Math class~~~ Stan Uris x reader //COMPLETE//

9

I shivered, shrinking away from the touch and rolling over. The Woman's pearly-white, blank eyes eerily shone in the moonlight coming from the window. She opened her mouth, razor sharp teeth emerging, and I shrank back. I rolled out from under the bed, getting on top, but she followed me. I kept backing away as it got closer, until I backed into a corner, only realizing my mistake when she was too close. The Woman grabbed my wrist, pulling me forward. It started to morph into Stan, but his kind, intelligent chocolate-brown eyes were replaced with the blank orbs, so polished I could see my reflection.
"Not him, not him, not him," I whispered, recoiling.
The smirk which appeared on Its lips was so unlike the real Stan, my Stan, and I shuddered. Its supernatural strength pinned me against the wall, Its face coming closer, the teeth coming out again, whispering things, he hates me, so much, and he was going to enjoy my screams. I whimpered, attempting to push back, but It was too strong. It put Its teeth on my neck, beginning to slowly bite down. I could feel Its teeth puncture my skin, and tiny rivulets of blood rolled down my neck.
Stan entered the room, freezing. It turned from me, morphing back into the Woman. I reached into my pocket, pulling out the knife I'd gotten for my birthday from my brother. I opened it and the blade clicked into place, loud in the mostly silent room. I went to the Woman, anger replacing fear. I reached up, almost above my head, stabbing her on the neck and dragging the blade across, halfway slitting her throat. It disappeared, the only physical evidence of Its presence the blood on my knife and on the carpet, which was disguised in the dark brown color. And the punctures in my neck, I remembered, and they hurt. They were shallow, but there were a few hundred from all Its teeth. I went to Stan, hugging him to my chest, and he returned my embrace. We rocked together, the fear taking total control, and we sobbed in one another's arms. I buried my fingers in his hair, burying my face in his neck.
I stopped crying first, but kept holding him close. I ran my fingers through his hair, taking comfort in him as he was in me. He pulled away, studying me.
"Why was It me?"
"It was a different version of you," I mumbled.
"Different how?" he asked, his hands in my hair.
"That you hates me," I said, "and he has the white eyes."
He studied me, noting, "You're afraid of rejection."
I didn't reply; he knew he was right.
"I'm never going to hurt you, y/n," he replied softly, "and I would never hate you." He touched my chin, lifting my face up. Our eyes were still red from crying as he kissed me gently.
I kissed back, withholding my returning dominant, forceful nature.
He noticed, pulling away and frowning. "Why are you holding back?"
"I didn't think you were ready to go further," I said quietly.
"Y/n," he whispered, "you never have to pretend around me."
"Really?" I asked.
"Really," he replied.
I smiled, kissing him for real.
"Better," he said, "we need to get you cleaned up."
I nodded, looking down at my cami. "Do you have something I can wear? I was going to just sleep in this shirt, but..." I gestured at myself. He nodded, standing and walking to his dresser and pulling out a blue button-up. I stood as he came back over, opening the door and leading me to the bathroom.
It was simple but not small. There was a large claw-foot tub, a copper spout and shower head mounted over it along with a single worn copper handle that controlled both hot and cold. The sink faucet and handles were copper, as was the double towel rack and towel ring. The counters were white marble with small copper-colored swirls. The walls behind the bathtub and the sink were navy, as was the ceiling, and the other two walls white.
My injuries looked worse than they felt. Sure, a couple hundred bite marks hurt like a bitch, but the puncture wounds were still oozing blood and my chest was wet. I winced at my appearance.
"Fuck, I look horrible," I said aloud.
"That's what you're worried about?" Stan asked, bewildered.
"It doesn't feel as bad as it looks, but how do I hide it from my parents?" I asked.
His "oh" face was pretty cute. "You're still hyped on adrenaline, you'll feel it soon enough."
I grimaced; that thought hand't crossed my mind. "Let's clean it out before that, then," I said.
Stan nodded, then looked awkward. "It bit through your shirt in a few places, you'll probably have to take it off," he said.
I did, and blushed. He turned red, too, but ducked under the counter, coming back up with a couple towels and some isopropyl alcohol. He wet the first, cleaning the blood off my chest. He dabbed at it gently, careful not to hurt me. Once all the blood was off, the wounds were small but close together. He put the alcohol on the next, and I hissed when it hit my skin.
"Sorry," he said quietly.
"It's okay, not your fault," I said through my teeth.
He finished, handing me his shirt. We couldn't bandage it because the wounds were too close together.
I pulled the shirt on as Stan put the isopropyl alcohol away. I picked up my cami and the towels as Stan stood and turned. He stared at me for a second, until I stepped forward and kissed him, murmuring, "Thanks, Stan."
He turned red, looking at his shoes. "It's nothing. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. What are we going to do with the towels?"
He bit his lip, then replied, "We can put them in the trash, my mom probably won't notice. We loose them all the time."
"Okay," I said, wrapping my cami and the bloodier towel in the cleaner towel and throwing it in the trash. Stan led me out of the bathroom and back to his bedroom. "Can you turn around so I can change out of my jeans?" I asked.

"'Course," he said.

"Thanks," I replied, pulling them off and folding them, stuffing them in my bag. I pulled out my shorts, which went to mid-thigh, and put them on, zipping the bag. "You can turn back around now," I said. 

He did, and blinked at me. 

"Earth to Stan," I said. "Hello? Stanley!" 

"Sorry," he said to me, then whispered to himself. "Wow." 

I heard it, obviously, and raised my eyebrows. "What?" I asked.

"You look great, that's all," he said, staring at the floor. 

"Thanks," I said, kissing his cheek. 

He smiled a bit, going to his closet and pulling out a quilt and a couple of pillows. He let me take his bed, so I climbed on,  burying my face in his pillows. They smelled like him, and I relaxed into them. I got under the blankets, closing my eyes, but all I could see was the Woman's face and the Other Stanley after Stan turned off the lamps. I leaned over the edge of the bed, whispering to Stan. 

"Can you come up here? I can't stop thinking about It," I asked.

"Yeah, me too," he replied. "I didn't want to make you feel awkward." 

"You wouldn't," I reassured him. 

"Okay," he replied, getting under the blankets with me. We both stared out the window, and I wrapped my arms around his middle.

He turned to look at me, and I let go, saying, "Sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel weird."

"You didn't," he said, so I put my arms back, and he did the same, kissing me. I kissed back, then buried my head in his shoulder and fell asleep.

~

Sorry I went so long without updating, especially after the cliffhanger. I apologize in advance because it'll probably be a while again. I'm scheduling an appointment with a therapist as soon as my parents can find one, so hopefully that will help and I will update more often. I'm going to try to get another chapter out for Trashmouth, my Richie x Reader, soon too. I hope you guys enjoyed it. Thank you for all the support <3<3, and your yells @Lynftw0 haha it's amazing.