lies || stanley uris x reader

1 || finally summer

Stanley Uris.

Even after all these years, his name somehow managed to stick in your mind.

As stupid as it may have sounded, ever since the day that you asked to borrow a crayon from him in first grade and he let you keep it, you had had a soft spot in your heart for Stanley.

You had always seen him as a sweet, quiet, and unproblematic boy, someone who would do anything for his friends and never got into any sort of trouble with teachers. However, once you got to middle school, things went way downhill for him.

It just so happened that Stanley Uris was Jewish. In fact, it was what he was known in school for being. Jewish. He and his friends, who were labeled as losers, were always targeted by Henry Bowers, Derry Middle School's very own school bully, who you were positive had been held back at least three times. Suddenly, "sweet, quiet, and unproblematic" morphed into "stuck-up, teacher's pet, loser."

Unfortunately, you didn't have it any easier.

When seventh grade first began, you quickly became best friends with Beverly Marsh. Somehow, throughout the school year, Beverly developed a reputation of sleeping around and quickly became known as the school slut. Those were all lies, of course, but Greta Keene, Henry Bowers' female counterpart, never missed an opportunity to bring up the rumors you knew for a fact she had helped spread around.

On the other hand, you were known in school for being the slut's unattractive and unwanted best friend. Polar opposites. Greta would always cackle at you, taunting you and shoving your textbooks to the ground in the hallway whenever she could.

The two of you had dealt with the endless bullying for over a year now, and the last day of school had finally arrived. You were in your last class, which was Algebra I. Your teacher kept on droning on and on like a machine about pointless information while you fiddled with your pencil and stared at the clock intently, not taking in a single word that was being spoken.

There were still two more minutes until the bell would ring. You sighed and took a look around the cramped classroom. Unsurprisingly, the majority of your classmates were either dozing off or earnestly counting down the seconds until you'd hear the bell's glorious ring.

However, one boy in class wasn't doing either of those. He was scribbling in his thick black notebook, occasionally glancing up at the teacher like he was trying to make sure he wouldn't get caught.

You couldn't help but smile when you saw him. Every time you looked over at him in this class, which was the only one you had together, he was writing in that notebook. Being as curious as you were, you always wondered what it was that he was writing, since you knew for a fact that he wasn't taking notes. Poems? Journal entries? Stories? And what were they about? Himself? His life? His friends? He seemed like such an interesting person.

Ring! Ring!

As if they were all controlled by one powerful force, your classmates jumped up at the sound of the bell and hastily threw a singular backpack strap over their shoulder, racing out of the classroom at the speed of light. You honestly couldn't blame them. After a long and exhausting school year (both mentally and physically) it was finally summer!

Turning your attention away from Stanley, you copied your classmates' actions and headed out of the classroom, making a beeline straight to your locker to grab your textbooks. After speedily stuffing them in your backpack, you noticed a small, folded up paper sitting on one of the locker shelves.

Unfolding it, you smiled when you recognized the chicken scratch writing.

Meet us after school?? I know someone who really wants to talk to you! Guess who? Stan the Man! You know, you guys haven't talked since elementary. You would make a cute couple ;)

— Richie Tozier AKA Hot Stuff

Next to his scrawls was an awful doodle of what appeared to be two people kissing, if you squinted and concentrated very hard. You rolled your eyes, still grinning, and carefully put the note in the back pocket of your jeans, careful not to crumple it.

You slammed your locker shut loudly for dramatic effect and decided to meet them outside. What was the worst that could happen anyway?

When you got to the exit, someone unexpectedly yanked your backpack backwards, causing you to fall harshly onto the ground and all of your backpack's contents to spill to the floor due to your faulty zipper.

"Oh my gosh, Y/N! I'm so sorry," Greta cackled. "By the way, I saw you smiling at a note you got. Was it from a guy? Aww, is little Y/N taking tips from Beaverly?"

Choosing to not say anything, you grabbed your notebooks and textbooks and began putting them back into your bag.

"I'm not stupid," Greta continued, her annoyingly high pitched voice giving you a headache. "It's obvious that you're trying to get a guy to sleep with you. Well guess what, honey? No one wants you."

Your indifferent reaction seemed to greatly irritate her, and she scoffed, rolling her eyes before kicking away two of your books.

"You're trash, loser. Never forget that," she spat, turning on her heel and walking back inside of the school to torment someone else.

Once she was gone, you looked around to find that the two books she kicked away had landed at the bottom of the stairs and had gotten trampled on by a group of rowdy seventh grade boys. Slinging your backpack over your shoulder, you sighed and headed toward the books, reaching down to grab them, only feel someone else's hands on top of yours.

You immediately withdrew your hand at the sudden contact, and the other person took it as an opportunity to pick up your books. Standing up straight in surprise, you stared at them as they got up and looked at you, a small nervous smile on their face.

It was him.

Stanley Uris.