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heckstetter · 7 years

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The Bowers Gang reacts to their S/O calling them Daddy for the firt time

Anonymous said to heckstetter:

Can I request the gang's reaction to their s/o calling them daddy for the first time?

YESSSSSSSSSSS, ohhh my god I hate that I have a Daddy kink but one of my exes made it so good for me qvq I’m sorry it took all day! I was gonna sit down and start writing it as soon as the request came in but my sister asked if I would help with grocery shopping today and that took so much longer than expected and then I tried to finish it but fell the fuck asleep.

Also! I wrote this in a more headcanon style rather than the drabble style of my last post, if you were the one who requested it and wanted it in more of a story style, let me know and I’ll rewrite it! Heck, even if you weren’t the one to request this and still want it in more of a drabble style let me know!!! I may or may not have already started writing it out lmao

Everything is under the read more because it gets very NSFW!

Henry:

Ø You’ve been playing around with the idea of having a sort of “kink discussion” with your boyfriend for a while now.

Ø You didn’t want to have a Daddy kink, but oh lord did it turn you the fuck on. It’s fine, you’ve accepted who you are and what you like.

Ø And your boyfriend, Henry, also turned you the fuck on.

Ø He was rough in all of the right ways. He knew how to push you to your limits, he fucked you ‘til you turned black and blue; leaving his mark on you in the form of bruises, cuts, and love bites.

Ø He was hot shit and you were living for it.

Ø And one of the best things about dating Henry, was that in the quiet of the night after the brutal fucking and punishments, he’d hold you tight to him and whisper sweet, loving nothings in your ear.

Ø Words he’d never, ever say in front of his group of friends, mind you, but that didn’t take away the significance of those soft moments between the two of you and how safe he made you feel.

Ø Henry made you feel small, protected, loved, and wanted.

Ø So basically, Henry was Daddy AF and you kind of, sort of, really wanted to tell him!

Ø Well, maybe not tell him up front. In all honesty, you wanted to be under him, whimpering out “Daddy, please!” and “Daddy, you make me feel so good” as he fucks his thick cock into you over and over again.

Ø You had one problem, however. His reaction.

Ø If there was anyone in your group of peers with #daddyissues, it was Henry Bowers. You knew of his dad, Henry doing everything in his power to prevent you from formally meeting him, but you knew exactly what his father was capable of and the quality of life Henry had at home.

Ø You were pretty sure that Henry would never be interested in you calling him daddy, due to bad associations with the word. But you were resolved to bring it up to him!

Ø These kinds of conversations were important in relationships! Communication of wants, interests, and expectations was a healthy thing to do!

Ø Yea… Except y’all never got that far. The second the words “Kind of a sex talk?” left your lips, Henry was all over you.

Ø He shoved you down onto your bed, pulling you close to him to kiss you roughly. You tried to move away from his hungry kisses, but damn.

Ø Your boy was addicting, and you gave up the second he started nipping and licking and sucking along your jawline.

Ø Next thing you knew, both of you were naked and fucking like you’d never see each other again. You were on your back, pretty much bent in half because Henry was holding the back of your thighs, your calves thrown over his shoulders, as he jackhammered into you.

Ø “Unh, fuck! Daddy, please!” You cried out, scratching your nails down his back. You didn’t even realize what you had said, at first until his response.

Ø He didn’t falter in his brutal pace, instead fucking you even harder, panting his pleasure in your ear

Ø “Fuck, baby girl, you like that?” He asked, and all you could do was nod and whimper as one of the hands holding your thigh moved down to where the two of you were joined, rubbing your clit hard as he continued to fuck you, “Mm, fuck yea, baby! Cum all over Daddy’s cock.”

Ø Who were you to disobey an order like that? It was by far, the absolute hardest you had ever orgasmed in your life.

Ø Even after that amazing experience, you still didn’t really talk to Henry about the kink or how to delve into it in a deeper manner, but you also never had sex without saying it anymore.

Ø Henry was insufferably smug about it for weeks until you had the guts to whisper “Daddy” in his ear while the two of you were hanging out with his gang in Belch’s Trans Am.

Ø Needless to say, he made Belch take the two of you home immediately.

Patrick:

o In order to maintain any real kind of relationship with a guy like Patrick Hockstetter, you had to be either a) pretty kinky or b) have the patience of a god damned saint to be willing to go through all of his kinks.

o You just so happened to be the former option, having known about your “unusual” sexual interests long before you had ever known the lanky teen who was now your boyfriend.

o You were also more than happy to play the role of his masochistic plaything, enjoying all the creative ways he could hurt you and mark you as his own.

o Throughout the course of your relationship, you’ve sustained plenty of injuries ranging from burns to lacerations, broken blood vessels and blackening bruises, sprained joints and even a fractured wrist on one evening.

o (The two of you were regulars at the local pharmacy, always buying heaps of medical supplies and a large box of condoms that never seemed to last you through the week. This unfortunately gave Greta ample evidence to fuel her cruel rumors around school, but neither of you could bring yourselves to care. It was all consensual fun to the two of you, no matter how insane it sounded to everyone else.)

o All your kinks seemed to neatly align with his own… except for one.

o Patrick wasn’t interested in titles. He didn’t care for being called Master, and Sir felt too informal to both of you. He didn’t bring up any other suggestions after that and you were too chickenshit to mention the one thing you really wanted to call him.

o “Daddy…” You imagine yourself hissing out in a hazy mix of pleasure and pain as you’re laid out naked over his lap, his hand— No, his belt striking your ass and your lower back at a tempo you can’t quite keep track of but are too fucked out to care.

o Your fantasy never goes beyond that moment. Patrick is well known for his unpredictability and while you knew him well enough, you couldn’t conjure up what you’d think his real reaction would be.

o Despite not being able to think of an outcome, that was one of your favorite things to imagine. You loved being bent over his lap, the feeling of his erection poking into your belly as he switched between caressing you with his long, talented fingers and hitting you with pretty much any item in the room that he knew would fucking hurt.

o You liked to indulge yourself in this fantasy on the rare occasion you’d be spending the night by yourself. More often than not, Patrick would make his way through your window after everyone else in your household has gone to sleep and stay with you.

o He didn’t do it every night, though, and as the time he usually showed up by came and went, you couldn’t help but let your own hands wander down the front of your jeans, stroking yourself lightly as you thought of all the nasty things your boyfriend did to you.

o God, you were already so fucking wet. Even the thought of Patrick was enough to make you insane with want.

o “Ffffuck,” You whine, your head thrown back against your pillow and your eyes squeezed shut as you pushed your underwear to the side and really started to work yourself, “Uhh… Patrick— Daddy! Please!”

o “Getting started without me, baby girl? I think that’s grounds for a punishment.”

o You rip your hand out of your pants as your eyes fly open as you turn to face your boyfriend. He’s sitting in your windowsill, looking at you with a wild glint in his eyes as his tongue darts out to lick his lips in his usual predatory manner.

o “Were you feeling lonely, Y/N?” He asks, an edge of mockery to his voice, “Does Daddy not take care of you well enough that you had to bring matters into your own hands?”

o God damn it.

o God fucking damn it.

o He had heard you. He had fucking heard you fucking yourself on your fucking fingers while thinking about his stupid sexy fucking self and he had fucking heard you call him Daddy.

o With the way he was looking at you, you were pretty sure you were about to die. Or get fucked until you die.

o “I’m waiting.” He snaps at you, “Are you going to answer me? Does Daddy not treat you right? Does he not fuck you hard enough? Long enough? Does Daddy not let you cum on his dick?”

o You try to explain yourself to him, but it’s no use. He’s in one of his moods at this point, somewhere between horny as hell at the sight of seeing you touch yourself to the thought of him (it’s not the first time he’s watched, he’s seen you pleasure yourself time and time again with and without your knowledge) and pissed the fuck off that you thought you could keep one of your kinks from him.

o He ties you to your bed and fucks you mercilessly until you’re screaming for Daddy.

o The next day, he makes you promise to never keep any secrets from him. Even if it’s something you think is stupid or that he won’t like. Patrick insists he doesn’t care what it is, he’s your boyfriend and he has a right to knowing.

o A few days later, your sitting around Belch’s Trans Am with the gang and as usual the topic gets incredibly sexual. The two of you were the only ones getting anything on a consistent basis because you were seeing each other so more often than not these conversations were about your sex life.

o “I bet Y/N never cums when she fucks you.” Henry teases, albeit quite rudely.

o “Oh, bullshit,” Patrick laughs and grabs at his dick through his jeans, “Y/N cums on Daddy’s cock all night.”

o You punch him. You punch him right in the throat.

o Belch, Vic, and Henry are all somewhere between horrified and disgusted and Patrick can’t stop laughing.

o God damn it.

Vic (I uh. I changed the request up on this one a bit.):

ü So, you’re in your bedroom, just spending the afternoon lazing about with your boyfriend, Vic.

