#Henry Bowers Mention

[gellertalbus]

honestly i'd pass out

[angelically-crying]

does anyone else think that maybe Henry would be like Cera from land before time if he was a girl? Or better yet, if he had a sister (younger most likely), she’d be just like cera? Just a little thought maybe some bored bowers gang writer would like to hear about

[bella-goths-wife]

How reader could manipulate the bowers gang boys

Again, please enjoy my attempts at being deep writer while being sick and sad

I do not intend to romanticise or encourage any of the following warnings, my writing is solely for entertainment and informational purposes. I do not support or condone any and all abuse and I do not believe in any of the various themes I write about.

Henry bowers:

As we've established in previous posts, Henry craves to be taken care of

His mother was the only person who cared about him until his dad scared her off, and now he has no one

His dad couldn't give less of a shit about him, and while he sees the boys as his brothers, he'd never discuss thoughts and feelings with them because he was their leader and he can't seem weak

But you, you were so gentle and kind to those around you

Sure, you looked cold and sometimes you'd act like an arrogant bitch

But he saw how you acted with Beverly, before he made you his

You knew she struggled, so you'd make her an extra lunch and offer her a shoulder to cry on

Something about watching those interactions made Henry's skin crawl with an ugly jealousy which he mistook for anger and disgust

That's why he was so intent on hurting you the day he and the boys followed you after school, so he could take out his frustrations

But then he and the other boys saw you dancing, and he knew you'd be perfect

The way you could manipulate Henry is by really playing into the caregiver role

Make his lunches, write him little notes on them, offer to trim his hair, cook his dinners, offer to do his laundry and take care of his wounds after fights

Really act like you care about Henry, make him believe that you can be relied on

Make Henry believe that you are the one person in the world who cares about him and you'll be in for a world of surprises

As time goes on Henry will reveal more about himself, in his own gruff and verbally abusive fashion

But there will be a gentleness that's unlocked within him, it's minuscule when looking at it through the societal norms but if you view it as someone who has experienced his abuse for months, the change can be unexpected

If you do something wrong, as long as it's only minor (like burning his food slightly or not responding the first time he speaks), he'll turn a blind eye to it for the first time it happens instead of yelling and hurting you

And if he does decide to 'punish' you, he'll clean up your wounds instead of making you work through it and he'll make sure to avoid body parts that are vital to your ballet dancing

He'll also become more affectionate in his own way

He'll hold you at night in a way that used to be rough and only a precaution in case you tried to do something while he slept, but now his hold is less bruising and held more adoration then before

If you want to manipulate Henry, then the best way to do this is to voice your opinion while he holds you

It's really the only time he'd listen, so you'd have to make sure you do it correctly and you don't overuse it because he would eventually catch on

But if you wanted something to change within the group, your best chance is to mention it during this time

For example, if you didn't want to be around Patrick for too long, all you'd have to say to Henry is "Patrick makes me uncomfortable sometimes when he touches me"

And suddenly, your around Patrick by yourself less and less by Henry's command

Another route you could take is to cause conflict within the group, for example

You could say something like "Patrick's been quite demanding lately, he told me not to make you lunch tomorrow and to make it for him instead"

This will plant seeds of doubt in Henry's mind and will cause problems amongst the boys

The only side effect to this manipulation is a very needy, clingy and possessive Henry who feels the need to have you around 24/7 since you take such good care of him

Patrick Hockstetter:

Patrick is a sociopath, it's very clear to see and if he were born ten years later he would be labelled as dangerous to society

So his manipulation would be extremely hard, but everyone has their blindspots

And Patrick's is that he craves sexual attention and validation

Patrick has been sleeping with girls since he was fifteen, and sometimes he thinks it's the only thing that makes other people seem real to him

He's engaged in sexual relations with you, but never with your consent

And while he enjoys the pleasure and control he gains from the interaction, he knows that he would prefer it if you were an active participant who enjoyed the experience with him

A way you could manipulate Patrick is if you started to act enthusiastic to sleep with him

You'd have to force yourself and you'd have to be a good actress, but if you acted enthusiastically about having sex with Patrick and sharing that part of yourself willingly with him it would definitely lower his guard

As I've mentioned before in previous posts, after having any sexual interactions with you he will be kinder to you for a few weeks afterwards

This means that If you wanted to make it so he was being nicer to you then you could initiate sex with him for your own benefit

This would grant you many rewards such as gifts he stole from the mall, defending you against the other boys when they get too rough and he's even able to get you out of some of the punishments the other boys set out for you

Another route you could take Patrick's manipulation is to withdraw from sex completely

For weeks you'd be enthusiastic and initiating sex with Patrick until he does something that makes you upset

Once he does this, you stop acting happy about having sex with him and you stop participating

You can't outright stop having sex with him unfortunately as he will just force you to

But If you withdraw from sex go from someone who was enthusiastic and excited to someone who just lays there and takes it while you dissociate from the situation, it's gonna give Patrick a case of whiplash

He'll try and enjoy the sex even though your withdraw but he just can't anymore, not when he's experienced you at your fullest

So he'll subconsciously start to gain back your attention

This would be an opportunity to try and gain more out of Patrick

Request things that you'd get smacked for before

Ask for things like alone time, cigarettes, friends and they'll all be granted as long as you just have sex with Patrick with the same passion as before

If you want to cause problems with the group through your manipulation of Patrick, start sleeping with one of the other boys with enthusiasm while denying Patrick and you'll have a fist fight in no time

Victor Criss:

Vic is extremely possessive of you

You are his and he is yours, he has stated this to you many times

This possessiveness has always been encouraged by his silent resentment of Henry and the other boys

All of his nice and pretty things were always taken from him

When he was younger, belch would steal his toys and break them

When he was a pre teen, Henry would steal his lunches and snacks from home

And when he was a teenager, Patrick would steal any girl that vic found pretty before sleeping with her and leaving her broken hearted

Vic held so much resent in for those instances, but they formed dark bruises on his heart from the memories

All you have to do is press down on those bruises and reignite the sting he felt from them

You could act very affectionate with him behind closed doors and act like the two of you are just passionate lovers

Be affectionate with him and make him more vulnerable and susceptible to your manipulative behaviour

Once he's comfortable, reinforce his thoughts of how you are his and his only

Make sure he knows that you believe that you are his as well

This will encourage to him to take your requests more seriously and to even grant the very few he can

It also reassures you that he's less likely to punish you if you act like his perfect little toy

•But if you wanted to go down the route of manipulating the boys against each other, then your best bet is to pit him against Henry

Drop into conversations that you wish you could spend more time with him, but Henry just won’t let you

Describe all the horrible things Henry does to you and exaggerate it before adding “if it was just you and me, you’d never do anything like this to me”

All those feelings of resentment that vic repressed for years will boil over

At first it will start off as small arguments but it will quickly develop

If you continuously use these methods of manipulation on vic for months and then try to provoke Henry into acting cruel to you and punishing you in front of vic, then make vic watch the cruelty being inflicted on you and watch his possessive and protective behaviour bubble to the surface

There would be a bloody fight which would end up with one of them dead, and you better pray that it’s Henry who looses

You know what they say

If you want to kill a snake, remove the head

Belch Huggins:

As I’ve said in my other posts, belch is absolutely desperate for your approval

He’s craved it ever since the first time you granted him a compliment

Even if it was more of an observation of a compliment, to him it felt like a goddess had finally given him a purpose

You may think that’s enough to be able to manipulate belch, but unfortunately you weren’t the first person to figure this out

Henry has always been observant over belch, belch is physically stronger and if he were smarter he could probably overtake Henry as the group leader

So Henry definitely noticed how much belch lit up after you praised or complimented him

And he saw this as something that could be a threat

So he decided to use it against you before you figured out a plan

He told belch that in order to gain your approval, he would have to follow Henry’s instructions no matter how cruel or violent they were

Henry reassured him that even if you insulted belch or yelled at him for following Henry’s instructions, but it was all for your own good

And eventually you’d thank belch for helping you figure out what you wanted

At least that’s what Henry told him

So no matter how guilty belch may feel, Henry has manipulated him so much that he truly does believe the abuse is gonna help you

But one way you could manipulate belch is through similar methods as vic or Henry

Overpower him with your affection and compliments

Make him feel loved and wanted with your words and actions

But only do this obviously in private with him

Only give him your affections and approval subtly

Think about secret lovers affection, like touching pinkies with your hands spread out or his hand on your knee under the table

These actions will make his as giddy as a teenager in love

He truly will believe that you and him are in love

While you give him the affection and approval that he craves, make small requests like

“I really wish I could smoke again, do you think you could give me one of your cigarettes”

Now there is a small chance that he’ll allow it if he’s blissed out on your touch, but if he denies you then immediately stop all the affection that your giving him and push him away

This will cause him to backpedal and give in to your request as long as you continue to touch him

This only works for minor requests though, for major requests you’ll need to scare him

For example, if you wanted some time to spend with Beverly then you’d have to ask him and when he Denies you then simply threaten him with harming yourself or not eating

This will send his protective side into overdrive and you can have this man on his knees begging for forgiveness if you play your cards right

A way to manipulate him against the rest of the group is to prove yourself as the only person who cares about him and loves him before planting the seeds of doubt in his mind

Drop little comments like “Patrick was wrong about you, your not stupid” or “vic says your too violent, but I don’t think that’s true”

He’ll start to second guess his friends and he’ll start to come to you more with his problems

But the best move to make is to make it so after all those months of manipulating belch against the rest of his friends, have him watch as Henry is unnecessarily cruel to you

And then go crying into belchs arms in private and demand to know why he didn’t help you or defend you

Drop in a “I thought you loved me” and you’ll have undone all of Henry’s manipulation in seconds

You could convince belch to take you away from the rest of the boys and to run away with you so you could be together forever

Hopefully you’ll be able to sneak away from belch at some point because he now trusts you

And even if you don’t, being stuck with belch is the lesser of two evils

[ashtheketchum]

Bowers Gang Kissing Y/N

A/N: It's the first time I've written for all four of them and not just Patrick or Henry alone. If I make anything sound strange about Victor or Belch, please forgive me. Warnings: Reader is gender neutral!, mention of smut, public, make out, Patrick being Patrick Summary: How would the members of the Bowers Gang kiss you? Both in public and when you are among yourself? ___________________________________________ Henry:

For him, it often depends on where you kiss. When it's in public, he likes to kiss you passionately, in front of others, to show them that you're his. Sometimes he'll reach under your clothes or rub his knee between your legs. If you want to defend yourself, I'm afraid I have to tell you that he won't care. Most of the time he even goes wilder. But when you're alone, he peppers your face with gentle kisses. In your room, your entire body too. You should then lie completely naked in bed and he kisses every inch of your body that he finds attractive. These include, for example, your hands, your shoulders and your chest. But whether the kisses are gentle or intense depends on his mood. Patrick:

Whether in public or when you're alone, Patrick always puts his all into a kiss. For him it's all or nothing. And by that I mean everything. French kissing is a must with him, just like touching. Sometimes you have dry sex, even in the school hallways. Because the students and teachers are afraid of Patrick, they simply ignore it. Because if someone messes with you, they will automatically mess with Patrick. What else you need to know about Patrick is that he doesn't kiss normally. Aside from a kiss on the head or your hand, he always adds his tongue. When he kisses your neck, he gently licks your skin, when you kiss on the mouth, he pushes his tongue into your mouth. You got used to it after a few weeks. Victor:

Victor doesn't particularly like kissing you in public. But not because he is ashamed, but because he finds the kisses between you so special that he wants to keep them just for the two of you. They are normal, gentle kisses in themselves, but they are special for him. Especially if they are from you. Victor loves to nibble on your bottom lip sometimes just to hear your voice. No matter whether it's a moan or a whimper, it turns him on, a lot. When you make out with each other, he sometimes kisses you more passionately, but with every kiss you can feel that he loves you and he wants to be gentle. He usually tells his friends that he is always very hard on you. Belch:

Belch proudly shows off that he loves you. He hugs you, carries you around, cuddles with you and drives you around in his car. Even with the kisses. In every kiss he gives you, you feel how much he loves you. They are mostly gentle kisses, but he also likes to show intense sides. However, he respects your limits. If you say no, he'll stop immediately and try something else. He's always very careful when he kisses, as if you could break. And he does that in front of the others, he doesn't care that he's called baby. When you have sex he is usually very gentle, but if you tell him that you don't want it to be gentle, he can do something different.

