#henry bowers it 2017

[frog-cultist]

Bowstetter garbage

[domilino]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: IT - Stephen King, IT (Movies - Muschietti) Relationships: Henry Bowers/Original Female Character(s), Henry Bowers/Lizeth "Liz" Johnson Characters: Henry Bowers, Patrick Hockstetter, Victor Criss, Reginald "Belch" Huggins, Peter Gordon (IT), Lizeth "Liz" Johnson Additional Tags: Beverly Marsh is lightly mentioned, Ben Hanscom lightly mentioned, Henry in love?, Henry is a fool, Patrick only appears once and it's scary, Victor Criss is a good friend, Henry Bowers in love, Did I already mention that Henry Bowers is a fool in love? let him live, Lizeth Johnson is also called Liz or Lizzy (by Henry), ocxcanon, This would count as my selfshipp because I love Henry, Forget it, it's just a pretty OcxCanon

"Henry Bowers has felt a strange curiosity towards a girl who has just moved to town.

He hates her, from the first moment he saw her he hated her… or so his brain wants to make him believe, but there is something inside him that says that is not entirely true; that is a lie.

Too traumatized to properly understand love, which is normal for many people except him."

Henry had only seen her from a distance a couple of times Although he didn't interact with her, he could say with certainty that she—who had only been living in Derry for three weeks—had already adapted enough to the routine to seem like an average citizen of the town.

From that moment on, he started seeing her every day, whether he wanted to or not. Without fail, he watched her leave the classroom with a smile on her face, exuding an aura of extra energy and kindness that made her seem like the typical cliché of a "fallen angel from heaven."

There was something that constantly caught his attention, an inexplicable factor that affected him and significantly increased his curiosity about the girl.

Maybe it was the fact that Lizeth had easily adapted to the dull life of Derry, yet she continued to stand out everywhere: her colorful clothing, the long and curly hair that seemed to be the softest in the world, or perhaps it was her beautiful green eyes.

"It's like an orange cat; too energetic and silly." Those were Henry Bowers' words to describe Lizeth Johnson.

Everyone noticed it, or at least those who knew him and spent enough time with him to know that something was going on. His two trusted friends noticed it, his gang members did too, the losers also noticed it, and even his father—who didn't bother to check if he had breakfast or failed any subjects—noticed an unusual behavior in his son Henry.

He couldn't accept it, or rather, he didn't know how to handle something that was undoubtedly normal for many, for all those people who did have a normal life. I mean, he could barely—try to—control his moments of anger, something he knew and understood like the back of his hand. Because Henry knew what someone's real anger felt like.

[ . . . ]

Every day without fail, Henry saw the girl leaving school, always with a lovely smile.

It no longer seemed like a coincidence to encounter her in the hallways or just as she was leaving one classroom to enter another because it wasn't. But it looked so normal after a while that it became part of the routine.

And Henry Bowers still didn't say a single word to her...

"Do you have something?" A voice interrupted, Victor Criss's voice, Henry Bowers' closest friend.

"Who cares," grunted Henry, then headed towards the school cafeteria.

Victor Criss and Reginald "Belch" Huggins looked at each other for a moment. It was clear that the gang leader wasn't going to say anything, especially knowing that there were still plenty of people walking through the hallways.

"come?" Patrick Hockstetter called, looking at the others who were still leaning against the wall. They followed their leader to the cafeteria, curiously far from where she was.

[ . . . ]

Henry saw her every day, whether he liked it or not.

He was beginning to understand a little more about this strange curiosity about Lizeth "Liz" Johnson, and no, it wasn't the same as what he had "felt" for Beverly Marsh. This curiosity, or rather, this feeling was very different from that. And the more he thought about it, the more the feeling grew, and it was something incredibly stupid.

How could you love someone you only saw for a couple of minutes a day? He knew her name because a week before her arrival, rumors had spread that someone would move to Derry. From then on, he knew nothing, and that made him feel so foolish. He wanted to get rid of that feeling, he hated it, it made him feel weak, and he couldn't ask anyone for help. What would they say about him?

"Henry Bowers, Derry's bully, is in love with a silly girl."

It's so...

IT'S SO...

"Henry, Henry, damn it," Victor shouted. "You've been thinking about who knows what the whole trip. We arrived at the arcade 10 minutes ago, and you're still in the damn car."

The brunette gave his companion the most bitter face he could muster.

"Who cares," he said. "My thoughts are my problems, nosy."

Victor sighed.

"Look, we... the guys and I will be inside playing. When your mind is more relaxed, you can come. Also if..."

"Yes, I'll go in a moment," declared Henry.

Victor didn't say anything, knowing perfectly well that Henry wouldn't speak again, so he just left him alone in the car.

[ . . . ]

Henry always saw Liz Johnson every day, and with each passing day, he thought Liz was even more beautiful than the day before.

Through his eyes, Liz had become truly beautiful. To the point where she seemed almost unattainable.

She was so cute, as sweet as a dream.

And...

And he hated her so much.

[ . . . ]

Lizeth was also noticing it; she knew of his existence, and that made Henry's heart race. The fact that she had looked at him for even a second excited him; it made him so happy.

Henry Bowers had thought for a moment about talking to her.

He could approach and have a conversation with her, but then his doubt arose; doubt that turned into an assumption and then fear.

What if she was afraid of him?

It was no secret that people were afraid of Henry; he was a stupid and rough bully, and he had cultivated that image along with his gang for years.

What if she didn't want to get close to him?

That just put him in a bad mood.

His own thoughts made him upset.

So Henry chose not to do it, besides, it would be weird for someone like him to approach someone like her.

That was his thought.

[ . . . ]

Henry's behavior changed gradually, not enough, but there was a change, unfortunately for many, it was for the worse. Henry now got irritated more easily than before.

Henry was alone that day, a rare sight but not unusual. He still looked terrifying and emitted an aura of unease. Henry Bowers kept his hands in the pockets of his jeans as he watched the students pass by. No one approached him, even though he was alone, just the fact that he was so irritable made them nervous.

Henry spent the entire school day alone—his friends were busy, and they had to skip school, except for Patrick, who had been suspended for a week, who knows what trouble he got into—until lunchtime, where Henry decided to skip the remaining hours of class on the school field.

The bully walked through the hallways, from the cafeteria entrance to two large worn doors at the end of the hallway.

Henry Bowers pushed the door and entered, thinking that there wouldn't be anyone at this time of class.

"What are you doing here?" An unfamiliar voice; a very different accent than he was used to hearing.

That was her voice. As beautiful as always.

Lizeth was sitting on the bleachers of the sports field.

"Hey," Lizeth called again.

"What?"

"Did you skip class?" she asked.

"I could ask you the same question, Lizeth Johnson," the boy added.

It was clear that Bowers didn't expect her to be here. It could be anyone, but not the girl.

Lizeth smiled sweetly.

"Maybe," she replied. "I don't like chemistry. I understand certain things, and believe me, I would be willing to waste my student life learning about carbon atoms or hydrocarbons and their nomenclatures, but... I won't endure almost five hours of daily class with that bitter lady.