ü He’s laying down in your bed, starfished the fuck out so you have no choice but to be laying pretty much directly on top of him. (He does it on purpose. He thinks you don’t know.)

ü The two of you were sort of drifting in and out of sleep, making out a little bit every now and then, or having silly little conversations about nothing in particular.

ü Basically, y’all are just being a disgustingly adorable couple. (He’d never do this around his friends, but they know how cuddly he gets.)

ü You’re kissing at his jaw line, lightly dragging your teeth over old lovebites because it makes him shiver and inhale sharply. His hands are on your ass, gripping you tightly as you slowly sink your teeth into the most sensitive part of his neck to suck at and darken the bruise that was already there. (Since the two of you started dating, he has always had a hickey in that spot. In other spots too, but none as ever-present as that spot.)

ü You can feel his erection poking your stomach and you couldn’t help but giggle. You loved knowing what you could do to him, and all of the things he felt for you and because of you.

ü “Got a problem, baby?” You ask, your tone teasing yet still deep with want. Vic huffs and uses his grip on your ass to pull you up closer, grinding his erection into your own developing problem.

ü “You really gonna tease me like that, Y/N?” He asks, biting his lip seductively while continuing the slow roll of his hips, “You better start behaving before Daddy bends you over his knee, babygirl.”

ü What.

ü The two of you stop all of your motions immediately, processing what the fuck just came out of Victor’s mouth. You thought he had been blushing from all the attention before, but his skin went from soft pink to bright fucking red.

ü “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” “…you have a daddy kink?” You both blurt out at the same time.

ü “No! Okay, maybe… yes. Yes, I do.” Vic admits, pointedly looking around the room instead of your face.

ü “It’s not a bad thing, Vic.” You say after a moment of silence, “Unexpected, but not bad. I’ll call you that if you’re really into it.”

ü To be honest, Vic didn’t seem like the Daddy type at all, but hey! You loved your boyfriend and everything about him and if he got his rocks off to you calling him Daddy then you’d call him that god damn it!

ü “Really?” He asks, finally daring to make eye contact with you, he shifts slightly so you can’t feel his erection twitch with renewed interest. (You felt it, though. He wasn’t great at hiding these things from you.)

ü “Yes, Daddy.” You purr, balancing on your knees for a second so you can undo his jeans and pull his hard cock out. You move your panties to the side, already so wet, and sink down on him inch by inch.

ü Both of you threw your heads back at the feeling of him being fully inside of you. He moved his hands from your ass to your hips, gripping you tight enough so that he could pick you up and drop you back down on his dick.

ü Oh.

ü “Daddy!” You cry out sharply as he does it again and again and again.

ü You’re in for a long night and come out of it just as into the whole Daddy thing as he is.

ü You both tease each other about it in front of your friends. They hate you :’^)

Belch (also changed up the request a bit here):

§ You’re pretty sure that the most surprising thing about your relationship with Belch (at least to outsiders) was just how great the two of you were about communicating pretty much everything with each other.

§ Neither of you were sparkling conversationalists, and people often referred to you as the quiet ones in your respective groups of friends but with each other?

§ Everything just flowed so easily, you never were frightened to tell Belch about anything and he could spend hours holding you in the back seat of your car just talking the night away (among other things.)

§ So, naturally, when you discovered a particular kink that you had the literal first thing that you did was consider if it meant enough to you to bring it up to your boyfriend and when the best time to talk to him about it would be.

§ Healthy! Communication!

§ Unfortunately, there was no easy way to really bring up wanting to call your boyfriend Daddy, but you couldn’t help but think about (and thoroughly enjoy) all the things about him that helped you develop this kink.

§ He was physically bigger than you, and while his size tended to be a bit of a sensitive issue for him, you thought he was downright the fucking sexiest man alive. He could pick you up and manhandle you in any which way he wanted, whenever he wanted, and that does a lot for someone let me fuckin tell you.

§ Not only that, but he was willing to do absolutely whatever to see you smile and make you feel like the most special person alive.

§ His friends would often give him shit for times he went out of his way to make you happy, but he just shrugged and gave him his usual spiel of “A real man would do whatever t’ make his S/O happy” and “A good boyfriend always makes sure his S/O is his fuckin’ priority.”

§ He took care of you in all the best ways and then held you down and fucked you ‘til you cried.

§ Belch Huggins was Daddy as fuck, and you were gonna tell him so.

§ The conversation happened during lunch, as most of your private conversations at school do. You snuck out of the cafeteria holding hands as you made your way over to Amy, his well-kept Trans Am.

§ “What’d you wanna talk about, baby?” He asks as you two pile into the backseat. Y’all usually sat up front but you wanted him to be holding you during this conversation.

§ “So, I know we’re not really a kinky couple…” You began, and Belch nodded understandingly. Compared to pretty much all of your friends (COUGHPATRICKCOUGHHENRYCOUGHVICTORCOUGH), the two of you were the most vanilla of the group. Not that you were completely vanilla or that y’all didn’t have good sex. “Well, what if I wanted to… um.”

§ Belch holds you closer to him, one of his big hands resting on your lower back and the other lovingly cupping your face, “You can tell me, Y/N.”

§ “Can I call you Daddy?” You ask, “Like… in bed, I mean!”

§ He doesn’t respond at first, just staring in your eyes and smiling. The hand that was cupping your face slooowly moves down to the front of your jeans. He swiftly unbuttons them but waits until you nod to push his hand inside, letting his fingers gently tease you.

§ “You wanna call me Daddy, babygirl?” Belch asks as he slips two fingers inside of you, “Yer gonna be naughty and drag me out to my car durin’ lunch and whisper about how much Daddy turns you on?”

§ His fingers are moving faster inside you now and you’re already soaked and it’s making this incredibly lewd noise but you can’t bring yourself to do anything but move your hips against his hand and scratch at his back as he fingerfucks you.

§ “Oh fuck, Daddy!” You whimper, “Daddy, please let me cum!”

§ “I wasn’t sure if I was gonna let ya cum, babygirl.” Belch admits, but doesn’t slow down or stop, “But all Daddy wants right now is to watch you cum all over his fingers.”

§ So you do, and then the Lunch bell rings. Belch makes his friends walk home because the only thing he wants to do as soon as school is out is drive you out to somewhere private and really get to explore this new kink of yours.

#texts from the crypt #henry bowers x reader #patrick hockstetter x reader #victor cross x reader #belch huggins x reader #the bowers gang x reader #it 2017 #my post #my writing

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horror-galore · 6 years

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Easter with the Bowers' Gang

Henry

His step-mother, Rena Davenport, insists on celebrating Easter but Henry makes it a point to voice his displeasure. His father isn’t too impressed, either.

Their meal consists of beans, cornbread, ham, and some produce that didn’t sell too well.

The ham is store-bought by Rena herself. She refused to let the Bowers’ family butcher Bip and Bop because it would break her heart.

She bought a special outfit for both of them and they mysteriously disappeared after Oscar “Butch” Bowers roasted the ham over a bonfire.

Patrick

His entire family takes Easter deathly serious, but his Catholic upbringing takes the holiday back to its religion roots.

It’s one of the few times that Patrick is forced to go to church, and he has to wear his Sunday’s best.

He’s allowed to spend time with friends, but he must be back in time for supper.

The entire Bowers’ gang mocks him for his clothes, but they tolerate him so they can mooch off his Easter basket.

Avery gets his own basket, but it collects dust. It’s how his mother copes with grief.

Belch

He’s expected to work twice as hard to deliver the Sunday paper for his job at the Weekly Shopper.

His mother hasn’t been up for celebrating holidays ever since the death of her husband, it’s just too painful.

She leaves out egg dying kits and hard boiled eggs but she doesn’t stick around to watch the boys make them.

Belch uses the leftover newspapers to protect the table from the egg dye.

Everyone agrees that Henry makes the ugliest eggs, but it becomes a competition as the night progresses.

At the end of the night, they wander the streets and egg houses with their creations. Everyone knows it’s them because their fingers are stained.

Vic

His Mom and Dad gives Vic corn to give out to his friend’s families.They’re typically the rejects that were deemed too deformed to sell or the result of a surplus.

He’s the voice of reason when Henry suggests they should go explore Kitchener Ironworks.

Spoiler alert, they end up going there anyway and Vic has little choice but to tag along.

Happy Easter everyone! 🐰

#Bowers Gang #Henry Bowers #Victor Criss #Patrick Hockstetter #Belch Huggins #It by Stephen King #Stephen King #Easter #It 2017 #Text Post #Long Post

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i-smell-sass · 3 years

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"What in the yellow flower hell?!" Henry Bowers X Male Reader Headcannons

Requested: Yes/No : Henry Bowers x male reader who loves giving him sunflower stuff! (i assumed you meant it in a romantic and not only platonic way!)