[soulthealien66]

‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨Patrick Headcannons with a ballerina gfৎ ⋅˚₊‧

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀིྀི : 𝓘 'm think I'm super late with this imagine, sorry, divas, I was very busy this month but anyway, let's get to the point

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ 𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼 : NSFW | 18+ | Headcannons | Mentions of D3@d Animals | Sociopathic and Solipsistic Behavior

────࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖𐦍˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔────

𝜗𝜚 You and Patrick met when you arrived at school, ever since Henry realized how smart you were he forced you to do his homework, until you and the Bowers gang started walking around together and your intimacy grew stronger, you never liked their attitudes, you hated it when they smoked, when they drank, when they skipped school, when they vandalized, stole and bullied The kids from The Losers Club, you would never get used to it but even so sometimes you could make them apologize to The Losers Club, but only SOMETIMES ! !

𝜗𝜚One day you and Patrick were alone at Henry's house, he went with Belch and Vic to buy more cigarettes, while you were memorizing the steps in the empty room Patrick watched you on the couch, he he gave grades for your spins and stretches, he wasn't a teacher but he was very demanding, you thought it was funny, until things got hotter between the two of you, you then got caught sleeping in Henry's father's bed upstairs, until then Patrick thought it was going to be a one-time thing, he never hid the fact that he thought you were beautiful but it was just teasing until he then decided to date you the next day, was it fast? It was, it was random, VERY.

𝜗𝜚He and his gang used to watch you from the ballet room window during class, they had a habit of barging into the room to ask stupid things or always making the excuse that they went the wrong way, but Patrick,On that, another normal day with you training, Patrick came without knocking on the door, he came to you and simply said "So, now you're going to date with me, okay? Bye, Y/N" and he left leaving you confused but you couldn't hide that you liked him too so yes, you didn't agree with him at the time but you were considering if you were already his girlfriend

𝜗𝜚You guys never really fought, other than silly arguments when Patrick is usually late to pick her up from ballet school or when you're practicing and Patrick starts rubbing against you, before you didn't care much but now you usually do, he goes to the kitchen and comes back, quickly squeezes your thigh, maybe your chest or hugs you from behind and whispers dirty things in your ear, you even got used to his hypersexual behavior, because sex was the only thing that made him feel something strong, he is super antisocial, if he is not talking with the gang he is talking to you, but you don't try to make him socialize more, because he doesn't want to.

𝜗𝜚Patrick didn't tell you about the fridge, he may be a horrible person, you know that, but really his only fear (besides leeches) is that he'll lose you, Patrick hates metaphors but He always creates the same sentence in his mind "My music box can't break" he thinks as if you are the ballerina in his music box, you need to keep dancing beautifully.for him, it's what keeps him alive, every time he feels like he's done something wrong he feels like the music box is closing, he doesn't want that, that's the most emotional thought he's ever had about someone,but he never intended to tell you about it, too bad, because if he did you would be so happy, it would make you not have to think twice about whether he wants you for your body or for body and soul.

𝜗𝜚Sometimes sex is a boring word for you, you're so used to Patrick opening his pants anywhere, your house, his house, his friends' house ,school bathroom, Patrick once had the craziest idea of all to have sex in his neighbor's car, who left the car open, at least it was quick.

𝜗𝜚Patrick has a fetish for spit, knives, etc. He once asked you if he could put his initial near your pussy, you immediately said no, but Patrick is disgusting, if he doesn't do something He does another, he has a habit of tracing his name or his initial on some part of your body with his tongue, sometimes he spits on your pussy, lubricating it and then licks it deep down, you never really admitted it, but it's hot,Patrick sometimes makes jokes that he'll burn you with the embers of a lighter, strange, because he's never done that, he loves his body, as much as he likes to see the your body hurt and he he doesn't like take care of the injuries,so,he doesn't burn you or cut you.

𝜗𝜚He doesn't like aftercare, most of the time he just cums on your breasts or mouth and in the end he falls on the bed and starts snoring immediately, you don't care much, maybe you don't care because you're also relieved to finally finish, because Patrick can make you cum once, twice, three or even four times, if he's not satisfied he'll do more, he really doesn't care if you're tired In fact, he loves to see your tired face and the torture in your eyes, it's even better that you still cum, every time.

𝜗𝜚When you're in the car he lets you choose the song since he chose another one later, it's funny, you choose songs very different from his taste, literally, Cherry Blossom Ice Tea meme ,you choose songs like Playground Love and he puts Mayhem(LMAO)

𝜗𝜚He has two strange ways of showing that he loves you, first: either he is very clingy, hugs you, kisses you, sleeps with you, second: he chases you, steals your panties, watches you at the ballet, a lot hand anywhere and if any boy smiles at you besides the Bowers gang, he doesn't mind going back home and getting blood on the carpet,You never talked to him about him coming back all bloody, yes, you know he killed some boys but you're afraid of what he might say,at least it doesn't haunt you and it only happened twice, the good part is that it wasn't anyone special, it wasn't The Losers Club, Patrick is still trying to understand why you like them, he He likes to know that he has a girlfriend who is cute and kind to everyone, but he doesn't like to think that she is kind even to "flamers",Patrick once stole some pencils from Richie and then threw trash into his backpack, you immediately pulled him by the arm,made him apologize to Richie ,No matter how much you make him forgive The Losers Club sometimes, he secretly continues to torment them. Patrick doesn't mind being forced to apologize to others, because in the end he does shit again.

𝜗𝜚It took Patrick a while to realize that you were real, in fact, it took him a long time, he didn't care much about the spirituality of knowing if you were real or not, but sometimes he had connections with you then he thought yes, you were real, he would do everything to protect you, if you died, he would go back to being alone, he would hate that, he wanted you alive, you and he would be real, but in the future maybe he will say about this with you, maybe when you're adults.

[angelbowerz]

Bowers gang asking you out/you asking them out

Henry

-if you asked him out...it would be a no, he would be inlove with you and still say no

"Hey Henry"

"What"

"I was just wondering if you wanted to go out some time?"

*gives you a blank stare* "...no"

-he'd wanna say yes but if he said yes to a someone asking him out...his ego would be down a notch

-I mean come on...how DARE you ask the MAN out 🙄

-but a few hours later you're getting books out of your locker and here he comes

"Wanna be my girlfriend or something"

"But I just-"

"I'M ASKING NOW! yes or no"

"Okay sure, I'll be your girlfriend"

"After school we're going to the woods to bang, see ya"

*before you could respond he walks away*

-let's face it..Henry doesn't do dates, he finds them too romantic and cheesy

-you'll obviously hang together but he wouldn't class it as 'dates'...just 'hanging time'

-romantic rating 2/10 😭

Belch

-he would be WAY too scared to ask you out.. poor reggie

-buuut..if you asked him out....

"Hey reggie, I was wondering if-"

"YES"

-you just made him the happiest person alive

-but on the actual day of the date he is PANICKING

-he is so nervous...what If you aren't enjoying it? What if something bad happens?

-what's his solution? TAKE EVERYTHING AND PUT IT IN HIS BACKSEAT

-he has blankets...food..drink...everything

-when he drives to pick you up...omg he is a sweetheart

-waits outside with a bouquet of roses

-treats you like the only person in the world

-drives you to a secluded place and stargazes with you

-the perfect date..literally something out of a movie

-drives you home then calls you later tonight and checks in on you

-romantic rating 100/10!!!!

Patrick

-he wouldn't exactly ask you out but...

-he'll stalk you, wait for the right moment and then just walks alongside you all day

-you won't realise it's a date until he mentions that halfway through

"This date is going great right?"

"Wait wha-"

-he'll walk you home...well follow you home expecting you to invite him inside

-if you don't? That's fine, he'll just climb in while you're sleeping

-he'll either walk through the door or climb through your window

-he'll get in the bed with you...to watch you, not to sleep

-when he notices you start slowly waking up..he'll wait until you look at him then he very slowly turns his head...with the most scary smile you have ever seen

-when you scream..he just laughs...so much

-if you ask him out though...oh god...you're in for a night of torture

"Hey Patrick...I was wondering if you wanted to go out sometime"

*does THAT smile* "oh I would love to..."

-it won't be cute...oh no no no

-he'll take you out to the movies, not to watch a romantic movie

-Patrick will do his research to find the most scary horror movie playing right now

-if you think he's taking you there so you'd cuddle into him....ahahaha aren't you delusional

-he'll laugh his head off when he sees you scared, pure happiness

-if you try covering your face, he'll take his hands, place them on your head and will force you to watch that movie

-After it ends..he'll still scare you in ways (making you jump etc)

-if you're in the right state of mind, you wouldn't go near him again...but if you're THAT crazy over him...goodluck

-romantic rating -10/10

Victor

-if you ask him out infront of the gang, he'd say no just because he wants to act 'cool' in front of the guys

-but when he's alone he'll come upto you and say he actually will go out with you and apologises

-probably had no clue where to take you so you two just end up in a park talking all night

-I feel like he would be very awkward at first but after awhile he'll loosen up and be really cool

-when you two get tired of talking, you'll just end up making out lol

-he'll walk you home of course

-romantic rating 6/10

[maxiscoolongg]

"NEVER FUCKING TOUCH HIM."

—{★}—

PATRICK HOCKSETTER X FEM!LATNIA READER X HENRY BOWERS

WARNINGS: kinda yandere?, I'm not Latina or anything so I will be using Google translate for some stuff!, angry scared reader, swearing, Patrick being patrick, mention of murder?,

Summary: Y/N found a haunted house that she thought would be fun with her two lovers but only to be even more scared then ever

—{}—

You were the complete opposite of the two boys you so very loved for. You, a sweet, caring, loving, beautiful, angelic, person. Was with Henry Bowers and Patrick Hocksetter? It was a weird mix that's for sure, maybe Patrick and Henry weren't, but you + them? Shook the whole school

You are the popular girl, the one who is on the cheer team and everyone is probably jealous of. Your little brother Richie Tozier? He never told you about the bullying he got from Bowers gang, mostly from Henry and Patrick, they practically threatened him and the losers club to shut their mouths and not tell you

Richie, is and still is protective. No kiddin' though, he's been through alot still being a 13 year old? This kid is tough. You looked up to him even though he was younger, he was your little brother and still very much you loved him. If you found out what's been happening to him and his little club? You would kill the bullies yourself!

—{★}—

You were looking at your mirror in your locker fixing every detail possible, the boys who stood behind you leaning on the other lockers were confused, you were perfect! How could you possibly need to fix anything? Any detail they thought it was beautiful. It never made sense to them.

