#belch huggins wtf r u doing sweetie

[barrackspredator]

Run for Your Life

Bowers Gang x Reader

Summary: fem!reader is being hunted down after discovering who’s been making the kids in town go missing

TW: Murder, blood, implied rape, violence, weapons, death, some small gore I suck at writing. Don't expect this to be amazing. note: as I finish writing this I realize how much I despise dark themes. oh well, I already wrote it. Also, yeah the title is stupid. It's okay.

“: ̗̀➛did you really think we would just let you off the hook so easily?‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ”

Seeing them shove that body into the quarry was the beginning of the end.

Perhaps it wouldn't have been if you had simply made a break for it as soon as you saw it, but how could you? Seeing the mutilated body of Chase Foreman was quite the sight to see, a sight so mesmerizing that your feet had cemented themselves to the ground. Any will to run or scream was paralyzed as your mind screamed at you to escape.

It was only after Belch Huggins had thrown Chase’s body off the edge of the cliff that you found the strength to turn around. But when you did, you were immediately slammed to the ground by Patrick Hockstetter’s hard chest.

"Didn't your parents teach you it's rude to spy?"

Patrick's sarcastic, shrill laughter of joy rang through your ears as he kneeled down beside your body, his knee pressing between your thighs. A large rotting Cheshire grin was on display before your very eyes, the smell of cigarettes assaulting your senses.

Your mouth opened pathetically, ready to sputter out any excuse to spare your life as tears threatened to spill out. Patrick, however, wordlessly put his fingers to your lips, softly shushing you in an oddly soothing way—as soothing as someone like him could sound.

"Don't fret, little bitch. I'll make sure to finish you off quickly. But what's the harm in a little fun?"

His dimly lit face turned up, looking behind her. The moonlight revealed the dirt and blood smeared across his face, casting a sinister glow on the deranged psychopath. Panicked footsteps crunched against dirt and gravel. A shadow came over Patrick and his grin vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

"Just make this quick, Hockstetter." It was Belch Huggins' worried voice coming from behind her. The crunching of dirt and gravel signaled a third presence.

"What's the fun in making this one quick?" Victor Criss mused as he knelt down behind you. He leaned over your shoulder before abruptly gripping your neck, pulling you back into his chest as he observed your face. A choked sob escaped your lips as you gasped for air, while his fingers tightened around you. "She's a looker. Got a pretty mouth too..." Victor trailed off, his tone filled with dark intent. Another shrill giggle came from Patrick as he climbed on top of your body, watching your eyes roll back into your skull.

"I like the way you're thinking, Vic." Patrick suddenly tore Victor's hand off of you, making the blonde grunt in irritation "But if I'm gonna fuck her, I want her to be awake." He looked down at you with that same grin, grabbing your jaw as you pathetically gasped for air. "Isn't that right, little bitch? You better look me in my eyes when I'm inside you."

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Henry stood over the boys, watching with disinterest as Patrick eye-fucked the witness to their crime.

"Yeah, yeah." Patrick brushed off Henry's comment. "You're one to talk, Bowers. All high mighty 'cause you never stick it into our girls, huh?"

Henry's eyes trained on Patrick as his nostrils flared. His hands jutted out, lifting Patrick off of you by his collar. "Don't fucking talk to me that way, you goddamn pervert. One more word and I'm making you the next kid on a poster."

Patrick only grinned at Henry's empty threats. "You wouldn't dare get your pretty little hands dirty. That's my job." He had made it a point to get in Henry's face, enjoying how Henry's eyebrow would twitch in irritation. If there was one thing Patrick was good at, it was getting under Henry's skin. His comments had challenged Henry's masculinity, and for this crime, Patrick would pay the price.

It had all happened in mere seconds. Patrick’s body was slammed down, his head violently bouncing off the ground before hitting cold earth. Gasping sharply, he tried to recover the breath Henry had knocked out of him. Henry loomed over Patrick, straddling him with clenched fists. Patrick’s defiant laughter rang in the tense silence, his breath ragged as he laughed at Henry’s pathetic attempt.

Without hesitation, Belch lunged forward, ripping Henry off, while Victor rushed to Patrick’s side. Despite their lack of genuine concern for each other, the gang all understood their unspoken rule: no turning on each other.

Henry kicked and flailed like an enraged toddler as Belch manhandled him. "Get off of me! I ain't gonna hurt 'em!" He shouted, shoving Belch away and kicking dirt in Patrick's direction. The dirt hit Victor in the face, causing the blonde to sputter, spitting out any dirt that got into his mouth.

"What the fuck?" Victor complained, wiping his mouth repeatedly. The blood on his long-sleeve had now smeared across his lips, a stark contrast between his pale skin and the crimson streaks. Henry's rage had moved from Patrick to Victor, sneering at the smaller blonde.

On that cold earth, you laid there motionless, watching the boys through your peripherals. You felt a strange sense of joy when Patrick was thrown to the floor, and an even greater relief washed over you when the boys left you behind to break up the cat-fight. Your body was flooded with fear and adrenaline, and your mind went into overdrive, thrust into a survival mode you had never felt before.

Without a second thought, you pushed yourself off the ground, sprinting into the woods surrounding the quarry. Your absence hadn't gone unnoticed, and as soon as you made it into the woods, shouting ensued. Twigs and leaves crunched under your feet, drowning out the sounds of the boys chasing after you.