-Henry was in the same class and/or grade as the losers club since he was held back a year for being too violent and not giving in his assignments etc. (8th grade)

-You, on the other hand were in the same grade as criss, huggins and hockstetter. (9th grade)

- though you don't talk a lot with henry, you liked to think you were okay friends with him, even though he never really acknowledged you as a "friend" and more as "loser who hangs around me all the time" you assumed.

-somewhere, you can't remember who told you or how you noticed, but somehow you were told/realized henry liked sunflowers a lot.

-he even went to class with one lazily scribbled onto his forearm, you assumed it was Patrick scribbling on henry's arms since his own were full of his own bored scribbles from class.

-you had a mild crush on him 3 months into the friendship, which he didn't quite catch at first.

-Henry had a crush on you too, surprisingly, though he kept it to himself mostly, didn't really act upon it, partly because he didn't know if you felt the same, and partly because he was fighting with his own acceptance of being gay. (onto the real topic, got a bit carried away)

-the first time you gave him something sunflower related was when he was leaning his chin on his hand and had his elbow resting on his knee for support, notebook in his lap as he waited for the rest of the gang to come back from who knows where, you sitting beside him on the floor, scribbling around on the white cover of his notebook, drawing a pretty good sunflower on it and writing 'to make your day a bit brighter' over it before saying goodbye to henry, telling him you were gonna meet up with Richie and the others. (sorry its so much text, got detailed ideas)

-2nd time you gifted him something sunflower related was when you walked over to henry's locker after class, slapping a sunflower sticker on it with a note attached to the bottom, it telling him you were gonna wait by his car.

-honestly he was confused how you knew he liked sunflowers, but found the gifts nice. made him feel like someone cared about him.

-3rd time was a sunflower on the passenger seat of the blue spray painted car, where he normally sat. He asked if it was some kind of prank from hockstetter or belch, but they both didn't know how it got there in the first place.

-4th was when you were walking next to him as he was exiting the Derry school. "so, wanna go and help plant some sunflowers? mom said she would appreciate some help, and i think you would like them" you smiled and henry agreed reluctantly, since it was more time away from his father, and more time he got to spend with you.

-he slowly starts giving you gifts in return, random little things he finds that remind him of you.

-he slowly starts opening up to you and telling you about everything he's been through, including the abuse of his father.

-you appreciate him telling you, and let him know whenever he is struggling emotionally he could come to you.

-you kept gifting him little things; a sunflower pin here, a sticker there, maybe a mug with a sunflower on it that read 'have a sunny day!' as cheesy as that was,

-once you gave him a small golden sunflower charm for one of the many bracelets/wristbands he was wearing, he decided to tell you.

-he always acted like he didn't care about you or your "stupid little gifts", he called them, though he always kept them.

-the day he confessed was.. a little awkward. -He walked behind you, as quiet as he could before yanking your shirt back and pulling you into an empty classroom with him. -You were surprised, pressed up between henry bowers and a cold concrete wall. Your breath hitched lightly and henry glared at you, huffing as he just... stared. -He had never been overly aggressive with Y/N, but today he seemed on edge. -he closed his eyes, took a deep breath and began to speak; "look, Y/N, i know this is weird- and you're probably confused, but.. -fuck, why are you so damn adorable with your little stupid gifts and the way you look at me and-" -he took a deep breath again and sighed, opening his eyes to look at your blushing face. "look, what i wanna say is, i like you. More than a friend. and i know this could fuck everything up, but i really need to know if you feel the same." -you blinked a little, sorting your thoughts, blushing a deep shade of red [if blushing shows up on your skin tone] and grabbing henry's face, kissing him, to which he kissed back instantly, grip on the straps of your backpack he was holding you at loosening. -when you pulled back, you rolled your E/C eyes. "of course i like you back, idiot." you both snickered at that, -"so... boyfriends?" he asked, holding up his pinky to intertwine with yours. You nodded, letting out a huff-like laugh, " 'course, dummy."

-your time continued as boyfriends, Henry sleeping over at yours as much he could to spend time with you and also avoid his dad.

-you braided his hair, used sunflower hair ties and had a little sunflower garden with him in your backyard.

-taking a couple polaroid's too, probably.

-he eventually told his gang that he was dating you, which turned out to go way more smoothly than he anticipated. A: because he was the leader, obviously, and B: because most of them were either attracted to the same gender too or just accepting enough.

-you started hanging out with henry and his gang, which they didn't mind.

-also getting him to talk about his feelings instead of bottling them up and lashing out in aggressive episodes, resulting in less bullying.

soo.. this is it, didn't know how to "end it" per say, but here you have it! hope you enjoyed!

TAGLIST: (couldn't tag you, @stonnerwayne25, but yeah, here!) @somethingfreaky , @something-bizarre

#IT #IT2017 #Stephen kings it #bowers gang #henry bowers #henry #bowers #henry bowers x male reader #x male reader #gay #headcanon

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stanley-uris-deserves-better · 7 years

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So, I just wanted to get this out there...

Now, just a warning, this is all just speculation on my part and might be way off, but I just wanted to say something about it because I don’t see anyone really talking about it. So...

!!!!!!!!!ALSO, SPOILERS FOR IT(2017), YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!!!!!!

—————————

This is about the Bowers Gang, specifically about what happens to Vic and Belch because, in both the book and movie, they die while going after the Losers with Henry. This is clearly not how it goes down in the 2017 film, but I do think the two are dead(or at the very least, Belch is). And I think that Henry is the one who did it.

Now... Let’s start with the car that the gang rides around in(this is important, i swear). The car belongs to Belch, this is clearly stated by the Losers when they go to save Mike from the Bowers Gang. They say something along the lines of “Oh shit! That’s Belch Huggins’ car!” This is very significant for later! We also know that Belch isn’t exactly comfortable with the things Henry is doing, especially when it goes to far(ex: when Henry carves Ben’s stomache and when he is about to bash Mike’s head in with a rock.)

So, why does this matter? After Henry kills his dad, some blood splatters on his face(note that it isn’t too much blood, only on one side) and he uses BELCH’S car to get to the Neibolt house. Alone. Throughout the film, Belch is always the one driving the gang around(maybe he is the only one old enough to drive/has his license). So, how did Henry get ahold of his car? And where did the two others go? Well, I think that after Henry killed his dad, he went outside to go after the Losers(to Kill Them All)and when Belch finds out what Henry did, he had had enough. He refused to go along with Henry any longer and tried to leave. Henry is clearly out of his mind and when he finds that his friend is turning on him, he kills them. Pennywise told Henry to kill them all after all, and he didn’t want them getting in the way before he could get his revenge on the Losers.

Now, I know. So, what? He took Belch’s car, that doesn’t prove anything! Well, when we see Henry attack Mike in the Neibolt house, he is covered in blood. There is blood splattered all over his face, there was DEFINITELY not that much blood on him after he killed his dad. That is what got me really thinking. I was like “alright, where did all of that blood come from? i know it wasn’t that bad earlier”. That blood came from somewhere, his friends went somewhere, they didn’t just disappear and his face was clearly shown so we could see the blood.

If Henry DID survive his fall down the well and was found, he would clearly be accused of the murders of his dad and two friends, and could be linked to ALL the missing children cases. It would makes sense. The kid was able to kill three people(the one’s he was closest to), in theory, he wouldn’t have a problem killing a bunch of kids that he didn’t care about. Then, just like in the book and mini series, he would be blamed for the murders and locked away,still seeking revenge on the Losers, waiting until the that Pennywise calls for Henry’s assistance once again.

So... Yeah! That is my theory on what happened!nwn I hope it makes sense... It might not mean anything, but I thought everything made too much sense(especially bc i have seen this movie 9 times and i started noticing a lot of things lmao). I hope that you guys liked this little theory!! >w< If you have the chance, keep a look out for the amount of blood on Henry’s face between the time he killed his dad and attacks Mike!

#sou post #IT #it (2017)#it 2017 spoilers #it 2017 movie #it 2017 movie spoilers #stephen kings it #henry bowers #vic criss #belch huggins #the bowers gang #SPOILERS #long post #text #i ran this by my friend yesterday and they said it makes sense #so maybe i’m not dumb #lmao #my post

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sorin-sunchild · 3 years

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‘Comphet’ vs ‘OS attraction’ in IT (long)

Wow can’t believe I’m talking about this again but every so often someone floats into the Reddie tags or the IT tags trying to claim that they’ve read the book and Eddie is clearly bi but Richie is gay.

Reading comprehension is clearly poor if that’s the conclusion you’re coming to or maybe you already made up your mind from what the films decided was ok and just aren’t willing to move. For whatever reason, please read and please listen.

You’re probably wondering “But does it matter so long as they’re in love?”. Well yeah, it does. Our understanding of media and it’s messages can help shape our perceptions and understandings of the real world, first of all. Second of all, in terms of enjoyment and respect within fandom, we need to actually understand the characters.