You smiled looking at yourself happily as you turned around closing your locker and locking it before looking up at the two boys with a smile. "Okay, so I was thinking-" you said before getting cut off immediately "No." Henry said as you frowned as you three walked "I didn't even finsh the damn sentence!" You said with a slight pout as he smiled a bit "anyway! I was thinking of going to a haunted house this week! You know? It'll be fun" you said shrugging with a now smile bright as ever, not noticing the grin that perked on Patrick's face as he looked at Henry with a 'Please' type of look.

Henry could easily say 'No, that's to childish' but, both if them could see the way you would look scared. It would practically send them off a rampage of.. well, you know. So they both agreed in their own way "Sure, but you owe us, dollface" patrick said as he put his arm around your shoulder you made a confused face but shook that off.

—{★}—

To say this was what they expected was completely right. They saw the way your eyes flashed in anger and sacredness as a clown jump scare popped up normally screaming; Santo hijo de puta. They both saw it and it to say the least turned them on in a way,

Seeing you scared and clinging on Patrick's arm? Fucking hell he would go crazy, definitely grinning from ear to ear. Not in a sweat way btw. Hug Henry on accident? He will absolutely smirk a little as he would mock you a bit

Your fear of (__) would fucking go crazy if it was in there, your scared of clowns? Watch your back bb, there's gonna scare the living shit outta you

—{★}—

"Santo hijo de puta!" You yelled in fear as you jumped a bit from the jumpscare infront of you as you turned a corner them following you "What? You scared" patrick asked as I frowned "Take a guess" you said as patrick put his arms around your waist "It ain't that scary just a little jumpscare!" He said as you sighed

—{★}—

—{I HOPE THIS WAS GOOD}—{MY FRIEND REQUESTED THIS SO I HOPE YOU LIKE IT POOKS<3}{wattpad: tatesslvtxo}

[nemo-writes]

𝚒𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚜 ; 𝚘𝚗𝚎 - 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

➝ steve harrington + eddie munson x loser-club!reader

➝ synopsis; leaving derry behind, you set out to the sunny promise of california. but when your bike breaks down, you’re forced to make an unexpected stop in the enigmatic town of hawkins.

⚠️ warnings; none

➝ series masterlist, moodboard

➝ next chapter

Sunday, January 26, 1986, Derry, Maine

The sun filtered through the towering trees as you pulled yourself up the final ledge of the cliff. Your muscles burned with exertion, clearly unused to the effort. Tight-fitting jeans and the constant chain-smoking were doing you no favours either, weighing heavily on your lungs.

Standing still for a moment, you caught your breath and surveyed the landscape. A rush of familiarity swept over you. The forest was thick and vast, just as you remembered it. You had spent countless hours exploring this place as a child—it was your sanctuary, your playground, your refuge from the world.

You made your way to the nearby quarry, settling down by the edge with a grunt. Reaching into your jacket, you pulled out your crumpled pack of cigarettes, plucking one out with your front teeth and lighting it with your busted but trusty lighter. Taking a long drag, you let the smoke swirl in your mouth before exhaling slowly through your nostrils. You rubbed your thumb over the carved initials, B.M., etched into the lighter as your gaze shifted to the shimmering water below. The surface rippled slightly under the touch of the breeze.

From the corner of your eye, you spotted movement—a familiar figure emerging from the thick foliage. Mike. The confusion on his face melted into a smile the second he saw you.

“Sorry, I took a wrong left and wandered for a while. It’s been ages since I was up here,” he apologised, making his way over. You waved him off, already settled in. Knees knocking against yours, he eyed the cigarette between your fingers with a raised eyebrow. “Didn’t you quit?”

You shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “I’m working on it. The move’s got me on edge.”

He let it slide, leaning back on his hands as he asked, “So, how’s the packing going? That new motorcycle of yours ready for the highway yet?”

“Yeah, everything’s good to go,” you replied, taking another drag. “Even managed to get a decent deal on the apartment.”

“For real?”

You weren't offended by his incredulity. The apartment was a total dump. You were glad to be rid of it, especially after your grandmother’s passing a year ago. Her death had been a moment of clarity—a breaking point.

That’s when you had properly decided to leave Derry for good.

The money you got from selling the apartment helped pay for her funeral and cleared her debts. You then put some toward a motorcycle and the licence to go with it—the rest, you saved up. 

As you exhaled the smoke away from Mike, mindful of his discomfort, you mentioned casually, “Mr. Keene’s taking the place for Greta. You know...”

You made a rounded motion over your belly with your free hand. Mike’s eyes widened.

“She’s pregnant?!”

His shock slowly faded into a thoughtful frown. “Wait, that explains why I haven’t seen her around. She wasn’t even at graduation...”

“Turns out it’s Pete’s,” you said, tapping the ashes from your cigarette.

“Pete? Sticky Fingers Pete?” Mike’s mouth dropped open in scandalised surprise. “No way!”

Pete Brown was the resident bully ever since Henry Bowers had been locked up. His nickname came from his nasty habit of unabashedly sticking his fingers into people’s stuff. He’d openly stolen from you and your friend’s, sometimes with a fist raised high above his shoulder, others without you even noticing until hours later.

You and Mike exchanged a long look before breaking into laughter. You choked on the smoke halfway through, and he patted your back, grinning.

“You good?” he asked.

You gave him a thumbs-up, eyes watering. “All good.”

When the laughter died down, Mike asked a little more seriously, “So, where are you headed to?”

“California,” you hummed, but your voice wavered slightly.

“California, huh?” Mike echoed, catching your hesitation. “You don’t sound too sure.”

You rubbed the back of your neck, not quite ready to share your real reasons for aiming west. It felt a little silly, honestly. “It’s a long ride. Who knows what’ll happen along the way?”

The sun hung lower in the sky now, casting long shadows across the jagged edges of the quarry. The air was thick with the lingering warmth of the day, and the only sounds were the rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of crickets.

“They’re not coming, are they?” you asked, breaking the quiet.

Mike looked startled for a second, fumbling for an excuse. “They’re busy with stuff and—”

“Don’t make excuses for them,” you cut him off, disappointment creeping into your voice. “You’re here, and you’re just as busy.”

A heavy silence followed. Deep down, you had expected this. It had been years since the Losers had biked together or even hung out like they used to. Conversations had grown shorter, turning into awkward nods in the school hallways. Still, knowing it didn’t make it hurt any less.

Mike sighed, his shoulders slumping. “You’re right. Life gets in the way, and it’s hard to blame them... but it sucks.”

But you did blame them. Even more now, seeing Mike’s disappointment. You fought the urge to light another cigarette and scooted closer to him instead.

“I get it,” you said softly. “I’m the one who’s upset, not you.”

He fiddled with the paper bag he’d brought, then held it out to you with a hesitant smile. “They wanted me to give you this.”

You stared at the bag, tempted to refuse it out of pride. But Mike’s puppy-dog look made you relent. With an exaggerated sigh, you took the bag, feigning annoyance.

Inside you found a fistful of the granola snacks you liked, a new sketchbook, a box of those fancy-pencils you had been eyeing for months, a neatly packed medical kit, a small wooden turtle charm on a braided leather strap, and lastly, a pack of cigarettes with two missing. You snorted at the last oneㅡthe tightness in your chest loosening. 

Mike pointed at the turtle. “That little guy’s from me. It’s not much, but...”

You shot him a mock glare, silencing him. Pulling out your motorcycle keys, you looped the leather strap through the keychain. “I’m naming it Mikey.”

He snorted, bumping his shoulder against yours. “Alright, Mikey it is.”

Standing up, he offered you a hand. The nearly identical scars on your palms brushed as you clasped hands, a silent reminder of your shared past.

“Don’t forget,” Mike whispered, his voice tight with emotion.

You held his gaze for a long moment, then nodded. “I won’t.”

You stood there for a moment longer, your hand still gripping Mike’s. The familiar warmth of his palm anchored you to this place, to this moment. A part of you wanted to freeze it��hold onto the feeling of belonging, of not yet having to say goodbye. But you knew better.

Some things weren’t meant to last.

With one final squeeze, you let go and shoved your hands into your jacket pockets, feeling the cool metal of your motorcycle keys clink against the lighter inside. Mike gave you a soft smile, a wordless goodbye, and together, you headed back down the trail.

.

.

.

Thursday, February 20 1986, Outskirts of Hawkins, Indiana

As the sun dipped behind the horizon, casting long shadows over the empty highway, you felt a chill seep into your bones. The open road, while freeing, was unforgiving, especially when the weather turned. Your motorcycle, faithful through rain and snow, had become both your escape and your burden. 

The journey so far had been long—longer than you'd anticipated—but that was by choice. You weren't rushing, and in some ways, you couldn't afford to.

From Maine to Indiana, your route had been an intricate web of backroads, motels, and the occasional kind stranger offering directions or a hot meal. However, you had learned quickly that being a young woman travelling alone required a constant balance between caution and determination. Every rest stop was carefully chosen, each small-town diner scoped out before you dared to settle in a booth. You’d developed a knack for reading people, for sensing when a conversation could be friendly and when it was best to keep your head down and move on.

Your new sketchbook and fancy pencils had quickly become your companion on those quiet nights in cheap motels or campgrounds. The sketchbooks cover was scuffed now, a little worse for wear from the miles it had travelled with you, but its pages were filled with glimpses of your journey: the snow-dusted peaks of the Appalachians, a rundown gas station lit by a single flickering bulb, even the faces of strangers who left an impression. Each smooth stroke of your pencil was a way to hold onto fleeting moments, a reminder that though you were always moving, you were still here, still tethered to something tangible.

Pulling into a nearby rest stop, you parked in front of the mechanic's shop. The sign, weather-beaten and faded, swung gently in the frigid breeze. The shop’s exterior was old but well-kept, with faint traces of oil and rubber clinging to the air. Stepping off the bike, you stretched out, hissing at the stiffness in your legs and back from the relentless hours on the road. You guided your bike inside the shop, the engine’s growl fading into a low rumble.

The interior of the shop was warmer, the hum of the radio filling the space. Walls lined with tools, parts, and mechanical odds and ends in various states of use gave the place a sense of organised chaos. Taking your helmet off, you spotted a tall, middle-aged black man in greasy coveralls sitting on a nearby workbench. He wiped his hands on a rag, his gaze appraising but not unkind.

“Yeah?” he greeted, his voice gruff. “What do you need?”

“My bike needs a look,” you replied, your voice raspy from days of disuse. “It’s been running rough the last few miles.”

“Uh-huh,” he muttered, nodding curtly. “Pull it into the bay, and I’ll take a look.”

You nodded in thanks, rolling the bike into the service bay. The man, who soon introduced himself as Sam, pulled on a pair of gloves as he walked over, eyeing your bike.

“You look like you’ve been on the road for a while,” he remarked, his tone a weird mix of curiosity and indifference as he glanced at the frost still clinging to your jacket and the dirt caked on your motorcycle.

“Yeah, been riding for almost a month,” you replied, offering a small, tight-lipped smile.

Sam grunted in acknowledgment, crouching down to inspect the engine. His hands moved carefully, precise in their movements, as he fiddled with various parts of your bike. You watched him work silently, admiring the way his hands seemed to know exactly what to do, even if his demeanour remained brusque.

After a while, he spoke again without looking up. “What’s a young lady like you doing out here alone? Shouldn’t you be in school or something?”

The question came out of casual curiosity, and you knew it wasn’t meant to be intrusive. You shifted slightly, uncomfortable but not thrown off.

