#patrick hockstetter one shot

[lefthandersruletheworld]

The Bathroom Break (Bill Denbrough IT fanfic)

Like always, it started with a stutter.

“Cuh-cuh-cuh-cuh,” William Denbrough, or more accurately; Bill, stuttered violently. “Cahhhan I-I go to the buh-bah-bathroom?”

“Sure, go,” his teacher said, her fingers finding her temple in annoyance. She was well aware that Bill couldn’t control that wicked speech impediment, but that didn’t make it any less maddening. Within a breath, Bill had jumped out from his seat and onto his feet. He launched up so aggressively that he slammed his upper legs and hip bones into the edge of his desk. The desk seemed to flinch in return. The resulting squawk the desk's feet made against the floor turned the surrounding giggles and chuckles in the room into all around laughter. Bill looked around the laughing classroom in agonized embarrassment. His classmates were laughing so sporadically and loudly, that one would assume some poor child just let out the most atrocious and fantastical fart known to man in a classroom of thirteen year olds. Bill only wished it was that simple, then he could dispel any mean spirited questions with his own simple answers like, “I couldn’t hold it in anymore” or “my mom made beans, it’s not my fault”, but Bill wasn’t so lucky. Now on his feet with his eyes to the floor, face blotchy and red like a rainier cherry, he sped walked -just shy of a jog- towards the classroom door. As soon as he lifted his hand for the handle, Moose Sadler; the reason for Bill's humiliation, spoke out, “buh-buh-buh-bye b-b-b-b-b-Billy,” in a mock of his stutter.

With that, another wave of laughter came roaring through the classroom. Bill swung the door open and didn’t look back. He could only barely hear the teacher trying to quiet the class down and get them back to their studies, but that didn’t matter now. Bill’s fast pace slowed dramatically once he was in the safety of the hall. He purposely slowed his walk to nearly a crawl, just to extend the time of his little “bathroom” break. His heart was still beating heavy in his chest, and his flushed face marked him like a sticker of shame placed onto his cheeks, but in the hall he was safe. He was unsure if the shame he felt would ever leave. He hated his stupid, stupid stutter. His mind was consumed by self loathing types of thoughts as he fled into the boys restroom. He didn’t actually have to go, he figured his teacher knew, but he walked in there like it would save his life. Despite his teachers' open distaste for his stutter, she likely understood that he loathed it more than anyone else. He is the one who has to live with the damn thing after all. Nevertheless, she likely agreed to let him use the bathroom just to get his pink face and blabbering mouth out of her once calm and quiet classroom.

When the bathroom door clicked shut and the cold air of the bathroom hit Bill's nostrils, he felt like he could finally breathe. He took a moment to just look at that plain tile half-wall before rounding the corner and being met with the full bathroom. The layout of the bathroom was rather simple. Upon walking in there is a short tile wall to act like a privacy curtain. A person would have to take a right turn to really see the bathroom. On the right hand side of the bathroom there was a wall dedicated to hygiene. There were six sinks set at an even distance between each other; with a small mirror for each. Between each sink there was a soap dispenser and a paper towel dispenser for the sinks and boys to share. It was worth mentioning most boys skipped the whole handwashing process altogether, but Bill’s mother drilled it into his head that polite boys must always was their hands after using the restroom. The left side of the room was for doing your “business” so to speak. The left side of said wall was made up of three urinals, all of varying heights to accommodate the young boys in the elementary wing, the growing boys in the middle wing, and the older boys in the high school wing. Then to the right were three toilet stalls for pooping and privacy. Finally the very back wall, right where the wall meets the ceiling, were some thin and blurry windows to allow natural light through the room. There was also a trash bin on the other side of the half wall, right when you walk in. Bill had been in this bathroom what felt like a million times, so he just made for the stalls without hesitation.

The middle stall was occupied, so he slipped inside the third and final stall at the very end. It was the largest stall and arguably the best because it allowed for that natural light from the windows. It was also without the threat of being peeped on due to the frosted glass, but Bill didn’t know that’s what it was called. Most boys just call the windows “blurry” and that seemed good enough. He latched the stall door shut and - with a motion that Richie, the Trashmouth Tozier, would describe as a “majestic twirl” - pivoted on his heel with a spin and made for the toilet. Unlike what you’re supposed to do while sitting on a toilet, Bill kept his shorts on and securely fastened around his hips. No point in dropping them down when he didn’t have to go. He sat his clothed rear onto the toilet seat and put his head in his hands. His palms felt cold by comparison to his flaming cheekbones. For a moment he just moved his hands and fingers around his face to cool it off. He glanced briefly at the brown leather boots in the other stall. Bill didn’t mind that there was another kid in the bathroom with him, but he sure as hell would rather be alone right now though, but beggars can’t be choosers as his father would say.

Back with his head tucked thoughtfully in his palms, his brain replayed that damn scene in the classroom over and over like a broken record.

His teacher had been trying to gather some class engagement for their reading lesson. She spent what must’ve been about five minutes asking for volunteers to raise their hands so they may take a turn to read out loud, but the classroom was completely void of sound except for breathing and the occasional cough. Normally any teacher would be praising the lord for such a relaxed set of thirteen year olds -mixed with some older kids that didn’t quite make the marks- but that quiet and dead classroom wasn’t what she needed at that moment. It always seemed that when she needed kids to be quiet, there they were laughing, talking and being disruptive, but the moment she needed them to chat, there they were, dead silent and disengaged. She cautioned, ’I’ll start calling on people if nobody raises their hands’ but nobody did. With a heavy sigh she began to point to random children in the class, asking them to read a paragraph or two, before calling on another child to do the same with the next set down.

Everything was all fine and well until she pointed off to the back center row of the class, right on Bill Denbrough. The way her face went from a pleasant look of boredom to instant regret washing over her expression haunted him. The way she realized ’oh no. Oh me oh my what have I done? I just called on the stutterer. Oh God here we go. Now I’ve got to sit through this.’ The look was not shocking nor uncommon for Denbrough, but the fact it was so transparent, and on a teacher no less, threw him completely off his rhythm and left him horrified. Why did people have to look at him like that? He doesn’t like the stutter any more than anyone else does, but it’s not like he can control it. While Bill’s stutter in the classroom was normally long and tedious, her visible regret would’ve had him fumbling for his words even if he didn't stutter. He kept telling himself ’just read through this as fast as you can so she can call on someone else’ but it seemed the faster he wanted to speak, the slower he became. He was choking on his words, only made worse by how some kids snickered or groaned at his lengthy stuttering read, but it all went from bad to worse when he got caught on the word “knapsack”.

That damn word had him by the throat and once he got past the “knap” part of the word, he was completely stuck on the “sack” part of it. The kids really began to giggle there, but Bill was so focused on trying to get the word out, he had no idea why they were laughing. It wasn’t until Moose Sadler; one of the older boys and an on and off again member of the Bowers gang, quickly and quietly shouted, “ball sack,” that the chuckles turned into a roar of laughter. The teacher reacted almost instantly, hushing and shushing the class, but it was too late. The damage was done and the kids were hysterical. Poor Bill was left with the icey realization he was blabbering on and on about “sah-sah-sack-”. If that thought was ice, then the next realization that hit him was like a snowy avalanche; ‘Moose is gonna tell Henry about this’. His mind reeled when the thought grew. ’Moose is gonna twist the story; call me a queer, a gay-lord talking about ball sacks in class’. That was the final straw, the one that left Bill clutching his desk til his knuckles were white and his face was that of a furnace. His only fallback was the good ol bathroom trick.

Which brought him here, red faced and hiding away in a bathroom stall.

Bill groaned into his palms and hid his face even more. His brain just wouldn’t shut up with how Moose was gonna run his mouth. What was Henry going to do to him once he heard? It’s not that Bill had any malicious opinions about gay people, quite the contrary really. He was probably one of the most open minded people in their school about gay people, but it wasn’t a label he wanted others to be throwing around about him when Henry - the Psychopath - Bowers was around. He could practically hear it now, in bold letters like a radio announcer for a big talk show trumpeting, “LOOKIE HERE LADIES AND GENTS, HERE WE HAVE STUTTERING BILL, DERRY MANES FAVORITE GOOD OLD FAGOLA. WHO WILL HE DO NEXT? STAY TOONED THIS WEEK FOR THE NEXT EPISODE OF FAGS IN BODY BAGS”. Bill would be considered the luckiest boy alive if Henry only made him bleed a little bit. He could live with the rest of the school thinking of him as a gay, blubbering fool, but with Henry Bowers around, that rumor might as well be written on his obituary. He almost wanted to cry, but he didn’t dare. Crying with another boy in the room? That would be a fast way to get upgraded from ‘Blubbering Gay Fool’ to “The Stuttering Gay Crybaby”. Although that didn’t make him want to cry any less. Quite the contrary, it only fueled it. His unshed tears bit at him hard, but he denied himself the right to cry. After all he hasn’t genuinely cried since-

Since Georgie died.

Since the funeral.

Since his baby brother was buried in a small casket with only one arm, because they couldn’t find the other one.

Bill looked up to the ceiling, rolling his eyes up to force the tears back in. They bit and clawed, trying to crawl out from their prison and his lower lip fluttered with pre-cry breaths. His breathing was louder than he meant for it to be, but not as loud as he believed it was. He fluttered his eyes, trying to banish the salty tears. They fought him, nearly won but soon retreated. They left a burning sensation throughout his face, but he felt pride in his repression. It wasn’t until he was absolutely confident that he wasn’t going to cry that he allowed himself to look down at the tile floor. They rested there for a moment before flicking back to the boots inside the other stall.

It was odd that the other boy hadn’t left yet, and his boots seemed oddly- nearly painfully- familiar but he couldn’t quite place who they belonged to. The boots were quite large, meaning they belonged to an older boy. It was then where Billy finally noticed a scratching sound that came from the other stall. It took Bill only three seconds, one mississippi, two mississippi, three mississippi, to understand the boy must’ve had a knife or something similar and was carving something into the wall. Given the type of graffiti in Bill's own stall walls, it was likely a fowl spirited message or phallic drawing. That’s just how the bigger boys were, and some of them were really good at drawing dicks. It was almost concerning how well they could carve dicks into the stalls. Bill could do without seeing all the cruel messages written along the walls, but he didn’t mind randomly finding a funny looking penis shape in unexpected places. It was always a good laugh when he found one. He pondered briefly if drawing dicks was a boy exclusive trait. He wondered if girls drew dicks in their bathroom too. Although, they probably wouldn’t because how would they know what one looks like? He supposed they probably draw… whatever it is girls have in their pants, but he couldn’t be certain.

