#posting**

that’s the shit i LIVE for babey!!!

—

Pennywise didn’t feel a lot of things. Hunger, he was familiar with hunger. A feeling of emptiness, a void that needs to be filled, a longing that needs to be satiated. For a long time, his existence was defined by this hunger and he followed it blindly.

Then along came the Losers Club, swift in their retribution the first time around. Lethal the second. He had barely survived, and surely he shouldn’t have, and yet he still was. He existed in a state of was for a while, until you came along.

You had no clue who he was, what he was, what It was. You couldn’t— surely he would’ve noticed you before. Surely he would have preyed on you before, or at the very least, observed you. No, you must’ve been from out of town.

He knew that you knew that he wasn’t human. It was all but obvious. He was only vaguely clown-ish when you found him and he was too weak to pretend to be something else. Covered in blood and sludge and stinking of death, and yet you still helped him. You still nursed him back to health.

As soon as he was strong enough, he left you, retreated away from you. But he couldn’t stay away, something about you intrigued him, enthralled him, drew him back to you. He was hungry, starving, weak and yet all he could think of was you. And he hated it.

He thought, at first, perhaps you could be his first meal. But the way your eyes focused on the task at hand as you wiped away the dirt and debris from his face, his body, his costume... there was a light he couldn’t bring himself to extinguish. He would try to distract himself by hunting but found himself purposefully failing at his charades. Despite his hunger, he came back to you.

And slowly, he began to show himself. No longer small or weak, but tall and menacing. Perhaps if he could at least scare you he would be satisfied, but you simply would not startle no matter what what form he took or how horrible he looked, you greeted him as if he was an old friend.

So he simply resigned himself to your company, watching you perform your favorite activities from the confines of darkness. He found himself no longer wanting to scare you, couldn’t bring himself to the thought of hurting you.

As the weeks passed, he slowly became closer with you. Sometimes he’d ask you questions that he already knew the answer to; there wasn’t much he didn’t know, he’d been around longer than you could even fathom. But there was, occasionally, something he genuinely didn’t know, and you were always the one he went to. Watching you explain put a fire in his soul.

His hunger roared, stronger than ever, with no end in sight. And despite it, he spent an increasing amount of time with you. Often times, he would end his nights of unsuccessful hunting curled up in your lap, a soft growl on his lips. He would take in your scent, so sweet and strong, and allow himself to be vulnerable.

After a particularly rough day of hunting came to a close, you welcome him once more into your home and could tell something was wrong. You had sensed it for a while now, but you couldn’t pin it down. It was difficult to do, being that you weren’t even entirely sure what he was. You knew he wasn’t human and that was the extent of it.

Regardless, you prepared a nest of fresh, warm blankets and pillows and some warm tea. You suspected his diet didn’t particularly consist of tea. You offered it to him anyway.

As he took his spot next to you, halfway spilling off the couch and into the overflow of you blanketed nest, and halfway on your lap, you smiled down at him.

After clicking through the channels of your television and settling on something that qualified as decent background noise, you settled further into the plush furniture and gazed at the clown that laid his head in your lap. You knew he was powerful, and terrible, and yet you couldn’t help the warm feeling he brought you. Amber eyes stared up at you, one ever so slightly drifting to the side.

“Penny,” you call to him, and instantly both eyes are on you, a subdued baby blue taking place of the burning golden. He hums in response and you can’t help but smile. He’s enraptured with you and you have no idea.

“Penny, I just wanted to say... a-and I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while, but... I like having you around. I really do,” your voice is hushed, like if you speak any louder he’ll swallow you whole. “There’s a lot of things I don’t know. About you or otherwise. But I know how I feel, and. Well. I- you make me feel safe. So... thank you.”

You quickly break eye contact with the clown, and you’ve never been scared of him before but now you think you might be terrified.

He smells it on you and confusion overwhelms him. Perhaps before he wanted this, craved this, needed it. But now, now he feels another feeling besides his raging hunger.

Fear of his own envelopes him. He doesn’t want you to be afraid, he doesn’t want you to be scared away. He doesn’t want to lose you.

He twists and turns until he’s hunched over the amalgamation of pillows and blankets he was lying on. Even on his knees he seems to tower over you.

“You say that,” he huffs, the softest lull of a growl in his chest, “and yet now you are afraid. Why? Fear smells unpleasant on you. Wrooooong.” A large, gloved hand reaches for your cheek and you do nothing to stop it. The anxiety you feel explodes into a million butterflies and your skin heats under his touch.

Oh.

Oh no.

A soft, pleasant smile eases his features and he settles back down into your lap, his face all but pressed into yours. The sound eminating from his chest takes on a different timbre, no longer a growl. It pops and stutters pleasantly, reverberating through his body and yours. A purr.

“Y/N,” he lulls, “Y/N, Y/N.” He likes the way your name sounds on his lips. “Pennywise will keep you saaaaaafe. Pennywise will never let anyone hurt you.” His purr grows louder and louder and he looks at you like he’s searching for something, looking desperately, but he can’t quite find the answer. You smile at him sweetly, patiently, allowing him all the time he needs. He feels like he dies for real this time.

Somewhere deep inside him, the Deadlights are dancing wildly, bright and feral. He feels it all fall into place, how could he not know before? It’s like a puzzle that’s finally been complete, clicking into place. Another feeling has awoken inside of him and he feels like he might collapse, and yet simultaneously he feels the strongest he had ever been.

“Y/N,” he rumbles out, excited now, “Y/N. I love you.”

At his confession you nearly choke, that feeling that bloomed in your chest just minutes ago coming to a head. Wordlessly, you lean forward, falling into his lips, plump and red and ready.