“I graduated last year,” you replied flatly. “I’m not one for sticking around.”

Sam grunted again, a sound that could’ve been understanding or dismissal, but he didn’t press further.

He continued his work, and you let your gaze wander around the shop. Eventually, you took a seat on a nearby bench and pulled out your sketchbook, this place would make some good practice. You flipped through the pages, absentmindedly sketching the lines of the mechanic’s shop, the bike, the worn tools scattered around. It felt good to focus on something else, even just for a moment.

After a long while, Sam stood up, wiping the grease off his hands. He rubbed his chin with a frown, giving you a quick look. “Well, looks like your spark plug’s shot, and your ignition coil’s about to go too. I can fix it, but the parts are gonna take a bit of time to get. Won’t be cheap either.”

His words made your heart drop deep into your stomach. “How long?” you asked, trying to keep the urgency out of your voice.

He sighed, scratching his forehead with his thumb. “Could take a couple weeks, maybe more. Depends on how soon I can get the parts. This isn’t exactly a prime location for quick deliveries.”

Your heart sank, knowing full well that being stranded in the middle of nowhere wasn’t part of the plan. “And how much is it going to cost?”

Sam crossed his arms. “Well, like I said, parts aren’t cheap. But...” He eyed your worn-down bike, then glanced at you. “I can work something out. You any good at keeping promises?”

You raised an eyebrow, unsure where this was going. “Depends on the promise.”

He grunted in amusement. “My ex-wife runs the bar over in town—The Hideout. She’s always lookin’ for help. You take a job there while I work on your bike, and we’ll figure out the bill in instalments.”

You hesitated. Working in a bar wasn’t exactly in your plans, but then again, you didn’t have many options. “And what’s she like?”

Sam’s lips twitched into what could’ve been a smile. “Don’t slack off, and you’ll be fine.”

You crossed your arms. “.....I’ll think about it.”

He gave a short nod, as if that was enough of an answer. “You’re gonna be in town for a while anyway.”

As he turned back to the bike, Sam’s gaze flicked down to the sketchbook on your lap. “What you got there?”

You shrugged, not bothering to hide the sketch you were working on. “Just passing time.”

He peered over, eyeing the drawing. “Not bad,” he admitted. “You got some talent.”

You felt a flicker of pride but didn’t show it. “It’s just a hobby.”

Sam gave you a look. “That right? How about you give me a sketch as a show of good faith? Consider it an advance for the first round of work I’ll do on your bike.”

You blinked in surprise. “You serious?”

He nodded, leaning back against the workbench. “Deal’s a deal. You give me that sketch, I get started on the bike. Fair enough?”

You nodded, appreciating the unorthodox offer. Tearing a page from the sketchpad, you handed it over. “Deal.”

Sam inspected the drawing and gave a small nod of approval before carefully folding it and tucking it into his coveralls.

As the minutes passed, the sound of Sam working on your bike faded into the background, replaced by the steady scratching of your pencil against paper as you started another sketch. Sam glanced over from time to time, his expression unreadable, watching you work in silence. There was something calming about the way he moved around the shop, the quiet efficiency of someone who had spent years mastering their craft. 

For a moment, neither of you spoke, a rare shared silence settling between you.

Suddenly, the door to the shop swung open, the peace you and Sam had shared dissolved instantly. The figure that strolled in brought with him the distinct smell of cigarettes and an air of bad intentions. 

"Hey, boss," he called out, far too casually as he sauntered over. He didn’t even try to hide the fact that his eyes lingered on you for a moment too long. His smirk was cocky, almost predatory, and you could feel his presence encroaching on your space without even looking up.

Sam didn’t react immediately, just sighed, his shoulders sagging a little. The dismay on his face was clear as day. He didn’t want this guy around either.

"Jesse," Sam finally said, his voice filled with reluctant resignation. "Drive her over to The Hideout, will ya?"

Jesse’s grin widened as his eyes flicked over to you. He was white, tall, and lanky, with a shaved head that only emphasised his sharp, almost fox-like features. His murky blue eyes gleamed with mischief, scanning you with a kind of lazy curiosity. Unlike Sam, whose work-overalls were always neatly kept despite the grease and grime of his trade, Jesse’s version was a sloppier affair—stained, wrinkled, and barely buttoned properly. 

“Well, well, well…”

Your gaze met his coldly, shutting him down before he could try anything. "Not interested," you said sharply, leaving no room for debate.

Jesse raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. No need to bite."

Sam shot him a warning look, voice firm. "Cut the crap. Just take her to the bar and do something useful for once."

Jesse shrugged, clearly unfazed by Sam’s scolding. "Sure, boss. Whatever you say." He motioned for you to follow him. You stood up, giving Sam a nod of thanks. He returned it with a quiet grunt, his expression still disapproving as Jesse walked ahead of you.

"Good luck," Sam muttered under his breath, almost too low for you to hear, as you grabbed your things and followed Jesse out to the truck.

The air inside Jesse's truck was thick with the stench of cigarettes and cheap cologne. He shot you a sideways grin as you settled into the passenger seat, clearly enjoying himself despite your earlier brush-off. Without a word, he started the engine, and soon you were rumbling down the high-way and into the city.

"So, what brings a girl like you out here to a place like this?" Jesse asked, tone dripping with sleaze. "Don’t see many like you passing through."

You kept your gaze on the road, the passing scenery of small houses and barren fields a welcome distraction from his presence. "Just because," you replied flatly, signalling that you weren’t interested in making small talk—or any talk for that matter.

He didn’t seem to care. "Yeah? Well, Hawkins isn’t much of an escape. This place is a hell-hole if you ask me."

You didn’t respond, eyes still fixed on the landscape outside. But Jesse, apparently not one to take a hint, kept going.

"Strange stuff happens here," he added, his voice lowering as though sharing some secret. "Murders, disappearances, all sorts of weird shit. Cops don’t do anything about it either. Makes you wonder if the place ain’t cursed or something."

You shrugged, unimpressed. "Sounds like every other small town."

Jesse shot you a sidelong glance, but you didn’t bother to look at him. "You’ll see. Stick around long enough, and you’ll feel it too. This place… it’s not right."

The conversation died again, but Jesse wasn’t done being a nuisance. "Anyway," he tried, voice oozing with false charm. "If you ever need someone to show you around town, I’m your guy. There’s plenty of spots I could take you. Keep you entertained."

This time, you turned to him, unflinching. "I told you, I’m not interested."

His grin faltered slightly, but he quickly recovered, forcing a laugh that sounded weak. "Cold as ice, huh? Suit yourself."

After that, Jesse finally shut up. The rest of the drive passed in tense silence, and you relished it. Hawkins didn’t look like much as you drove through its streets—just another tired, forgotten town. Nothing about it screamed cursed to you, just a place stuck in its own slow decay.

Eventually, he pulled up in front of The Hideout, the bar looking as rundown as you expected. Neon lights flickered weakly in the windows, and the paint on the sign was chipped and fading.

"There you go," Jesse said, cutting the engine with a sharp twist of his wrist. "The Hideout."

You muttered  small thanks as you stepped out of the truck, the gravel crunching under your boots. His eyes lingered on you, leaning against the steering wheel with that same lazy grin, clearly waiting for some other type of thanks. When you didn’t offer him anything else, his grin twisted into something uglier.

He scoffed, his voice dropping into a mutter as he spat out, "Stuck up bitch."

You didn’t turn around and with a flick of your wrist, raised your hand and gave him a firm, unapologetic middle finger before walking away. Behind you, you heard Jesse curse again under his breath as his truck roared back to life. He peeled off, the tires kicking up gravel as he sped away, the sound of his engine fading into the distance.

The door to The Hideout creaked loudly as you pushed it open, stepping into the dimly lit space. The smell of stale beer hit you immediately, and the low hum of voices filled the air, mingling with the muted sound of rock music coming from the jukebox in the corner.

A few heads turned your way as you walked in, but no one gave you more than a second glance. You headed straight for the bar, your boots scuffing against the worn wooden floor. The place was exactly what you’d expected—rough around the edges but not without its charm.

Behind the bar stood a middle-aged woman with sharp eyes and dark hair pulled into a messy ponytail. She glanced up as you approached, sizing you up with a quick, practised look.

"Can I help you?" she asked, her tone curt but not unfriendly.

You nodded. "Sam sent me. Said you might have a job for me?"

Her eyes narrowed briefly in recognition, then she tossed the rag she’d been using to wipe down the counter over her shoulder. "Ah, motorcycle girl, huh?" Her lips twitched up into a small grin. "Sam called. Figured you’d swing by sooner or later."

The woman set her hands on her hips, giving you another appraising look. “Name’s Bev. And you are?”

You gave her your name, watching as her sharp features softened ever so slightly. She didn’t seem like the type for small talk, but something about her made you feel like you were in the right place.

“I like your name,” you said, surprising yourself with the admission. 

Bev raised an eyebrow, but then her face split into a wide, genuine grin. She let out a loud, hearty laugh that seemed to fill the entire bar, turning a few heads.

“Oh, honey, a pretty girl like you saying something sweet like that? You’re gonna light this place up,” she said, still chuckling. “Now, let’s get down to business. You want the job?”

You hesitated for a split second, thinking back to Sam and your earlier reluctance. But something about Bev—her straightforwardness, her no-nonsense attitude—won you over. The hesitation melted away, replaced by a simple, instinctive decision.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice steady. “I’ll take it.”

Bev nodded approvingly, wiping her hands on her apron. “Good. Now, here’s the deal. It ain’t glamorous. You’ll be workin’ the night shifts—cleaning tables, serving drinks, dealin’ with the usual crowd. Pay’s shit, but the hours ain’t too bad, and you’ll get tips. Think you can handle that?”

“Sounds fine to me,” you said, already feeling more at ease.

“And Sam already talked to me about your situation,” Bev continued, her tone softening just a little. “If you want, I can send half your pay to him directly. Save you some hassle.”

You blinked, surprised. “You’d do that?”

Bev shrugged like it was nothing. “Sure. But that’s not all. I got a little extra for you, if you’re up for it.”

She leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice like she was about to share a secret. “I own a trailer over at Forest Hills Trailer Park. It ain’t much—kind of a dump, honestly—but it’s got running water and electricity. You can stay there while you’re working here, no rent. What do you say?”

It wasn’t much, but after days on the road and no solid plan for where to sleep, it was more than you expected. The relief hit you hard, but you kept your expression controlled, only a small nod revealing how grateful you felt.

“I’ll take it,” you said, meeting her gaze with sincerity.

Bev’s grin widened again. “Good. You start right now, and we’ll get you set up at the trailer tonight. It ain’t a palace, but it’s yours as long as you need it.” She paused, giving you a wink.

“Welcome to Hawkins, kid.”

divider credit

[princess-glassred]

Imagine if the losers were all chilling at Richie's house, cracking jokes about how much they hate how Henry's dad is a drunk when Maggie decides to drop some fucking CRAZY mom lore on them by just casually mentioning "Oh, Butch? We dated in high school for a bit." And everyone loses their fucking minds.

"WHAT!?" "Yeah, we were pretty serious too, but then I met Went and I dumped Butch for him. I guess I dodged a bullet there!". Richie is totally shaken by this because this means, had Maggie not met wentworth, Richie could have been Richie Bowers. BUTCH COULD HAVE BEEN HIS DAD. CONNOR COULD HAVE BEEN HIS COUSIN. HENRY COULD HAVE BEEN HIS BROTHER. He's actually gonna throw up over this, he's disgusted. And the losers will not stop making fun of him for it.