Third of all, bi and gay are two different identities and deserve to be treated as such. Even in media. They’re not interchangeable. Erasing Richie’s bisexuality, but then throwing it onto Eddie who is clearly gay coded, really just shows no respect for either identity or the characters.

tl;dr: Eddie is gay, Richie is bi, even by accident, this is irrefutable and important and there is a lot of evidence for these from original canon, not the warped film canon which does not count. If you don’t understand it from reading it, then I can help.

So, let’s think.

Does Eddie Kaspbrak show sincere opposite sex attraction?

No. No he doesn’t. Getting married to a woman ≠ opposite sex attraction. Many gay men in real life marry a woman for comphet, and even father children with those women, and are still actually gay. To say that Eddie is bi because of MARRIAGE is to invalidate the reality of comphet and places way too much importance on marriage. Like, I’m sorry to break this to you but marriage isn’t all that sacred and isn’t always done because the people are in love and attracted to each other. It literally means all kinds of things and also nothing to many people.

Eddie didn’t even have a physical relationship with Myra, because he couldn’t bring himself to do so, partially because of the trauma of her being so like his mother and partially because he just didn’t have that attraction there. As an unreliable narrator, he gives himself permission to love her late into their marriage, right as he’s about to leave to fight IT, because the whole time he was married to her it was just for the comfort of the familiar and comphet. And that love isn’t stated as romantic, either.

His one other case of mentioning a girl is where he points out his awareness of a girls beauty, in a very bland kind of way. His poetic description of Belch Huggins comes off as more sincere that then, and Eddie attaches himself very closely to his male friends, whilst also having a clear fear of male/male sexual encounters that IT plays on when scaring him. We also know he grew up with a homophobic mother who would certainly have closeted him, and in text is directly compared to Adrian Mellon (who is openly gay) as his more confident opposite who gets killed by IT, and to Anthony Perkins (another man who married a woman but was into men).

Does Richie Tozier show sincere opposite sex attraction?

Yes. Yes he does. He has a crush on Bev that he speaks of clearly (as a narrator) when he’s a child, even (to be quite crude) wondering about the type of underwear she wears and observing her body. He gets sexually aroused when looking at a pornographic magazine of women. He has a long term loving, deeply connected and sexual relationship with a woman, whom he was prepared to get a vasectomy for because he wanted it to be forever and her comfort with their sexual relationship was important to him.

The werewolf baring his name and his worry about touching other boys is also really good, even if accidental, bisexual symbolism! Bisexuality wasn’t really talked about at the time Richie was a kid, maybe not in either timeframe (book or film) it was basically seen as not a thing. So Richie lives feeling like he has a double life. Like, he looks ‘normal’ aka straight on the outside because he does like girls, but at the same time there’s this ‘dangerous’ aka socially unacceptable aka same sex attracted side to him that he still has, even if he can pass as straight by trying to ignore it. Any bisexual person can tell you that trying to hide either side of our attraction is incredibly stress inducing and a huge source of depression and anxiety.

Whether you then believe he loves Eddie specifically is irrelevant and can be left to your personal taste if you so desire. This is REALLY not about Reddie specifically.

I can’t stress enough that it’s not about me defending the Reddie ship. Because either way the two of them are mlm and could be together, but whether one is bi or one is gay really changes them as an individual character, changes who they represent and how and changes how we relate to him. Also, as stated above, bi and gay are not the same thing and it’s just disrespectful to real people with those identities to throw the terms around like they both actually mean gay. Yes, even in a fictional setting. Once again, fiction is everywhere, media is everywhere, and it does influence and portray our opinions.

Follow Up

#reddie #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #it #stephen king it #it meta #eddie kaspbrak meta #richie tozier meta #eddiexrichie #richiexeddie #richie/eddie #r+e #long post

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patrick-hockstutter · 4 years

Text

Modern!Bowers Gang:

Patrick:

Really into cinematography and photography of the unsettling

Never captions his Instagram posts

Goes live on Instagram a lot, even though people really wished he wouldn’t

Makes art out of dead animals or animal bones he finds

Think Banksy, but with roadkill

He’ll take some (somehow) tasteful photos of them, post them, then leave the scene there for some unexpecting bystander to find

Has a nosering (fight me)

Never uses incognito mode

If someone happens to stumble upon his search history, he’s not paying their therapy bill

He likes reading smut more than he likes watching porn

A ps4 guy

Loves spooky games like Resident Evil, Silent Hill, Until Dawn and Death Stranding

He’s not really into school, but he surprisingly reads a lot when he’s alone in his room

Only about things he likes though

Abnormal psych, criminal psych, and sometimes some zoology (u kno y)

Watches serial killer documentaries like he’s paid to

Listens to grunge, nu metal, and 80s alt

Won’t admit it, but sometimes listens to Joji

He’s not super into emo music, but he’s the only one who will listen to it with Victor (he fckn vibes to Brand New)

Ironically uses a Zune

Has an Android but lowkey wishes he had an iPhone

Doesn’t have a computer, just jailbreaks/hacks the school issued laptop

Has a black line tattooed around some of his fingers, one of his wrists, and the shell of his ear

Has a foot tattoo

Has a fucking Juul

Watches LeafyIsHere on YouTube (tell me I’m wrong)

Spends too much time on Reddit

Wears flannels, skinny jeans, and Vans (a beanie if he’s cold)

Mostly cycles through the same three or four outfits

Wears the same pair of Vans every single day

Victor:

Big into aromatherapy

He uses lavender soaps and has an essential oil diffuser in his room

Uses incognito mode to watch Vampire Diaries

A Nintendo ass b i t c h

He has the gray Switch Lite

He brings his Switch with him everywhere (yes he’s that guy)

But what else are you gonna do when you wanna ignore Patrick?

Watches conspiracy theories about ghosts, cryptids, and aliens

Also big into podcasts (mostly true crime and conspiracy ones)

He listens to them on his headphones while he takes walks or draws

Posts his drawings on Tumblr

Does art streams on Twitch when he gets really bored

Has an eyebrow piercing (but it’s a small stud one, not a ring)

Has little tattoos on his hands

Wears bomber jackets, skinny jeans, joggers, army jackets, converse, and combat boots

The boy has style okay

Had an emo phase but still listens to the music (especially Tiny Moving Parts)

The emo phase was pretty short because Henry made fun of him so much

He just fucking liked MCR and Taking Back Sunday a lot, okay?

And Pierce The Veil and Sleeping With Sirens, but he doesn’t readily admit that

Now mostly listens to new wave, synth pop, and lofi hiphop

His favorite bands are Drab Majesty and Choir Boy (look up their new album btw)

Has a black iPhone and a space gray MacBook Pro

Uses Apple Music

Vapes, but only fruity flavors

Watches BoJack Horseman

Doesn’t really eat fast food but never passes up an M&M McFlurry

Paints his (and Patrick’s) nails black

One time Patrick caught him doing a facemask, so Patrick put one on and started chasing him around screaming as a joke

Cue: hmm… this feels kinda good tho

So now Victor and Patrick have secret mini spa days

Drives a Subaru

Belch:

Makes Spotify playlists like he’s paid to

He’s just really good at putting songs together

He tried to get into music theory, but he wasn’t one for actually making his own songs

Really into metal (obvi) but also likes some classic rock and punk stuff

Has records hung up side by side all around his room where the wall meets the ceiling

Still buys CDs

His Instagram feed is full of vintage cars and custom import cars

Fast and Furious is his favorite movie series

His favorite shows are Sons of Anarchy and The Walking Dead

But he also loves early 2000s comedies

Has a mini projector to watch movies on his room wall

Wears band tees, flannels, jean jackets, Carhartt stuff, d a d h a t s

Really wants a tattoo but always gets nervous

Uses incognito mode to watch porn and buy some of his band tees from Hot Topic

Only one in the gang that uses Facebook (Mama Huggins made him so he could keep in contact with family)

Follows a few meme pages but also some cooking ones so he can send his mom any cool recipes he finds

Victor lowkey makes fun of him for actually using the Facebook page

Invests money in really good headphones and car speakers

Has a black iPhone

It’s always at 20% battery cause it’s always connected to his headphones, Bluetooth speaker, or car stereo

Him and Victor FaceTime when they’re bored

Sometimes they won’t even say much, they just like the over the phone company

Doesn’t smoke, but sometimes hits Vic’s vape

A social vaper if you will

Watches Idubbbz and Filthy Frank on YouTube

His favorite fast food place is Wendy’s

Not really into video games but fucking slays at Guitar Hero

And when Rock Band came out nobody saw him for like two weeks

Has a black Hydroflask with band stickers on it

Henry:

He plays a lot of Xbox

Mostly Halo, COD, Destiny, any first-person shooter really

Baits people on Xbox Live cause he thinks it’s hilarious

He’s also a fucking cyberbully but we all expected that

Has Victor’s old iPhone

Never fucking charges it

He’ll text you back in 3-5 business days (if at all)

And if you try to call him he’ll block your number

Plays iMessage games like cup pong and 8 ball with Belch

The only social media he uses is Snapchat and Tinder to look at girls

In one of his Tinder photos he’s holding a fish (srrynotsrry)

Doesn’t really listen to too much music

He doesn’t dislike music, just usually prefers to do things in silence

His mind is chaotic enough, he doesn’t need background noise

But he will listen to Cigarettes After Sex and TV Girl on a really low volume when he goes to sleep

Uses incognito mode to pick and choose random soft or angsty songs that he likes to put into a bedtime playlist

Otherwise just listens to whatever Belch listens to

Has a tattoo on his wrist

Takes a lot of drives into the countryside/national forests/mountains with Belch

Takes a lot of scenery photos, but never posts them anywhere or shows anyone except Victor

Still smokes cigarettes (he thinks vaping is douchey)

Watches South Park and American Dad

If he’s willing to spend money to go see a movie, he’s going to an IMAX theater

Sometimes he likes 3D, but most of the time it just hurts his eyes after a while

Longboards everywhere

Needs prescription glasses but refuses to wear them

They’re mostly for reading, which he doesn’t do anyway

But he does listen to audiobooks sometimes

Likes Frappuccinos but will kill you before you find out

He orders them through Uber Eats under a fake name so nobody will find out

BONUS: all four!

Victor still has his childhood GameCube that they play Mario Party, Mario Kart, and Melee on

Henry is banned from playing Mario Party after breaking a controller while beating Patrick with it

Patrick only ever picks Waluigi in Mario Kart and everyone is sick of it

When they play Rock Band Patrick is on bass, Henry plays guitar, Belch absolutely slays the drums, and Vicky boy sings his lil heart out

One night a week they order a shit ton of Dominos and make a drinking game out of watching Vine compilations

Victor does everyone’s birth charts

They collectively made a fake Tinder account on Patrick’s phone and catfish guys with it

They all try to one up each other doing vape tricks yikes

They buy bags of chips and candy from Costco and lounge around eating them on weekends

They’re banned from the city metro busses because Belch’s car was in the shop for a week and that week was hell for every bus driver in the city

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god--baby · 6 years

Text

snowed in (nsfw)

belch huggins x ambiguously gendered reader

anonymous requested: Belch and reader get snowed in at the reader’s or Belch’s house

word count: 2939

tag list: @cutegoat-boy @tonguepopperr

You had gone to bed the night before, knowing that a storm was coming. You hadn’t really given it much thought.

You were forced to when you woke up in Belch’s arms to complete silence. There were no sounds from the road outside, nothing.

Wiggling out of his embrace, you walked to your window, opening the curtains.

Snow. Everywhere. Coating the road, the driveway. Up in piles here and there, your bushes hidden and your car and the Trans Am covered.

Taking a deep breath, you looked down. Your window looked down at the front of the house, and the door had several feet of snow piled in front of it.

“Jesus,” you said quietly, hoping to not wake Belch up.

You woke Belch up.

He grumbled and groaned, rolling over onto his side and running a hand down his face.

“Baby,” he mumbled. “Come back.”

Chuckling, you went back to the bed, sitting in front of him and running your hand through his hair.

“We’re snowed in,” you said.

“Huh?”

“We’re snowed in, babe. It’s everywhere.”

“Fuck,” he muttered.

Hunting around on the bedside table with one hand, he found his phone. He unlocked it and sighed.

“Mama’s been calling. Slept through it.”

“Mm.”

It was then that you remembered your parents, away visiting your aunt in Portland.

“Fuck,” you said. “My parents.”

“Yeah.”

You got your phone and checked it. Three missed calls and a text from your father.

10:04am. From: Dad

Heard Derry’s all snowed in. We’ll be staying out here for a few more days, until it goes away. Do you need anything?

You sighed and shot off a response. You knew you were good on food, as your parents had just stocked up on groceries before they left two days ago. You mentioned that Belch was there.

Then you put your phone down as Belch called Mrs. Huggins.

“Hey, Mama,” he said. “Yeah. No, we’re safe. No, I’m not gonna try and come home. Seriously, you’re stuck there? Sorry. Stinks. We got food. We’ll be okay. Okay. I will. Love you. Bye.”

He sighed and put his phone back on the bedside table and closed his eyes.

“Mama’s snowed in at the hospital,” he said.

“Oh, no.”

“Yeah. But they got a place for her to sleep between shifts. And they got the cafeteria.”

“Well, that’s good.”

“She also told me to say hi for her. So. Hi.”

“Hi,” you repeated, voice soft.

You really loved Mrs. Huggins. And she adored you.

“Come on. Come back to bed,” he said. “Got nowhere to go.”

“Couldn’t if we tried,” you agreed.

So you got back in bed, curling up to him, putting your cold toes between his calves. He groaned about it but didn’t push you away. He was like a space heater, so warm and lovely. You were in heaven, laying there with him. He pulled you on top of him, putting an arm around your back to hold you in place. Not that you’d try to move. You laid your head down on his chest, closing your eyes and drifting off again.

When you woke up, you were on the couch in the living room, the pillows and blankets from your bed in a nest around you. There were small sounds coming from the kitchen, the smell of coffee and something sweet. And Belch — Belch was humming. Something, you couldn’t put your finger on what it was.

You got off the couch, pulling the blanket around you and letting it drag on the ground as you walked into the kitchen.

Pancakes. Belch was making pancakes. You looked at him, your heart swelling.

“Oh, hey, baby,” he said.

“Hey,” you said, soft and still a little bit sleepy.

He came over and kissed you on the forehead. You let your eyes close, soaking in that little moment.

Then he left you to pour you a cup of coffee. He even put milk in it for you. Taking it with one hand, you held onto the blanket with your other hand. You watched him sprinkle some chocolate chips onto the pancake in the pan. He flipped it and watched it closely. You silently thanked Mrs. Huggins again for making him learn how to feed himself. His pancakes were the best.

You walked over to the clock radio in the corner and turned the radio on, tuning it to Belch’s favorite classic rock station. AC/DC was in the middle of Highway to Hell. Belch sang along in that tuneless way he had. You leaned against the counter and watched as he flipped the finished pancake onto a plate, starting another.

In five minutes, the pancakes were ready, and you both sat down to eat. You ate in silence, smiling at each other here and there, listening to the radio.

After that, you both went to the couch, looking at the nest of blankets and pillows. It was a pull-out couch, and you figured you’d both be more comfortable with it folded out.

“We should,” you started.

“Yeah,” he said.

You both took the nest apart, then took off the cushions and unfolded the bed. You set the nest back up, including the couch cushions. You both climbed on, getting settled in the blankets and pillows. Belch picked up the TV remote and handed it to you.

“What should we watch, baby?” he asked.

You thought about it.

“Let’s see if there’s anything good on. If not, we can always watch a movie.”

He gestured for you to go ahead, so you did, turning the TV on and opening the menu to hunt down something. Anything.

You settled on a movie called the Replacements, some football movie with Keanu Reeves. It was really pretty funny, and you watched it with one of Belch’s arms wrapped around you.

You fell asleep again with your head on his shoulder. When you woke up, you found yourself curled up to his chest, him asleep beside you. You smiled and kissed him awake, crawling on top of him. He cracked his eyes after the third kiss, smiling up at you like you were the sun itself.

“There’s my baby,” he said.

“Here I am. Awake again. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Pancakes make you sleepy. Me too.”

Your smile just got bigger. Pushing yourself up to sit on his hips, you rocked back and forward on him, feeling him hard under you.

“Have a good dream?” you teased him.

“Mm,” he said. “I was fucking you.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“C’mon,” you said, rolling off him to the floor, grabbing his hand. “Let’s make that dream a reality.”

“We gotta go somewhere for that?”

You chuckled.

“I don’t feel like washing the pull-out sheets,” you explained.

He huffed out a laugh and got up, following you up to your bedroom.

When you got there, you stripped, pulling off your pajamas. He did the same, and like you did every time he got undressed around you, you were amazed. God, he was so fucking hot. Fuck, what he did to you.

Throwing yourself into his arms, you kissed him over and over again, walking him backwards to the bed. His knees hit it and bent, and he pulled you onto his lap, straddling him. You rocked in his lap, rubbing yourself up against his hard cock.

“Now,” you said, “what were we doing in that dream?”

“Well, you were blowing me. But then, I fucked you, and you were screaming.”

You smiled.

“I never get to scream for you,” you said.

“I know. But no one else is here.”

“So. You gonna make me scream?”

He grinned.

“I’ll do my best.”

“Good.”