Henry smiled slightly and said, "You sound like a nerd."

"And you? You seem very alone today, Henry Bowers. Where are your friends?" She raised an eyebrow, looking at her companion with curiosity.

Henry swallowed and said, "How do you know...?"

"Henry Bowers, leader of a gang of bullies who happens to carry your last name," she interrupted. "I know who you are; I've heard about you since the first day of school. You seem like a Hollywood star with how much your name is heard inside and outside the school hallways."

Henry made a face, not knowing how to feel now; proud or unpleasant.

He used to feel happy when he knew his victim would have pure terror towards him, as had happened with Ben Hanscom in his first school year.

But Liz was far from being a victim of his heavy jokes.

"Oh, it was to be expected."

"I guess it's normal for you, right?" she questioned, looking at Henry and sitting on the front bleachers. Then she patted the spot next to her, offering the boy to sit beside her.

Henry looked at her but didn't even move from his place.

"I don't sit with losers" he said, crossing his arms.

"You don't have to be aggressive with me."

"Do you not fear me?" he warned, with some irritation in his tone.

"Why would I fear you? Are you going to do something to me?"

Henry opened his mouth, but there was nothing to say.

"Who cares"

Liz let out a little laugh and then stood up from where she was sitting.

"I assumed so," she began walking towards where Henry was standing, giving him a few pats on the shoulder. "It was nice trying to have a conversation with you, but I have to go; the chemistry class is almost over, and I have to go back," she joked. "Let's talk more often, Hank."

Henry Bowers heard her steps moving away, heard the small squeak of the door opening. He could feel his heart lighten, and his cheeks started to take on the same reddish color as his shirt.

He was... so angry with himself and with Liz.

It was so stupid.

"Darn it, damn fool!" He felt offended; truly offended.

[ . . . ]

Every day, Henry saw Liz Johnson leaving the classroom, but this time, as she passed by Henry and his gang, she smiled and greeted him, waving her hand enthusiastically. Even knowing that her greeting would not be reciprocated by his friend, who just remained with his arms crossed.

"She greeted you," Peter Gordon pointed out to the girl when there was already a considerable distance between them.

"I know, I'm not blind, idiot," he clarified in a sarcastic tone.

Henry remained the same, or so it seemed, but clearly, something had happened or that something Victor Criss already suspected had happened.

And no one, but no one, was going to deny the fact that Henry Bowers, with each passing week, day, and hour, was falling more in love with Lizeth Johnson.

NOTES:

It's just a silly story of my OcxCanon with Henry Bowers, because I discovered IT and I love all the characters and Henry is just a fool who needs love (therapy and a lawsuit against his father). This was written in spanish, so if there are errors, sorry. I try my best to write well in English (it's not a language I understand very well) Also say that I did this writing """"inspired"""" by the song Oh Love, I think you're really beautiful by Starry Cat. Although, Lmao, the only thing it has in common is the title.

I HOPE YOU LIKED IT!

[horror130]

having Henry Bowers and Vance Hopper obsessed with you would include

" One,two,Daddy is coming for you. Three,four,knocking down your door."- Henry Bowers

“If his filthy hands touch you again, I will kill him!!.”- Vance hopper

💢 You must be a very special and very unlucky person to have these two sociopaths "in love" with you.

💢 You can forget about your social life, since because of Vance's overprotectiveness and Henry's possessiveness, they won't let anyone be close to you, not even your family.

💢 As you can imagine, these two are not at all willing to share you, so you can expect Henry and Vance to fight over you every day, with Henry starting most of the fights since Vance only fights if provoked.

💢 Henry likes to push Vance when he is about to beat the pinball record so that he loses, the last time Henry did this, Grab N'Go ended up completely destroyed.

💢 As much as Vance and Henry hate each other, if they see someone paying too much attention to you, they will join forces and send this MF to hell, but then they become mortal enemies again.

💢 Being in the middle of Vance and Henry's fights can be very annoying and irritating, because they will scream insults at each other while you are in the middle trying to hold your hands over your ear trying to muffle their screams, sometimes they literally have a tug of war with YOU!, but sometimes you can take advantage of their fights to escape.

💢 I imagine you being on a (forced) date with one of them, only for the other to take you (forcibly too) out of that date, just imagine that you and Henry on a date, in the beginning Henry is paying full attention to you, but he you end up getting distracted for a few seconds and when he looks back at you, you've disappeared without a trace, while Henry is confused and pissed as hell and wondering where the hell you are, Vance is holding on tightly (but not to the point of hurting) you hand and taking you to Grab'N Go so you can watch him play pinball.

💢 You can be sure that at some point the two of them would no longer be able to stand each other, and they would literally start a war, and the last one standing would be with you, one of them would die or both of them would kill each other, one or the other, (maybe just Maybe you can stop these two from killing each other).

[sivyera]

your lips, my lips. apocalypse.

henry bowers x fem!reader

summary: henry had another argument with his father, now he seeks comfort in his girlfriends arms

༺☆༻

as you stepped out of the bathroom, clothed into your pyjamas which was only pink panties and henry's t-shirt he once gave you, ready to lay down to your bed and get some rest; as soon as you opened the door to your dark room, you felt light breeze of a fresh air hit your bare legs.

that was unexpected. you thought you had your windows closed, so you hit the light and saw henry, your boyfriend, sitting on your bed while looking down on his lap. he had few cuts on his face and ugly bruise under his right eye.

his father. you thought. it was obvious, he had another fight with his father and by that bruise you assumed it was bad.

"hold on." you said as you turned on your heel and went back to the bathroom for first aid kid.

henry didn't say anything. he wasn't a big talker so he didn't tell you much about fights with his father, but he's always safe with you and he knows it. that's why he's here so late at night.

you were back in a minute, but you locked the door this time. it was unnecessary? maybe. but it made henry feel more comfortable.

you squated in front of him with a with a piece of cotton wool and disinfectant. "it will sting a little." you warned calmy with a slight frown on your face.

but henry didn't moved a muscled, his gaze just moved from his lap to your eyes. after few seconds of staring into each others eyes, you slightly tapped on his cuts with that cotton wool.

his eyebrows twitched two times but then he got used to it. "can i stay the night?" he asked.

you slightly smiled at him as you were done with cleaning his wounds. you stood up, cupped his face into your palms and kissed his lips. he didn't waist a second and kissed you back with passion. few more seconds and you broke the kiss to answer him. "of course."

henry's hands then snaked around your waist while he slowly leaned down on the bed, taking you with him. as you two made yourself comfortable in bed, his grip around your waist got tighter. so you can breath but cannot escape or be taken away. he protects you from others just like you protected him from his father.

after extra few seconds, you broke the silence "you wanna talk about it?"

"not really" he answered almost immediately.

you expected this answer but it was fine. at least he was safe now and you were willing to give him all the time he needed before he confide to you.

"but i don't wanna think about it when i'm with you. when i'm with you i think only about you." he continued.

that caught you off guard. don't get me wrong, henry was a loving boyfriend. he showed you that he loved you, he did not tell you tho because he's not good with his words.

it was rare that he used his words but every time he did, it melted your heart. even tho he wasn't good with words, he always said the right thing.

