IT & ST Imagines & Preferences

beautiful ~ beverly marsh

(Aged up to 16)

I've been modelling since I was 3 years old and trust me, I'm used to being treated like a piece of meat. My mum says I was made for it, that I have the perfect body, the perfect hair, the perfect eyes, the perfect teeth, the perfect skin. Well at least...now I do. All my life, my mother's worked and worked and worked to make me perfect. Apparently it doesn't matter what's behind the camera; it's what people see printed on those glossy cellulose pages that does. It started off easy, with cute little summer dresses and winter onesies. I used to love it. Then, I grew up. My hair got shinier; my face shaped from the cute toddler roundness; my chest shaped out; my hips filled out. I started to look like a woman rather than a little girl. So the things I modelled were now more like tiny crop-tops, revealing swimwear and tight skirts. If I had a dollar for every outfit I've had to wear, every pose I've had to strike: I'd be one rich girl. As if I wasn't already. After every shoot, the cash just rolled in in fat wads. Stacks and stacks of it, thousands upon millions would flow into my bank account. I know she only meant well, that she was thought it was best for me, but boy had my mother dumped a load on me. It started as one of her hobbies, but now it's her life. Her obsession. It used to be mine back when it was all fun and games. I honestly adored it. But I'm 16 now and honestly...I think it's an absolute load of bullshit.

I got sick of it and well...here I am. Standing with two suitcases in my hands at Derry bus stop. I've always wanted to come here. The historical value of it is incredible and seeming that I was staying in Maine for a few shoots for the next couple of months, there were huge shoots for Moncler, GAP and TopShop. (these were around in the 80s lmao, I did check.) Very big deal to everyone except me. My mother had actually said she'd let me go anywhere I wanted now I was older. I had a month to stay anywhere I liked. Alone. One. Whole. Month. The bus pulled away and revealed the block of apartments, one of which I'd rented out. Ringing the doorbell, I waited in anticipation. A few moments later, there was a shout of, "Coming!" before the door swung open. A girl around my age with curly ginger hair to her ears and bright green eyes was revealed. "Oh. Hi." She said with a slight laugh.
"H-hi." I replied.
"Hang on, I think I recognise you." She leant against the door.
"Yeah that's, erm," I scratched my head, "that's likely."
"Sixteen candles?"
"No that, erm, that wasn't me."
"Sabrina the Teenage Witch?"
"Nope."
"Got it!" She snapped her fingers, "Star Trek!"
"No, I'm actually—"
"The model!" She concluded, "Yep, I got it now. Y/N Y/S/N, right?"
"Yeah." I smiled shyly.
"Well I'm Beverly Marsh, wanna come in?" Beverly stepped to one side.
"Oh, yeah, sure." I stepped in, "Thanks."
"Where you staying?"
"108?"
"Ooh yeah, right next to Mr Gelman." Beverly locked the door behind us, "Watch out for him, he's crazy."
"Ah yeah well I'm actually not staying for long. Just a month."
"Oh well maybe I could show you around town?"
"That'd be nice, thanks Beverly."
"You're welcome, here's your room Y/N."
"Thanks again Beverly. Also," I span around, "call me Y/N/N."
"Then call me Bev." She grinned, winking and saluting before sliding down the banister.

I was woken up by an abrupt knock on my door. "Ughh." I groaned, rolling out of bed and sliding into my slippers. I'd had all of yesterday to unpack and settle in, something I'd grown used to doing due to how much travelling I did. "One minute." I shouted through, pulling my dressing gown on and trudging to the door. I opened it to see Bev standing there with a huge smile, "Morning!"
"Morning?" I rubbed my eyes. "It's 8 o'clock Bev."
"I know, early starts are best! Come on, get dressed," She clapped her hands and pushed me back towards my bedroom, "Big day today!"
"What?" I croaked.
"I'm showing you round! C'mon Y/N/N!" She shut my bedroom door, leaving me bewildered. I did as I was told though, so 10 minutes later, I emerged from my room fully dressed in a white tennis skirt and pink jumper, hair brushed to perfection in a high ponytail and makeup applied. (ik this might not be some of you guys but it's just because of the backstory for this imagine.)
"Wow." Bev stood up from the sofa.
"What?" I looked down at myself, subconsciously smoothing down my skirt. "Is something wrong?"
"No, no, nothing." She walked over to me, "Nice outfit."
"Thanks." I beamed, then she grabbed my hand and started to pull me out the door.
"Wait!" I slid my feet into my pre-tied white trainers quickly before following her, slamming the door behind me. We slid down the banisters until we reached the already open door, running out of it and onto the street.
"Where first Miss Y/S/N?" Bev turned to look at me, her cheeks pink from the sudden excursion.
"Anywhere." I shrugged, laughing.
"Let's go for breakfast!" And we were
off again.