You leaned in and kissed him, just a peck. Then you got off his lap and knelt between his spread knees, slowly stroking his cock before putting just the head in your mouth. He sighed, looking down at you, pushing a hand through your hair.

“Look so good with my dick in your mouth,” he said.

You hummed, smiling with your eyes up at him as you took him deeper, shoving your gag reflex to the side. You still choked, though, and pulled him back out to breathe for a second before you went again.

After a couple minutes, he took you by the face, pulling you up to kiss him.

When the kiss ended, he murmured, “get on the bed. ‘M gonna fuck you.”

You stood up, getting on the bed.

“How do you want me?” you asked.

“Head down, ass up.”

You grinned. You loved being fucked like that, your face buried in the bedspread, muffling your moans and screams.

As if he knew what you were thinking, he said, “but don’t hide the sounds you make, baby. I wanna hear everything.”

Smiling, you got in position. He walked around to the bedside table and got a condom out of your stash. He ripped open the wrapper with his teeth and rolled it on, coming back to the side of the bed that your ass was facing.

He laid behind you, holding onto your thighs with both hands as he ate you out, teasing you. You let little moans and whines fall out of your mouth. He pushed his tongue in and pulled it out, slow and wet. You moaned, reaching down to stroke at yourself, light and teasing.

Pulling away from you, he knelt behind you and dragged the head of his cock over your hole.

“You want my dick, baby?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said.

“How bad?”

“So fucking bad,” you breathed. “I want you inside me so, so fucking bad, babe.”

He quickly pushed into you, and you let out a breathless scream. Settling into pounding you, he drew little helpless screams from your mouth.

“That’s my baby,” he said. “Screaming for me.”

“Yeah, fuck, Reggie,” you moaned.

His grip was iron on your hips, pulling you back on him as hard as he could. You knew your hips would bruise from his touch, and you smiled. And then he slammed into you particularly hard, and your smile was gone, replaced with a wordless scream.

He came a minute later, pulling out and getting rid of the condom. Then he flipped you onto your back and started licking and sucking at you like he’d never get to do it again. But he always did.

You came, seeing stars and chanting his name.

He picked you up and put you back on the bed, your head on the one pillow that you hadn’t put in the nest downstairs. Crawling into bed beside you, he pulled you into his arms.

“So you won’t get cold,” he said.

You laughed.

“Why don’t you just take me downstairs, silly?” you asked.

Realization dawned on his face.

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “Okay.”

And then he picked you up again and carried you down to the den, settling you in the middle of the nest. He crawled in and got situated next to you, you in his arms.

“I might be about to take my second nap of the day,” you said.

And then you yawned.

He laughed.

“If you want to, go ahead.”

So you did. When you woke up, he was gone, and again, you heard noises in the kitchen. The sun had fallen already, and you looked at the clock on the wall in front of you and found it was already about half past seven. You got up and again brought a blanket with you, wrapping it around your still bare body.

“Hey,” you said.

“Oh, hey,” Belch said, stirring some soup in a small pot. “You’re up. Good. Dinner’s almost ready.”

“Dinner,” you snorted.

“Yeah,” he said, one hand going to the back of his neck. “You didn’t look like you were gonna wake up any time soon, so I just let you sleep.”

“It’s okay, babe,” you said, leaning up and kissing his cheek. “I’m not mad about it. Just surprised that I was tired enough to sleep so long.”

“Yeah, well, you work too hard.”

You smiled. He was right. You worked yourself to the bone with school and your job, but you never considered slowing down. Or chilling out.

“So, what’s for dinner?” you asked.

“Grilled cheese and tomato soup,” he said, opening the microwave to show you the sandwiches. “And the soup is ready, so let’s eat.”

You ate. You were both quiet, dipping your grilled cheese in the soup, enjoying the silence.

“God,” you said when you were done eating, pushing your plate and bowl away from you, “when do you think the snow’s gonna go away?”

“Just a couple days, don’t worry, baby.”

“I’m only a little worried.”

“Don’t be. It’s gonna be fine.”

“Yeah,” you sighed.

“You got a show shovel in the garage? I could get the snow away from the door.”

“What for?”

“We’re gonna make a snowman.”

You huffed out a laugh.

“That so?”

“Yup. You gotta get dressed, though.”

You looked down at the blanket you still had wrapped around yourself, chuckling.

“I guess.”

So you got dressed. You gave Belch some of your dad’s snow clothes and went hunting around in the garage for some snow shovels. You found them, letting out a triumphant cry that made Belch laugh.

Then you went to the front door. You opened it carefully, not that it mattered. The snow was hard packed, several feet up. Letting Belch get to it, you watched as he chipped away at the snow with a shovel, making a small path through it to the surface. When he was done, he took your gloved hand and pulled you out into the snow, out into the front yard.

It was beautiful, so silent and strange. Like you were on another planet. Across the street, your elderly neighbor Mrs. Goldman sat on her front porch. You waved to her and she just shook her head. Shrugging, you turned back to Belch.

“So, where should we start?”

He thought about it.

“Over there,” he said, gesturing to the part of the yard closer to the curb. It was flat there, no bushes or anything to disturb the snow.

So you started. You balled up a handful of snow, then dropped it in the snow in front of your feet, rolling it around and packing more and more snow on. You kept it in one spot when it got too bulky to move easily and kept packing snow on, making the bottom section of your snowman.

It took an hour, but you were finally done. It was odd and misshapen, but it was yours. Yours and Belch’s, and it was perfect in your eyes.

“What should we name it?” you asked, standing in front of it with your hands on your hips.

Without a second thought, Belch said, “Frederick.”

You laughed.

“He does look like a Frederick,” you agreed. “Frederick it is.”

“Gonna take a picture,” Belch said. “Stay here.”

He went back inside and got his phone, coming back out in a minute. You posed next to Frederick, one arm around the snowman, and he took a picture. Then he came over and wrapped the arm that wasn’t holding the phone around your shoulders, kissing your cheek and snapping another picture.

Even under all your layers, you started shivering. He took your hand.

“Let’s go inside,” he said. “Get you warm again.”

“Okay,” you said.

You leaned up and kissed his cheek before he pulled you to the door, letting both of you in.

You both took off your snow-coated clothes and hung them here and there in the bathrooms, letting them thaw out and drip on the tile. Then you both got back into your pajamas. And then Belch went back to the kitchen, where the radio still played, a song by Lynyrd Skynyrd floating out of the small speakers. He poured some milk into the saucepan he’d used for the soup and started in on hot chocolate.

When it was done, he poured you a mug and you took it back to the pull-out couch, getting settled once again in the nest of blankets and pillows. You drank in silence, leaning up against him. It was the best damn hot chocolate you’d ever had.

You sighed.

“I love you a lot,” you said.

You’d said it before, but it never stopped being true.

“I love you, too, baby,” he said.

“Cool.”

When you were half done with your cocoa, you turned on the TV and found reruns of Law & Order, turning the volume down low. You finished your drink and laid down. He followed you, holding you. You kissed a line up his jaw.

“What are we gonna do tomorrow?” you asked, lips up against his skin.

“Same thing we do every day, Pinky,” he joked.

You laughed and batted at his shoulder.

“Nah,” he said. “Probably just… I dunno. Same thing we did today. Maybe we can make Frederick a family.”

You hummed.

“And a dog,” you yawned. “Gotta have a dog.”

“Yeah. Go to sleep, baby.”

“I slept all day,” you whined.

“So sleep more. I won’t mind. You need it.”

You gasped, remembering your homework.

“What?” he asked.

“My homework,” you groaned.

He laughed.

“Baby, you have plenty of time.”

“I know,” you grumbled. “I just don’t wanna push it.”

He hummed, running a hand through your hair. You closed your eyes, nuzzling into his chest.

“Go to sleep,” he murmured.

So you did.

When you woke up, he was gone again, making breakfast. The snow was still there, and you sighed, stretching.

It was going to be a good few days.

#bowers gang #the bowers gang #it 2017 fic #belch huggins x reader #belch huggins #belch x reader #mine

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henryfcknbowers · 4 years

Text

TEXTS: HENRY ✉️️ BELCH

SUMMARY: Just random bullshit. A little talk about the carnival. A little talk about growing weed. The carnival is in San Francisco, Henry got there just a day ago.

Henry: Yo.

Reg: Hey man. Sup?

Henry:

Nothin'. I know you're busy and shit, I'm just bored. There ain't nothin' to do in yer trailer and I ain't used to sittin' still for so long.

Reg: You’re all good, I get ya. I mean, do you wanna come work with me? I can talk to the HBIC, I’ll bet she’d be fine with it. Or, if you ain’t interested in what I do, there’s lots of other shit around.

Henry:

What do you do, exactly?