"tell me how was your day, doll." he finished with a slight smile.

oh how you loved when he smiled, because this smile was special. this was sincere smile that was only meant for you.

so you started yapping about your day. how you had your morning tea, after that a pilates class. also how you went with your friend into the mall where you bought new lipgloss.

henry on the other hand watched your lips moved and your face features that changed every second when you change the theme. he listened to every word you said and felt every move you took when you ran your fingers through his hair. but it was too much on him.

he was already tired and your soothing voice with those nails stroking through his hair just lulled him to sleep.

you were talking for five more minutes when you noticed his calm breaths and closed eyes. but his grip around your waist didn't loosen.

you smiled. he was so handsome when he was relaxed. you gently kissed his forehead before closing your eyes as well. slowly drifting to sleep with him.

[trypoed1]

me and who

[girlystories]

Being the Bowers gang girl

*ೃ::Both platonic & romantic headcanon

– pairings: various x reader

addition warnings: swearing, bullying, very few depictions of sexism, few derogatory names, toxicity, abusive parenting.

words: 2.6k

this was entirely inspired by z0mbiekittyy, so please check them out!

Meeting/joining the gang

you were at first the quiet, loner girl who kept to herself, only having a few acquaintances, with very few friends.

it wasn't because you were a loser. only the opposite. everyone wanted to become friends with you or get to know you in some way but you never let anyone get close.

everyone had heard of you of course. when they realized you were different they stopped trying to read you or make their mind about you.

that was until greta keene couldn't get enough. she hated the attention you got. so one day she started spreading rumors about you.

it was relatively easy, since no one knew you enough to disprove them in any way. one word went to another and everyone in town now started talking shit about you.

despite that, you didn't care. you had your mind somewhere else. popularity and school drama weren't your thing.

you didn't mind hearing the remarks spat at you when you wandered the halls or when you were in class. you were completely and utterly unbothered.

word got fast that it even reached the all too feared bowers gang.

you were making your way to biology class when you were shoved against a locker, all your books falling one by one on the floor.

"well well well, if it isn't derry's most favored whore", henry was the first to indulge in the act.

he was followed by vic, or – as he liked to refer to him as his 'right-man', "hey, hank. why haven't we ever tried to mess with her before?"

you tried to back up slowly, but your back hit against another frame. when you looked up your eyes met with a pair of green ones, followed by an unsettling smile.

it seemed like no one noticed what was happening – or in better words, no one gave a shit about what was happening.

"dont worry, [name], we're not gonna kill you, jeez," belch revealed.

that made henry groan and turn his head towards his friend. "shut up."

patrick, still behind you, held onto your shoulders, which was very easy due to his height. "or we will, you will find out soon."

"both of you shut up," henry silenced them before it could escalate to something else. "so, how about you come with us for a ride? ya'know, get some air n' stuff."

"you mean like skipping school?", you asked.

"why? are you scared? I'm sure your reputation is as shitty as it can get. can't get any worse than that. even ours is better."

you shrugged, and just decided to follow them. just as you sat at your seat – between vic and patrick, you couldn't make out the read ahead of you, as they were driving recklessly. where you were, you hadn't the slightest clue.

they were laughing and howling, sometimes shouting at the drives passing by.

you? well, you were scared shitless. you clung onto your seat belt, and holding back the urge to start shrieking.

after a while you got used to it and had to admit deep down it was kinda fun.

when you stopped, you realized you were at a junkyard. they prepared a fire when the sun began to set down and opened some bottles of beer.

as you all circled around the fire you began to talk about whatever. you also found yourself to... tolerate them. or, better yet, even enjoy their company.

before you knew it, little by little you hang more and more with them, slowly becoming one of them. it was the first time you were a part of something. they felt like home and you could trust them, despite the hardships and more extreme emotional outbursts.

your reputation got even worse but you didn't care. you had found your people.

Activities

other than hanging out in the junkyard, you guys do other stuff (of course).

it's like you all live together, while you also don't. frequent sleepovers, meet-ups on each other houses take place, ect.

vic once convinced you all to go camping a few towns away. despite being the one who recommended the idea, he ended up despicing it. on the other hand, patrick who hated the idea ended up having the most fun. scaring vic by hiding bugs in his tent and pretending he was hearing bears or wolves. belch had enough and kept demanding they'd stop fighting, while you kept laughing at vic's reactions everytime. you never went camping again.

every morning belch picks everyone in order, first henry, then patrick, then you, and lastly – the sleeping queen himself: vic.

then, you make a stop at the local diner, everyone choosing their own specific order that the waitress had already memorized.

unless vic had a hangover from the party the day before, he wouldn't stop complaining about who-knows-what.

sometimes, when you were really bored, you'd go out of town in search of abandoned places, owning them for a while until someone else found them and ruined them almost immediately.

it was expected and common sense you'd show up at ever party. then you all would split for a while but meet up in order to leave. belch was in priority not to drink or get high until anyone else got a license. that's what you all agreed on but that possiblility seemed unlikely.

at school you avoided bullying anyone, but giving up on trying to stop them from terrosizing another kid since it was the only thing they ignored you on. the only time you fought back was to defend yourself. not that you needed to, but because you wanted them to know that you weren't as incompetent as you seemed.

when you had the change you'd shoot empty beer bottles with henry's dad's gun.

Henry Bowers

you and henry would share your deep wounds together. him about his alcoholic and insane old man, and you about your hard time fitting in, both in family and friends.

you would joke around, but to an extent. if you said the wrong thing he'd refuse to speak to you for days, weeks or maybe even months – depending how much it affected him. if he was too stubborn, vic would have to somehow find a way to talk him out of his bitchy attitude.

despite him trying to seem hard-shelled, deep down he was very sensitive. he knew you knew that, and he hated it. it was the only thing he hated about you except the fact that tend to be pushy sometimes.

he had never cried in front the guys, but one day he couldn't hold back when he was only with you. it happened only once, but he still feels humiliated about it and hopes you'd never bring it up. he made you swore to never tell anyone.

butch seemed to like you for a reason, only approving of you from the gang. he hated the rest. when you find yourself at their house, he'd warmly greet you.

at first he and patrick made a lot of sexist joke about you. later when he noticed you went silent you, he started using them less, only saying them once or twice.

always offers you cigarettes, and makes sure to buy your favorites.

sometimes (when he's not in a shitty mood) he pays for your food when you go at the diner without saying a word or giving you the chance to convince him otherwise.

all good things considered, let's be honest here cuz we all know he has more negative that good qualities.

for example; gets jealous super easily and gets mad at you for it, making you apologize for something that isn't your fault.

NEVER admits he's wrong. ever.

when you have a different opinion he tells you to shut up or straight up threatens you.

needs a lot of attention, while also can't have on his tail all the time, making him indecisive and confusing.

sometimes doesn't realize you need help and leaves you deal with your problems alone while you clearly do need some sort of hand.

still, you always have a way to be together again, unable to keep any distance between you both. on weekends you usually take the bus to his house, helping him with the choses around the farm.

