lies || stanley uris x reader

12 || treat a girl right

It was around six in the morning when you finished reading the novel. You were so engrossed in the story that you couldn't believe your eyes when the sun peeked over the horizon, its golden rays entering through your blinds and illuminating your bedroom. Your shocked gaze shifted from the lit up window to the small alarm clock on your nightstand.

6:28 A.M.

You'd managed to stay up for exactly five hours just by reading this masterpiece by Jane Austen. The story was somehow simultaneously greater and worse than what you had initially expected. All in all, you were one hundred percent glad that you had read it, completely understanding why it was one of Jane Austen's most celebrated works, if not the most celebrated one.

Although Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth were a match made in heaven and you absolutely adored their relationship, you couldn't possibly imagine yourself falling in love with someone like they had with each other. At least, not with anyone at your school. Frankly, they were all undignified and didn't have a clue about what love really was. All they wanted was someone they could make out with one day and break their heart the next.

The only boys who didn't fall into that category were Stanley, Bill, Richie, Eddie, and probably Ben, although you didn't know him that quite that well yet. You knew with absolute certainty that they would all treat a girl right. And if you were being honest, a small part of you (very, very small) wanted to be the girl that Stanley treated right. Thanks to your stupid crush, he was the only thing that occupied your mind nowadays. You knew you'd dread the day he fell in love with someone, but still, you had to live in the moment, right?

Bill was one of the sweetest human beings to ever walk the earth, and there was no doubt in your mind that any girl would be lucky to have him. She needed to be kind and loving. Someone willing to just sit and listen to him for hours. Someone who would take the time to help him melt his sorrows away. Bill definitely deserved someone like that after everything that happened with Georgie.

As for Richie, he needed someone as chaotic as he was to match his energy. Someone loud and dumb. Someone with strong opinions who'd do anything and everything with him, no matter how crazy it was. y/n laughed to herself. The person she was describing sounded a lot like someone she knew. Well, what the heck, he and Eddie could get together. They already acted like an old married couple anyway.

Gently closing the book, you slid your hand over the smooth cover, satisfied that you'd finished reading it. Since it was already this late (or early?), you decided that you wouldn't bother going to sleep, you'd just stay up the whole day. Maybe take a little nap later on in the afternoon.

Stretching your arms out above your head, you let out a long and loud yawn. A flash of white and red floated down in front of you, landing soundlessly in your lap. Looking down at the bloodstained cloth, you did a sharp intake of breath, almost having forgotten about the events that occurred just a few hours earlier.

You held out your forearm in front of you and examined the open wound. You couldn't lie, it looked mildly disgusting, but it did appear to be very slowly healing, which you were thankful for. It would surely leave a scar behind though, long, deep and jagged, a permanent reminder of your strange and horrifying encounter with the demonic clown.

There was absolutely no way that you made it all up and that it was simply a story in your head like your mother insisted. There was literally no other explanation as to how you ended up laying down out on the front lawn, unconscious, with a nasty arm injury.

You fiddled with the inexpensive yet efficient cloth you used for the wound, debating whether or not you should tell Beverly and the others about what had happened. Would they think you were crazy? Would Stanley think you were crazy? Would they think that you belonged in an insane asylum? You hoped not. Your forearm was proof of what had happened.

Just in case, you made the decision to not to tell them about it just yet. You'd wait until the time was right, whenever that was. Besides, if you showed the open wound to Richie, he'd most likely instantly throw up. He had a weak stomach sometimes, but you still loved him.

The telephone beside you abruptly began ringing loudly, rudely interrupting your train of thought. Who in the world would be up at six in the morning? Other than you, of course.

You leaned over to your nightstand, careful not to touch or put too much pressure on your arm, and aggressively grabbed the Y/F/C colored telephone from its stand, placing it by your ear.

"Hello, who's this?" you asked, slightly irritated.

"Bev," the other person on the line spoke breathlessly like they'd just ran a marathon. "Listen, Y/N/N, I'm so sorry for calling this early but you will not believe what happened yesterday. It was something straight out of a nightmare."

Your whole body froze, and you became as stiff as a wooden board. No way. Absolutely no way.

"Something straight out of a nightmare?" Was it possible that something similar to what had happened to you had happened to Beverly too? Your heart was racing and your mind was jumbled with scattered thoughts. You inhaled and exhaled deeply, trying to calm yourself, and let out a nervous laugh before speaking again.

"More like something straight out of a horror movie, I reckon."