As immature and boyish as it was, the thought of all the funny dick carvings he’s seen made his spirits lift a bit. He’d seen all sorts of drawings. Big ones, little ones, ones with tiny little balls and bulbous tips and others with sharp small tips and huge balls like golf balls. Then there were the hairy ones, veiny ones, floppy ones, super straight ones that seemed to be peeing due to the tear drop shapes coming out of it. Hell, he had even seen one once with angel wings with text underneath that read ‘RIP Boogers Balls’, which was a reference to a time where Vincent “Boogers” Taliendo got hit in the balls with a kickball in gym class. The thought of all those funny penis drawings and the memory of Boogers wailing in pain when he was struck in his nether regions suddenly made Bill feel a lot better. His face was no longer red and despite being embarrassed about the whole classroom endeavor and anxious about his fate with Henry, for now he felt stable. He may cry later that evening if the thought of Georgie returned to him, but he’d likely forbid himself once again. That’s just how he was.

Ignoring his thoughts, Bill decided he should probably return to class. After all, he had been gone for quite some time by this point. He rose to his feet and thought about his bladder for a moment. After a few seconds of mental debating, he decided he should urinate before returning to class, after all, he was right there. Might as well go now he figured. With a turn, unzip and let-her-rip, Bill did his business and within a flash he was finished and zipping himself back up. He flushed the toilet and exited the bathroom stall. In a trained and orderly manner, he walked straight for the sink ahead and rolled his sleeves to his elbows. He cleared his throat while squirting some hand soap into his palm. His eyes met with that of his reflections. His eyes were a bit pink around the edges and lower lids, but other than that, there was no evidence he nearly cried. ’Thank God,’ he thought. In the reflection, he glanced at the other stall, a bit weirded out now since the other boy was still in the bathroom stall. No sounds emitted from the stall now. The carving sound had ended once Bill opened his stall door. Other than the carving, the other boy hadn’t made a sound. No typical bathroom noises or anything. Just silence. Bill mentally shrugged, deciding it was just some kid skipping class. He turned the water on and began to clean his hands in the pleasantly warm water. The water was nice, grounding in a way; comforting. He watched the way the clear fluid ran off his skin like a mini waterfall.

His trance was broken when he heard the clunk of the middle stall door lock being unlatched. Reflexively, Bill looked up into the mirror to see who the other kid was. The other boy must’ve been in the bathroom for well over ten minutes. He curiously watched the stall through the mirror, but the door didn’t open right away. Several long seconds ticked on with no movement from the door. It was much too long to be considered normal. Bill’s hands slowly stopped moving as he watched. He was just holding his hands under the water, fingers intertwined. He held still, just waiting and watching. As soon as the thought, ‘who’s in there’ surfaced in his head, it was as if the other boy could read his mind. The stall door began to creak open, but at a deliberately low speed. Bill was transfixed by this point, unable to tear his eyes from the stall door. The boy who was finally revealed by the door was someone that took the breath from Bill's lungs.

At first he almost didn’t even recognise who the other boy was. His brain seemed scrambled by the position of the other boy's body when he opened the door. The boy's open hand was placed on the door, but with his thumb pointed down towards the ground and his elbow crooked upwards, rather than the casual other way around. The position of his head was just- bizarre. His shoulders were askew, one pointed closer to the floor than the other and his head was cocked to the side, exposing a large portion of his neck. It’s not that his head was tilted like someone would do if they were in deep thought, his head was more so vertically pushed to the side, like someone peeking through a crack in a wall. Bill’s heart practically stopped when he saw it. It was so viscerally wrong. His eyes widened and lips sealed tightly. His shoulders tensed and nerves lit up like a flame to a match. The boy behind him was staring right into Bill's eyes through the mirror and his lips curled at the corners when they locked eyes. The worst part about it was that Bill knew this boy.

The boy that was both behind and in front of him, was none other than Patrick Hockstetter.

Neither boy moved. Bill couldn’t. His legs just seemed to freeze up. He was in a state of denial. It couldn’t possibly be Hockstetter. There was no way that out of their entire school, out of the entire male student body, that Patrick Hockstetter was the boy who just so happened to be in the bathroom at this very moment. Bill’s eyes must’ve been playing tricks on him, but as time ticked on, that hope vanished. The fact that Patrick was both in front and behind Bill sent a shudder through his scrawny frame. His instincts told him to run, but he didn’t dare turn around. He feared that if he turned around, it would activate some sort of primal instinct in Patricks brain and cause him to do something dangerous. Bill waited, hoping to God Patrick would just move already. He couldn't stand looking at that expression anymore; that sinister smile with eyes void of any true emotion. There was excitement and emptiness in his face and it had Bill frozen stiff. When Patrick finally did move, it didn’t make Bill feel any better. In a strange way, Bill had gotten used to that stand off of sorts but when Patrick moved, it was a horrible reminder that Patrick was real. A real, breathing and sentient member of the Bowers gang.

Patrick moved like a predator. Low and slow. Like if he stilled his movement and took care to breathe silently, Bill wouldn't see him coming. He approached the sink, but his eyes never left Denbroughs. It wasn’t until he was finally beside the bathroom sink that his head turned to directly look at Bill's face, not just the reflection of it. Bill refused to look. He shot his eyes downcast back to the water; still running in his palms. Standing beside Patrick, he never felt so small. Bill was only around five feet tall, give or take an inch or so. Patrick was just an inch shy of being six feet tall, despite still being around sixteen years old. Bill hardly breathed, he didn’t acknowledge the fact Patrick was watching him, leaning leftwards towards him. It was almost like Bill was a homeowner and Patrick was a ghost haunting the house. Just so long as Bill ignored the presence, it couldn’t hurt him; right?

Patrick observed the unsteady rise and fall of Bill’s thin chest. His eyes scanned along Bill’s scrawny frame. The way his fingers were trembling, despite the assumedly warm water sent a heat through Patrick. He licked his lips at the sight of Bill's fingerprints beginning to prune. Then, what happened next was just about as abnormal as the way Patrick opened the stall door. Patrick reached up for the soap dispenser and squirted a dime sized dollop into his palm. He spread the soap along his hands until they were frothy and then turned the faucet on. Patrick Hockstetter, the boy who so often collects dead bugs, spits in other kids' faces, and spends most of his time with Henry Bowers or in the local junkyard, was washing his hands. Maybe to someone who had the pleasure of not knowing Patrick wouldn’t understand the abnormality of this action, but it was almost as wildly strange as someone sprouting an arm from their forehead. Patrick mimicked the way Bill's hands moved, almost matching the exact movements like the very mirrors they stood in front of. Patrick was really washing his hands. It was a concept so outside of Bill’s perception of reality, he was nearly tempted to turn his head and watch, but he schooled that curiosity back and kept his eyes trained forward. He could see in his peripheral vision that Patricks head was still turned to look at him.

'Just finish washing your hands and go,' Bill told himself. 'Just finish and go, fucking go.'

That was enough for Bill. He hurriedly gave a final rinse to his hands. Although he already knew them to be clean. He considered them clean enough when the stall door opened, but his curiosity and fear were his undoing. Bill twisted the sink knobs, making the water cease its pour. The absence of the water hitting him felt like a spell had been broken. Bill took just one step back, his hands moving down to dry themselves on his denim shorts when Patrick sprung into action. Patrick moved so violently, the water from his hands splattered to the floor and a few droplets landed on the wall. Bill gasped and flinched at the sudden action and his right eye clamped shut expecting a fist to collide with his cheek, but instead of being struck, he heard the paper towel dispenser get tugged, and a rip sound followed behind. Bill opened both eyes and looked at the other boy. He found Patrick with his arm outstretched towards him, with a half wet paper towel in his hand, held up for Bill to take.

The way he handed the towel to Bill made the hair on the smaller boy's neck prickle. Patrick held up the brown paper between his middle and index finger, almost as if he was offering Bill a cigarette instead of something to dry his hands with. The wetness of Patrick's hands soaked about half the towel and the rest of the water fled down to his elbow in a stream and dripped to the floor. Bill felt like ice when his subconscious reminded him, 'he was carving something in the stall. He has a knife.' That knowledge of the knife, the strange way Patrick, Patrick Hockstetter, moved, and that ever present smile - yet not a smile - on his face set Bill's mind ablaze. Every bone and blood drop in his body said for him to run. To forget the towel and high tail it out of there like an abused dog with his tail tucked between his legs in fear of being kicked.

Yet he still took the paper towel.

His hand moved on its own. He wasn't sure why it did. God, he had no idea why his body would betray him like that. It didn't occur to thirteen year old Billy, but social expectation was one hell of a thing, a demanding thing, and the expectation of being polite overpowered the fear he felt. He took the towel gently, not wanting to make even too fast of a movement. A janky motion would certainly provoke something from Hockstetter. That something was a mystery. It could be as simple as a punch in the chest, a hawked loogie in the face, or a push to the floor, but Hockstetter didn't have that kind of reputation. That was more of a Belch Huggins type of thing, or even a Victor Criss thing, but not a Hockstetter type of thing. Patrick was never that easy. He was precise and cold. Patient.

So with trembling fingers Bill took the paper towel, it still partially soaked from Patrick's own wet hands. When Bill tugged it towards himself, Patrick gave it easily. Patrick's hand lowered to his side, and Bill was so incredibly aware of it. He thought for sure at any moment a knife would come for him. Maybe not to actually stab Bill, but definitely to rile him up. Hell, Patrick would probably say "hey mush-mouth, how about a haircut? Free of charge". However, as Bill did his best to dry his hands with the half damp towel, Patrick did no such thing. His hand remained by his side. It was oddly flexed, kind of like how a gunslinger would hold his hand to his holster in an old western movie, but he made no additional movement. His other hand was out of sight, perhaps in his back pocket, and its lack of visibility twisted Bill’s stomach. 'Say something,' Billy thought. 'Oh dear God just say something. Call me mush-mouth, call me a fag, call me queer, call me a maggot brained idiot or something. Just say something.' He begged internally. The silence felt worse than being punched. It felt like a million tiny needles were poking into his flesh, all throughout his small and thin body. Like the world's most excessive acupuncture session. The silence was so painful, and the social etiquette was so punishing, that it was Bill Denbrough who spoke first, or at least tried.

"Th-th-th-th-th," he tried. He was trying to keep it short, simple and fast; just an easy 'thanks' so he could be on his way. Patrick's eyes sparked to life, his mouth flashing white with a smile that was all teeth. There was no kindness in that smile, but his eyes were worse. They glimmered in the same way a monster’s would through the darkness of a child's closet. Bill couldn't escape them. His cheeks began to flush as he struggled through that singular word. "Thuh-thuh-tha-ae-ah-anks."

He had no idea how long it took for him to finish the word, it was certainly no less than seven seconds, that much he knew, but he also knew he had somehow awakened something within Patrick. It was either Bill's stutter or his politeness, or maybe an unpleasant mixture of both, but something awakened a part inside Patrick. A part of him that Bill did not want to be awoken. His eyes were alive now. Predatory and full of youthful spirit. Bill took a tense step back, and noticed how Patrick tracted his movement. Now it was time to go. For real. Any amount of time longer in this bathroom, and Bill might be crawling out with his teeth in hand. He snapped his head to the floor and started for the door, but audibly gasped when, like a lightning strike, Patrick sidestepped and blocked his path. Bill was so astonished by this sudden speed that he stumbled back, dropping the paper towel he had in his hand. Patrick's sink was still on, the water running and draining all at the same time. It was just about the only sound in the room other than footsteps and heavy breathing. Patrick towered above Billy, and he used this extra foot of height to corral Bill around, with his back facing the mirror. He silently led Bill backwards, until his back bumped against the tile wall, with his narrow hips wedged between the two sinks. Patrick swiftly closed the difference between the two of them. They were at most a foot apart, if that. Bill was pressed entirely against the wall, save for his arms which had to be lifted up, his hands placed on the sides of either sink. He gripped them hard, his skin making an audible squeak against the ceramic.