Richie and Henry are arguing at school and Bev and Stan snicker about the "sibling rivalry". They ask Richie if his "real dad" packed his lunch for him. Ben jokes that he should get a mullet cause it'd suit him. They will not give my mans a break.

It all comes to a head with Butch busts the losers for trespassing in a codemned building and just as they're leaving Richie accidentally calls him Dad. All the losers are just trying so hard to hold in their laughter while Butch looks at Richie so fuckin confused and Richie wants to actually shrivel on himself. It does not help that Butch is the kind of old fashioned dude who calls every young man "son" for no reason.

[supernatural-bias]

𝐆𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐔𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐃𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐃𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟖𝟎'𝐬 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ warnings: mention of one slur, (that is reclaimable don't come for me twitter), homophobia, death, etc

↳ song: american pie—don mclean

masterlist!

• Compared to the old giants that were London and Rome, Derry was an infant in terms of age

• But it didn't feel that way. The whole town had this sort of tint to it, like the stain of coffee on white paper—or the quality of an old polaroid that had been stuffed away and forgotten

• You had lived there most of your life. Gone to Derry Elementary, Derry Middle, would go on to attend Derry High, and would probably travel on to the closest college you could find to the area—unless something drastically changed that, of course

• It was almost like the whole place had a grip on its residents. And it wasn't like the comforting grip of your mother's hand as she led you through the grocery store. It was a harsher one. A cold and clamy grip, holding you tightly in place until you rotted away working a minimum wage job with no future in sight

• So thank god you had stumbled across the losers in your last year of middle school and changed just about everything

• It had been the last week of school when you had stupidly picked a fight with the biggest knothead in school and his gang of pimple faced idiots, figuring that if you were going to die anyway, might as well do it young

• Your school books had gone sprawling across the freshly waxed school hallway one fateful afternoon in May, the disaster courtesy of Derrys biggest doucuebag Henry Bowers

• In fact, you had told him he was such a thing to his face, which would be the reason you were currently being subjected to the pleasure of watching as Henry and his goons ripped up all of your school papers in front of everyone

• Math homework, eat your heart out

• You didn't, however, expect a stuttering voice to speak up from your left not long after watching the science paper you had worked so hard on get ripped to shreds

• "Guh-guh-guh-get fu-fucked Bowers!" A lanky kid spat out from your left, drawing most people's attention over to his blazing brown eyes instead of Henry's ugly mud colored ones

• You recognized your knight in shining armor, so to speak, as the infamous stuttering Bill Denbrough. He wasn't an unfamiliar face to you—in fact, you were pretty sure the two of you had homeroom together. But until that moment you'd never given him a second thought beyond asking to borrow a pencil

• Bill wasn't alone, either. Three more kids stood idly behind him, each one looking more anxious than the last. You'd later learn all their names to be Stan, Eddie, and Richie "Trashmouth" Tozier—the man of a hundered voices as he'd introduce himself. But right then, they were just more people to add to this already overcrowded shitshow

• "Muh-my buh-buh-bad Billy." Henry mocked Bill's stutter poorly, crossing his eyes crudely while he did it. "Duh-did I mess with one of yuh-your fag fruh-fruh-fruh-friends?"

• The shrill chorus of giggles that his friends let out at his words were like nails on a chalkboard to you

• "Takes one to know one." Richie had mummbled under his breath sourly, pushing the thick glasses he wore up his nose anxiously. The only people who heard him couldn't help but break up into a fit of sudden giggles—who of which just so happened to be you and Bill

• Both of you were found sporting black eyes the next day

• Ever since that odd school day, you had found yourself spending more and more time with each of them

• Riding bikes with Bill in his street as you got left in the dust by him and Silver, listening as Eddie rambled on nervously about all of the weird sicknesses he had gotten, furiously smashing buttons on arcade games in an attempt to beat Richie at least once, helping Stan organize all of his comics by color and alphabetical order—all became a part of your summer routine

• You quickly became a part of the losers club. Another peice to the odd puzzle you all made together. And you'd be lying if you didn't say it felt damn good

• It was only after Ben and the others showed up that things began to get both better and worse

• For starters, you had begun to see red balloons and dead kids everywhere—a detail that would later become a much bigger issue

• But you also found yourself making three entire new friends, which including Stan, Eddie, Richie and Bill, was the most you'd ever had

• Hot summer evenings down in the barrens and, eventually, the clubhouse now had a new sense of comradery to it

• You enjoyed talking with Beverly about certain book series the both of you kept up with and what songs she could play on the piano. Asking Mike about all the adventures he had gone on after hard days of farm work became a highlight of your Saturdays. Pouring over books in the library with Ben quickly became one of your favorite activities, the two of you sharing recommendations with each other. Even the librarian eventually got old of the two of you whispering excitedly to each other about story lines and character development

• Occasionally Bill or Richie would bring another kid down to the barrens to play with. It would be fun, but you all were thinking the same thing throught it all—that they were not a part of the club. That title was reserved for only the eight of you. And it would stay that way

• Together, all of you would eventually have to beat a common enemy together, sacrificing parts of yourself with it. But for now, you were content to watch as sticky syrup from popsicle sticks dripped down into your hands while you all walked to the movies, laughing about god knows what, feeling like nothing else in the world mattered but each other

[angelically-crying]

I had an idea about Henry bowers in the future.

does anyone else remember the second to last episode of Bojack Horseman, season 6? If not, SPOILERS AHEAD FOR SHOW

Anyways, So you got or will or would see the whole thing where Bojack is at a house with all his friends and colleagues that die in his life, I.e Sarah Lynn, Herb, Secretariat as his dad, Beatrice, Crackerjack, you get it, so what if;

Henry at his last moments had that same scene but with like the gang, his dad, and maybe the woman in TV (when he killed his dad) as in place for his mom, maybe some other people like Georgie or smth. Like he just sits down, and they’re all acting all fluidly and stuff and he’s just like “where the hell am I?”

and during the show scenes, he’ll go into a cursing frenzy of a fit and all panicky at the realization that he’s dying

I finished the show, loved it. Also, I just had that idea in my head during the episode and liked it.

[bella-goths-wife]

What is the nicest thing the Bowers gang has done to ballerina reader?

The nicest things yandere bowers gang have done for ballerina reader

Warnings: physical abuse, mental abuse, verbal abuse, manipulation, violence, sexual abuse, mental illness (unspecified), stick and poke tattooing, pregnancy mentions, self harm, eating disorders

I do not In any way intend to glamourise or romanticise any of the themes mentioned. I write about them purely for entertainment and educational purposes. Please do not see these actions as normalised and seek to replicate the actions or relationships

Henry:

Henry does care about you, in his own sick and twisted way

But he does care about you and in his own way he does love you

He lets it show in the rarest of ways, and only on special occasions

And while he’s an abusive and selfish bastard, he’s also observant to a T

He notices small things about you that he’d never repeat to anyone that he noticed

He notices what your favourite flavour of something is or what your favourite song is when he looks in your eyes and notices them dilate

He may be the one who knows you the most because of how insnared he is in your life

And he will always notice when something is wrong with you, except from the usual reasons

You’re spending longer hours at the ballet studio, even when he warns you and punished you multiple times for it

But you even offered for them to come with you to the ballet studio and watch you if that’s they needed to do

You allowed them into your sanctuary, something you had fought against so vehemently before

You claimed that you had to keep going, that you had to be perfect

Henry assumed that you’d just gone into one of your moods, so he humoured you and spent time in the ballet studio with you instead of forcing you home

He watched as you forced yourself through dances, he watched you sweat and pant and work through your part so aggressively that you were coming off as more of a mad queen then a graceful swan

He watched in curiosity as your feet bled, your legs twisted, your back contorted and your bones creaked like an old cellar door

Blood leaked out of your ballet shoes and caused droplets to gather on the floor beneath you as you pirouetted through the pain

Henry decided it was time to call it quits when he called to you but you ignored him, something you never did as you continue to dance even after he turned off the music

Henry called again and again before walking towards you and grabbing your arms firmly but you fought back desperately, surprising Henry with the wild look in your eyes

Your usually dead eyes and crushed spirit were alive but not in a way that signified life but in a way that showed forced reincarnation

Henry shook you and demanded you to stop but you just screamed and cried that you couldn’t

You hysterically ranted that you had to be perfect, you had to be better than everyone, you had to be the best

You cried over how a girl who had recently moved to Derry had outshined you in your classes, it didn’t matter in your head that she was years older than you, you had always been the best and you can’t be replaced

Ballet was the only thing you had control over, the only thing you held power in by being the best there is, the only escape from the torment of the bowers gang and their cruel antics

And someone had taken over your sanctuary

Henry, confused on how to comfort you, just held you until you had cried yourself into exhaustion

He took you to your home and cared for the wounds on your body as you laid there half asleep, just like you had done for him so many times

He left you to sleep as he thought about what to do next

He couldn’t have you continuing on this path, you’d self destruct before he’d even have a chance for his plans of marrying you and popping out kids

He couldn’t have a mad woman for a wife, he needed his pretty little ballerina back to dance when he turned the music box key

He stalked the girl you had talked about for a few days before finding a good opportunity

He decided it was time to call the other boys, knowing he’d need their help

He ambushed her dressed in a black Halloween mask before tying her to a tree

He grabbed a sledgehammer from belch’s care and brought it down harshly on the girls ankles and knees, ensuring she’d never dance again

He left the girl tied up and he and the bowers gang decided that whatever happens to the girl happens, none of them would lose sleep over it

That night he crawled into your bed with your asleep figure, moving your head to lay on his chest as he caressed your face with a gentleness that was foreign to him

He decided he wouldn’t tell you when he noticed how your spirit had improved since the girl had stopped dancing, knowing the information would only make you believe in silly notions of guilt

And he didn’t want you to get the wrong idea, he did it for himself and not for you

That’s what he told himself anyway

Vic criss:

Vic had punished you pretty badly one time, he had given you burns up your thigh that had sent you to the doctor for pain killers

This small ‘hiccup’ has made it so you couldn’t dance for two weeks, a prospect that made you sob in the hospital bed and refuse to eat for two days

And that’s when vic noticed that he had unfairly punished, he assumed you had snuck out alone but Patrick later revealed that he had taken you out for the night

That realisation had filled vic with an unfamiliar sense of guilt and remorse as he looked at your sunken in features and the bandages around your thigh

He volunteered to be the one to take care of you after the doctor visit, knowing being on the pain medication would leave you out of it most of the time

He helped you bathe, forced you to eat and drink, helped you change bandages and entertained you with a unique gentleness you hadn’t felt in a while

But even that didn’t stop the constant worried looks you’d give him, wouldn’t stop the fear that you held for him

He wasn’t used to being the most feared, that spot usually reserved for Henry or Patrick, he was used to being one of the ‘better’ ones who you’d reach to to avoid spending time with the ‘worse’ ones

He begged your drugged up state for forgiveness and the state had made you honest as you spewed venom about him never feeling the pain he inflicted on you

That gave victor an idea

He sat you down in your medicated state down beside him one day and showed you his tools

He had confided in you that he had a fear of needles ever since he was a child, but that he wanted to repay you for the pain he caused

He wanted you to stick and poke a tattoo of your choosing onto his shoulder, and he would sit still, endure the pain and never tell the others who had done it to ensure you never received a punishment

Your drugged up mind didn’t even hesitate at a chance to hurt your abuser, picking up the tools you needed

Five long hours victor sat still as a statue and endured his fear and pain while you worked on his shoulder before you finally finished

