𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗟𝗼𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗖𝗹𝘂𝗯 || One-Shots & Imagines

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗧𝘂𝗴 || Stan Uris

Pairings: Stan Uris x Fem Coded Reader

Requested on Tumblr: Could you do a cute soulmate au with good ol Stan the man. If not that's cool too. P.s. your writings are amazing!

-You can feel a tug from wherever your soulmate is. These may either be automatic or have stronger tugs whenever your soulmate is in distress.

Warnings: Some cursing. Henry Bowers being creepy for like two seconds. Gretta being Gretta

Summer break.

Fucking finally.

You forgot how angelic the final bell was on the last day of school. You were gladly swept along the ocean of kids into and down the hallway until you found yourself in front of your locker.

Entering the code you've done mindlessly so for the past 9 months for the final time. The metal door swung open and hit the adjoining lockers with a rather obnoxious clang that was drowned out by the crowd in the hallway. Given that your bus wouldn't show up for another twenty minutes, you knew you were in no hurry so you took your time emptying out your locker's contents. Having learned your lesson from last year, you had brought a spare plastic grocery bag for trash. You had just finished separating the trash and were now putting the rest of your belongings into your bag when you couldn't help but overhear a snippet of conversation from some passing boys in the hallway.

"Yeah, and I think the rabbi's gonna pull down your pants, turn to the crowd and say, 'Where's the beef?'"

With a curious frown, you froze and looked over your shoulder to see the infamous Richie, the trashmouth Tozier. Oh, you were definitely familiar with him. With a small shake of the head, you rolled your eyes and smiled. You closed your locker, swung your backpack over your shoulder and made your way to the girls room, discarding the garbage in a nearby garbage can.

Of course, the traffic in the hall was still pretty congested so you found yourself a few feet behind Richie and his friends. Anxious to get to the bathroom, yet, as usual, there seemed to be absolutely no wiggle room to squeeze by leaving you no option but to trail behind them awkwardly unintentionally overhearing their conversation. You only saw the backs of their heads and you took an educated guess of who's who. To his right was a boy with reddish blonde hair, just a little taller than Richie, who you assumed to be Bill Denbrough. You frowned at the thought.

Poor boy.

Derry was a relatively small town, or at least small enough for word to travel fast. And the strange passing of his little brother Georgie was no exception. Everyone heard about that. To his right, the tallest boy, who was wearing a kippah, began speaking.

"At the Bar Mitzvah, I read from the Torah, and then I make a speech and suddenly I become a man."

Having been previously staring at your shoes, you nervously look up when you get the sudden feeling of being watched. Your eyes hastily dart up and you curse yourself under your breath when you see the cold dark eyes of Henry Bowers and his posse look you up and down.