Now Bill was trapped.

Oh yes he was.

Patrick didn’t even have to speak to bring Bill to his mercy. Not one word had left Hockstetters lips and somehow Bill was pinned against the wall. There was nowhere to go now that he was cornered. He supposed he could try to throw himself into Hockstetter, but Patrick was bigger than him, a lot bigger in fact. Bill was only thirteen while Patrick was around sixteen or seventeen. Bill couldn’t quite remember, nor did he care. If they were older, like thirty and thirty three or four respectively, the gap wouldn't be so dramatic, but a sixteen or seventeen year old vs a thirteen year old was like going to a knife fight and the other guy brought a gun. Not to mention only one of them really did have a knife on their person. Ignoring their obvious height difference, there was also a huge weight difference between them as well. Patrick was around fifty to sixty pounds heavier than Billy. If Bill were to throw himself into Patrick's chest, the most likely outcome is that he’d ricochet back into the wall, or at best temporarily throw Patricks balance off. Best case scenario, Bill would throw himself into Patrick, and the complete lack of anything happening would make Patrick laugh so hard that he’d just let Bill go. Worst case would be pissing Patrick off. Although it was worth mentioning that Bill had never seen Patrick angry before. He was sure it was possible. He had seen Henry angry more times than anything else. Victor, Belch and Moose were prone to anger as well, but Patrick? Bill couldn’t recall ever seeing a scowl cross his face. He had seen- what he assumed was- a mask of anger on Patrick's face, but it lacked a certain fire that true anger had. The idea of somehow successfully pissing off Patrick made Bill's blood run cold.

Even with all of that out on the table, there was still one thing left unmentioned. Patrick was one freaky kid. He kept dead insects in his pencil case, something he was always keen on showing off to select kids for some unknown and bizarre reason. He often had a deathly odor wafting from him. One boy, just a grade above Bill, compared the odor to roadkill. However, the worst and most uncanny part about Patrick was his reputation. He had a long and seemingly never ending history of violence among other boys. He had knocked the teeth out of several boys' mouths, broken several fingers and arms, and even bit kids so hard he drew blood from the teeth marks. He even had a reputation among the girls in the Derry school system, one that was so vague and mysterious to Bill, that it sent chills through him just thinking about it. There was just something so wrong about Patrick. An unspeakable and frightening wrong about him. So trying to shove past him with his back against the wall was not an option for Stuttering Bill.

Bill was ripped away from his thoughts when Patrick abruptly lunged forward. Bill's face snapped to the left. There was a brief second that flashed where Bill thought Patrick was- it sounded foolish to even consider- about to kiss Bill. He was close enough to, that's for sure. In an instant Patricks breath was hot on Bill's right cheek. Bill pondered briefly; would Patrick kiss him? He certainly didn't want him to, but Patrick cared very little for what others wanted. Bill's own voice internally cut in, assuring him that what he thought was nonsense. They're both boys after all and sure, queer people exist but Bill was absolutely positive Patrick was not queer… Or was he? He supposed it was possible, but Patrick liked girls. The previously mentioned reputation he had confirmed it. The way he behaved with girls was something that just about every child knew about but very seldom discussed. Patrick did things to the girls in their school. The things he did were vague at best to Bill. He truly knew very little about the matter. He had no idea what Patrick had done to make the girls so frightened of him. Bill could recall once where Richie Tozier asked two girls what they found to be so scary about Patrick. Bill wasn’t a part of this conversation, but he was sitting comfortably within earshot, and he was curious as to why as well, so he elected to eavesdrop.

Richie had said something like, “I don’t get why you ladies are so scared of him. He doesn’t rough you up like he does us boys. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to re-glue my glasses thanks to him”. The more talkative of the girls answered in the most perplexing and eerie way she could’ve. Her answer left Bill scratching his head. She had said, “there are worse things than being hit, Richie.Patrick does things. You’re lucky you’re a boy”. Even though it was not said to Billy directly, that answer haunted him. What on Earth could that have meant? “Patrick does things,” yes he had heard, but what were those things? What could possibly be worse than being hit, being pinned to the ground with dirt and rocks shoved into your mouth? Being forced to your hands and knees and being sat on? Being stripped of your shirt and whipped with the branches of fir trees across the chest and back? Boy’s will scream, cry and run with terror when the Bowers gang show their faces, but only girls cower and freeze up when Patrick walks by. There was something Patrick did exclusively to girls that left them terrified of him. Bill believed them that it was bad- real bad-, but his brain couldn’t fathom what could possibly be worse than what he does to boys. Yet, in this very moment; being pressed against the wall with Patricks breath against his cheek, there was a small voice inside Bill. A voice that he wasn’t even sure if it was his own and it spoke softly; “are you sure he stops at girls Billy? Or are the girls just the ones that talk about it?”

There was a different kind of fear inside Bill now, one he had never felt before. Fight or flight kicked in, and he wished he could say his body picked fight. He wished he had the balls to stand on his toes, and in a stutterless scream yell, “FUCK OFF HOCKSTETTER,” but nothing left his lips. His body didn’t even have the courtesy to choose flight and force him into action, fleeing like his life depended on it. No, unfortunately Bill’s body didn’t choose fight or flight, it chose freeze. So stuck like a fly in a spider's web, Bill's eyes washed over Patricks face. In close range, he could see the hairs on Patricks upper lip, forming a soon-to-be mustache that would never come. He watched his lips, waiting for Patrick to just say something already. The silence was killing him. Patrick hasn’t spoken, touched or hurt him and Bill was shaking like a leaf. Patrick leaned in a little closer, Bill pressed the side of his head against the tile. He held his breath tight in his chest and his entire body was sent into a rigid, rock like stature.

“Sorry about your little brother,” came Patrick's voice, soft in his ear. It was almost gentle, ticklish even but yet, so incredibly uncanny. Words of empathy, compassion and understanding came out monotone with just a hint of elation. Those words were almost incriminating. Patrick apologizing for the loss of another? Patrick wasn’t known for that kind of sensitivity. Even when his own flesh and blood brother, Avery Hockstetter, died from crib death, Patrick asked for no sympathy and didn’t mourn. He went to school, just like the day before. The blankness on his face was no different than the expressions before. Everything was just… as before. Like Avery never existed and therefore, the death never occurred. Bill could still recall his mother Sharon gasping while reading the morning paper a few days later. When asked, she explained that Avery Hockstetter had died. She had to explain to him what crib death was, saying it’s when a baby accidentally suffocated themselves while sleeping. Bill remembered his eyes widening. He never would’ve guessed Patricks baby brother was dead. Patrick didn’t seem to feel anything about it. Almost as if he’s the one who caused it, but Bill figured that thought stemmed from his hate of Hockstetter, and not one of actual likelihood. While Bill couldn’t be so sure about Patricks involvement with Avery’s death, he now knew without a shadow of a doubt that Patrick did not kill George Elmer Denbrough.

At that very moment, Bill would never be able to explain just how he knew Patrick was not to blame for Georgie's death, but he just knew. Patrick didn’t kill him, and that alone sent another swirl of emotion through the eldest and now only child of Sharon and Zack Denbrough. He was relieved, knowing he wasn’t face to face with a child murderer, enraged, knowing the killer is still out there somewhere and terrified of where that killer may be. Bill’s soft eyes looked into Patricks. Tender eyes met with vacant and void pits. Emotionless pools of darkness were Patricks eyes, aside from just a touch of glee. “Sorry about your little brother,” his voice echoed in Bill's ears, just as nasally as before. Bill’s eyes were locked with the other boys, and with tightly clamped lips, he nodded slowly. His nod was an intentional action, one deliberately used to avoid speaking. However, if he would have dared to speak, he would’ve said, ’thank you Patrick, now please, please get the hell out of my way.’

Bill waited for Patrick to move, after all, the conversation seemed over, but Patrick remained in place like he didn’t notice Bill's answer. His lips contorted ever so slightly into a smile, just at the corners. His grin was almost unnoticeable, but there wasn’t much else for Bill to look at in such close proximity. He remained just as invasively close to Bill, just as he was before. This wouldn’t do. Bill didn’t know what his goal was, but Patrick wasn’t satisfied for some reason. Bill wondered, ’he can’t hear my heart, can he?’ Bill looked downwards to the floor, eyes locked somewhere between the tile ground, the corner of the sink and the edge of Patricks leather belt. The thought of pushing Patrick came back to him, but he banished the thought immediately, because only God and Patrick knew what kind of reaction that would provoke from Hockstetter. Instead, Bill, just above a whisper, tried to speak.

“Th-th-tha-ae-ae-anks-s Puh-Puh-,” he tried. Bill's eyes didn’t lift, but if they did they’d be met with a large, tooth filled grin once again.

A bang filled the room, causing both boys to snap their heads over to the left side of the bathroom. Bill jumped considerably, but even Patrick had flinched ever so slightly at the sound. In came another boy, who had entered so quickly, the metal handle for the bathroom door clacked against the tile wall. Belch Huggins stole the rubber door stopper several weeks ago to piss off the custodians. The other boy had an expression of annoyance as he walked about four feet into the bathroom before looking up and seeing the scene before him. He froze the moment he laid eyes on them. One boy pressed to the wall, eyes as wide as dinner plates and Patrick - fucking - Hockstetter pinning him there. With a rush of courage, Bill took this distraction as a blessing from the heavens. Not thinking of the punishment that will follow his actions, Bill shoved Patrick with all of his might. His hands slammed into the right side of Patricks peck and shoulder, forcing him to open up the right side of his body. Bill used this opening to sprint past him, his sneakers squeaking against the wet bathroom floor. Bill dashed past the other boy, and almost like he could see it in slow motion, he saw the boy's face contort from surprise, realization and then horror. The other boy was now to suffer the wrath of Hockstetter for making him lose his prey, but Bill didn’t regret it. Sometimes one must condemn another to a terrible fate to save themselves. Bill would come to regret it later, a sense of guilt rising up when he’d see the boy’s dual black eyes the next day, but for now, all Bill felt was an ecstasy-like rush of freedom. Bill ran down the hall like his heels were on fire. He only stopped running about halfway down the hallway, the reason being he was passing by the school's office and they’d have a bird if they saw him sprinting down the hall. As soon as he passed the office windows, he resumed his dash down the hall.