You had passed out pretty much instantly as you laid back on the couch and victor didn’t have time to look at his newest tattoo before shoving his shirt on and helping you to bed

Part of him even secretly hoped it would become infected so he could show you how much pain he’d endure for your forgiveness

Once you were in bed, victor removed his shirt and readied himself for whatever was on his body forever

He expected something crude or something humiliation but to his surprise he found when he lifted his shirt, a small swan

A darkened thought entered his mind at the sight of it

You had marked him just like he’d marked you

The dark part of Victor liked that

Patrick hockstetter:

Patrick loved your body

Well, loved is a loose term when it comes to a psychopath

A more suitable description would be that your body sexually satisfied Patrick greatly

You had the perfect figure in Patrick’s eyes

And when that figure started changing, it upset Patrick greatly

One of the workers at the ballet studio had made a few crude comments on your figure, and that had sent you into a frenzy

It was a pattern you had followed since you were small, someone makes a comment and your do anything in your power to make it untrue

Someone claims your too big, you’ll do anything to show them your not

Your methods however were extreme to a worrying extent

You wouldn’t eat for days and when you did youd throw it all up or use laxatives to make sure you couldn’t gain anything from it

It had caused extreme changes to your body, your once healthy figure had become malnourished

A change that Patrick did not like, finding you much less attractive

As I’ve stated multiple times, Patrick’s obsession is rooted to his sexual attraction to you and it angers him greatly when someone changes you

You were his plaything and if you weren’t pretty anymore, well that just looks bad for him

He sat with you every mealtime for weeks and forced the food down your throat but he recognised he could only do so much, the minute he stopped youd go back to your destructive ways

So Patrick decided that he’d get rid of the root of the problem

Disposing of a body was easy to him and the others by now, digging a shallow grave in the junkyard for the nameless worker of the ballet studio who had insulted you

Without the insults present you eventually started to eat properly again with ‘encouragement’ from the boys and slowly you gained your figure back

This pleased Patrick greatly and he made sure to make you repay him for his act of kindness, despite never telling you what you were repaying him for

Even Patrick’s acts of kindness revolved because of his selfish desires

What did you expect?

Belch Huggins:

Belch had always been the sweetest to you, always treating you gently unless commanded otherwise

That’s why you had felt comfortable enough to confide in him that you had done something very bad

You had hurt someone, very badly

A girl from your school who had harassed you daily whenever the boys weren’t around you

She had followed you on your trek down to the lake, calling you all sorts of names and pushing you around

As if you didn’t face enough abuse in your life, she added to it with her cruelty and something snapped in you

She had gotten in your face, eerily similar to how Henry had many times

When she had gone to grab you, it brought back memories of Henry’s abuse and fear filled your body

In an act of fight or flight, you had given her a firm push

She had fallen down the hill and hit her head on a rock, laying unconscious as you stared in horror

You had called belch in a frenzy, rambling on about what you had done and how much trouble it would get you in, there’s no one who would let a criminal be a ballerina

Belch drove to you immediately and held you once he saw you, listening to your explanation of what happened

He checked the girls pulse and found out she was still alive, and in that moment he made a decision

He couldn’t have you going away, his little ballerina who had such high hopes for her future wouldn’t survive in a juvenile facility, they’d eat you alive without a second thought

Him on the other hand? He was built to survive with his large build and strength, and who would the police believe is more likely to have committed a crime

A pretty little ballerina with no previous record, or the big brute with many accusations and charged on his record?

He commanded you to go home and gave you a final kiss on the forehead before sending you off

He ran to the pay phone and called for an ambulance who took the girl off to hospital, and when the police questioned him on who did it he admitted false guilt to spare you the blame

The girl had a slight concussion and her memory of the crime was distorted, so she couldn’t deny his presence which was enough for him to be arrested

His father found him a good lawyer with his copious amount of money and the lawyer managed to get belch away with only three month of juvie and six months probation

He went down for your crimes and he did it happily

When the other boys asked him why he did it, he simply told them that the girl had pushed him too far and shot you a look

He came out of juvie just fine and fit into his routine quite happily when he saw you at his side again

He never told anyone about what really happened, not even the others

He knew they would blame you for his temporary imprisonment but why should they? You were his goddess, why shouldn’t he make sure no one could besmirch your name and defend your honour

He kept your secret happily as he held you close to him in your bed

What’s one more secret between him and his goddess?

Thoughts? :)

[yandere-toons]

Yandere Henry Bowers (Platonic & Romantic Headcanons)

Warnings: Child abuse and neglect (physical and emotional), intense violence, death, bullying, implied alcoholism, reference to divorce, emotional manipulation, toxic mindset.

Platonic:

As soon as his father drinks himself into unconsciousness or throws him out the door, Henry stalks down the street to where he thinks his friend might be. Explaining nothing of his sullen demeanour, he places himself in the middle of whatever they are doing, dragging them into a more private area if their current activity is too public or not to his liking. From there, the hope is that his friend will act in a way that comforts him without him having to ask for it and risk further humiliation.

There are two possible outcomes here, depending on how his friend treats him and who else gets involved. If they accept his presence without prying, Henry will shut down and remain silent for a while, riding out the emotional storm around someone he now has a reasonable chance of trusting. If they stonewall him or others interrupt, Henry will revert to his hostile bully persona and never mention the event again, as it has become a new source of shame for him.

Henry reveals a watered-down version of the truth when pressed for answers, but even then, he refuses to tell the whole story out of a desire not to relive it, not to be seen as a whiner, and not to show how profoundly it has affected him. After all, a history of cruel reactions from his father and the small-town mentality of Derry have taught him that emotional vulnerability is a dangerous mistake of the stupid and weak.

Despite this, it becomes increasingly clear that Henry is stalling for time when the subject of going home creeps up on him. He would much rather stay out all day and night with his friend and the gang, cruising town with Belch at the wheel, forgetting what awaits him when he sets foot on the family farm. But Henry knows only too well that Butch's wrath will double if he has to go looking for him.

Henry will threaten and, if sufficiently provoked, maim anyone who shows an interest in his friend. His worldview is more than a little misanthropic, as his good memories are few and far between, and his father and the community at large have taught him to hate anyone who challenges his idea of the norm. As such, he sees this as a favour to his friend, ridding them of all the scumbags who would inevitably trap them in an unwanted relationship.

But deeper down, in the places that have never quite healed, the places he never talks about, Henry is afraid of powerlessness. He despises the thought that his friend would abandon him because of someone else, as his mother did, so he does not give them that option. Anyone who tries to plant the idea in their head that they should cut ties with him, or worse, leave town, he beats as if it might save his life.

As far as Henry is concerned, no one offers a better source of companionship than he. He is fond of yelling this supposed fact and more at his friend when they refuse to drop everything and join him at a moment's notice. Seeing this as an affront to his authority as well as a personal insult, Henry cannot take it, especially when it happens in front of people, and tries to hector them into submission.

If any of Henry's accomplices disagree with his methods, none will be too honest about it. Henry displays an unabashed willingness to hurt anyone and everyone who comes between him and his friend. Other bullies have required stitches courtesy of Henry and learned to turn tail at the sight of him or them, and the last concerned citizen to intervene was left with a concussion.

Although Henry is a little more lenient with his gang, he still has rules about what kind of interactions are acceptable. Some of these rules go unspoken until one of the other boys crosses a line he did not know had been drawn. On the first day, Patrick Hockstetter lost his right to be alone with Henry's friend and incurred a death threat from Henry after Patrick made advances towards them and asked if they would like to share Henry with him.

Spending time with other people sounds like a waste of energy to Henry, but spending time with the Losers is so inexcusable that he expresses it in the only language he knows: violence. His need to anticipate his father's unstable emotions has made him sensitive to any sign of displeasure in others, which Henry receives in abundance from one of the Losers, Richie Tozier. Tozier calls him an obsessive freak when he cuts one of the kids for staring at his friend.

Romantic:

His only frame of reference is his parents' disastrous marriage, now separated, and the couples at school he enjoys breaking up with shoves and jibes. Henry can be demanding in everything he asks of his partner, putting them in the untenable position of bearing the brunt of his emotional hunger. It is an overwhelming and confused mess of mixed signals and frustration that has built up over years.

Much of Henry's attention-seeking behaviour and unpredictable aggression stems from the fact that he is both ashamed of his struggles and less and less successful at repressing them. When he still tries, it manifests itself in violent outbursts and, in the context of this relationship, defensive anger when his partner does not immediately and completely fulfil his needs.

There are few things Henry would hate more than being compared to his father, so he refrains from using this level of violence with his partner. However, he retains a distinct bullheadedness in the many arguments that do break out, usually over Henry's desire for them to give up any part of their life that distracts from him.

Under no circumstances is Butch to know that Henry has a partner, let alone meet them. He would rather die than have them see what a so-called coward he becomes around his father, and the thought of them being caught in the crossfire of one of his father's explosions makes him want to stick the knife in Butch's throat a little sooner.

At the first sign of Butch's approach, Henry pulls away from his partner and tells them that if things get heated, they should go with Victor and wait for him at a distance. Victor is disturbed by Henry's extreme view of the relationship but is wise enough not to say so to his face.

Watching his partner suffer abuse at the hands of a family member ignites a rage in Henry that stems from his unfulfilled desire to take revenge on his father. He flashes back to when Butch similarly hurt him, reopening the last wound he tried to numb by avoiding his home and seeking out his partner. Every punch Henry lands, every slash with the knife, is almost like getting back at his father for all the scars he gave him.

Henry refuses to feel remorse for those he attacks, as Butch would never apologise for the damage he inflicts and once even rewarded Henry for his violent actions. After making his partner drop a science project in the hallway, the child he forced to eat dirt had it coming. The classmate who sat next to his partner at lunch — a seat reserved for Henry, regardless of whether anyone else knows it or whether he feels like taking it that day — deserved to be thrown to the floor and humiliated in a way that will haunt them forever.

Competition, real or imagined, is unforgivable and will be met with swift, if not disproportionate, retaliation. The first line of defence is a barrage of verbal abuse, escalating to physical assault unless the pest flees the scene and swears an oath never to speak to his partner again. From there, Henry will order his cohorts to hold the person still while he carves, stones, drowns and breaks whatever he finds most offensive.

Part of a community that frowns upon physical closeness between friends, Henry seeks in this relationship the emotional intimacy and affection that his father never provided. He denies having such needs when anyone suggests otherwise, insisting that he only stays with his partner for superficial reasons and would not miss them if they were to disappear one day.

Despite his claims of indifference, Henry displays a violent resentment towards those who befriend his partner, perceiving these individuals as a threat to his importance in their life. This fear speaks to his underlying insecurity of not being in control, the same insecurity that drives him to suspect the worst in people and defend or assert himself accordingly.

[mayonnaise2004]

Meeting & Dating Patrick Hockstetter Headcannons

(This is one of my darker works, so I apologize in advance for letting my creative mind go.)

(TW for mentions of suicide, Patrick just being fucked up, masochism, intentions of a dog dying :((, slut shaming, manipulation, carving of the skin and let me know if I missed any.)

- The two of you met when you were Henry’s s/o. He wasn’t at all a fan of that.

- the mere thought of someone like you with someone like Henry made him want to rip his hair out. So he took it upon himself to save you.

- It took a lot of paying people, rumours being spread and innocent acts to get Henry to break up with you on the note you had ‘cheated on him with a freshman.’

