wrist softly, smiling tenderly in lieu of a hug, the motion still having the same effect as the hug would have had.

‘Anything for my little bird.’

‘Does that mean I got to play around with calling our last name Urine.’ 

‘Oeh better watch out there Stanny boy, I seem to be having influence on your family already.’ 

‘This was a mistake.’ 

[feargrown-a]