Once to his classroom door, he stopped and caught his breath. He opened the door and quietly stepped inside. He half expected the class to turn and laugh at him once again, but maybe two people looked over at him from their books. The rest of the class had their noses down and order had clearly been restored. His eyes flicked to his teacher, and she quietly held up her hand. With her fingers she flashed him the number four, before turning her hand into a fist, and flashing the number four once again. Understanding immediately, Bill nodded and walked to his desk. He sat quietly in his chair and opened up the textbook to page 44. He could feel eyes on him from behind. Bill turned his face to his right shoulder and saw Moose grinning at him. The bigger boy made a ball grab motion with his hand, but didn’t say a word. Bill just looked away, almost relieved by Moose’s presence. He’d much rather deal with Sadler than Hockstetter any day. Then again though;

Who knows what Henry’s gonna do?

[barrackspredator]

patrick hockstetter x naive fem reader? 😋

this has been in my inbow for about a year. TW: Patrick, mocking religion, Patrick gets his own second warning

The Pastor's Daughter

Patick x Fem!Reader Patrick Hockstter is God.

In his own head, of course.

However, before he is a part-time self-proclaimed god, he is also the son of Patricia "Trisha" Hockstetter, Derry's most devout Baptist.

And while he could usually get away with skipping out on Sunday mass, this one was different. A new pastor was being brought into the church as the last pastor had gone to the pearly gates, and Trisha, eager to push her son closer to God, forced him to go with her.

After a long morning of arguing, Patrick was forced into his Sunday best, booted into the car, and forced to follow his grinning mother down the aisle. Aside from the laughable idea of there being other gods, Patrick's least favorite part about church was entering to take a seat. The judgmental stares, the hushed whispers, the blearing white. It was enough to drive him insane. He idly gazed through the crowd of phony-worshippers, grinning pridefully whenever somebody would look his way in stunned horror—which was often.

Finally stopping at the second pew, his mother ushered him in, a beaming smile on her face despite the mischievous glint in her eyes. Patrick noted this, quirking his eyebrow at her.

"What?" he mouthed as he sat down, partially sitting on something. "Nothing," she whispered, unable to hide her smile.

"Excuse me?" A quiet voice whispered from beside Patrick. "I don't mean to bother you, sir, but you're sitting on my purse."

Patrick rolled his eyes, turning in annoyance. "Then yank it." He paused, staring at the girl before him. Your eyes widened in surprise, your cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

"Oh, my apologies. I didn't realize... I thought you were a sir." You sheepishly laughed at your mistake, assuming Patrick was an older man. He stared at you, his eyes narrowing as he dissected every inch of you. Your eyes, your smile, your hair—the imaginary halo that glowed above your head.

"I am a sir," he growled, thinking you thought he was a girl.

"O-Oh? Really? Wow, you look so young!" You smiled wide, amazed by how young this "sir" looked.

"... Uh, yeah. I'm fucking 15, idiot." Patrick felt a sharp jab in his ribs, making him double over. He glared at his mom, who sneered at him until he turned back to face the girl. "My bad," he grumbled. The look of shock on your face was enough to make him smirk in amusement. Perhaps the most amused he'd ever felt in church.

"It's okay," you whispered. Your eyes were downcast as you tried to hold back a giggle. "You are very funny, uh... what is your name? Perhaps calling you sir would be weird as we are the same age." You looked back up into Patrick's eyes.

"Patrick." Another jab. "Hockstetter!" He glanced back at his mother, deeply annoyed with her antics. "Patrick Hockstter," he breathed out, placing his hand over his aching ribs.

You giggled politely, covering your mouth as you did. "Well, it's lovely to meet you, Patrick. I'm-"

"The pastor's daughter, right?" Mrs. Hockstetter interjected, taking you by surprise. You hesitated a few seconds before nodding your head. Patrick slowly turned his head to look at his mother as her plan clicked in his head. Did she really think the pastor's daughter would be a good influence on him? The thought was laughable. But this god had his own plan—to humor his mother. To get even.

He turned back to you with a charming smile. Well, as charming as he could pull off. "It's lovely to meet you," he said, taking your hand in his and gently pressing a kiss on your knuckle, enjoying how your eyes shot open. Church was suddenly starting to feel very entertaining for this god.

But of course, your father had to ruin the fun when he came out to begin his sermon and the choir started. You hesitated to pull your hand away, your eyes lingering on his until he turned away. Patrick only pulled away to hide his smirk, though. He didn't give a shit about the sermon, or the choir, or whatever the fuck his future father-in-law was spewing.

For that full hour, he sat there plotting. Every move of his had to be calculated, and they were. Glances here and there, brushing his hand against yours, gently thumbing your skin whenever it was time to join hands. And from every move blossomed a new splotch of red on your cheeks, which appeased him greatly. Even his mother looked pleased, and it took Patrick every bone in his body to not laugh at her failure of a plan. Oh, how he was going to make her look like such a fool!

By the end of mass, Patrick had you wrapped around his twisted, kind of fucked up, burnt finger. And with this newfound power, he got himself a date with the pastor's daughter at the junkyard.

To his mother's surprise, Patrick left mass with a big goofy smile on his face, giddy as he thought of the fridge he was going to show you on Friday night.

[eternitariant]

Lesson Five: Practical Skills

cw: language & suggestive flirting ? i guess

"You think you can handle me, Trick Shot?" you challenged, smirking at him and he swallowed nervously,

"abso-fucking-lutely." he whispered hoarsely,

"then i'm yours." you chimed and he started taking one of his bracelets off and slipping it onto your wrist,

"Finally." he breathed, the widest smile plastered across his face and his eyes glittery with the threat of happy tears.

"Now that i'm part of your collection, can we fix my window? It's gonna be freezing tonight." you playfully whined and he laughed,

"Can i trust you with a hammer?" he asked raising his eyebrows,

"You know i collect butterfly knives, right? Can i trust you with my heart?" you rebuked teasingly and his expression dropped into something incredibly serious,

"You can trust me with every part of you."

"Don't get soft on me now, Hockstetter." you quipped, getting up off the stairs and heading towards the basement to find the toolbox.

Your basement was crazy dark and the light had been blown for like a year so you were sort of feeling along the wall to find what you needed. As you fumbled around, you stepped in some kind of puddle and prayed it was water,

"Yuck." you groaned, continuing on your mission to gather the tools. It took less than 3 minutes for Patrick to come searching for you,

"Alright, you've officially been out of my sight for too damn long." he announced, coming down the creaky steps,

"Christ, obsessed much?" you snarked and he chuckled,

"So much." he whispered, resting his head against yours,

"Channel those feelings into something productive and help me or i'm hiding from you for at least an hour." you threatened and he threw his hands up in the air to imply his surrender before he began to search with you.

Eventually, you found everything you needed to temporarily fix the window some random guy had been thrown through and made your way back up to fix it. Patrick asked you to help hold some timber steady so he could secure it against the window frame but you were very obviously struggling,

"You're so much shorter up close." he remarked and you sneered up at him,

"Fuck you."

"One thing at a time, sweets." he sang and you rolled your eyes as you smirked.

Despite your being vertically challenged, the window was boarded up in no time at all. You exhaled heavily and put your hands on your hips,

"Well... i've worked up an appetite. You hungry?"

"Starved." he falsely sulked and you brushed past him to get to the kitchen, "whatcha doin?"

"Cooking dumbass... what? All your time peeping through my windows you never saw me do it before?" you griped and he tongued his cheek,

"Ha. Ha." he leaned over the opposite side of the island bench, "I saw, i just never actually thought i'd be in here while you did it."

"I guess some dreams do come true." you shrugged, playing it off as he shamelessly stared at you,

"yes they fucking do." he said under his breath.

[bked0n-lorazepam]

Grand Masterlist (New and Improved)

*People I Write Requests For*

*Series*

"Inseparable" Patrick Hockstetter/Reader: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven

"Love Me Dead- Ludo" Ticci Toby/Reader: Part One, Part Two, Part Three

------

*The Walking Dead*

*House MD*

*IT (2017-2019)*

*Creepypasta*

------

*WIP's*

-Series-

"27" Patrick Hockstetter/Reader

"Stabs and Stitches" George Foyet/Reader

"Radio Whispers" Carl Grimes/Reader (ROMANTIC), Negan Smith/Reader (PLATONIC)

"He Hung the Stars for Her" Hades/Swan Princess!Reader (Descendants 3)

-One Shots-

"Losses" Carol Peletier/Reader

"The Wrong Fruit" Jake Sully/Reader

"Desparate" Gregory House/Reader

"The Mattress" Robert Chase/Reader

"Can You Stay Silent?" Negan Smith/Reader

[girlystories]

*ೃ::RULES/GUIDELINES

Rules 📜

1. 🚫Off-limits: Smut, incest, anything sexual, any kinks or anything of the sort, character x character. 

2. Platonic, friendly, family, romantic and all other types of relationships.

3. I do scenarios, one-shots, and headcanons. When requesting it'd be important if you note what exactly you're requesting. 

5. I do all genders; female, male, gn. Just note which one you'd like, or otherwise I'll do it for gn.

6. Last thing, GIVE ME IDEAS. I would really appreciate it if you'd request what exactly you'd want my work to contain, instead of just stating a character (exp. character x reader)

List of fandoms

IT(2017)

Bower's gang: henry bowers, vic criss, patrick hockstetter, belch huggings, (all).

NINJAGO

The ninja: kai, nya, cole, jay, zane, lloyd.

Villains: morro, lord garmadon

Other: pixal, skyler. (for now)

DANGANRONPA

Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc: makoto naegi, kyoko kirigiri, byakuya togami, toko fukawa/genocide jill, aoi asahina, yasuhiro hagakure, sayaka maizono, leon kuwata, chihiro fujisaki, mondo owada, kiyotaka ishimaru, celestia ludenberg, sakura ogami, junko enoshima, mukuro ikusaba.

Danganronpa 2: Goodbye Dispair: hajime hinata/izuru kamakura, chiaki nanami, nagito komaeda, fuyuhiko kuzuryu, akane owari, sonia nevermind, kazuichi soda, mahiru koizumi, peko pekoyama, ibuki mioda, hiyoko saionji, mikan tsumiki, nekomaru nidai, gundham tanaka.

Danganronpa V3: Killing Harmony: shuichi saihara, kaede akamatsu, k1-b0(kiibo), maki harukawa, himiko yumeno, rantaro amami, ryoma hoshi, kirumi tojo, tenko chabashira, korekiyo shinguji, miu iruma, gonta gokuhara, kokichi ouma, kaito momota, tsumugi shirogane.

Other: komaru naegi, yuta asahina, natsumi kuzuryu, sato, kyosuke munakata, chisa yukizome, ryota mitarai, seiko kimura, sonosuke izayoi, koichi kizakura, ruruka ando, juzo sakakura.

NARUTO/SHIPPUDEN

Under 18: uzumaki naruto, haruno sakura, uchiha sasuke, nara shikamaru, ino yamanaka, choji akimichi, kiba inuzuka, shino aburame, hinata hyuga, neji hyuga, rock lee, tenten, gaara, kankuro, temari.

Over 18: kakashi hatake, (more).

Akatsuki: deidara, hidan, itachi uchiha, kazuku, konan, nagato, sasori, tobi/obito uchiha.

Other: shuigetsu hozuki, karin, jugo.