Vic Criss

you and vic already knew each other from middle school. you were in the same class and he used to help you with homework.

then, when kids started growing up through that phase everybody did about that sort of rivalry against girls and boys. because of that, your 'friendship' fell apart.

you weren't really friends back then but you could've been.

he never admitted it but he always stared at you from away, wishing you would somehow start talking to each other again.

he was the one who convinced henry to approach you that day. the idea popped into his mind just as those rumors started going around.

he was glad henry agreed. even though he always did, he was anxious of saying no. later, he lied to you, saying it was henry's idea instead and that first interaction you had with him was henry's way of being kind (despite calling you a 'whore').

you and vic were close, in a different way you were with the others. he understood you better and he was very good at telling advice. he was also fun gossiping with. definitely the best when having a sleepover. the others found him annoying or bitchy about it, but with you he was himself.

he also was kinda subtle about his true personality, not showing his true small but intresting quirks only you knew.

speaking of gossiping, almost every weekend he crashed at your place, the excuse being his siblings giving him a headache, while his mom being 'a pain in the ass'.

everytime he had a problem with the others you would be the first to know. he was still henry's 'right-man', but sometimes henry was, well... henry.

at parties he'd get wasted and you'd be 100% sure he'd be found in the bathroom pucking his guts out.

you guys are so close he would be showering while you were doing your business at the toilet, gossiping about everything single detail.

still sometimes helps you with school after some persuation, but keeps reminding you that 'he is not your tutor'.

loves braiding your hair when you're hanging out, especially during class when it's something super boring (even for him).

Patrick Hockstetter

you were honestly pretty scared of patrick at first, and most definitely the only one from the gang who gave you the creepes.

the alligations weren't few, to say the least, and at first you kept your distance from him.

he also didn't try to make a move on you, which you found stange, yet grateful. maybe henry threatened him or something. either way you were considerably on good terms with patrick.

one day at school, while you were waiting for the other three to come at your usual spot during break, he offered you a cigarette. you received it with gratitude, since it was rare for an offer coming from patrick. he even stricked up a conversation, which was... maybe a bit thought provoking.

then he smirked – that one charismatic he wore when you would stop being able to read his mind. he was like a puzzle, but most pieces were missing or switched with incorrect ones. "are the rumors true?", he asked, closing his zippo with a 'click' after he light your cigarette.

"i dont think that you care if they're true or not," you answered back, the tobacco filling your lungs with nicotine.

clouds of smoke escaped his nostrils with each chuckle. "maybe."

on your ride home Black Sun Morning by Screaming Trees was playing from the radio and you found yourself singing alongside patrick. he rose his brows, "you know 'em?"

"duh, of course."

the next day on the ride to school, instead of gossiping with vic you ended up having a deep conversation with patrick about music. you never imagined that you'd be having a conversation about art with him of all people.

since then, you hit it off well. he stopped using sexist comments as well, and even attempted physical contact at the diner, brushing his fingers against your hair. when he realized you let him or try to stop him, he smiled to himself.

in the end you were usually seen together, you sitting on his lap during breaks or at the gym stands, in the car or diner. he would wrap his arms around your waist and rest his head on your shoulder. it was making the others sick.

sometimes you attempted to help him with homework, but he only agreed so you could just hangout. he wasn't really interested in attending college. the thing he was good at was certainly playing the guitar. both bass and lead guitar. vic jokes about him making a band but it something told you he didn't view it as a light joke.

one day he invited you to his house to show you his vinyls and discs. that's when you met his mother and was pretty surprised to find out she was vietnamese. he made sure to never speak vietnamese around you or the others.

when meeting you he became less... interested at the fridge at the junkyard, viewing it less and less. maybe therapy was starting to work out? even for a tiny bit.

extremely protective of you, especially at parties. makes sure to keep an eye out even though you wouldn't know it.

Belch Huggins

belch was the most chill and the most independent one of the gang. aways making sure everything was in check and going smoothly. it was no surprise he was super welcome to you and tried to make you at ease the first few weeks, asking you if you were okay or needed a ride home.

is a gentleman, of course. doesn't tolerance any disrespect towards you, no matter how small it may seem to you.

offeres to pay for you when going out, no matter how many times you don't let him.

one time you both got so drunk you couldn't stop laughing; your bellys hurting and your eyes filled with tears while your faces were bright red. it made henry mad (as usual) but it's a memory you'd never forget. you had no way to get back home, though.

on fridays you watch him play basketball, sitting at the stands, and smoking and encouraging him. sometimes vic or patrick came too, but it was very rarely.

he offers you the ball but you immediately decline, being reminded of the day the ball hit you in the face after you missed your shot.

you requested him to teach you how to drive, which was a bad idea honestly. at first you didn't understand his instructions at all, but when he asked you if you had any questions you lied saying 'no'. after that instead of stepping on going forward you accidentally went backwards, almost crashing his beloved trams-am that he named 'daisy'. then you turned the wheel too far, almost falling at a ditch before he saved you two.

swore that you'd never get a license in your life and forbid you anywhere near the wheel, not even the passengers seat.

his dad owes a workshop, fixing cars. he helped too, supporting him in any way he could. you also helped him here and there while he taught you the basics and answered any questions you had.

he promised that he'd let you fix a car entirely on your own without his help. he said he'd also let you keep it for free.

you have a drawer contained only of belch's clothes. at first you'd ask him to try his sweatshirts on. then you'd complain you were cold and he'd sigh, saying you could give it back another day. but you never did.

you loved it when he gave you biggyback rides. his, especially. he could never refuse, despise how tired he was.

[lucycore]

Pov: If u were in the Bowers Gang or Losers Club

—

Tell me which one u'd pick and also if u wanna see a male version.

Bowers Gang:

Losers Club:

(Idk I got bored and did it. I'm definitely Bowers gang lol)

[noyoucantpinmedown]

The Bowers Gang When Their Partner Has Their Period

Basically headcanons on the boys' attitude towards periods and how they handle their afab partner having one.

Belch Huggings

While Belch was raised by his loving mom, I picture Mrs. Huggings being quite old-fashioned and therefore very sheepish when it comes to talking biology with her son. Poor woman barely made it through giving him the sex talk, and as a result all Reggie knows is that whatever happens during the elusive ''time of the month'', it's not fun. Despite his lack of knowledge, Belch will be very doting of his partner if he's told they're having theirs, or even if he thinks they might be (he will never ask, or say the P word.) His SO can expect even more cuddles, random store bought or home-cooked treats (Mama Huggins is proud of how considerate her boy is), supplies kept on hand in the glove compartment of his car, patience, and compassion. Will assume sex is out of the question for the time being, but if his partner asks, he's more than happy to oblige. Generally will check on his SO constantly to the point of being annoying, and is willing to do anything they want, being nothing but understanding and obliging the whole time, even if his partner is cranky and takes out their frustration on him. Clueless as he is, he's ready to do anything he can think of to help, and is eager to be directed on what his SO needs. Will it kill him inside to be seen out buying pads for his partner? Yes. Will he do it anyway without complaint? Also yes. 10/10 in terms of support.