The boys you had known since childhood—whom you watched grow up as you went from playing with toys together to wanting to play together—were now hounding you like rabid wolves.

As you ran, a gunshot went off. You flinched violently, causing the bullet to only graze your flesh. Instinctively, your hand shot up to grasp your barely bleeding cheek in shock. "What the fuck!?" you screamed, your legs pumping faster.

Glancing over your shoulder, you noticed the distance in between you and the boys widened, giving you the advantage momentarily. Ducking under thick foliage, you followed a mini trail that would lead you to the barrens. With limited light, you ran blindly through dense woods. Branches and logs snapped against your face, pulling at your clothes, and threatening to trip you as you raced forward.

The shouting continued to follow you, except now it had split. Wicked voices bellowed at you from the surrounding trees, and with the dim light you could hardly tell what was coming from where. Your head tilted up, trying to gauge the sky from the trees, but it was entirely pitch black aside from the twinkling of stars and a melancholy moon.

"I'm coming to get you, little bitch!"

This time the voice was right beside you. Whipping your head to the right, you saw Patrick Hockstetter running, a wild grin on his face as he tried to swoop in closer, weaving through trees to get on your path. You swerved to the left, only to be greeted once more.

"You can't run forever, slut!"

It was Victor Criss this time, his baggy clothing whipping through the wind as he grasped a knife tightly in his right hand. He was weaving in towards you, both boys working together to trap you in between them. Your legs were aching and sweat drenched every inch of your body, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop.

Victor swiped his knife at you, nicking you in the stomach. A gut-wrenching scream followed as you felt the blade run across your tender flesh. Your hand immediately pressed itself against the bleeding wound, trying to stem the flow. Patrick's laughter drowned out your screams, his voice filled with eagerness as he closed in on you. His arms reached out, desperately trying to latch on.

“Fucking grab her already!” Henry’s voice roared from behind Patrick, filled with a frenzied intensity. His eyes locked onto you like a mad bull. He drew the pistol from his belt, aiming it in your direction. Fueled by a surge of adrenaline, your cramping legs pushed harder, desperately propelling you forward.

The bullet darted out, intent on killing. You instinctively shut your eyes but it never came. Victor's body collapsed on your left, abandoned as the group continued the chase.

"Fuck!" Belch wailed, maneuvering past Victor's corpse.

"Nice aim, moron!" Patrick taunted Henry with another shrill giggle. Henry only roared out in frustration. Your eyes were wide, body racked with fear and oddly enough, guilt. But you kept on going anyway, better Victor than you.

With ringing ears, you weaved through dense foliage and never-ending trees, feeling as though you were in a relentless loop. The constant barrage of Patrick’s taunts and Henry’s angry roars only added to your despair. You wanted to give up. To just collapse like Victor had on the cold earth and rest. God, death just seemed so tempting.

Something you feared for years suddenly seemed so desirable. And wrapped up in these thoughts of sweet death, you had hardly taken notice that Belch Huggins had swung his axe at you, lodging itself into your shoulder blade.

"Fuck!" You bellowed as the blade was pulled back. Your left arm dangled pathetically, blood oozing out as tendons strung your arm to your body. Immense pain took over and you collapsed, screaming as you cradled your arm.

The three boys stalked towards you, watching you intensely. Your sobs echoed through the trees, birds scattering out of trees hearing your screams of agony.

"Fuck, just kill me already!" You pleaded, tears streaming down your face. Belch solemnly crouched down beside you, a look of guilt on his face.

"Don’t take this personally…" he mumbled, glancing down at your bloody arm. Your eyes locked onto his, and you whimpered softly. Despite the situation, you couldn’t help but remember Belch’s kindness from long ago—how he had always been a big sweetheart, even back in kindergarten when you’d share a nap blanket. What happened to that kind soul?

Your eyes lowered to your arm, bile creeping up your throat until you couldn't help but pathetically keel over and vomit. Henry scowled, letting out an annoyed scoff while he panted heavily.

"Good going, tubby." Patrick sneered at Belch. "I can't enjoy her rockin' body when her arm is all fucked up. That's why we wait to cut them up after I've already dumped my load." The psychopath scoffed at this inconvenience, disregarding your dying body as just another dumpsite.

"Shut the fuck up," Belch mumbled, shooting a glare at Patrick. His attention moved back towards you, noticing how you were starting to fade away. He removed his flannel, gingerly put it over your body. He especially was trying to cover your arm. "I really didn't mean for this to happen," he whispered as he covered you.

Henry scoffed, "Don't tell me you're sweet on a dying girl."

Patrick snickered, nudging Belch. "The guilt getting you again, big guy?" His taunting laughter filled your ears.

Your eyes slowly rolled up to stare at the burly axe-wielding bully. With a small scoff, you groaned softly again. "Just fucking kill me..."

"If it's what you want," Henry grumbled, beyond annoyed that he had to run for so long. "Fuck, that's what we've been trying to do this entire time. Dumb bitch." He cocked his gun, aiming it at your head.

"Any last words?" Patrick cooed, his eyes glinting with a twisted excitement. His gaze darted back and forth between you and the gun, a dark smile stretching across his face. The anticipation in his voice was almost palpable.

You forced a sneer, even as your vision blurred to white.

"Yeah, fuck you," you rasped, your voice trembling.

The gunshot rang out, its echo a brutal punctuation to the silence that followed.