⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ losers club preferences⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

•How You Met•

Bill Denbrough

You had been told by your teacher that you had to tutor one of the struggling students from the elementary school. All he gave you was the address written on a piece of crumpled paper. There wasn't even a name.

You arrived at the house and rang the doorbell. After a few seconds, a boy around your age opened the door. You recognised him from school.

"Hi, I'm y/n l/n. I don't think you're the one I'm tutoring, right?" You said with a beam. The boy curled his fingers around the edge of the door, shaking his head.

"N-no. Uh, you're l-looking for my brother G-Georgie. I'm B-Bill, by the w-way." He replied quietly, a small smile appearing on his face. You could tell he was embarrassed of his stutter, but you thought it was adorable.

"Nice to meet you, Bill." Bill immediately felt happier when he realised that you weren't going to make fun of his stutter.

"Nice to m-meet you too, y/n." He said, grinning widely just as Georgie came to the door to greet you.

Richie Tozier

"Yeah? Suck my dick, Bowers!" You yelled, flipping the bully off. A hobby of his was hitting on you, no matter how many times he was rejected. It happened every single morning, every single lunchtime and every single afternoon. You'd think he'd take a hint.

"Oh," Bowers said smugly. "Look who's joined us. Hey, Trashmouth."

You turned around to see, well, the Trashmouth you've admired for a while now. He was just putting his bike in the rack. A smile played on your lips when your two eyes connected with his four.

"I see you're picking on this lovely lady, Bowers," Richie started, being way more confident in an attempt to impress you. "When you're told to pick on someone your own size, we don't mean dick size."

You had to cough back a laugh.

"You're dead, Tozier!" Bowers growled, storming over to you and Richie.

"Nice meeting you, angelface. See you around!" Richie called, running into the crowd for safety.

"I'd hope so, babe!" You could've sworn you saw him blush before his turned his head away and into the mob of students.

Stanley Uris

There was one bench in the park that you liked to watch the sunset on, and that Stanley Uris liked to birdwatch on.

It was only a matter of time before you two bumped into each other.

That sunset was particularly pretty-it was an astonishing shade of purple. But, it was earlier than Stan had expected, so he was getting ready to leave as you were just arriving.

You slipped next to him, and he didn't even notice at first. He was busy shoving his sketchbooks into his worn green backpack.

"Pretty sunset, hey?" You asked, kicking your feet and staring into your lap. You knew Stanley Uris. You'd liked him since you heard him talking about how cool ostriches were in the third grade. But he didn't even know you existed.

"Oh my-Jesus!" He yelped, dropping his bag onto the ground in shock.

"I thought you were Jewish?" You asked, unable to suppress your laugh.

"Uh-" Stan let out a breathy chuckle. "Yeah, I am. You scared me, though."

"Scared you so much that you changed religion?"

"Almost. I'm Stanley," He said, offering his outstretched hand to you. "But you can call me Stan."

"I'm y/n," You said, shaking his hand. "Let me help you with your books."

Eddie Kaspbrak

Your mother, being the germaphobe she was, sent you to the pharmacy as soon as she heard your little sister sneeze. You rolled your eyes at first, but knew it was best to just go instead of arguing.

Eddie had a similar problem, except he had just given himself a paper cut (on accident, obviously) and his mother freaked out.

Now, these two young teenagers both didn't really want to go to the pharmacy, and had a weird bond over that, even before they met.

Y/n was browsing through the various anti-cold medicines, which happened to be in the same isle as the bandaids. Y/n had no idea what to buy, but spotted the boy near her who looked like he knew his medicine. (You knew this because uttering little reviews of each bandaid to himself.)

"Excuse me." You asked, tapping him on the shoulder. He yanked himself away, turning to look at you like you were some disease. But, when you made eye contact, his disgust melting into a soft smile.

"Yeah?" He asked, grinning brightly.

"Do you know what medicine is the best to stop sneezing?"

Beverly Marsh

"Hello? Who's in there?" Someone yelled desperately, banging on the door of your bathroom cubicle.

"Y/n. Wait-why?" You asked, dumbfounded. All you were trying to do was read your comic in peace.

"It's hard to explain! I just-can you let me in?" She cried, banging on the door again.

"Okay, okay! Chill!" You said, unlocking the door. She rushed in so quickly you couldn't even see her face.

"I'm so sorry." She sighed, burying her head in her hands.

"It's okay, Beverly." You said. You hadn't actually seen her face yet, but that red hair was unmistakable.

She peeled her face out, a small smile emerging.

"Thanks, y/n."

Ben Hanscom

"Thanks, Miss Mortensen." You sighed, checking out the next six library books you knew you'd finish within the week.

"No problem, sweet cheeks." She croaked, her smoker's voice very strong.

You looked off to the side of the library as you started making your way out. Suddenly, you snapped out of it as someone collided with you, causing you both to drop your pile of books.

"I'm so sorry!" The male voice exclaimed, scrambling to pick up all the books.

"I'm sorry! It was my fault!" You replied hastily, joining him to pick up the dropped books.

You both let out a giggle, and lifted your heads up to face each other.

"I'm Ben," He said, handing the stack of books back to you. "Ben Hanscom."

"Y/n. Y/n l/n."

Mike Hanlon

You often saw the boy riding on his bike with a delivery to the butcher, and he had always intrigued you.

One day, you decided to wait outside the butcher he delivered his things to so you could have a chance to meet him. You say down on the curb, book in hand so you seemed busy.

Sure enough, he came speeding down the hill, slowing down right in front of you.

"Morning, Miss." He said politely as he walked down the alley next to the butcher.

"Wait!" You called, standing up.

He took a step backwards, cocking his eyebrow in confusion.

"What's your name?" You asked, a blush prickling at your cheeks. Shyness was looming over you like a shadow.

"Mike. And yours, Miss?" He replied, scratching the back of his neck in confusion.

"Y/n." You said quickly.

"Pretty name for a pretty girl." He said, giving you a suave wink as he walked down the alley once again.