VOLTAIRE HIGH/MIXTE(1963)

joseph descamps, jean-pierre magnan, alain laubrac, henri pichon, +more (just request)

©girlystories ©girlystoriess

[badsweetangel]

IM SO EXCITED FOR PATRICK OMG YOUR WORK>>>?? Your other kinktobers were amazing please omg i cant wait to see pats

I love this kind of comments! I'm glad you liked it. Hahaha, I hope I can meet your expectations with the Hockstetter one shot!

[sloelimbs]

💖MASTERLIST💖

Stranger Things: eddie munson/chrissy cunningham

now starts the craft of a father - one shot, complete

i’m following lightning - one shot, complete

aesthetic chills - chaptered, complete

repertoire - one shot collection

Stephen Kings IT: patrick hockstetter/stan uris

what’s done in the dark - one shot, complete

Stand By Me: ace merrill/gordie lachance

the rock n roll saga - 2/3 parts, wip

[reddie-ao3feed]

One shots IT

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/cLpTim2 by Levstarzx Some one-shots of ships from "It" (no Y/N here). There will be the book and movie versions: 1958 and 1989. I will update the tags as the chapters progress. Words: 5446, Chapters: 3/?, Language: English Fandoms: IT - Stephen King, IT (Movies - Muschietti) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage Categories: M/M Characters: Henry Bowers, Bill Denbrough, Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier, Patrick Hockstetter Relationships: Henry Bowers/Bill Denbrough, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Henry Bowers/Patrick Hockstetter Additional Tags: Derry (Stephen King), Henry Bowers is Not That Bad, Gay, Internalized Homophobia, Bullying, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/cLpTim2

[findyourrp]

Hi, 28 F here living in EST seeking various Discord rps! Most of not all of these will involve NSFW and darker themes so please be 18. If genuinely interested and you won’t ghost or simply stop talking / not communicate please give the post a like. 🕊️

Beauty and the Beast: 📚 Looking for someone to play Gaston in a plot against my Belle! The plot would involve him offering to pay for her father’s medical bills in exchange for her. Noncon and other questionable dead dove themes / nsfw and will apply.

Greek Mythology: 🦚 Looking for someone to play Poseidon (or Zeus) in a plot against my Hera! The plot would involve noncon and other questionable dead dove themes / nsfw and will absolutely apply so please be 18+! If genuinely interested, please give this a like! 🕊️

One Piece: 🍊 🏴‍☠️ 🚬 Looking for someone to play Sanji (open to Zoro, Usopp or Luffy as well) in a plot with my Nami! The general plot I have in mind would be Nami slightly tipsy flirting back and they end up in bed together. Imagine the following morning being a fun, awkward, and hilarious moment between them with her groaning from a hangover and him smiling from ear to ear.

Stephen King’s IT: ☠️ 🥾🎈Looking for someone to play Patrick Hockstetter (or maybe Henry Bower) in a plot between my Beverly Marsh! The plot would would take place in Patrick’s junkyard and some questionable dead dove themes / nsfw will apply.

Alice in Borderland: ♥️ ♣️ ♦️ This one’s a bit of a long shot but am looking for someone to play Nigari against my Usagi. The plot could take place after he successfully forces himself on her towards the end of season 1 or him doing similar during season 2. Dark themes will apply.

The Coffin of Andy and Leyley: ⚰️ Also a bit of a long shot but I’m looking for someone to play Andy against my Leyley. The plot could either follow the one romance route or we could do something completely different that’d still involve incestuous themes amongst the siblings.

General OC / Fandomless: I have a bunch of female OCs that’d love some attention. MxF or FutaxF only.

.

[reggieservices]

If you are still doing the pairing with bowers gang requests could you do me im 5'6 with crazy curly brown hair I'm shy when people meet me at first and I'm childish

I pair you with...

🪴Vic Criss🪴

🪴okay okay okay not much to work with BUT

🪴I think Vic would work well with you!!

🪴 Vic can act childish himself (Dont give him the right juice box and he will give you the cold shoulder all night he doesnt care)

🪴 So having a childish s/o is basically having a second him around

🪴 I dont think Vic is a shy person, he's proud of himself and loves making new friends.

🪴 That being said, he'd probably start conversation with you every time he sees you, kinda like an extrovert "adopting" an introvert

🪴 Get ready to be a 3rd wheel in your relationship because he LOVES YOUR HAIR

🪴 Begs you to let him practice hair styles on you since his hair is too short

🪴 Braids, beads, flattening, curling even more, dyeing, wants everything

🪴 And on chill days or when you guys are just hanging out he'll run his hands through your hair to destress himself

🪴 You're around vic's height, which he loves so you guys can share clothes (its a normal occurrence for you to raid his closet and his yours)

🪴 Pictures pictures pictures

🪴 A constant fashion show with vicky

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

Привет. Two requests done in one night? Absolutely bonkers amiright fellas?? Ahahahah have a good day <3 SEND IN REQUESTS (i cant guarantee i'll get to them quickly but i'll get to them sometime)

[survivingthejungle]

Patrick Hockstetter x athletic headcannon. one who runs cross country and track. Would he support her? Would he run around w/ her? You basically can do whatever you want with this. Thx

i do love a good headcannon moment..., vamonos

- he and henry, vic, and belch are probably dickin around near the football field after school one day

- and of course it just happens to also be a the same time the girls’ xc team is starting conditioning

- they’ve all seen you around the halls before but never gave you a second thought (except sometimes when they felt really boisterous they’d whistle at you or ******jokingly***** and ******loudly****** ask you on a date... at which you’d flip them off and they’d crack up) 

- (i mean let’s be honest you’re beautiful. they jest but they wouldn’t know how to act if a catch like you gave any of ‘em a chance)

- anyways it’s break time and they’re kinda in the way, would you mind? and you “gently” nudge patrick out of the way to get to your bag which has your water bottle

- “bend over some more!” - henry, probably; and vic and belch laugh but pat’s just looking

-you roll your eyes “get bent, bowers.” and he don’t like that too much bc patrick snickers at that and winks at you

- you walk off like ‘oh yikes what’s that supposed to mean’

- and pat keeps an eye on you for the rest of conditioning. 

- you’re one of the fastest girls on the team and could give any of the guys a run for their money (lmao kat... punny)

- on strength training days, pat can be found sitting on the bleachers watching you outwork damn near everyone. sis don’t quit

- he’s still taller than you (he’s taller than everyone; what a cryptid) but you could definitely kick his ass.

- he likes watching you jet past the others; likes the way your skin glows when you sweat, makes you look like a right badass

- during your comps he’s standing by, trying to look inconspicuous but internally ‘rooting for you’

- it’s more like ‘c’mon, babe. pass this bitch up already. pick up the pace would ya? i’ve seen you run faster.’

- you see him as more of a sometimes-inconvenient permanent fixture at worst but he doesn’t bother you too much so you’re chill with it. it’s at least always nice to see a familiar face at all of your races and competitions

- especially someone who has no obligations to be there, just that he wants to see you do what you do. it’s kind of endearing in a way

- during track season you run x400s and pole vaults (which are his favorites; especially when some poor son of a bitch doesn’t make it and wipes out)

- but you’re pretty damn good at it and always place decently.

- when you go on runs in your own neighborhood/whenever you really have any free time, he somehow always manages to be nearby? yeah, they were just hangin with belch while they were drivin all over hell’s half-acre

- he just sees you as another form of entertainment; which, although you don’t really know that, doesn’t bother you because you’re not invested in him, anyways, he just hangs around sometimes and comes to your meets and at least you know someone in the crowd is there to support you

- and if you end up with a biiiiiit of a piece of a miniscule crush on him, who cares? you’re not gonna say anything about it even though wow he really is kind of attractive in a really rugged, dark, dangerous way (but isn’t that really what the 80s were all about?- dark and dangerous bad-boys with long hair and rings and bracelets and busted knuckles) and maybe he thinks you’re cute but you don’t know and you’re not gonna ask because you don’t really care. he’s just always around and you’ve gotten used to it at this point, whatever

OK HERE I DID IT

[therestrictedsectionn]

Flicker

He was once her everything. It’s been years since she’s so much as uttered a word to the raven-haired boy who haunts her dreams. But, that’s all about to change. 

His eyes have been on her since they were young, the only thing that he could even possibly consider being real alongside of him. He never left her, always watching from the outside looking in, keeping those away who would tarnish what has always belonged to him. It’s time that he reminds her just where she stands. 

“You’ve always been mine.”

Coming Soon!

[blurrybowers]

secret notes || patrick hockstetter

I combined these 2 requests:

request : “Hey can you do an imagine of where y/n finds a secret admirer note in her locker and after a couple weeks has a plan and wants to see who’s putting them on her locker, and sees Patrick putting them there. Then one day after the bell she goes to her locker and sees Patrick putting another note in and then he panics and runs out on y/n and she runs after him and they admit they love each other.”

“Could you do a patrick one where the reader hears him screaming in the sewers and saves his punk ass from pennywise but pat runs away from her cause he’s embarrassed but sneaks into her room that night ? ”

OK THIS IMAGINE HAS TAKEN ME A OVER A WEEK TO WRITE…YALL better love the fuck out of it. There is also a few time skips but you’ll get what’s going on!  This is my longest imagine so far.

word count: 2000+

•••

Annoyed and exhausted, I unlocked my locker, shoving my books into the small, slender space.  The day had finally come to a close, after what felt like days. I didn’t have any homework so after throwing the books from today in there I was satisfied. I went to pull out my army green jacket and as I did a blue sticky note slid down my locker and daintily landed on the floor in front of me. Quirking an eyebrow, I kneeled down and lifted it off the ground, it read in messy lowercase letters:

you look really pretty when you wear blue, it’s my favorite color on you.

I was at a loss who could’ve wrote me the short note. Glancing down the hall for any possible admirers, I was only met with the eyes of the creepy, old janitor from Michigan. He looked at me and sent a daunting wave in which I widened my eyes and looked away from his perverted self. It was a boy’s handwriting, messy and rushed.

•••

Days went by, weeks even and those notes always ended up in my locker. They complimented me or told me to cheer up when I was feeling sad but they never had a name signed with them. I could only imagine who it could be, maybe Ben? He was always really shy around me but I knew he could write well. Or how about Eddie? He always got really nervous when he was talking to me. I was determined to find out who was leaving me the secret notes. I needed a plan. Pondering on what could be a clever idea, a flawless plan came into my mind.

Get there before the note does. I glanced at my watch, 7:43 a.m. , no one was at school yet, except a few teachers and some students who came for extra help. The note had always been in my locker by 2:30, never earlier. Today, I was going to find out who was leaving me the secret notes.

•••

I waited behind the corner, having a clear view of my locker. It was 2:28 and I knew whoever my secret admirer was, would be in view soon. As I started to fidget, nervously playing with the strings on my skirt, I heard shuffling in the hallway. I peaked out from behind the corner I was standing in, to see Patrick Hockstetter. He was playing with his lighter. It wasn’t a shocker he wasn’t in class, he skipped like it was his job. I rolled my eyes, considering he was too much of a toolbag to even attempt to learn. Thinking he was going to walk down the hallway, my eyebrows knitted in confusion as he stopped in front of my locker. He looked both ways down the hallway, seeing if anyone was around. I gasped and ducked, hoping he didn’t see me.