Reg: I deal with all things concessions. Gettin the machines up and runnin in the mornings. Getting all the popcorn popped and cotton candy premade. Making sure we’ve got enough candied apples and funnel cake batter. I help out where they need me, if the lines get too long, taking orders and shit. It ain’t glamorous or nothin but it’s chill, and nobody bothers ya.

Henry: I guess I could help ya. You helped me on the farm. Doesn't sound too hard.

Reg: If you wanna, you’re welcome. I want ya to be able to do somethin you enjoy here. If that ain’t your thing I get it. There’s animals and shit, but that loser Hanlon works over there. If you were interested in maintenance or helpin with the rides and machinery you could talk to Patrick Curtis, he can always use good guys. But you know I ain’t gonna say no to you bein with me either.

Henry: I don't wanna talk to anyone else, I'll stick with you. Fuck that loser Hanlon, and fuck the other guy too, for now. You really like it here, huh? You seem to know all the people.

Reg: Cool. You’ll probably have to meet Ms. Kirsch, she runs this whole dog and pony show. But, she’s cool, I think. And you know I’ll vouch for ya. Yeah. I mean like I said, it ain’t exactly glamorous but when have I ever needed that? I got a roof and a paycheck. Good enough for me. Yeah, you get to know these people, pretty much living with em. But it’s different than normal. Nobody asks questions about shit. It’s like...Everybody just knows the rules. Don’t ask don’t tell.

Henry: That don't sound too bad. I mean, I can deal. I'll stick with you for now, we'll worry about what I do for ...permanent, later. Lemme guess, she's the authority 'round here? Tells bitches what to do and shit? At least nobody's gonna ask me shit. I ain't answerin'.

Henry: It's weird. Watchin' you work a regular job thing.September 30, 2020

Reg: Is it?

Henry: Yeah. You're good at it.

Reg: Well that's...Thanks, Hen. Believe it or not, I do actually try here. Don't wanna fuck it up, ya know? Especially knowin' I don't...I mean other than you, I ain't exactly got much else.

Henry: So you ain't runnin' the place like we were at home. Doin' whatever ya want. Yer followin' the rules and makin' nice.

Henry: You know the losers are here.

Reg: I may not be runnin the whole show, but I'm runnin somethin. That's good enough, for now. I've only been here 6 months, I don't wanna stir the pot too much, just yet. Not til I've made it clear I'm essential and shit. I'm tryin to be strategic about shit.

Reg: Yeah. I know. I was waitin' on you to say somethin. Hanlon was here when I got here. Beaverly, too. Tits just got here, though, and boy does he think he's hot shit.

Henry: You run into him? He say somethin' to you?

Henry: It's always you with the brain. I just wanna beat some ass. This is fuckin' weird. I'm waitin' for a campfire and everyone to start singing.

Reg: Not really. I said some shit to him, he thought he might get cute back. I think some of that brain got lost with the weight. Anyway, not a big thing. He'll get his, I know it.

Reg: Nah. You're the real brains of any operation we're into. I wouldn't follow ya if that wasn't true. And, you're gonna be waitin a while if that's what you're lookin for. We might all be polite and shit, but that don't mean this is some kinda hippie dippie shit.

Henry: Yer right, he is gonna get his.

Henry: Yer just butterin' me up. I make the rules, I make the orders, I run the show but you always call me on it when I'm runnin' in half cocked. And you knew how to keep us outta trouble. You found this place too. Seems pretty hippie dippie to me. I dunno how everyone just lives with everyone else.

Reg: How'd I know that was comin?

Reg: Nah, you know I wouldn't do that to ya Hen. I mean it. You're smart as fuck. Everyone needs a little...Perspective sometimes. Everyone. That I do try at. Y'all don't always make that easy. Which is fine. I do love a challenge. To be honest with ya, sometimes I think it's more like this place found me. Sure, it might look that way. But it only works cause we all mind our own.

Henry: 'Cause ya know me. I'll take care of it.

Henry: If you say so. Shit's fuckin' weird. And it feels like I've got snakes in my veins, I can't just sit here. I dunno what to fuckin' do with myself. You think it found you? How so? I guess. I'm still ready to swing if anyone so much as bumps into me.

Reg: I know ya will, Hen. You're good like that.

Reg: Man, you've gotta chill. I know what you need.

Henry: He'll fuckin' regret whatever he said.

Henry: What do I need?

Reg: Hen...

Reg: Here, open that little top drawer right there. It's where I keep the 'stash'. Light one of those puppies right on up, and enjoy.

Henry: Nobody says shit to you. Not a single damn thing. Least of all him-- maybe I'll finish that little piece of art on his ugly gut, only this time the goal will be HUGGINS. Make sure he fuckin' remembers.

Henry: Holy fuckin' shit, yer a lifesaver. You do know what I need. You don't gotta tell me twice.

Reg: You're incredible.

I've got you, Hen. always. Even if ya don't think so. I'll always take care of ya.

Henry: He should know better.

Henry: Yer the only one I might believe that from. People are shit. I don't need 'em anyway. You growin' or somethin'?

#the bowers gang #henry bowers #reginald huggins #belch huggins #it rp #texts: all #texts: belch huggins

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rosalynbair · 6 years

Text

Shut Me Up

Chapter One: Deathblow Written by @darth-stetter and @rosalynbair Masterlist | AO3 link | Previous Chapter

Words: 7.5k | Warnings: mentions of alcohol, cigarettes, sexual language, Henry and Pat are assholes, mentions of blood and a small wound A/N: Please head the warnings as we update this fic - but we hope you enjoy chapter one!!

A warehouse was not the ideal place to hold auditions. Granted, it was a converted warehouse, but the walls still bled with rust and the scent of metal assaulted everyone’s nose. Y/N’s foot tapped against the cracked concrete floor that was stained with old oil and unknown liquids.

The building seemed to groan with age and history, each blow of the wind outside rattled the window panes and whistled through the rafters. The only other sound in the building other than the breathing of the last few people waiting to audition was the dull sound of an out of tune guitar playing through a monitor in the back room - once an office. Y/N inhaled deeply with her cracked phone in her trembling hands. She furrowed her brows, lowering the volume on her phone discreetly so the other people around her wouldn’t hear what she was watching. Even with her earphones plugged in, the chord dangling and hitting the sides of her face with each movement she made, she felt extremely self conscious that the other tryouts were watching her stalk Mind Failure.

At the moment, she watched in interest as, Danny Lane, the previous rhythm guitarist, went on a monologue about why he left the band, “They were too wild; I was there for the music but I felt like I couldn’t put in any kind of musical input. Patrick was very controlling about that.”

Danny Lane paused for a moment, allowing the reporter to ask, “Mind Failure’s members are known to have a very reckless and dangerous attitude towards life, did you ever feel that you were in danger being in the same room with them?”

The blonde hair man sighed, pushing back his locks to keep the mohawk out of his eyes. His green eyes stared at the floor as he carefully contemplated what he was going to say, his fingers were gripping the fingers of his other hand, wringing them out of nerves. When he finally did answer, he spoke slowly, almost as if he was choosing his words carefully, “I was told many times when I tried out that I didn’t know what I was getting into, I read interviews on their previous guitarists and I thought, ‘Oh these dudes are just pussies,’ but I mean, Mind Failure are who they are, and while some of the members are decent enough, others are bat shit crazy. I love music, and I love their music, but, being around them made me realize that the music wasn’t worth it if I felt that I was constantly in danger, and alienated from a tight knight group of guys.”

“What kind of things did they do that made you feel in danger?”

Danny Lane’s hair now fell over his eye, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, rubbing his chin, “I am not comfortable talking about that, but, I can say that I wouldn’t recommend anyone trying out for that band. It’s not worth it.”

The video ended at a sudden halt, cutting of the rest of the interview. The person who posted it was obviously only interested in what Danny Lane had to say about Mind Failure.

Intrigued, Y/N fell into the rabbit hole that was Mind Failure, the year’s most popular metalcore band. Prior to being asked to audition for the band, she had never heard of them - though they had won a Kerrang award the year before for best newcomers. She felt slightly terrible for it as she listened to some of their hit tracks - also the first one that showed up on a youtube search, nodding her head and tapping her moss green doc martens on the dirty carpeted floor; the sounds of their songs melding her mind into a dark reality. The angelic voice of the lead singer rang in her ears, making her feel like she was being personally serenaded; his vocals were twisted in with deep guttural growling, and the occasional high pitched squeal. The drums and bass both worked together to give the music the specific oomph necessary to make it not only sound perfectly composed, but powerful.

However, Y/N felt her body shiver when she listened to the sounds of the guitars, small goosebumps rose on her skin as her mind comprehended the technical leads and melodic rhythm guitars. She knew that this track was Patrick doing both guitar track recordings - information given from another interview she had watched. They had been between guitarists at the time, leaving the dark haired musician to gleefully take over the entire process.

This is so good, she thought, feeling excitement budding in her chest for fact that she was trying out for this band.