Victor Criss

I headcanon Victor as having two younger sisters and one of them is around the Losers' age, so aside from actually having been educated by his parents, he has actually witnessed what it can be like. He's the best prepared for this scenario and the most mature about it. As most teenage boys, Vic is a bit grossed out by the whole thing, but he's determined to handle it maturely and discuss it openly with his partner. Once he knows Aunt Flo is in town, he'll steal some pads from his sister and mom's stash to keep in his backpack, along with some Advil for cramps. He will show empathy for his SO's aches and mood swings, but unlike Belch, he will not take his SO directing their frustration at him- they may be bleeding, but that does not get them a free pass to treat him badly. In terms of intimacy, he's squicked out by blood in a sexual context, so his partner is on their own for that one. Other that that, he's happy to provide whatever his SO needs- he'll cuddle and read with his partner when they're bedridden with cramps, supply them with warm drinks, listen to them rant, and provide plenty of affection.

We're done with the sweet boyfriends part- onto the shitty ones.

Patrick Hockstetter

Patrick's knowledge on menstruation amounts to sexist stereotypes, and shameless as he is, he's not afraid to talk about it. The type to bring it up whenever his partner is grumpier than usual (''Oh, I see. Shark week, is it?''), and enjoys coming up with names for it- they're about as gross as you can expect. He's curious about how it really works, though, which might make it even worse, because now his taunts are even more based in reality. The stereotypical ones don't really stop either, though. The only one who will not tell their partner if their clothes are stained in public, because it's funnier if they're walking around with a red spot on the back of their pants. Patrick has an uncanny ability to just know when his partner's having their monthly visitor without them having to mention it (because he's a stalker with great observational skills). Doesn't give a shit about what their partner is going through, no emotional support to be found here. He's just as likely to take mood swings and crankiness in good fun (but there will be some form of punishment if his SO crosses the line of what he considers entertaining sass) as he is to get bored with it and avoid his partner until they're in a more agreeable mood. But hey, he is not completely useless- will give his partner all the physical affection they want, because he enjoys his partner being clingy and it's easy to transition to sex from there. Every now and then he'll swipe treats and supplies from the store even if he is not asked for them. The more attached Patrick feels to his SO, the more likely he is to do it and the more likely he is to not ask for anything in return... the latter still isn't a lot, he'll still expect his partner to fall over themselves thanking him for his sacrifice and generosity (that being the one chocolate bar he stole while going to steal cigarettes for himself). Generally speaking though, for Patrick it's business as usual. Ditto for intimacy. The negative is that he will expect his partner to put out in some form of another; the positive is that his partner will not be without if they habe those kind of cravings, and absolutely nothing is off the table because we know Patrick is nasty as hell and really enjoys blood. If his partner really wants nothing to do with him in that department, no big deal! He'll just find someone who does while he waits out the crimson tide :) He's such a catch, guys!

Henry Bowers

Oh boy. So, here's the thing: unlike Patrick, Henry actually wants to help. Unlike Vic and Belch, Henry is too stoic and hard-headed to even touch the topic. All he knows about menstruation is wrapped up in sexism, so he probably thinks that ''it's not that big of a deal'', or that ''women play it up for attention''. But he's squeamish when it comes to the reality of All Things Afab, so if he pulls the ''are you on you period'' card when his partner is in a bad mood and his partner answers Yes, I am, expect blushing and stammering. Wants to help, but does not want to talk about it, and a lot of the things that would help he considers demeaning (he will not be caught dead in the feminine care aisle). Not much to offer in the way of emotional support, except awkward pats and clumsy attempts at validation. He will show his partner more grace than usual, but if they're the type to complain a lot, get snappy or emotional, he'll get very tired very quickly. As far as sex is concerned, Henry expects his needs to still be met but refuses to touch his partner below the hips- he won't push his SO more than once or twice, though, and will wait it out without bringing it up again. Generally better at the quiet moments: sitting with his SO while they nap or watch a movie, wordlessly giving them food or a hot water bottle and trying to blissfully ignore the whole situation as much as he can.

[bowerspowers]

the niche i never knew i needed .

[hockstetters-overbite]

Are you people seriously gonna look at me and tell me he’s NOT babygirl???

[frog-cultist]

I’ve fallen into the niche side of the IT fandom help

[ogeneraloito]

[sematarygirls]

Living Dead Girl Pt. II — Patrick Hockstetter.

part one

pairing : patrick hockstetter x ghost!reader

summary : patrick gave into his urges and finally tested his morbid curiosities on prey much larger than just a cat or dog. little did he know his actions would come back to haunt him... literally.

warnings : patrick being a psychopath , animal cruelty , male masturbation , graphic descriptions of murder and suicide , reader being manipulative , degradation , sexual themes ,

word count : 4.5k words !

a/n : can't believe i'm finally posting this after a year and a half. also this is my first attempt at smut-ish so i'm sorry if it's ass. im not gonna say this is 18+ bc I myself am not 18+ (im turning 18 this year tho) also im not your mom and idgaf what you read.

"Finally," a voice sounded, causing him to drop both his can and his plate. The sharp sound of glass breaking followed by a loud thud echoed through the room as the plate and soda can collided with the floor.

"No, no, no," Patrick shook his head, shutting his eyes. "This isn't real. I killed you. You're not here. You're not real."

"Sorry, babe," the voice, your voice, whispered into his ear. Your warm breath fanned his ear, and he felt his whole body tense. "I'm very much real."

"That's not possible," he said through gritted teeth. "I watched you die. I buried you!" He opened his eyes, convinced that this was all some terrible drug trip. Maybe the weed he'd just got from Henry was laced, or maybe he was suffering from a temporary psychosis. Either way, there had to be some rational and logical reason that he was seeing you.

However, when he saw you there, sitting there with a smug look on your face, your presence as solid as any living person, he felt his heart skip a beat.

You tilted your head, eyebrows furrowing as you pouted. "What's wrong, Patrick?" You asked condescendingly. "Don't act so scared now." You walked toward him slowly, watching him scramble backward in a panic. A smile spread across your lips as you saw the pure fear in his eyes when he hit the wall behind him, having nowhere else to go. "You weren't scared when you stabbed me. You weren't scared when you watched me bleed out in your arms. You weren't scared when you buried my body like some animal you found on the side of the road." Your voice was seeping with anger as you stepped closer and closer, cornering him. "So you don't get to be scared now."

Patrick Hockstetter was not someone who was frightened easily. In fact, up until this very moment, he didn't think he had the ability to be frightened at all. His unique ability to remain calm and collected in situations that would often stress others out was one he was prideful of. However, at that moment, he felt all composure and level-headedness dissolve. For the first time in his life, he was scared. Not just scared—terrified.

"What- What do you want?" He asked, his voice shaky as he looked into your eyes. You no longer looked at him like he hung the moon. There were no remnants of your innocence and naivety—willing to trust that people have the best intentions. There was nothing behind your cold, lifeless eyes. It was like staring at a corpse.

"Now, what's the fun in that?" You grinned, leaning forward so your face was inches away from his. Your gaze flickered to his lips. The same lips you thought he'd planned to kiss you with, but instead, he'd stabbed you in the stomach and mocked your intelligence. "You should really watch your back, Patrick," you whispered with a devious smirk, your breath fanning over his face. "I heard the search for me is really picking up after they found my blood in the woods."