Waiting a few seconds, I peered again, still hidden. There he was, folding up a blue sticky note and shoving it through the vent of my locker. Shocked was an understatement… I was at a loss for words. I decided to call him out on his rather romantic actions.

“Patrick?” I questioned, coming into the view of the lanky boy. His eyes widened and he tried to look like he was just leaning against my locker, not putting something in it.

“Uh hi? What are you doing talking to me? Fuck out of here loser, before I kick the shit out of you.” He threatened, trying to sound intimidating but I could see his hands twitching and his leg shaking. He was nervous, nervous I saw him.

“You’re the one who’s been putting notes in my locker!” I exclaimed, calling him out. His pale face quickly turned bright red and he blinked a few times. Patrick quickly caught his composure and coughed a shaky laugh.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talkin’ b-bout. N-Notes?” Patrick tried to sound confident but he failed. He sounded like Bill Denbrough. I glanced at him wiping his palms on his jeans, this kid was shitting himself, and I was loving every second of it.

“Oh please Patrick give it up. I just saw you.” I called him out on his bluff. He quickly looked around, making sure no one heard our conversation. He was so embarrassed, something I thought he wasn’t capable of being.

“Y/n, you’re a psycho and you’re seeing things. I’m outta here you weirdo.” He spat looking me up and down and making a grossed out face. I frowned and looked and my outfit, what was wrong with it? I wore a black denim skirt and a baby blue tank top.

“Why’d you just give me a dirty look? What’d I ever do to you!?” I screamed as he shook his head in disapproval running out of the school. Running away from the conversation we were in the middle of. I knew his ways, he was an asshole and a manipulative bully. But the notes he wrote me made me second guess my opinion of him. Multiple students rolled into the halls, shuffling to class before the first bell rang. I sighed, knowing I had to go to English class, a class I had with all his friends. Before walking to my first period, I glanced out the glass doors and saw Patrick glumly walking into the woods, far away from school.

•••

Finally the school day had drawn to a close. I finished chatting with my friend Mike before quickly saying bye, knowing I had to go home and get started on my unreal amount of homework.

The fastest way home was cutting through the Barrens, it wasn’t usually sketchy but what started as a sunny, warm day turned into a cold, cloudy one. I shivered slightly due to my lack of a jacket and felt the goosebumps graze my arms. As I neared the barrens, I navigated my way through the woods, passing the tunnel but not without hearing a blood curdling scream. I stopped dead in my tracks.

Any normal person would’ve ran, got the fuck out of there as quickly as possible. But me, being a sucker for anything with a little danger, decided to follow the pinpoint of the noise. The terrifying sounds were coming from inside the…sewers? Weird. As I neared the entrance, I hesitated, but decided to suck up the rancid smell of the grey water and began trudging to the source of the petrifying noise. I grabbed a stray metal pipe that was laying around, just in case I had to defend myself against what was lurking around the sewers.

The sound was getting louder and louder. I turned down a pathway and saw IT. There was Patrick Hockstetter, gasping for air with a large gloved hand wrapped around his neck. It was dim in the sewers but I could see a monstrous clown with a daunting smirk on his face. He was tall and had an egg shaped head? This thing was fucking hideous. Patrick’s eyes widened when he saw me. He sent me a pleading look.

The clown hadn’t seen me yet but I knew I had to do something quick, before we were both killed. I was super scared but I decided knocking it out would be the best option. I quietly snuck behind it, and like I was swinging a baseball bat, swung at It’s head. The clown winced in pain before falling face first into the grey water.

“Quick, we need to get out of here.” I instructed  to Patrick as we both ran out of the sewers. When we were finally safe, far from the sewers, we stopped for a minute to catch our breathe. I glanced at Patrick who looked unfazed by the whole situation, meanwhile I was still trying to comprehend what was happening.

“What were you doing near the sewers?” He spoke, breaking the silence between us.

“Why were you in the sewers? I was walking home and heard a screaming and I ended up saving your ass.” I spat with an attitude, I still hadn’t received a ‘thank you’ from him.

“I would’ve gotten out of there fine. I didn’t need your help Y/n. Since when have you thought it was okay for you to talk to me? We aren’t friends, get that through your fuckin’ head.” He remarked, gritting his teeth as he spoke and I frowned. He wasn’t ugly but his personality made him ugly. I never had put any thought into having feelings for him just because he wasn’t the type to have feelings, for anything.

He expected an answer from me but I didn’t supply him with one. I stood there with a blank expression and decided it was best not to snap at him, knowing what he was capable of. He let out a chuckle and just turned around the other way and began walking, away from me and away from our conversation.

•••

10:29 p.m.

Slamming my textbook shut, I released a sigh of relief, knowing I finally had finished my homework. Today’s incidents clearly had an effect on me since I was extremely exhausted. I jumped into my bed and wrapped myself in blankets. I closed my eyes, turning off the lights in my room until I heard a knocking on my window. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion, slightly scared of what or who was out there. I grabbed my skateboard out of the corner of my room, ready to hit whatever was trying to come in. I opened the curtain to see Patrick crouching down on my roof with a smirk. Rolling my eyes, I unlocked the window and watched him climb in effortlessly.

“What Hockstetter? What do you want at this hour?” I interrogated, crossing my arms over my chest.

“I wanted to say thank you.” He mumbled. Thank you? I didn’t even know the words could come out of his mouth.

“Well you’re welcome. I wasn’t gonna let you die in there.” I replied, shocked that he was being nice, for once. He looked nervous but still tried to keep his composure.

“I gotta tell you somethin’.” Patrick muttered, looking like he was about to tell me he killed my cat or vandalized my mailbox. I nodded, implying for him to continue.

“Um, I-I am the one who’s been leaving the notes in your locker.” He mumbled, clearly embarrassed of his actions. I smiled.

“I knew it was you! Why are you embarrassed? They’re so sweet.” I exclaimed in a whisper, knowing my parents were downstairs.

“Because I don’t do well with rejection and why would you appreciate them if you knew they were from me?” He questioned, interested in the conversation.

“I think they’re so cute and I wanted to say thank you for them. They really make my day everyday.” I complimented with a soft smile and he just rolled his eyes, clearly he doesn’t deal with stuff like this often.

“So…” He began not knowing how to change the topic but I shushed him.

“We’re not done with this conversation. Why’d you write those for me?” I asked, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him to sit next to me on my bed.

“Cause you’re hot.” He frankly said. His words told me otherwise, saying how my smile could light up a room but I decided not to call him out on his sappy shit.

“Thank you. I think you’re kinda cute too.” I mumbled, feeling my cheeks heat up. Calling Patrick Hockstetter cute was the last thing I expected to be saying.

“So um do you wanna be my girlfriend?” He asked and my eyes widened. This was the last fucking kid that would have a girlfriend, Henry would have one before he did.

“I’ll think about it.” I winked before pushing him towards my window. He got up off my bed and sent me an eye roll before climbing out my window.

I would probably date him, even if he was a little bit of an asshole. As I shut the window I saw he had left me a note behind stuck to the top.

goodnight, girlfriend.

That night, I slept thinking about how Patrick and how someone who was so rough on the outside was super soft on the inside.

———

My requests are open, I’m gonna try to do ones with plots that aren’t basic, I want to write ones with an unexpected or unique plot, just to make mine more interesting because sometimes I feel like they are slacking.  xoxo

[saintbalor-blog]

MASTERPOST !

PATRICK HOCKSTETER

🎈”THE BAD BOY ALWAYS GETS THE GIRL”

🎈”HANDSY WITH THE WRONG TOZIER? YIKES!”

🎈“THERE’S ALWAYS THAT ONE COUPLE IN THE BEDROOM AT A HIGH SCHOOL PARTY!“

🎈”SLASHERS AND BONERS AKA A PERFECT MIX!”

🎈”PATRICK WITH A FIRE KINK? SHOCKING!”

🎈”HOCKSTETTER’S CRUSHING ON A LOSER!”

🎈”NEW NEIGHBOR, NEW F*CK BUDDY OR BOTH?”

🎈”LEAVING HOCKSTETTER? IMPOSSIBLE!” (PART 1/2)

🎈“BYE-BYE BOWERS, HELLO HOCKSTETTER!“

🎈“A F*CKED UP VERSION OF BONNIE AND CLYDE!“

🎈“STAY THE HELL AWAY!”

🎈“BIG KIDS KNOW HOW TO SHARE!”

🎈“MY SISTER’S GOT A THING FOR HOCKSTETTER!”

🎈“BLOWJOBS BEHIND DOOR #1!”

🎈”ROMANTIC MOMENTS FROM A PSYCHO!”

🎈”MY SISTER’S GOT A DATE WITH A PSYCHOPATH!”

🎈”MINE, MINE, MINE!”

🎈”THAT’S MY GIRL!”

🎈”HOCKSTETTER’S GOT A MAJOR CASE OF HEART EYES!” (PART 1/2)

🎈”HOCKSTETTER’S GOT A MAJOR CASE OF HEART EYES!” (PART 2/2)

🎈”A BROTHER WITH A HOT FRIEND =\= GOOD NEWS!”

HENRY BOWERS

🎈“SUCKING FACE IN PUBLIC ? SCANDELOUS ! “

🎈”GUNS AND FRISKY BOYS!”

[chezzywezzy]

Yandere Henry Bowers (1/5)

Word count ; 4.0k

*Edited.

I was anxious. And because I was anxious, I hyper-focused on every shoulder that I grazed, every group I squeezed past. I knew it was silly to be so overwhelmed from moving schools, but the notion was new to me. And poorly timed.

People usually sob about divorces, but my parents’ separation was downright annoying and inconvenient; if they’d waited just one more year, I could’ve graduated from the same school I started kindergarten in and things wouldn’t have been difficult. Yet, here I was, in the Middle Of Nowhere; also known as Derry.

So, here I was, clutching my bag to my chest as I weaved through a crowd of strangers. My heart thudded on my chest. I wasn’t quite sure where I was going, but I was early so I had plenty of time to wander the halls in hope of finding the student office.

I migrated to the left side of the hall, slightly more comfortable now that I wasn’t going against the tide. However, my shoulders scrunched together as I passed a group of boys leaning against the lockers. I brushed shoulders with one of them, and I was momentarily terrified, speeding up. I think I heard a scoff.

Luckily, only a hallway away, was a clear room with a front desk. I scurried toward it, relaxing the moment I entered the zone. A middle-aged woman was at the desk, glasses also sliding off her nose. She seemed tired; there were at least three coffee cups next to her.

“Hi, hello, um —“

“Yes?”

My eyes widened slightly. “Well, I’m new here, and I need my schedule…? If you don’t mind helping.”

The woman eased up. If even the office staff were this apprehensive, the students here must’ve been hell spawns. She started typing furiously on her computer. “Name?”

