- Bill: f-fuck
- Stan: language!
- Bill: ...english??
i joined a discord server about Stenbrough (created by @s-oulpunk) and i said to myself why not do this with janley…? i mean it may be going to be a flop but im starting to receive ask about it, and there are some fic coming out, so i said to myself, why not create a server to exchange hc or support each other in our solitude? here it is, ask the link in dm if ur interested 🥺👉🏽👈🏽
stan uris tarot card 5/9
pls like/reblog if used! (i forgot 2 watermarks & im too lazy to put them on)
the losers club/ianowt related lockscreens ✨💕
Warnings - Almost smut, illuding. I am not sexualising children, this is imagined to be their adult counterparts.
Summary - Bill Denbrough and Y/N Y/L/N have both been scarred and pained.
Bill Denbrough and Y/N Y/L/N laid in the living room, on the sofa, of the house that she had grown up in as a child in Derry, it had been long abandoned since her parents moved away to Atlanta and took her with them and nobody had dared to live there since a kid named Jerry Springsteen from Y/N’s math class had made the cruel joke that Y/N had died and that’s really why her parents moved away. The joke had caught on like a bad cough and made other kids start to conspire that the house was haunted, even the parents that weren’t gullible enough to believe it started to believe it. How Y/N Y/L/N had found out of the insensitive, hilarious rumour that made her lie on her back for an hour and laugh until she cried was through the monthly letter that Beverly, Ben, Richie, Mike, Eddie, Stan and Bill sent to her from Derry. They had guessed that after what happened during the summer before, everyone started to believe in ghouls and goblins and started to not brush superstitions and ticks of paranoia away with a scoff but instead listen to them, Y/N wrote back saying they had every right too and that the story could have been true if she didn’t have them there with her for that summer.
She still held onto the key for the front door of her abandoned house for a reason that she couldn’t tell herself, she had felt the urge to keep it on her instead of loosing it, it had felt like something had compelled her too. She spent many hours always wondering what the key was for in her late teenage life and throughout her adult life and came to the conclusion that it was a spare for the back or front door or for the garage. But when her feet landed on Derry concrete, her mind knew not quite why - that was still a mystery slowly unraveling - but for what and where like a map on the back of her hand and an answer on a school quiz.
She and Bill Denbrough had come back after so many years to that house where they had spent countless afternoons of their childhood summers running around in the back garden chasing each other with water guns or building boats and castles out of cardboard boxes and now they stood there twenty seven years later, all grown up. Bill with his hair that had a grey streak running through the front of it and more muscles on his arms and Y/N with her shorter hair and the body of a woman instead of a little girl but neither of them had truly changed, they were still the people they were at one time best friends with, only now they worried about insurance taxes and work and getting old when things in their body stopped ticking.
They hadn’t a good reason for coming back to the house but they had.
Y/N had the door unlocked with her key although the doorknob had rusted and wasn’t as agile as it had been when she last unlocked it, she had to rattle the key in there and shove herself against the door for it to open. Some of the furniture had been left behind, the stuff they wanted to get replacements of that would go with the theme her mother wanted each room of their new house to have, the house itself smelt of staleness and mouldy dust. There was cobwebs strung across walls, doorways, in corners and crevices that piled up on top of each other, it was eerily still and quiet. The house seemed to be haunted with bad spirits now yet every step and corner there were good memories made wether it was with her brother, her parents or with her best friends.
Bill walked close to Y/N and followed her footsteps through to her old living room on the right of the hallway, an old part of him had expected Y/N’s parents to be in there watching the television and reading the newspaper with a pack of biscuits open but they were long since gone. When Y/N had told Bill of the unfortunate news of both of her parents passing in the last four years, it had saddened him as much as it saddened Y/N when she remembered them now; they were always an open home to Bill Denbrough and welcomed him as one of their own once they got to know him, some of the best people in town that he knew.
They wondered into the living room as if it was someone else’s house and they had just been invited in, the only things left of when Y/N lived there was the mantelpiece above the fireplace and the tattered, blue sofa with holes in the cushions from lit cigarettes, Y/N’s fingers traced over them and dipped into one.
“This is richie’s, definitely” Y/N laughed. She had remembered when they were all round her house for the afternoon whilst her parents were doing the weekly grocery store shop down on Maine Street one day during the summer break, Y/N’s parents being out of the house had meant that as long as the windows were opened that Richie and Bev could smoke. Bev pulled a cigarette out from the box hidden away in the pocket of her shorts, Richie pulled one out of the box in the top pocket of his Hawaiin tee shirt and had punched Stanley in the shoulder when Stan had told him that stealing from his fathers cigarette stash was not ethicle and would end up with him six foot under whenever he found out. The cigarette dropped from in between Richie’s fingers and sizzled and hissed right through the thin material. At the time it gave Y/N a coronary and she had a go at Richie for it but she laughed now and would have to tell him about it later.