Your words snapped him back to the reality of the situation at hand. He had killed you. What you were saying was impossible though. Right? He was meticulous in every stage of his plan. There was no way they found any trace of you. "What are you talking about?" He asked, his eyes searching you for any sign of deception, but you were impossible to read like this. He was no longer able to detect everything from a single glance. He only knew what you wanted him to know.

Without another word, you disappeared, leaving the boy spiraling as he went through all the events of that night over and over again. "Come back!" He screamed, his voice echoing through the empty house. "You can't just leave like that you bitch!"

Patrick let out a frustrated yell as he grabbed the nearest thing—which happened to be a porno mag—and threw it across the room in a fit of rage. Who did you think you were to haunt him? To come into his room, make him feel that horrible emotion, and tease him just to leave abruptly?

He sat on the edge of his bed, trying to control his heavy breathing as his anger took over. You had to have been lying, trying to get into his head. He hated to admit that it was working. He was supposed to be the one in your head. This was his world. He controlled everyone and everything. You shouldn't be here. You should be dead and buried like he had intended.

He fell back in his bed and took a deep breath, letting his mind settle as he chased sleep. He told himself you would be gone tomorrow and that would be that. Your appearance to him, like something out of a Charles Dickens novel, was just a fluke. Tomorrow you would be dead and all would be right with the world.

He drifted off to sleep, having convinced himself that he would never see you again. He was able to get a few hours of sleep, but you weren't going to let him be at peace for long

At around 4 am, Patrick had a very vivid dream that he was choking. He was gasping for air, clawing at his neck as he looked around frantically. His surroundings dissolved into a pitch-black room. He felt his lungs burning, his brain growing fuzzy as the oxygen left him. It felt so vivid, so real.

He awoke in a panic, sitting up straight as he gasped for air. His lungs felt like they were on fire. Like he had truly been deprived of air like he'd dreamed about. He panted, catching his breath as he looked around at his room, thankfully finding no signs of you. However, when he finally felt secure, able to draw a breath without feeling like a thirsty man drinking water, he realized the pillow that had been behind his head was now sat on his lap.

The realization dawned on him that he may have been actually suffocating, and you were the culprit. He shook his head, trying to expel the thought as he laid back down, throwing the pillow off into the black depths of his room, so he wouldn't have to worry about it anymore. It was just a dream. Just as you were just a vision.

Patrick wasn't stupid, though many would argue to the contrary. Just because he didn't give a shit about school and didn't try didn't mean he wasn't smart. He just saved his intelligence for things that actually mattered—like planning and executing a murder.

That in mind, his refusal to accept the things he deep down knew to be true was not, as some would think, him being stupid. On the contrary, he believed himself smarter than to believe in silly things like ghosts. Dead things stay dead. He'd learned that at a very young age. He knew when he killed his brother that he would not be coming back. Just as he knew when he killed you that you would not be coming back.

Ghosts don't exist. He wasn't dumb enough to believe that.

As he laid in bed, trying to rationalize himself into a calm enough state to fall asleep again, he found himself more on edge with every creak of the old house around him. He stared up at the ceiling, his eyes conspiring with the moonlight to play tricks on him. His breath hitched at every shadow dancing around the dark.

You were proud of your work, and you had barely done anything yet. You watched from the shadows, pleased as he seemed to run himself in circles trying to cope with everything going on. The mere thought of you was torture enough.

You grinned, biting your lip as a thought washed over you. As a ghost, not bound by the physical realm, you had the ability to do a lot of things. One of those so happened to be raising and lowering the temperature in a room.

You focused hard, raising the temperature several degrees, making Patrick swear at the sudden sweat washing over him. You watched with a satisfied smirk as he pulled his shirt over his head, trying to cool himself off.

He didn't have a six pack or anything, but you didn't expect him to. He had a lean, toned torso with a very sexy v-line peeking out from his jeans. A small tattoo sat on his stomach just above his v-line on the right side. You couldn't make it out in the darkness, but you didn't care much. The sight of it alone was enough.

After all, who said you couldn't mix a little bit of business with pleasure.

He had taken away the rest of your life, all the possibilities of experiencing having your first kiss, losing your virginity, falling in love. It was only fair he made up for that in one way or another before your time together came to an end.

The time passed agonizingly slowly with Patrick staring at the ceiling and you watching him, studying him like he was some foreign thing. It was so interesting to watch someone when they don't know they're being watched. Of course, he felt the hairs on his neck stand on end, his body detecting the unseen eyes on him, but he chalked it up to paranoia—as he did every other unexplainable thing that seemed to be happening to him.

His mind drifted off, the heat making him restless as his brain filled with gruesome images of his previous kills. He sifted through his memory for the most interesting ones—dismembering birds, beheading cats, snapping a squirrel or two's neck—but none of them seemed to get him off anymore.

The image of your face right after he stabbed you made it's way into his mind. Your eyes, so wide and filled with fear. He could practically hear your sweet voice crying out, asking why he would do this to you. The thought made his cock tighten in his jeans.

He reached down, palming himself through his jeans with a groan. Reliving the sounds of you choking and coughing up your own blood had his fingers working quickly to undo his belt. He tossed it to the side, practically ripping the button off his jeans as he pulled them down along with his underwear, allowing his dick to finally be free from the restrictive fabric.

He spat in his hand, gripping his cock and lubricating it. He caught his chapped lower lip between his teeth as swept his thumb over his pink head, smearing his precum across it. He let out a low moan, letting his hand travel up and down his dick at a slow, agonizing pace. He kept his eyes screwed shut, immersing himself in the memory of your murder as he stroked himself.

Patrick was not a moral man by any means but this was a new low. Getting himself off to you, in his mind, was no better than if he was imagining one of his dead animal playthings. You were nothing to him. You were roadkill.

But, for some reason, the fresh sight of you, wearing the clothes he killed you in with that dark blood stain right where he'd stabbed you, your hair all matted, and the cold, lifeless look in your eyes, made it so easy to relive that night in great detail.

It was the greatest night of his life. The biggest release of pressure he'd ever felt since he began getting those homicidal urges—those itches. He didn't think he'd ever get to feel that euphoria again, but fucking himself to the thought of it would get him pretty damn close.

He let out a strangled moan, his hips pushing into his hand as he came, and he was right, it was the second-best feeling he'd ever felt. It didn't compare to killing you, but it was enough to satiate his urges once again.

He laid there, panting for what felt like hours. The time moved by so slowly until finally, the sound of the alarm block beside his bed blaring pulled him from his thoughts.

The red numbers reading 7:30 blinked slowly, reminding him that he had to get up and get ready for school. He leaned over, smacking the top of the clock roughly to silence it before falling back flat on his bed, preparing himself to get up.

He groaned, pushing himself up and grabbing a random pair of jeans and a shirt that smelled clean enough. He quickly got dressed before making his way back downstairs. He knew Belch would be here any second to pick him up—he always woke up later than he was realistically supposed to.