“Y/n L/n.”

“Spell it, please.”

I complied, and after she finished typing it in, rose to her feet and disappeared into an off-limit room. I stepped back from the counter, exhaling. Everything would be fine, after the first day everything would ed up being normal —

“Oh, hello. Are you a new student?”

I jumped and turned, my anxiety skyrocketing when I came face to face with a beautiful red-headed woman. “Wh - yes, I am, yeah, hi.”

The girl tilted her head. “I’m Beverly. And you are?”

“Y/n. I, uh, like your name. And your hair. Well, I mean, not just your hair, you’re just really pretty in general. Oh god, I’m rambling.”

Beverly giggled. “Thank you. I’m here to sign up for the library community service. Are you going to do any?”

“Well, maybe. I think I need to get used to this place first. I’ve never moved before,” I admitted.

Beverly nodded, and the office lady came back, a large paper in her grasp. Her firm frown changed, and I assumed it was due to Beverly. The girl definitely set me at ease, so I wasn’t surprised she had this effect on everyone else. God, I needed to stop simping, I just met the woman.

“Here’s you schedule,” the woman mumbled. “Are ya here to sign up for library work again, Beverly?”

“Yes!”

“Thank you,” I muttered.

“Alright, I’ll let Miss Shapher know.”

“Lovely, thank you! Have a great day, Miss Copper,” Beverly said, suddenly clasping my upper arm.

“You too, Beverly.”

Beverly pulled me out of the office, and luckily, since it was almost class time, the hallway was emptier. She grabbed my schedule and bit her lip. I analyzed it from over her shoulder. AP Biology. A good start to the new school year, although I was a nerd for almost any subject.

“Wow, you’re one of the smart students, huh? A senior, too. I’m in tenth grade,” she mentioned.

“Uh, yeah. I love the sciences and literature. I’d appreciate it if you showed me where the library was sometime.”

Beverly handed me the schedule back, a small, gorgeous smile gracing her plump lips. “I’d love to. I, uh, don’t really have many friends… Anyways, I’ll walk you to your locker and point in the direction of the lab.”

“Thanks, you’ve gotta be kidding about the friend thing, though. You’re, like, such a nice person,” I admitted, falling in line beside her as we walked down the hallway. The five-minute bell rang, making me a bit nervous. I’d only been late a few times, and that wasn’t going to change at a new school.

Beverly sighed. “Well, uh, the girls here don’t really like me, and the boys pretend that I sleep around. But I don’t like to think negatively. I like school, my teachers are nice, and reading is fun. What’s your favorite book?”

“I forget what it’s called, but recently I read a fabulous book. It was about a man and an escort in the old times - it’s an old book - and they fall in love. The guy risks everything to be with her, but the woman withdraws,” I rambled. “They end up breaking up, but a few months later, the guy returns to France to find that the woman died and left everything to him. She refused to begin a life with him, not because she was a gold digger, but because she knew she was going to die soon and didn’t want him to lose everything. It really touched me. I actually lost cried.”

“…Wow. If you remember the title, I’d like to read it,” Beverly gasped, coming to a halt. “Here’s your locker. I need to get to class, but the lab is that direction.” Beverly motioned down the hallway.

“Okay, great, thanks. I hope you don’t mind me asking, but… can I sit with you at lunch?” I requested anxiously.

Beverly giggled. “I was just about to ask you the same thing. I’ll meet you here!” With that, she turned tail, and made her way through the hallway. My eyes couldn’t help but trail after her.

I eventually knocked myself out of the stupor and turned to the locker. I opened it and withdrew a flimsy lock. I took a minute to organize and relieve my bag of several textbooks. I smiled to myself as I unloaded a few novels. I knew it would’ve been a bad idea to bring so many books, but I thought I’d be spending my first day - and potentially entire year - alone.

I finished organizing and clutched the books to my chest. I went to shut my locker, but it was suddenly slammed shut. I let out a surprised gasp and went to step away, but instead I collided with someone’s chest.

A pale hand leaned against my locker, and I turned to find myself surrounded by a group of boys. The one who had assaulted my locker had shoulder length, black hair and a cunning, violating smirk. To the sides, there was a blonde boy who seemed rather elfish as though he didn’t want to be here, along with a sturdy, thickly built boy with a grin. My attention, however, landed on the teen with a messy brown mullet and an intimidating scowl.

“Uh… hello?” I greeted unsurely, glancing at the group.

“Looks like we have a new school slut, boys,” the brown-haired male stated. “Where the fuck are you from, whore?”

I was taken aback by the strong language; one might think that because I had terrible social anxiety, school bullies would terrify the hell out of me. I mean, they did, but people like that were easier to deal with because I didn’t care enough to impress or shy away from them. Because the fact is, they probably all had daddy issues.

I refrained from sighing. “Y/t. And who do I have the pleasure of meeting?” I made sure not to give any reaction to their crudeness, even if I was internally shuddering from the lanky boy’s perverse stares.

“Maybe we’ll tell ya when you’re done sucking our dicks,” the black-haired pervert hissed in my ear.

My eye twitched, but I made sure to keep my stern, unwavering gaze on the obvious leader.

“What he said. A sweater slut like you don’t deserve to know our names. Give us your fucking lunch money, whore. We know you got some,” the boy growled, which resulted in some cruel cackles from his minions.

“…Well fine. I was just trying to be polite,” I grumbled. “I don’t have fucking money dudes, I make my own lunch. Now if you’ll excuse me, I don’t want to be late on the first day.”

Stirring any residual confidence, - as I was attempting to run away - I tried shoving through the blonde and the bulk. However, I found myself being forced back into the lockers. I let out a painful groan and some of my school supplies slipped from my bag. My head rang from the sheer force and I squinted my features.

“Don’t fucking sass us, sweater slut,” mullet man sneered, burning into me with an intimidating glower.

“Boys! Either go to class or get the hell out,” a teacher shouted from down the hallway, amidst the clamor of classmates.

The gang threw the teacher a glance and distanced themselves. “We aren’t done here, sweater slut,” the lanky creep whispered in my ear as they disappeared into the crowd; I noted that they were generally feared, as everyone made room for them as they went past.

I finally released a breath that I didn’t realize I was holding in, my anxieties melting away. They were scarier than anticipated - I didn’t like that they were fine with using physical force. But, even if I was a coward, I refused to be one in front of assholes like them.

Sighing and picking up my stuff, I decided to head to class.

~~~

“Oh, they’re the Bowers Gang. I forgot to warn you about those dickheads. They torment every new kid,” Beverly sighed.

Me and my new friend had just exited the school building. She insisted that the cafeteria was ugly and crowded, and that she’d always spent her lunches out in the courtyard outskirts, where all the nerds or sport kids ate. The area we were walking to was verdant and luscious, right by the school’s edges where it was gated off. We were by the basketball court, too, and instead of eating, there were a bunch of jocks shooting hoops.

Beverly took me to a tree and we sat at the base, happily hiding underneath the shade as we took out our lunches. Her red hair glistened attractively, and I couldn’t help but adore her small, lovely smile. Oh god, I was simping too hard too fast —

“How were your classes?” she inquired with the tilt of her head. I noticed that she had a rather small packed lunch.

“Great, actually. I haven’t had a teacher I hate yet. A nice start to my Monday,” I answered, pulling out my sandwich. “Want a slice? I’m a great sandwich chef.”

“Oh! It’s alright, I have enough,” she declined humbly. “I make my lunches, too. Maybe tomorrow we can trade, don’t you think? I’ve never had a friend to try it with before.”

I grinned. “Oh my god, me neither. We have to do that. Consider it a challenge, though, because I make some mean cut-up apple slices,” I joked.

Beverly chuckled and we fell into a comfortable silence as we ate. I figured Beverly did the same, but I spent my meal watching boys play basketball in the court. However, my gaze expanded further, where I noticed in the parking lot, the dreaded ‘Bowers Gang.’ I couldn’t help but stare; when they weren’t terrorizing their classmates, they looked just like a normal group of friends. At least, when you ignored the aloof, menacing glares they sent to random areas.

I took another bite of my sandwich, and that’s when I froze. The leader of the gang was looking my way. I averted my gaze, just as Beverly spoke up.

“So why did you move here?”

“Oh - ! Well, my parents got a divorce, so my mom wanted a new start. I mean, my dad’s cool, but I preferred here to wherever the hell he moved to. Still annoying, especially with those wanna-be bad boys in the parking lot, but you’ve certainly made moving here be worthwhile,” I explained.

“Ah… If you ever need to talk about it, I know we just met, but I’m here for you,” she offered up kindly.

I couldn’t help it. I let out an ‘aw’ as my heart absolutely melted. “Gosh, you’re literally the nicest person ever! I would literally die for you. But, uh, I’m good for now.”

Beverly giggled, but it was suddenly stifled as she stared at something else. I followed her line of sight and ended up coughing from shock. Approaching us, cutting across the basketball court, was the Bowers Gang. Coming right towards us.

“We should leave,” Beverly squeaked.

“Wh - No way, I bet they’re just hungry. I mean, you can go, but I’m lazy as hell,” I said. “My fat ass ain’t moving.”

Beverly halted her movements and sighed. “You’re kidding, right? I - well, too late to run now.” She hugged her lunch box to her chest and had a permanent, frightened pout.

I stared at the approaching gang. All four of them were glaring at us. But I just took a bite out of my sandwich. I hummed to myself. Damn, I was a good chef.

And just like that, we were surrounded.

“Well, well, well, should’ve known sweater slut would become friends with the resident dick-sucker,” mullet man taunted.

I spared him but a glance. “…Uh huh. What I’m hearing is, not even the sexual harasser of your boy band has been laid,” I retorted. “You boys look hungry. Want some apple slices?” I handed some to the bulky teenager and blonde bimbo.

The boy with the shaved head reached his grubby hands towards the food, but mullet man slapped it onto the ground. Afterwards, he stomped on it, along with the rest of my lunch box. Beverly let out a tearful gasp, and god I wanted to cry - not to mention pass out from a panic attack - but I stood (or sat) my ground.

I could always have a snack after school.

“Man, what the hell, I wanted to eat that!” blondie complained, but his annoyance went ignored.

The boys were clearly looking from a reaction, and they snickered when Beverly grasped my arm in a suffocating fashion.

“Dude, you seriously just destroyed free food. I don’t even know y’alls’ names and you’re acting like I fucked your moms. If you have one,” I sassed, mostly towards the leader. “Can you, like, leave us alone? I don’t really care if you pick on me, but Beverly’s literally an angel so treat her like one.”

“Oh yeah, an angel in the fucking bedroom,” the pervert snickered.

The mullet kid was staring at me intensely, with an unreadable expression. I figured that maybe, maybe he was about to back off, but then I recognized a fire in his eyes. Oh no.

The boy growled further and gripped my collar, strongly pulling me to my feet and shoving me into the tree. Beverly also stood up in order to avoid me, and she grabbed my hand. I let out a hiss of pain, but tried my best to recover, meeting his furious gaze. The boys closed in on us, and even if I was utterly terrified, I refused to show it.

“Listen here, sweater slut, watch your fucking back. You’re really getting on my nerves, and I ain’t afraid of beating the shit out of a girl,” he threatened.

In that moment, I pitied him. I could just tell. I sighed. “I hope you can learn to be happy in the future. I have a feeling you’d look much better if you smiled more often,” I stuttered.

Beverly gawked at me as though I was absolutely insane, and the entire gang was caught off guard. The pervert even halted his catcalling to watch mullet man’s reaction intently.

His grasp on my collar loosened. Even though his scowl deepened, he dropped me completely. I stumbled to my feet.

“These whores ain’t worth our time, boys,” he conceded. “Those fucking losers look like they got sticks up their ass. Let’s go.”

I didn’t deflate until the gang sufficiently disappeared. Beverly enveloped me in a warm hug, and I could’ve sworn a few tears fell on my shoulders. I reciprocated eagerly, even though I wasn’t sure what I’d done to deserve the act of affection.

“Y/n, I can’t believe you did that! And I can’t believe that worked,” she rambled. “Like, I’ve never seen Henry Bowers back down from people. He usually clocks people in the nose for trying to be nice.”

I pulled away. “God, I almost shat myself. Like, seriously, that black-haired bitch made me feel violated,” I cringed, jokingly shivering even though I wanted to hyperventilate like crazy.

Beverly turned her attention to the destroyed meal. “Oh… A shame what happened to your lunch,” she acknowledged, nudging the remains with her foot. “How about we share? And maybe… we can stop by seven-eleven after school?”