The floarboards beneath creaked now more than ever as Bill moved from the doorway and into the middle of the room. The curtains had been taken down and taken with them to Atlanta and the curtain pole was still fixed into the wall but the windows were too dust covered to see out of and in through, cobwebs stringed over them and the stormy weather darkened the room.
“The amount of time we’d spend in here was horrific” Bill laughed and brushed his fingers along the mantelpiece, collecting a cover of grey dust over the pads of his fingertips. Y/N smiled and took slow steps, taking her time to re-live a part of her dear childhood, towards the doorway of the living room.
She turned the corner at the end of the hallway and walked into the kitchen, the Linoleum on the floor still smelt like the crayons she used to draw with in school and the light that never quite was bright enough when Y/N’s family were having their dinner was still hanging up in the ceiling in all of it’s wonky glory. The countertop with cupboards above it that once were filled with glasses, plates and bowls still lined half of the room and the hidden away stove behind one of the wooden cupboards was still hidden. Y/N always used the hidden stove as a magic trick whenever someone new came round the house as hazardous as it was.
“Oh god, this kitchen” Bill grinned, his eyes were wide with astonishment.
“What?” Y/N laughed and shifted her hands into the front pockets of her jeans.
“Too many times where we’d make stuff and it nearly poisoned us…but it was fun” He said. He had remembered everything in that house, all of the concoctions they made with different foods and juices and spices they found in her parents cupboards and fridges, only a few of the seven of them were stupid - or brave - enough to digest them.
There was a chair in the corner of the room that used to be used for dinner guests to sit at if Y/N’s brother had his friends over, if Y/N had friends over like Bill had been so many times or even Bev or Mike had been, if family were visiting and chosen to stay for dinner. The wicker chair had been dragged over to the middle of the room by the back of it and Bill had sat down on it, he leant back and rubbed his hands along his trousers, taking a deep breath to take all of it in.
“The others should be here” Y/N said not because she hadn’t wanted to be alone with the boy - who is very much now a man - all of the Loser’s Club had idolised everyday but because it was still one of the few places in town that was still theirs twenty-seven years later and it was safe, she wanted them to be safe with her and Bill there.
“Stanley wouldn’t come in, you know it” Bill looked up at her through his eyelashes.
“I don’t think I could blame him for it” Y/N spoke as someone who had known him well, he was the person who toughened Y/N up with his blunt execution and sarcastic default. Who knows? In a parallel universe they could have been lovers and perhaps it would have been more than platonic. Perhaps.
There was a pause of silence where both of them realised they hadn’t spoken about Stanley Uris for a lifetime. The closest Bill had to Stanley Uris being a name on his tongue had been the day he sat down to start outlining an idea for a new novel, the idea was there in front of him and he seized it during the middle of the night when he woke from a bad dream in fear that it would not be there in the morning when he woke again. He was able to build the plot with ease and the ink seemed to flow through his veins, what he wanted to write about had translated to be so raw and terrifying, too real that he had to pause, pause, pause then go back to it. The characters he built were already there in his mind waiting for him, they were all so different in traits and personality but he knew that they would fit on the same page and when he looked back it now, it made sense. The closest Bill Denbrough had been to Stanley Uris since they were children was when he wrote his books.
“All these years and we’re still apart of his circus.” Bill muttered with a matter of frustration, he pushed the hair that had fallen in front of his face back and blew the air from his lungs outwards. Y/N had soon realised they were not talking about Stanley Uris although she wished they had stayed on that conversation for longer.
“We’ll do it this time, Bill.” Y/N reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, it was the only thing that she thought she could say in that exact moment. She prayed on every lucky star that she had spoke the truth and wouldn’t let Big Bill down.
“I thought when I left Derry and started to forget everything that it was getting better, there were no more dreams, I thought all of it had gone, I thought I had grown up and I’m back now… and now, everything is here.” Bill Denbrough had spoken.
Y/N’s hand rubbed up and down his shoulder and down to his forearm then back up again. He looked up and saw her dewy-eyed gaze, it made the Y/E/C colour deeper, Bill Denbrough had begun to swim in them and tried to shamelessly read what they were really telling him: ‘we were too young for all of that to ever happen Big Bill, I miss those days when we were kids’ or maybe that was just how he felt or wanted, hoped Y/N to feel.
Y/N’s eyes had only become more beautiful to Bill, he remembered how he used to worship them with every chance she gave him too and when she wasn’t looking, he would pray that she never looked over at him so he could look at the Y/E/C of them until it was all that he was seeing. Oh, the way Y/N’s eyes gleamed under the sun and the darker parts spiralled around the lighter tones, Bill fell in love with them and wanted to spend the rest of his life with them in his vision. He though they were much better than his green eyes and if they were to grow up and have kids one day once they were out of Derry, they would have the most gorgeous eyes if they were Y/N’s colour and shape. Looking back at so many summers ago, Bill Denbrough worshipped the ground Y/N walked on and wanted to kiss and bring his fingers down, over every part of her sun-kissed skin, he didn’t see it as a waste of his quick-passing time even now and would do anything gladly to be that fourteen year old boy again.
