bill denbrough x fem! reader â°
in which the reader has brown eyes.
warnings: slight profanity, bad ending
brown eyes were just brown eyes until bill denbrough met y/n l/n.
bill's eyes were a painstakingly noticeable shade of dull green with slight flecks of gold that he had always been proud of. despite his predicament, he never did stutter his thanks when random passerby's went up to him. âyou have pretty eyes,â they would say, and he loved it. maybe not just the attention for once but that he had something to define him other than his stutter that he hated so much.
but you had always been insecure of her chocolate brown, almost black eyes. because it was so easy to hate in a world where everyone was too busy comparing blue eyes to pretty summer skies and rolling beach waves and rare greens to fields of emeralds, brown eyes were lost (almost quite literally), trampled in the mud.
you wished people would romanticize brown eyes as much as the next color.
then you met bill denbrough.
it was considerably cold for a day in march, when derry went through daily mood swings and you would go to school with it hot outside and walk home chilly because the temperature had dropped at least a few degrees and you hadn't brought a jacket.
you ran into beverly first, the redhead from 4th period with those envious freckles. up until that moment, you didn't dare consider her as a friend, worried she would find it weird. you were merely acquaintances, but ms. wheeler loved projects and so you two had chosen to be partners more times than you could count on your fingers, so maybe you gave yourself too little credit.
âhey, y/n!â she called you over to where she sat against the brick wall of her apartment building, staring at the sky. she smiled so warmly you couldn't help but walk over with a hesitant smile of your own.
beverly was outgoing and kind and you didn't believe in rumors. âi was wondering,â she took a drag from her cigarette, âsince we're basically friends, if you wanted to maybe come over?â
you stumbled over your words, never being asked to a sleepover before (she told you later what it was,) and agreed with a wider smile than before while hoping she didn't notice how clammy your hands were, because they were definitely clammy.
it was inescapable. you two had become closer friends over two weeks than you ever had with anybody in the span of 3 years since you've moved to the town.
âoh, come on, y/n!â said beverly, a little exasperated. âthey'll love you!â
   pink dusted your cheeks as you struggled to form a sentence. beverly has managed to convince you to meet her other friends. you hadn't seen them too much but knew of them, of course you did.
you met bill last, and you suddenly realized why people said âbest for last.â the first thing you noticed, however, was his eyes; a beautiful shade of green that you loved. you never quite found anything like it.
on another hand, you loved bill's stutter and thought it was adorable. ân-nice to m-m-meet you, y-y/n,â he said shyly, sticking his hand out for you to shake. you couldn't explain it, but it was like sparks flew. like ben franklin with a key and a kite.
   you loved his eyes, suddenly feeling much more insecure of your own.
   since then, you hung out with the loser's club more often than you'd care to admit but always seemed to stray too far for bill's liking. you were shy, but seemed so open with the others that bill wondered if he was the problem.
he was the problem- but in a different way than he imagined. the problem was you were entirely in love with bill denbrough with the cute stutter and pretty green eyes that were your new and improved favorite color.
green eyes were never just green eyes to y/n l/n, especially after she met bill denbrough.
she had always admired green eyes but after meeting bill denbrough, all she could see was him and his own unique kind of green. and you saw it everywhere.
in the trees outside your window, the green of your least favorite shirt that you began to like more for an unexplainable reason, and even in the green apple gum that you always adored.
her stomach fluttered at the glimpse of any green, instantly reminding her of the cause of her affections, and her palms clammed up with nervous sweating. she stuttered almost as badly as him if she ever had to talk to him. it was embarrassing, to say the least so she opted it would be better to avoid him.
bill didn't seem to like that.
at a sleepover to his house, you weren't sure how bev had managed to convince your parents; but whatever she said, it worked, you were more nervous than ever. quieter than when the losers had first met you, there was no doubt they were a little suspicious.
you remembered bill, in his mint pajama set that reminded you of green, and only reminded you of him.
seemingly fed up with your silence, in the middle of the latest movie in the star wars series, he, with a painted expression of determination and a smidge of annoyance, grabbed your elbow as you stood to get a drink. he half-dragged, half-led you to the kitchen and you wondered what you had done to piss him off, clutching the hem of your cardigan nervously.
instead, he almost seemed desperate. âw-what did i-i do to yuh-you, y/n?â
your face fell. oh. oh. bill thought you hated him, probably. or didn't like him, at least.
âwhat do you mean?â you tried to keep your voice steady, staring anywhere but his mesmerizing eyes.
ây-you know what i m-mean,â he said, almost disappointed, âare you m-m-mad at m-me? or d-do you just n-not l-like me?â
you felt bad. so bad. âno!â you said a little too loudly, âof course not!â you tried to be quieter, âno- it's just,â you hesitated, unable to say it.
bill looked hurt. âoh,â he mumbled, you really do hate me. he didn't say it out loud but you knew what he was thinking.
as he was turning to leave, your eyes widened in slight panic before you grabbed his wrist and brought him impossibly closer, your cheeks as red as beverly's hair and his own expression shocked. you still couldn't look at his eyes.
ây-y/n-â he didn't get to finish, because your lips had smashed against his in a rough manner, shocking you more than him. and he began to kiss you back, almost shyly.
you pulled apart breathlessly.
âi'm sorry,â you whispered, almost ashamed, at the ground. âi- i was just flustered, and i-â
bill brought his hand to your chin and turned your face to look at his. âlook at me,â he said almost sternly, not an ounce of stutter in him. âi-i love your eyes...â he mumbled.
it hit you like a train at full force. your eyes widened. no fucking way. no one had ever called your eyes pretty or stopped to stare at the chocolate almost black void of your pupils that you had always been insecure of. but, bill, sweet, shy bill with the stutter and leadership tendencies had looked into your almost black, void-ish eyes and found the stars hiding under the surface.
you knew almost immediately that you were in love when he caught your lips with his own again softly, this time.
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