He slipped his boots on, and a few moments later, he heard Belch laying on his car horn. Rolling his eyes, he opened the door, heading outside and letting it slam just behind him.

"Calm your tits," he shouted in annoyance. Patrick always had a short fuse, but after the particularly restless night in which he'd been visited by some fucking ghost of Christmas Past, he found himself particularly irritable.

"Dude what happened yesterday?" Victor asked as Patrick climbed into the blue Trans Am.

"You were totally tripping the fuck out," Belch chimed in, starting the car and peeling out of Patrick's neighborhood.

"Dumb fuck can't handle his liquor," Henry scoffed from his spot in the passenger's seat.

"Shut the fuck up, Bowers," Patrick bit back, gazing out the window. "At least some of us don't piss our pants when we drink."

"It was one fucking time you dickhead!" Henry defended quickly, his cheeks turning red from the embarrassment.

At the feeling of someone's hand on his thigh, Patrick quickly looked over at Vic. "Don't fucking touch me you-" he paused just short of spitting some derogatory remark about Victor being gay and a freak when he saw you sitting between him and Victor, grinning at him darkly.

"What the fuck are you talking about, dude?" Victor asked, bewildered by Patrick's behavior. Patrick was always an odd one, but he never acted this weird.

"He probably smoked himself fucking dumb," Henry grumbled, still annoyed about the pants pissing remark.

You held a finger to your lips as climbed over onto his lap, holding onto his shoulders to steady yourself. You just wanted to rile him up a little, make him feel suffocated by you, like he could never escape. And truly, he couldn't. You were never going anywhere until you believed justice had properly been served, and you would take that in any form.

He glared at you, but you paid him no mind, leaning to whisper into his ear: "How cute," you condescended him. "You thought I would just go away." You dug your nails into his shoulders making him sharply inhale, trying not to tip off his friends to the seemingly unwarranted pain he was feeling. "You will never be rid of me," you whispered menacingly, looking deep into his eyes with a sickening grin that made nausea pool in his stomach.

In any other situation, having someone on his lap, digging their nails into his shoulders would probably have been a pleasurable experience, but this was not any other situation. This was a nightmare he couldn't seem to wake up from.

When Belch finally pulled into the school parking lot, Patrick couldn't get out of the car fast enough. You disappeared as he scrambled to unlock the door and get out, finally feeling like he could breathe. He pulled his shirt collar to the side, looking down at the angry red marks where your nails had been. They served as a disturbing reminder that you were really there, and you could do anything to him.

"You get laid last night, Hockstetter?" Belch asked, grinning as he saw the red marks.

"That why you ran off yesterday?" Henry snickered. "You pussy whipped?"

"At least, I actually get pussy," he sneered, paling as he heard your laugh echoing around him the moment the words slipped from his lips. It was a deafening sound. Like a mix between a cackle and a scream that seemed to permeate his surroundings.

His jaw clenched, eye twitching as he resisted the urge to cover his ears. Apart from not wanting to look insane, he also didn't think it would help much. You weren't around him. You were in him, in his head.

The bell could faintly be heard going off inside the school, making Victor curse under his breath. They had two minutes to get to class or they were late.

"Mrs. Denton's gonna throw a bitch fit if I'm late again," he groaned, watching as Henry lit a cigarette.

"Kiss ass," he remarked, taking a long drag before exhaling the puff of smoke into Belch's face as Victor walked away.

"You asshole," Belch coughed, shoving Henry.

"Oh, shit." Henry's eyes widened as he tossed his cigarette on the ground, quickly stomping it out. "Let's go," he ordered, making his way up the stairs to the front doors of the school, looking behind him frantically.

Patrick's eyebrows furrowed at the sudden shift in Henry's demeanor. He followed the brunette's gaze, his eyes locking with those of Butch Bowers, the sheriff.

"Wonder if they're here for you," your voice taunted him, breath tickling the back of his right ear. He turned, preparing to come face to face with that condescending smile you always seemed to be wearing, but you weren't there.

He looked back, finding Sheriff Bowers still staring at him, seemingly ignoring whatever the deputy was leaning into his ear to say. Patrick wasn't one to back down easily, but your presence, your warnings, had him on edge. He quickly advanced forward, his lengthy legs providing long strides as he followed suit in heading inside Derry Highschool.

The sounds of his heavy boots hitting the linoleum floor echoed through the empty hall as he made his way to his math class. Victor was right; Mrs. Densen was going to throw a bitch fit that he was late, but he didn't care. He wouldn't have cared on a normal day, but on this day, with the police sniffing around and you practically breathing down his neck, he cared even less—which he didn't even know was possible.

He pulled open the door to the classroom, a hush falling over the students as he entered. Most stared at him wide-eyed, some avoided looking at him altogether, and he briefly caught Vic looking at him with sympathy. The teacher, however, was glaring at him, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Mr. Hockstetter, late again I see," she said pointedly. "You've earned yourself a detention after school today." Patrick stifled a laugh as he made his way to his seat at the very back of the classroom. "Is something funny?" She asked, her tone displaying clear annoyance.

"Yeah, that you think I care," he rolled his eyes, slipping into his desk. He tuned out whatever lecture the teacher decided to give him after that. His gaze drifted to the empty desk in the front row— the one you used to sit at.

"Don't go feeling remorseful now," you said into his ear. He felt your arm around his shoulders as you leaned down, your face positioned next to his. He turned to look at you, and you turned to look at him, your faces almost touching.

your breath fanned across his face, the moment oddly intimate until you grinned at him, opening your mouth and emitting an ear piercing scream.

"Ah," he grunted in pain, his eyes screwing shut, and his hands gripping his ears. It felt like his eardrums were seconds away from bursting and causing blood to pour out of his ears. "Shut the fuck up!" He yelled, the room, and you, falling dead silent immediately after the words left him.

He peeled his eyes open, his hands falling as he looked around. "Excuse me, Mr. Hockstetter," the teacher gasped, clearly taken aback by his outburst. "Take yourself to the principal's office right this instant!" She ordered him.

His blood began to boil as he stood up abruptly, storming out of the classroom and slamming the door behind him. He was getting very very sick and tired of your little games. He headed toward the back door of the school, not wanting to cross paths with Henry's dad.

"This doesn't look like the way to the principal's office," you mused, appearing beside him. He stopped, turning to shove you against the locker. He groaned when his arms made contact with the locker instead of your body, and your laugh echoed behind him. "You think you can hurt me, how cute."

He let out a frustrated groan, smashing his fists against the locker. He couldn't stand you. He couldn't stand having someone that he couldn't manipulate or hurt but that could manipulate and hurt him. "What do you want with me?" He asked, refusing to look at you.

"To break you," you grinned. "To have you begging for it to stop."

Yeah, right he thought.

He was Patrick fucking Hockstetter; he didn't beg. He didn't bend to the will of others, especially not some dead bitch. He was determined not to let you win. You would eventually get tired of tormenting him and go back to wherever the fuck you came from. He was sure of it.

Oh, how he underestimated your patience and overestimated his resilience.