- He’d be lying if he said it didn’t make him a little bit aroused when you came sobbing to him, tears running down your face as you tried to understand who would do something like this.

- Rubbed your back as you cried into his chest, his innocent facade was.. somewhat comforting, you couldn’t go to any other kids. They’d just call you a ‘slut/whore’ and walk away.

- He knew you would be easy to manipulate like this. He could be your goddamn knight in shining armour! :)

- Came to your house every day after school to make sure ‘you were okay’ (and eyed up your dog.)

- He was there for you when Henry bullied you when you replaced poor Beverly Marsh on the so-called ‘practice girl’ list, when your dog went missing.

- So of course you said yes to a date! How bad could he be? He seems to have calmed down! (Stupid you.)

- Don’t expect to ever be in another relationship in Derry. That person will go through hell on earth and back. This goes for him too. He would rather take his own life than be without you.

- Life goes back to normal in the Bowers gang. Patrick freaks Victor and Belch out a bit, and Henry doesn’t care that you're dating his best friend. He still holds a grudge against you of course. So don’t expect to leave hangouts without a few bruises.

- Fear is a big factor in your relationship, the hairspray & lighter come out sometimes. But he would never use it on you. Burns are such a waste of time.

- Watching horror movies at his place while his parents are at the bar. He always keeps a hand on your jaw to keep your head to the screen (and caresses your jawline with his thumb.)

- Swimming in the lake at night

- Sometimes he can be somewhat normal when he puts the switchblade and diy flamethrower away and lays in bed with you.

- He probably carved something to do with himself into your flesh where everyone can see. Whether that be ‘P.H’ with a heart, or just ‘P’; “What’s with the tears? Hm? Look at your wrist, my love. Now you can’t run away.”

- Birthdays are overnighters at your place. You’ll either receive a switchblade or a piece of his jewelry everyone has seen that you complimented.

- quite a fan of PDA, loves to hold you close and whisper things into your ear knowing you can’t run away.

- ‘I would just break up with him’ you’ve tried. So many times. He always threatens you in some way, and being on Officer Bower's good terms he can get away with it.

- “You want to end up like all those people? Missing and forgotten by the world? I keep you safe baby. Remember that.”

- Being with someone like that takes a toll on your mental health. Your parents want you to break up with him but you just can’t.

- Mumbles praise into your skin while you cuddle

- Summer break is terrible for you, being forced to drive around with the Bowers gang feels like a punishment from god.

- But despite your attempts to run away, he loves you. Even if you're a bit difficult sometimes!

- The summer of 1989 was like a boulder being lifted off your shoulders. You didn’t know how to feel about Patrick going missing. Should you look for him? Or let him rot where he belongs after everything he did to you.

- his missing posters were eventually covered up with another, and you tried to heal. But those scars don’t heal. And they won’t go away.

[jasonthetoymakesmybbg]

Sweetness is a Tasteful thing. (1/??)

Yep, back immediately cause this man is legit invading my mindset and I can not-like he’s actually so fine 😍🙏

Anyways-

Patrick Hockstetter x Female/Male Reader

I am making this cause a scenario kinda went into my head like what if Patrick and his mom met your guys family and stuck around your house for a bit, but y’all are kinda like enemies and he’s forced to be in your room so y’all get along, and like he starts talking about horny shit. Then he started touching himself while staring you dead in the eye, casually moaning your name? I might make a second thing for this adding the rest of the Bowers Gang but,Like bro-HE WONT LEAVE MY HEAD 😭 and for male like he decides to leave Fem flabbergasted and bumped into Male room, then kinda walked in and yeah?

Another day passing, a peaceful weekend, meaning not having to deal with the Bowers Gang…is what I thought but this day became stressful for me.

I was peacefully in my room drawing who knows what, mostly just random doodles of cats or silly goofy things cause why not? I heard a knock on my door and I look up, seeing my mom.

“Sweetie? We’re having guest, get a shirt on.” My mom said quickly, closing my door again, oh yeah forget to mention I was chilling in a pair of shorts and bra cause I was comfy, but who could be visiting?

I sigh and get up, getting a long sleeve shirt on, I grumble as I left my room to see who is was, and who do I see?

Hockstetter and his mom standing inside our living. In my home? Fuck this-before I could slip away back to my safe space my dad spoke up.

“And there’s one of my kids” He said that on purpose? Fuck you dad.

Hockstetter turned and saw me, smirking a bit, damn it why is he so submissive and breedable looking but is a sadistic asshole that’s a tad aggressive?-

(All Y/n as siblings cause yeah)

“Hi…I’m [Fem]Y/n” I grumble a little, feeling all my stress appearing again and I barely left school.

His mom simply waved, greeting me and probably clueless of what her son was planning, meanwhile I felt like killing myself.

My brother walked in [Male] Y/n and he looked in disbelief seeing Patrick, he glanced at me and I shrugged.

“Ah, there’s my son” my dad spoke up, damn it.

“Why don’t you hang out with them?” My mom said looking at Patrick, he shrugged and walked over to me, meanwhile my brother left already, really said ‘ladies first’ we walked to my room, dread touched my heart.

Opening to my glorious room filled with randomly shit that related to my interests or gore art on the wall I pinned up. I sat on my bed, Patrick closed my door, damn it. He smirked lightly sitting in my spinning chair.

“You seem so tense..why is that?” He lightly mocked, I glared.

“Why the fuck are you here?” I grumble to myself again, glaring in hatred.

“Maybe..I might’ve said something about you to my mom to convince her to come over” he grinned.

“…bitch” I said lowly, he smirked at my hostile attitude, but he’s low key hot-stay focused.

“You know…I bet you would look so good bouncing on my dick.” I choke on my spit, not expecting that-well it was expected but it was so random.

“Huh?-“

“You heard me.” He stared, his eyes were burning into my soul and all I felt was lust waving over him.

“..image me fucking your thighs, then finishing on your stomach, or me fucking you senseless with a knife to your neck..image all the things I could do to you.” He had said so casually, i wasn’t used to a guy telling me his fantasies.

“Sometimes…I wanna fuck you from behind while you suck off Henry” he had continued.

Wow-wait? Henry? Damn, I knew it-he was most definitely bi. Probably gets off to fucking or pleasing girls while watching a guy.

“Or…suck Henry while you ride me I don’t complain” I cock a eyebrow at his words.

“…so…your just spilling your bisexual fantasies?-“ he simply nodded, I notice his hands started caressing near his bulge, but now I finally notice his bulge was erect.

“Look at that..all hard, and just the thought of you makes me all hot and bothered..even though sometimes I just wanna slit your throat.” He let out a low growl, he lightly started to rub his bulge, I gulped knowing I wanted out.

He moaned softly, “Y/n~..got me all excited~”..so how do I feel watching this go down?..mixed feelings. My heart jumped when I notice him unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants. Letting his length come free he gripped it a tad tight while stroking.

“Fuck.~..I wanna feel you so badly. Ngh~” I was not gonna make eye contact with his cock, but he made me nervous looking him in the eye, good thing the walls are thick.

He was just touching himself while looking at me, he bit his lip.

“Aw, what’s the matter? Can’t handle seeing me want release Y/n?~ o-ah~” He closed his eyes for a second feeling the moment, it was a surprise he was so peaceful while masturbating.

He stopped suddenly, simply fixing his pants he got up and left my room, I was just-wow

“Huh?-“ was all I could say, I was speechless.

————-/////—————/////—————/////————

[Male] pov

I was chilling in my room, laying on my bed with music blasting through my headphones, eyes closed. But I wasn’t aware of the devil literally finding me and coming into my room, not even noticing he closed my door.

I jumped when I felt a hand on my chest, my eyes open immediately and I sit up. Patrick..what the fuck?-

“What does your bitch ass want?” I ask, taking my headphones off.

“Hm-“

“Actually don’t answer that.” I quickly said.

Before I could move much his hand gripped my thigh to prevent me from leaving. My cock twitched in confusion, but I didn’t wanna react to much.

“.you aren’t gonna leave.” He said lowly, before smirking again, he leaned in to the crook of my neck and started laying kisses down. My breathe lightly hitched at the feeling.

“Huh?-“ I was confused why he was showing a form of affection when he isn’t affectionate at all. I felt him lightly rest his hand on my thigh again, his thumb lazily rubbing against my bulge to get me excited. And yet it did, my cock started to harden at the sensation, I felt his smirk grow bigger in my neck.

He let out a chuckle, “fucking knew it”

“Knew what?-“ I cock a eyebrow,

“You would enjoy me touching your dick…slut” and there it was, the word I hated being called But liked it so much.

“What you call me?-say it again…i-like..hearing you call me that” I had shared, Patrick laughed at my words.

“Aw..the slut wants to be humiliated huh? Would you allow me to call you it in school?.~”

I nodded, “yes-if it means to hear you say it..” my body was begging to be stripped and fucked, he knew it to.

“Fucking prepare cause when the rest of the gang get here-“

“…what?” I side glance, my eyes went wide.

“Yeah..they’re planning to tag along here..mostly to play with you and your siblings.” He casually said, laying on his side comfortably.

“Let it sink in slut” the way the word slid off his tongue made me excited.

“Jesus fucking Christ” I rubbed my eyes.

“..your so-hot?” I randomly say, Patrick was amused by the way I was acting.

“I can tell I am in your eyes…also to let you know I randomly masturbate in front of your sister” that made my jaw dropped.

“The fuck?-“ I tried processing what he said.

“How did she react?-“ I ask

“Flabbergasted and confused” he shrugged his shoulders

“Sounds accurate enough”

(And here we are, one part done.)

[bked0n-lorazepam]

"Mr. Mechanic"

---------------->

Summary (Smut): What was supposed to be a fun field trip for you and Bower's gang turned into standing on the side of the road when the car breaks down. What could possibly happen between you and Patrick on this simple little trip?

Warnings: Vulgar language, oral (male receiving)

A/N: I'm at my breaking point too, Patrick, don't worry. I don't know shit about cars.

---------------->

“God, it is so fucking hot. Like, my hypothetical balls are sweating.” You said, sitting on the trunk of Belch’s car while fanning yourself with your hand. 

You and the Bower’s gang were heading towards Buxton, Maine, on a simple field trip. There was a popular street fair happening that you mentioned to the group, and you somehow convinced them all to go.

After much begging, and accidentally giving Patrick a hard-on because of it, you were all able to go. Splitting the hotel bill was easy, since it was your idea, you and Henry decided to split it together.

With his father being the sheriff, it was rather easy to get a discount from him. All you guys needed to do was drive up there and check in.

 So here you five were, on the side of the road because Belch’s car broke down halfway through the trip.

“Fucking piece of shit car.” You heard Henry murmur to your left and you sighed. You were leaning back, kicking your feet off the edge before an idea came to you.

“Hey, Vic?” You stretch out his name in a sing-song way and tilt your head sweetly with a smile, watching him and Patrick look up from their spots on the street curb and squint at you.

“What?” Unfortunately, he doesn’t respond with the same energy.

“You should totally go get the map from the car and find restaurants near here.” Your smile never falls and you playfully bat your eyelashes at him.

Vic looks unimpressed with your supposed flirting skills, and he stands up and walks himself to the car, jumping in and pulling out the map. 

“Thank you, Vic.” You beamed and he let out a sound of acknowledgement. 

To your left, Henry was playing with his switchblade on the trunk with you, a very bored expression on his face. On the curb, Patrick was watching cars speed by and messing with his lighter between his fingers.

You watch his hands as they skillfully flick open the lid, spark a flame, spin it around his slender fingers, close it, and repeat.

