#itmovie

And i miss you all too 💔

Letting you all know I've never stopped thinking about him he's my world still

Helping with chores on the Hanlon farm.

Here is my concept of Pennywise as a clown, but in the form of a snake!

I like to imagine that he can spring out of those famous prank boxes where a little toy snake usually pops out.

Photoshop edit by me.

"In the Deadlights"

Title: “In the Deadlights”: It fanfiction

Pairing: Pennywise ( Bill Skarsgård ) x Reader Male

Genre: Psychological Horror | Dark Romance | Supernatural | Thriller

Warnings: obsession / twisted affection, canon-typical violence and disturbing imagery.

Summary: A disillusioned man ( you ) arrives in Derry to disappear—but instead catches the attention of Pennywise, the ancient creature that haunts the town. Unafraid and strangely drawn to the monster, the two form a twisted connection that blurs the line between fear and obsession.

You came to Derry to disappear.

Something about the place called to you in a way that you couldn’t explain—like a hum just beneath your skin, vibrating against your bones. You weren’t running from anything in particular. Just... done. Tired of people. Of pretending. Of trying to explain the emptiness that grew like a black mold behind your ribs.

You’d heard of Derry before. The disappearances. The rumors. The fear stitched into the streets like the cracks in the sidewalks. But that made it perfect, didn’t it? A place where people forgot. Where people vanished. A place where even the pain might dissolve into fog.

The first time you saw him, it was in the sewers beneath the town. You were wandering—lost, not quite on purpose—and the shadows breathed around you like they knew your name.

And then… eyes.

Amber, glowing like coals. A smile, too wide for any man. A clown, crouched in the darkness, body twisted in impossible ways. A voice, laced with that sing-song menace, echoed through the damp stone:

“Hellooooo…”

You should’ve screamed. Should’ve run. But instead… you stood still. Maybe curiosity. Maybe madness. Maybe something deeper.

"You're... not afraid," Pennywise murmured, crawling closer, movements jerky like a marionette. “Strange little thing. Not like the others. No tears. No screams.”

You met his gaze, unblinking.

“You don’t scare me,” you said.

He smiled—no, grinned. Unnerving. Predatory. Almost… delighted.

“Oh… but I will.”

----

He visited you after that. In dreams. In reflections. In the places between waking and sleep. Sometimes as a clown, sometimes something… worse. Something raw and ancient, made of teeth and hunger. But always with those eyes. That voice.

And you let him.

You didn’t know what that said about you.

----

One night, you found yourself by the Kissing Bridge. Fog clung low to the ground. The moon cut sharp through the branches overhead.

“You're obsessed with me,” you said into the air.

Laughter trickled from the shadows like blood down a drain.

“Maybe it’s you who can’t stop thinking about me, sweet boy,” Pennywise cooed, voice slithering behind you before he materialized just inches from your ear.

You didn’t flinch.

He circled you like a predator, tilting his head. “You came here… to be eaten, didn’t you?”

You gave a half-smile. “Maybe.”

Pennywise grinned again, slower this time. The way a storm might grin if it had teeth.

“But you’re… different. Not tasty. Not scared.” He leaned closer, nose brushing yours. “You're… fascinating.”

His breath was ice. His eyes, too alive. You felt something crawl inside your chest, coil around your heart like a vine of thorns. You should’ve hated it. But you didn’t.

“I don’t want to be saved,” you whispered.

He stared at you, and something changed behind his face. For the first time, you saw hesitation. Then curiosity. Then—

—long, gloved fingers touched your jaw, thumb dragging over your bottom lip. “I could keep you,” he purred. “Like a little pet. A secret. A toy.”

“I’m not a toy.”

He giggled. “Everyone’s something to me. Why should you be different?”

You stepped closer, closing the gap between you, until your breath mingled with his.

“Because I’m not afraid to love the monster.”

Silence. Heavy. Endless.

Then, suddenly, he was gone.

----

He didn’t come to you for days. Maybe weeks. Derry began to rot around you. People whispered more. The air got colder. The town hungered.

And then he came again.

This time, he didn’t wear the clown face. He was taller, sharper, darker. Something older than fear. Something divine and wrong and beautiful.

“Still not afraid?” he asked.

You walked toward him. “Still not running.”

He tilted his head. “Then come.”

He opened his mouth. Not to eat. Not this time. You looked into the Deadlights—and saw eternity.

You stepped forward anyway.

----

They say another person went missing in Derry.

No one really noticed.

No one ever does.

But sometimes, late at night, the fog swirls with laughter.

And deep in the sewers, a monster whispers to something that doesn't scream.

Not anymore.

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