~~~

Despite the riveting first day, the passing weeks went by without a hitch, and eventually, my first month at a new school concluded. Somehow, I’d gotten on Henry Bower’s good side just enough to make me invisible to the tyrant bullies, so I spent most of my time either studying or hanging out with my bestie, Bev.

It was a normal Friday afternoon, but instead of rushing right home to spend the weekend in bed, I was heading to the library. I had taken up Bev’s recommendation and signed up for volunteer work, so I’d be meeting the girl there for an afternoon surrounded by books.

The weather was lovely, which was strange in the generally downcast Derry. It must’ve been matching my mood. There was a noticeable pep in my step as I continued along the cement sidewalk. I was about to pass by an ancient stone building when suddenly, my collar was snatched and I was thrown onto the grass.

Without thought, I aimed to get back on my feet, but a hard shoe kicked my shoulder and pinned me to the ground. I let out a small scream of panic, but when I realized who the attacker was, I forced myself to steel up.

Henry Bowers, the one and only, with a crude cigarette loosely hanging from his mouth. He adorned a deep scowl, eyes boring into me.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going, sweater slut? Think you got it easy just ‘cause you’re some worthless goody two-shoes?” he sneered, towering over me.

For the first time, I had difficulty finding the courage to sass back. The only reply I could muster was,” You know smoking’s a bad habit, right?”

I let out an ‘oof’ when he dug his heel further into my shoulder blade. He towered our me, a jeer on his expression. “What do you care, dipshit? Do you really think that nice-girl act’s gonna get you anywhere?”

“Well, uh,” I started,” not particularly, but you just seem like the type of person who needs a real friend from time to time. No offense, bud.”

His eyes widened slightly and he leaned closer. He grabbed my jaw and forced it open, promptly spitting his cigarette into my mouth. I coughed and tried to get it out, but he closed my mouth and wouldn’t allow me to do so. Tears sprung to my eyes and I started struggling beneath him, pawing at his strong grip.

Fir the first time, a sadistic smile grew on his visage. “Suck my dick, slut, and maybe then you’ll get some special treatment. Got it?”

He stepped off me and I was quick to scramble to my feet. I keeled over and threw up the nicotine stick along with tar spit. My mouth had a vile aftertaste. I felt even worse when I felt Bower’s dirty paws smack my behind harshly.

I recovered just enough to wipe my mouth. Henry had returned to his spot, leaning against the building, although his eyes were glued to my figure. I decided it would be best to leave it at that, so I scurried off to the library.

I was relieved when the oak doors closed behind me and I was exposed to shelf after shelf. I didn’t intend for it to seem like I was running away, but god, I almost fainted. I mean, I knew that he was a school bully, but I didn’t think that he was that… violent. I assumed he picked up the habit from home.

I wandered deeper into the aisles, my fingers glazing over the spines. I hummed quietly to myself, a smile making its way to my face, even with the previous trauma. I entered the classical fiction aisle. Inspecting several books, I entered a daze.

All until my hand grazed over someone else’s.

I jumped, but was instantly calm when I realized it was only Bev. Oh, how lucky I was, I had touched her hand —

“Oh! There you are. You startled me,” Bev giggled, covering her mouth. “I was just browsing for books while I was waiting for you. It appears we had the same idea.”

“Indeed,” I concurred. “Uh, so do I have certain jobs to do?”

“Well, believe it or not, the library’s usually empty on Friday afternoons. All we have to do is sign in, hide away in a corner and read, and then sign out after a few hours. It’ll be nice to have some company this time around.”

“Man, that’s great. So, to summarize, I’m getting volunteer hours for hanging out?” I chuckled. “Well, let’s get to it, time to pretend to work.”

Bev led me away an to the front desk, where a middle-aged woman sat patiently while reading a book. She had glasses, and when we approached, she pushed them further up the bridge of her nose. “Beverly, and Miss Y/n, our new recruit. Miss Beverly, how about you show her how things work around here? I’d do it myself, but I’m dreadfully tired.” She pulled out a clipboard. “Sign here, both of you.”

I obediently copied Bev’s movements, adding my signature and the current time to the clipboard. I was overjoyed at such an opportunity, because if there was anything I loved more than my current best friend, it would be books.

Beverly grabbed my wrist and eagerly pulled me over to a book cart that was almost completely empty. We started wheeling it over to an aisle, and I was following her lead. We went to the children’s fiction shelf.

“There’s a few books to unload, but other than that, we can go find some books to read until we go home,” Bev explained, motioning to the cart.

“Great! Let’s get to it. By the way, boy, do I have some tea to tell you.”

[bitches-who-write]

Late Night Drive: Belch Huggins Halloween One-Shot:

Warnings: Foul language and Violence

Y/N and her boyfriend Belch just watched Jeepers Creepers for the first time after all of her friends told her it was a must watch. Y/N knew the movie wasn’t real, she knew Jeepers Creepers wasn’t real..at least that's what she told herself. She was so busy thinking of all these horrifying scenarios involving Jeepers Creepers that she didn’t hear her boyfriend talking to her. “Y/N are you listening to me??” She quickly snapped out of it and looked at him. ‘Hm? Sorry.’ He rolled his eyes and stood up. “I said let's go for a drive. I'm tired of being inside.” Her eyes widened in fear..’Uh maybe we should stay inside..you know it's safer..’ Belch grabbed her and started dragging her to the car. “Stop being a baby. It’s just a movie.”

They were probably on the road for 30 minutes before she noticed this wasn’t the usual route her boyfriend took. ‘Babe..do you know where you’re going?’ He chuckled and glanced at her. “Relax baby. I know exactly where we’re at.’ She nodded and laid her head against the window looking at the night sky. She soon felt the car come to a stop and looked up ‘What's wrong? Why did we stop?’ “Somethings up with the car. Let me go check under the hood.” She watched him get out and opened the hood of the car. She was on edge now, glancing around the area and that's when she noticed an old church..that looked way too close to the church from the movie. ‘Reggie lets go please!!’ She stuck her head out of the window ‘Reggie..?” She knew better than to get out of the car but she still did it. ‘Reggie if you’re fuckin with me it’s really not funny.’ She walked around to the hood of the car only to find her boyfriend's hat on the ground. ‘Reggie..this really isn't funny anymore!!’ She quickly shut the hood of the car and she really thought about getting in the car and leaving his ass here but then she remembered he always takes his car keys with him..Patrick has tried to steal his car multiple times. She took out her cell and tried to call him but of course there was no signal. She sighed and glanced over at the old church..’I swear if you’re in there I’m breaking up with you!’ She walked over to the old church and slowly pushed open the doors ‘Reggie?’ She walked in and started looking around the dark room but still no sign of her boyfriend. She stopped walking when she noticed the door to the basement was open. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me. This isn't cool Reggie.’ She took a deep breath before slowly going down the basement stairs. ‘Hello? Reggie I’m seriously getting annoyed. I want to go home.’ Once she reached the bottom of the stairs she reached for the light switch and surprisingly it still worked. Her eyes widened in fear and she wished she never turned on the light. On the floor was what looked like dried blood and what appeared to be..body bags. She gulped and hesitantly walked over to one of the bags and began to unzip it slowly, her heart beating out of her chest. She opened the bag and she felt so relieved when she saw it was empty. ‘Thank goodness. Holy shit.’ She laughed to herself and stood up. ‘I can’t believe I actually thought there was something in there.’ She turned around to head back up the stairs when...“BOO!” Belch came out of nowhere. She let out a blood curdling scream ‘What the fuck is wrong with you!?’ Belch was on the ground laughing “Oh my god that was perfect. You should have seen your face. Perfection.” She glared at him and stomped up the stairs and headed back to the car. ‘Fucking asshole.’ She got in the car and laid her head on the window and waited for her asshole boyfriend to take her home. She looked down at her phone to check the time it was 12:00am. It was officially Halloween. She chuckled ‘I can’t believe Im getting so worked up over a stupid movie.. Where the hell is he?’ She got out of the car and looked over at the church one last time. ‘‘Hurry up! I want to go home!’ She was about to get back in when she felt something fly above her. She quickly looked up ‘What the hell was that..’ She started scanning the area. Nothing. She sighed and got back in the car. She leaned over the driver's side and pushed on the horn. ‘Reggie, let's go!! ’ She sat back in the seat and closed her eyes waiting for him to come. Just then the car door opened, she sat up ‘About time are you done acting like a child?’ She looked over at the driver's seat but it wasn't her boyfriend sitting there. It was some kind of creature..like a knock off Jeepers Creepers. She let out a blood curdling scream and tried to get out of the car but it wouldn’t budge no matter how hard she pulled at the handle. She saw Reggie walking out of the church and began screaming for him.The creature leans over and pulls her head back by the hair. She began screaming and yelling for help trying to get his attention bu it was as if no

sound was leaving the car. The creature took one of his long claws and dragged it across her neck and with that he sliced open her throat with one quick motion. He lets her head fall forward and watches the blood drain from her.

She woke up to someone shaking her “Y/N, wake up.” She sat up quickly gasping for air. “Babe are you okay? You were thrashing around and screaming. Not the good kind of screaming either.” She quickly reached for her throat and let out a sigh of relief. ‘Just a dream, It was just a bad dream.’ Reggie looked at her with a confused but somewhat amused look on his face. “Remind me never to watch horror movies with you again.” She sighed ‘Shut up.’ She laid back down and turned her back to him. She could hear him chuckling “Okay.” He laid back down and soon they both fell back asleep. The next day and the days to follow she couldn’t get the horrible dream out of her head. Needless to say she is never watching that movie again.