It was entrancing. The way the flame would move with his fingers, the way it somehow never got caught on his rings.

You liked it when he played with his lighter because there was just something so hypnotizing about it. 

His fingers had a couple burn scars on them and some normal scars on his pale hands, a couple of calluses. What you liked most though, was how long they were. 

How he had such good control over them, how they seemed to know when to move and how to move. How they would drag against your jaw, down your neck, wrap around your throat. How they would grab at all the right places, how they would pull up your skirts with such ease, how they would pull down your underwear so roughly. How they would tease you, carefully work their way into you, and curl themselves at just the right spot-

“There’s an ice cream shop just up the road.” You jump out of your thoughts and notice how Patrick’s fingers stopped, his blue eyes staring straight into yours with raised brows. Clearing your throat, you look away and turn around to look at Vic.

“Where?”

–

Vic, Patrick, and you all went up to the shop, letting Henry and Belch handle the car. The ice cream place was cold, and it felt amazing to all three of you. After ordering, you guys settled down at a booth to enjoy the air conditioning a little longer. 

“How long d’you think it’s gonna take?” Patrick asked from your right, his left arm strewn across the back of the booth behind your head. 

“A long ass time,” Vic snorted across from you, crossing his arms. His head was leaned back and his eyes were closed. “Belch may love his car, but he doesn’t know shit about it.”

Patrick snickered and looked out the window, watching people pass by the place. You hummed in agreement and watched people walk into the store and order.

It was silent, and the three of you were enjoying it for a bit. That was, until, some old lady got her ice cream and said something to her husband while leaving.

“Poor boy, having to third-wheel a date must be so tough.” She shook her head and her husband nodded.

Vic’s head shot up from its resting position and he stared at them while they left before looking at you two. You covered your mouth to try to hold in your laugh, letting a few giggles escape. Patrick wasn’t, though, and he laid his head on the edge of the table and was shaking and hollering. 

“Yeah, no. We’re fucking leaving.”

–

You three walked back, Vic pouting and walking in front of you the whole time, and were all now sitting somewhere around the car eating your ice cream. Belch was in the front seat eating rocky road, and Henry was on the trunk again eating vanilla. Vic was laying across the back seats and eating strawberry, and you and Patrick were both on the curb, him eating mint chocolate chip and you eating chocolate chip cookie dough. 

The both of you watched as a van sped past you, and you barely got to see the logo on its side.

“MARGO’S JUNK CARS”

Your eyebrows furrowed as a memory of Patrick telling you something crossed your mind. You gasped and swiftly turned your head to look at him, your left hand grabbing his bicep. He was already looking at you, a confused look on his face.

“Patrick Hockstetter!” You hissed quietly at him, “You know how to fix junk cars!”

He licked his lips before the corners curled up. “Mhm hm.”

“So fix the fucking car!” Disbelievement crossed your eyes and you scoffed.

Months ago, you and him were getting high in your basement when you had wanted to play ‘Two Truths and a Lie.’ It was his turn, and he gave you your choices. 

–

“There’s something in the forest nobody knows about but me. I lost my virginity at 12, and when I have nothing to do in my day, I work on cars.”

“Hmm. This is hard.”

“Yup.”

“Woah, wait. You, mister, lost your virginity at 11.”

“I did, yeah.”

“You work on cars?”

“Shut up and give me the joint, would’ya?”

“...”

“That’s kind of hot…”

“Is it?”

"Mhm. So, what's in the forest?"

–

“It’s his car, not mine.” Patrick replied, finishing the last of his dessert. 

Sighing, you pick your spoon around at your own sweet treat. “If you fix his car, and if we get a private room at the hotel, I’ll give you a blowjob.”

Patrick snaps his head over to make eye contact with you, and you stick your tongue out, put your spoon on it, and suck off the ice cream while giving him the best doe eyes you possibly can.

He stares and licks his lips again, deciding if he wants to think with his head or his dick. 

His dick always wins, though.

Patrick set his ice cream cup down and took off his black flannel shirt. It was your turn to stare, more specifically at his arms. He had a white wife-beater underneath, and his arms flexed while he handed the flannel to you.

Patrick stood up and grabbed at the hair tie you gave him a while ago on his wrist and he put his hair up. You marveled at the veins that ran up his forearms and crossed your legs, hoping he didn’t notice you clenching your thighs.

He did though, in the corner of his eyes, and his mouth twisted into a lopsided grin. Embarrassed, you looked away with a not-so-subtle blush on your face. 

Patrick started walking towards the hood of the car, and he slapped his hand on the driver's side door, startling Belch.

“Maybe if you’d pop the fucking trunk, you’d be able to see what’s wrong with it.”

–

After about 15 minutes of Henry complaining about how hot it is, Vic and you talking about what you hope to find at the street fair, and Patrick and Belch looking at the car, Patrick came to the conclusion that an oil change was needed, and that some random part needed to be changed.

You weren’t listening all that much to him though, focusing on Vic’s voice instead. You knew if you looked at Patrick, you wouldn’t be able to take your eyes away from him. 

Him and Belch went to go find some convenience store nearby, and you, Vic, and Henry found some cards in the backseat and decided to play some blackjack. 

When they came back with the motor oil, a bucket, and a new part for the hood, you all watched as Patrick got under the car to remove the current oil. Belch got to work on the front with a wrench, and the other two guys went to chat with him about what needed to be fixed and whatnot.

You sat on the curb again, leaned back on your hands, legs crossed in front of you, biting your lip while Patrick laid under the car and waited for the bucket to fill. 

You watched his face as his eyes followed the oil, his eyebrows scrunched together, hands resting on his chest, one leg propped up and the other straight. He blinked, and then his eyes were trained on yours, only this time, you didn’t look away.

The two of you stared at each other, admiring each other shamelessly. Your eyes roamed over his arms, his tank top that was soaked through with sweat. Down his lean torso, following where his shirt was slightly lifted up to show off his dark happy trail, right before it stopped at his jeans.

In your right hand, your fingers fisted around the flannel he tossed at you earlier, and you rubbed your thighs together to relieve at least a small ounce of friction. Patrick simpered, his canines showing against his lips, and continued to focus on the oil change. 

When he was done, he stood up and wiped away the sweat on his forehead. Grease and dirt littered all over his face, which unfortunately only added to the problem between your legs. 

“Why the hell isn’t this tightening?” Belch bellowed, catching both of your attention. 

“Lemme take a look.” Patrick winked at you before going to check it out, and you rolled your eyes playfully, standing up to follow him.

“Well, maybe if you’d twist it in the right direction, it’d fucking tighten.” He sneered, putting his arm on the edge of the hood while tightening the new mechanic piece.

Belch clicked his tongue and crossed his arms, and all of you watched Patrick work. Well, they were watching the new piece get put in, you were watching the way his biceps flexed and the way his veins popped behind the skin of his hands.

“Try the engine.” Patrick stepped back and popped the hood down, wiping his forehead once again with the back of the hand holding the wrench.

Belch did what he said, and they all cheered when the engine started. The five of you all got back into the car, Henry in the passenger seat, Vic to the left of Patrick, and Patrick to your left. 

Belch was talking to Henry about how long it’d take to ride back up the same road, what would happen if you went different streets, and you were about 70% positive that you all were supposed to be listening to him.

You couldn’t though, your mind only paying attention to the warmth of Patrick’s thigh against yours, and the way his hand was placed on your thigh, his thumb rubbing circles on the inside. 

Leaning into your ear, “This better be the best goddamn head I’ve ever had,” he purred and leaned back. You chewed on your bottom lip and lightly nodded, to which he responded with a tight squeeze on your soft flesh.

“Yes, Mr. Mechanic.”

–

Patrick slammed you against the hotel door, lips attacking yours instantly. You gasped and your hands immediately found his shoulders, your fingernails digging into them. 

His hands guided themselves over your body, up and down your waist, groping your breasts, and then finally resting on your ass. 

His lips were chapped and rough, an opposite to your soft and plush ones. Your lipgloss transferred to him though, slightly softening his lips just a bit.

He bit at your lip and shoved his tongue in your mouth, letting it roam around your mouth. You reciprocated and sucked on it, earning a low groan from the back of his throat. 

Your hands flew to the bun in his hair and you took it out, tossing the hair tie away from the two of you. You grabbed at it and pulled, harder than you probably intended. 

Patrick pulled away and looked at you, a predatory gaze in his eyes. Your mouth was slightly open with saliva on your bottom lip and your cheeks were burning up, your heart racing. 

You were a mess, and he loved it. 

He pecked your lips and started walking towards the bed, leaving you breathless against the door. You watched him take off his shirt, revealing a plethora of tattoos he gained over the years of highschool. He sat down on the side of the hotel bed and spread his legs, an obvious bulge in his jeans. 

You stood at the door and waited for him to tell you what to do. His eyes never left yours when he undid his belt with one hand and threw it behind him.

“Come ‘ere.” Patrick leaned back and you quickly walked over to him, kneeling in front of him without him even needing to ask. 

The grin on his face was large, and it grew when you reached for his groin and pulled him out of his pants and boxers. He sighed when he felt your soft smooth hands touch the base, a complete contrast to when his calloused ones do. 

The tip was red and leaking, and you brought your face closer to it, kissing just below it. Patrick’s hand rested on the top of your head, and he watched with amused eyes as you focused so hard on making him feel good. You did promise, afterall.

Your warm tongue slipped out and ran up the underside to collect what was building on his head, and then back down to trace over the vein underneath. His eyes closed tightly and his head tossed back, shivering with anticipation. 

He felt your warm lips wrap around the head and suck before pulling away to kiss down back to the base. His hips bucked upwards to show his impatience, and you ran your tongue back upwards along the vein, and sucked on the tip again. 

You didn’t pull away this time, though, knowing that he’d only push you down further. So you opted to suck on it and to languidly stroke the rest of his dick.

Patrick’s eyes stared into yours, taking note of the way your eyes would get glossier when he would push you further down his cock until he hit the back of your throat. Your hands came to tightly grip his thighs and you gagged, tears finally falling.

“Atta girl.” He hissed when your throat squeezed around his length, trying to get rid of the intruder that was making you choke. “Doing such a good job, dollface.”

You whined against him, the vibrations causing him the lurch forward. He cursed, grabbing your hair into a makeshift ponytail and roughly pulling you up and down his cock.

“If I’d known you be so good at this, I would’ve, shit, I would’ve fucked up Belch’s car months ago.” He panted, frantically matching the thrusts of his hips with his grip on you. 

You gagged again, and dug your fingernails so hard into his pants that you might have ripped them open. That seemed to be Patrick’s breaking point, though, and he faltered his movements before pulling you until your lips were wrapped around the head again. You sucked as hard as you could, and with a loud moan, he came. 

You swallowed as it coated your tongue and went down your sore throat, and continued to suckle it until every drop was gone and he went soft.  You finally pulled away and you wiped your mouth with your hand, the room silent and only filled with the sound of you two catching your breath.

“You, you fucked up the car?” You croaked out, your voice raspy and grated. Your hands rested on your own thighs, still kneeling in front of him. Your eyes caught his while he was putting himself away, and he snickered at how ruined you were.

“How the hell do you think I knew exactly what parts to get?” He huffed out, shrugging his shoulders and laying back on the bed. “I thought I’d get something out of going on this trip, so why not use your mouth for something good for once?”

You stared at the bed in front of you and leaned against his knee, closing your eyes. “You’re such a fucking asshole.”

“You love it.”