A shudder ran down Y/N’s back - oh how Bill had wanted to kiss all the way down her back from her shoulders so long ago - and a breath came past her lips that trembled. Y/N ran her hand down her thigh, the denim was smoothe but coarse under her fingers, she looked at her hand instead of how Bill was looking up at her, If she had kept her head up she would have forgotten how to function with normality. All of the things that had scared her evaporated and a new fear replaced that one, it bloomed like a flower on a warm day in spring, she hadn’t known what Bill was thinking of but she knew she was thinking about him in a way that she hadn’t since she was fourteen years old, it made all the pain of Derry seem so small and far behind. She enjoyed the fear he was making her feel it was new and different to the fear she had been conditioned to feel ever since a young age and there was such a beauty within it.
He took Y/N’s hand, warm and delicate, from his shoulder and held it in his own, when he stood from the chair there left an inch between them.
“You’re still mine” Bill spoke. He took his fingers over Y/N’s hand and brought them to his stomach, he pressed them against his warm skin and trailed her fingers down to the belt of his jeans. “I need to hear you say it, Y/N”.
She watched him move her hand over his belt from his stomach, her eyes followed the veins on the back of his hand to all the way up his forearm. It was not how she used to imagine Bill but it was more in it’s own way, the Bill that stood at five foot four and’s stutter was out of his control was a different person to the Bill that stood at six foot one and knew what he wanted. Y/N didn’t want to realise how vulnerable she was in front of him, she wanted to be with him in that moment and not think of when they would get another chance to be together as one, she wanted to feel every moment of the chance she had gotten then.
“I’m still yours Bill” Y/N muttered. Her hands grabbed at the buckle of his belt and un-looped it, she pulled it through the denim loops and let it drop onto the linoleum floor.
He stepped out of his jeans and walked Y/N backwards until she was pressed between his body and the countertop, she could feel the warmth of his breath so close on her lips. Bill Denbrough’s hand grabbed at the skin on her thigh and kneaded it, his fingers moved up her to her hip and grabbed it then up to her waist and caressed the skin there, he felt her ribs as he cupped one of her Y/B/S breasts under her blouse.
He had struggled to get her blouse off, tangled his forearms up in the sleeves off it and tore one of the buttons.
He dipped down to kiss Y/N’s lips, she was too focused on him slipping the blouse from her shoulders and onto the floor that what he wanted to show her, he squeezed her jaw and slipped his tongue into her mouth, it was then that she melted into him. She was so sweet and tasted better than the strawberries, raspberries and peaches he had shared with Audra last summer. Audra, his wife, whom he loved so dearly once and after seeing Y/N again could not love again, besides that passing thought, did not stay in his mind, she was so far away.
Y/N was sensitive to every place his lips touched on her, to everywhere his hands wandered over her and Bill Denbrough loved the sincere innocence of it all, it would stay with her until tomorrow morning and the following weeks to come - maybe even months. She felt the bullets ripple straight through her yet did not feel the pain of them and Y/N Y/L/N wanted to cry all at once because she feared that she would only find that in Bill Denbrough.
That afternoon, all of his desires that he carried - unbeknownst- through to adulthood yet that he had only remembered twenty four hours ago had leaped from fiction into a surreal shared moment with the woman whomst he longed for even before he knew it. He had left no part of skin or strand of hair untouched on Y/N Y/L/N and she had kissed him with such tenderness and touched him with so much of a desperation that Bill Denbrough feared his arms wrapped around her were crushing. They stood so close to one another and shared every emotion, thought, subtle notion; they had become the same person in their making of love in the muggy weather that made their bodies stick together.
“I am so much of you as you are of me” Y/N muttered against the crook of Bill’s neck as they laid on the sofa with their bodies naked against one another and arms and legs entangled. They watched the thunderclouds ripen and the lightning strike.
stanley uris aesthetic. like or reblog.
Word count: 156
Pairings: STENBROUGH, BILLVERLY
Stanley watched through tears as Beverly cupped Bill’s face and pressed their lips together.
So fucking stupid…
Beverly ran her fingers through Bill’s hair as he deepened the kiss.
You’re nothing compared to her.
Bill and Stan sat on the former’s bed, the latter looking down at his hands placed upon his lap as the auburn-haired boy explained his kiss with the infamous Beverly Marsh.
“And when she kissed me back- oh, man, Stan! Beverly Marsh actually kissed me!”
I wish I were her…
“-It felt like we were the only the only people alive. Have you ever felt like that, Stan?”
Only when I look into your eyes…
Stan looked up at the ecstatic boy, hurt evident in his soft brown eyes.
Bill’s grin fell as he saw his friend’s expression.
“Are you okay?”
No, you hurt me.
Who am I kidding, though?
Bill Denbrough will never love Stanley Uris.
Wyatt Oleff ♥