He lasted exactly a week. A week of you screaming and poking and scratching and fucking with his head. A week of people staring at him like he was insane with his random outbursts and talking to the air. A week of torment before you finally had him right where you wanted him.

"Just leave me alone!" He begged, standing in the middle of his room with his head in his hands. You had finally drove him to the brink of insanity, and he didn't know how much longer he could live like this. You, being everywhere all the time, taunting and touching and teasing, it was too much for him. He couldn't take it anymore. "Go away!"

You tsked, grinning at him, that condescending grin that filled him with indescribable rage. How could you look at him like that? Like he was stupid? You were the stupid one. You were killed by him not the other way around!

"I'm afraid that's not how this works," you told him, shaking your head slightly. "I get to stay until you give me what I want." You took a step, punctuating the next words you said with a pause between each one and another step forward. "However. Long. It. Takes."

"What the fuck do you want from me?" He yelled, desperate to get you away from him forever.

"Well," you drawled, running your index finger along his chest, making him flinch. You smiled at the effect you had on him. He talked a big game, getting mad when you left—cursing, throwing things, even—having the audacity to fuck himself to the thought of your murder— but when it came to being face to face with you, he cowered away.

Ain't nothing like a little fear to make a paper man crumble as Henry Bowers' father once said.

"I'll be nice and give you a choice," you said darkly. "You can turn yourself in," you almost laughed at the way his demeanor hardened. "Which we both know you're too proud and stubborn to do," you continued. The intrigue behind Patrick's eyes was undeniable as he eagerly awaited his second choice. "Or," you trailed off, grabbing a razor from his dresser and holding it in front of his face. "You can die."

"You're a crazy bitch!" He shouted, though his inability to mask the tremble in his voice made him sound less than threatening.

"Maybe," you shrugged, admiring the sharp piece of metal. "Hmm," you hummed. "I wonder how you'll feel about me in another week," you asked thoughtfully. "I bet you'll be wishing you took the chance while you had it."

His jaw clenched at your words. He'd already lost a considerable amount of sleep because of you, and the thought of you tormenting him any longer was a fate worse than death. "Why don't you just kill me?" He asked defeatedly. You'd backed him into a corner that he was positive he couldn't get out of without doing things your way.

"I'm not you, Patrick," you spat hatefully. "I don't kill people or things."

"What? Like driving me to suicide is any better?" He scoffed, challenging your sense of superiority over him.

"You have an informed choice," you told him, trying to regain your calm. You didn't like losing your temper, especially not to the likes of Patrick Hockstetter, scum of the earth. "That's a luxury you didn't extend to me."

He eyed the blade in your hand warily. He didn't like accepting defeat. He would never admit to killing you. Being confined to a tiny room, unable to satiate that burning itch deep inside him whenever he needed; it would drive him mad.

"Go on," you urged him softly, holding the razor out for him to take. "Put yourself out of your misery. End it all and be free."

He looked between you and the blade hesitantly, a million thoughts running through his mind as he tried to make a decision. Glaring at you, he took the blade. A scowl formed on his face as he observed the triumphant expression that you seemed to wear immediately after he made his choice.

"Two deep cuts, and you'll never have to see me again," you assured him. That all but sealed the deal. Patrick didn't believe in heaven or hell and death didn't scare him. Being caged like one of the many animals he's so cruelly killed scared him more than dying. He walked over to his bed, sitting on the edge.

He sucked in a breath, pressing the blade into his wrist and dragging it upward toward his inner elbow. He clenched his teeth, deeply inhaling through them. A groan of pain fell from his lips as he felt the warm blood begin seeping from his wound, running down his arms and onto his jeans. He continued the action on the other arm, feeling nauseous and lightheaded.

The blade fell from his trembling fingers, clattering to the floor as he fell back onto the bed. His head felt foggy, and the pain began to melt away into numbness. His eyes began to droop, and he faintly saw your outline standing above him.

He just barely felt you lean down, pressing a kiss to his forehead. His ears began to ring as his eyes fell shut. The words you spoke next were the last he would hear before his heart slowed to an eventual stop. He almost couldn't make them out, the sound muffled, as if he was underwater, but his mind used its last bit of energy to process them before giving out.

"Goodbye, Patrick Hockstetter," you said softly. "May you burn in hell."

tags! : @fatfagsj , @mysticalhills , @simpingforthe80s , @slasherho , @pinkpanther-44 , @slaggylemon , @kyranisnotdead , @ladydragiiss ,

[thelosers-club]

I CANT STOP LAUGHING

[knyontop]

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Made a moodboard of one of my favorite series by @bella-goths-wife :3!

Yandere!bowers gang x ballerina!reader

₊˚ ‿︵‿୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿ ˚₊

[mayonnaise2004]

Meeting + Dating Henry Bowers

((Might do the rest of the bowers gang??? Idk.))

- You were either one of the Bowers gang's old victims or completely new to Derry.

- either way, he’s a complete dick to you.

- probably a firm believer in ‘if a boy hurts you it means he likes you’ because he learnt that from his parents.

- stealing your stuff and burning/hiding it, bullying you with his friends, calling you slurs etc.

- it does take awhile for him to actually stop bullying you (mostly because he realizes it’s pushing you farther away.)

- Either forces some little freshman to tell you he says he’s sorry, or passes you a note saying the same thing.

- now for getting you out for that first date?.. that took some time. Lots of trying to convince you, school dance invites and even showing up to your house with the Bowers gang to try and persuade you. (The others stayed in the car ofc. He doesn’t need their help! >:/)

- after the restless harassment of Henry Bowers, you eventually said yes! (out of pity? Maybe. He doesn’t need to know that.)

- first date was just walking around town with the rest of the gang quietly driving in someone else’s car with slushies and talking about whatever came to mind. It was quite nice actually

- it’s adorable that you think you're not together in his eyes now. Even if you did get with a guy after he’d start rumours. And rumours spread like wildfire in a small town's high school.

- Officially asked you to be ‘his’ at school a few weeks before summer break.

- Dating Henry takes patience—lots of it.

- Sorta awkward at first, hasn’t done this in awhile so give him some time..

- would never hurt you (sober of course.), if he did lose his patience and accidentally hit you it would follow with him breaking down in your arms and apologizing profusely.

- constantly holding you close whenever your around people.

- POSSESSIVE AF. Literally had to spend a few weeks in juvy because he almost killed someone for looking at you ‘funny’.

- Movie dates!!

- Pretends to yawn so he can put an arm around your shoulder.

- your never hanging out at his place when his dad is home and don’t ask why, That just starts a fight.

- speaking of fights, he usually gets pissy about the stupidest shit (talking to any of the ‘losers’ mostly.)

- Hates manhandling/being manhandled . So if your into that.. no.

- Sneaking in through your bedroom window

- heavy make-out sessions in the back of Belch’s car. Whether the boys are in the gas station stealing snacks or still in the vehicle.. he doesn’t give a shit.

- romantic in his own way??? I mean if you swoon because he engraved your initials into his switchblade be my guest 🤷

- pet names are an off and on thing. ‘Angel cakes’ in a mocking way is his favourite, but loves to be called anything sweet in private.