Still jamming to the Mind Failure’s music on Spotify, she continued to read up on the band’s history, chuckling at their obvious rock star antics, her amusement apparent when she came across a photo of the bassist, Henry Bowers, in handcuffs being pushed up against the hood of a police car, his face bloody and contorted while in mid shout, the long hair of his mullet sticking up in multiple different positions with sweat and blood. The silver blonde haired man next to him being held back by a heavier man. She assumed those two were Vic Criss, the vocalist, and Reggie “Belch” Huggins, the drummer.

Y/N’s Y/E/C eyes trailed over to the other side of the photo, opposite of him, also in handcuffs and pushed against the other side of the hood was a shaggy haired musician, his lips were pulled up into a large, gleeful snarling smile showing off his bloodied teeth, as if he was laughing at the police officers holding him. His nose was bleeding profusely, drops of the thick, red liquid falling into his mouth. His dark grey eyes were wild as he obviously rode a really exciting wave of adrenaline.

Y/N’s curiosity won her over; she immediately clicked on the link below the Google image. The link took her to a metal news website, the dark . Her eyes skimmed the article, smirking when she read about Henry Bowers and Patrick Hockstetter facing charges for aggravated assault, battery, property damage, public intoxication, under the influence of an illegal substance, possession of an illegal substance, assault with a deadly weapon, mild sexual harassment, public nudity (Henry was pantsed by Patrick).

She read the article further, learning that the whole ordeal came to be when two men accused Henry and Patrick of flirting with their dates.

Fucking stupid reason to fight , she thought to herself, shaking her head.

Upon reading more and more articles about the band members, she learned that the photo in question wasn’t their first run in with the law, or the last. As she scrolled further and further down on the news site, she realized there was a pattern; Henry Bowers and Patrick Hockstetter were the ones that always instigated any kind of reckless behavior.

Y/N didn’t realize how much time she had spent doing research on the band until she felt a tap on her shoulder. She jumped in surprise, yanking her earphones out and immediately getting to her feet, her body tensing up for a fight. She eased up a little when she realized who it was that tapped her, “For fuck’s sake, Johnny, what the fuck did I tell you about touching me?”

Johnny smiled at her, the dimples in his cheeks indenting. He pushed his hands into the pockets of his black slacks, his deep brown eyes gazing at her with an amused expression, “That if I ever did it you would knock me on my ass, cut by dick off and shove it in my mouth so I can literally suck it.”

Y/N eyed him, still trying to collect her composure. Everybody knew that Y/N despised being surprised, and especially touched, and right now, Johnny was mere seconds away from getting his ass kicked. She cleared her throat, quickly glancing around the room, taking note of the other two male musicians waiting for their turn to show off their skills. “Are they ready for me now?”

He shrugged, an aura of frustration radiating from him, “I gave them a few minutes to take a break; the guys tend to get impatient if they’re sitting still for too long.Tryouts are usually a big hassle for them.”

Y/N rolled her eyes - something she did fairly often at the slightest inconvenience “Right, because sitting and watching people play music is so tiring.”

Johnny chuckled, his lips tilting up into a slight smile despite his annoyance, catching on to her obvious sarcasm, “You try going through twenty tryouts a day every few weeks.”

“No one told them to be assholes,” Y/N retorted., leaning back in the uncomfortable chair.

Johnny’s brows raised, “I see you’ve done your research.”

“I did,” Y/N said, not bothering to hide the fact that she had spent the past three hours stalking them online “I wanted to know more about the band I’m trying out for, and so far, I am both intrigued and mildly irritated, seems like they’re in this for the rock star lifestyle.”

“A common misconception; you will be surprised to know that they love music as much as you do, they have behavioral issues,” he paused, his gaze intensifying as he held her gaze, “Just like you do.”

Y/N tilted her head, scoffing as she feigned offense. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t,” he said, his voice sarcastic on the delivery, checking his phone for the time, “I gotta head back in there; we’re taking these two others before we get to you.”

“That’s fucking bullshit, Johnny,” Y/N complained, her voice a high whine. She adjusted her weight on the chair, feeling the ache on her tailbone and back. “You’re the one that asked me to come here.”

“And you would have had your spot reserved if you had shown up on time, Y/N. But, you didn’t, therefore, your slot was taken and you got pushed to the back. Maybe you’ll take my advice seriously next time and show up to your own tryout when you’re supposed to,” Johnny said as he typed in a text into his phone, not even bothering to look up with the explanation.

“For fuck’s sake, Johnny, I had band practice,” Y/N groaned in defense, crossing her arms as and slumping forward in the chair.

His chocolate brown eyes finally looked up from his phone as he addressed her, “You had band practice with a band that you don’t even want to be in Y/N. You’re lucky these guys don’t pay attention to the roster, otherwise you wouldn’t have made it into the running for tryouts.”

Y/N looked up, brows furrowing, taking offense to his words. She was a fucking great guitarist, and in her mind, she was the best. Her elbows pressed against her knees, digging down until there was a discomfort from the pressure, her voice went dark as she asked him, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Johnny quickly caught the attention of one of the other musicians, nodding to the shaggy blonde haired boy that looked like he was fresh from the beaches of California. The musician immediately grabbed his gear as he stood up, waiting for Johnny to lead him into the room in the back, “It means nothing Y/N. Just wait a little longer. Your turn will come.”

He nodded his head to the musician, motioning for him to follow his lead. Y/N still leaned forward on the chair, only lounging back when she dug into her leather jacket for a cigarette and her silver zippo lighter. She inhaled in relief as she took the first drag of nicotine. From the corner of her eye, she could see the other musician stare at her, judging her for daring to light a cigarette in Mind Failure’s warehouse.

Not that it mattered anyways, the whole place was a fucking mess of old beer bottles, cigarette butts, baggies that held traces of cocaine and marijuana. Another cigarette butt in the sea of garbage wouldn’t make a difference.

She sighed deeply, exhaling the smoke from her lungs and out of her nose. The disgust she felt at the how the band lived on their days off was overshadowed by her interest. Their attitudes didn’t bother her, hell, even she had her fair share of felonies under her belt. If anything, it was the music that enticed her into wanting to join their band. A feeling she only started having moments ago when she researched them.

Obviously, Y/N had no prior knowledge to Mind Failure, which was a shame in and of itself because even their older EPs were amazing. So, when Johnny Ray approached her late last night at a show she was playing with her shitty ass band, she was skeptical.

“I think you should try out, you’d be perfect,” Johnny pushed, handing her a bottle of Guinness.

Y/N chugged down the beer and tossed the empty bottle into the crowd with a wince of disgust when she was finished with it, not checking to see if it hit anyone, and high key not giving a fuck, “Look, suit, I’m not interested in trying out for your jazz, or blues band. I got my own shit to do, and I have my own band.”

“Of course, but, if we’re being honest, your band sucks. And the only reason why you get a crowd like this is because you’re hot, and slightly because of your skill. The rest of your bandmates are shitty musicians, and you have so much potential to be better,” he said, banging his hand against the bar counter to make his point, “With us, you could get there.”

“I told you, dick, I’m not interested in--”

“It’s not a fucking jazz band, and I’m not a band member; I’m the manager,” he informed, as if that would make a difference, “Besides, everyone knows that you hate playing in this band, the only reason you still do is because you need the cash. If that’s the case, you’d be making ten times more if you joined us,” he paused, brining his beer bottle to his lips, “If you even made it past tryouts.”

Y/N waved down the bartender, who immediately brought her three shots of vodka. She lined them up next to each other, taking them down one by one, not even feeling the burn of the alcohol anymore. Once she finished the last one, she slammed the small shot glass on the counter, finally meeting the manager’s stare, “How much cash we talking here?”

“Enough to get you off of your drummers bed bug infested couch,” he said, watching her with a small smirk. “And some new equipment.”

Y/N learned one simple truth as a musician, if it sounds too good to be true, it probably was. But, Y/N wasn’t known for being careful, she was known for jumping from band to band; using each experience as a stepping stone to get her where she needed to be. Where that was? Fuck if she knew. But, if these fuckers had the cash to pay her for her skill, then fuck it. What was another stepping stone but an opportunity to climb higher on the musical ladder.

“Alright, I’ll try out for your band,” she agreed, grabbing the bottle from Johnny’s hands. She took a long drink before she continued, “It better not be a fucking folk band, John, otherwise I’ll burn the fucking place down.”

He reached out to her, trying to planting a card into her leather jacket. Instinctively, she pulled back, snatching the card from his hand as she pointed her finger at him; her pointed acrylics looking more intimidating than she actually was, warning, “And don’t ever fucking try to touch me again, if you do, I’ll cut your dick off and shove it down your throat.”

Y/N began to disappear into the crowd, vaguely hearing his voice calling out to her, “I’ll put you in for 2 pm tomorrow!”

Being the idiot that she was, however, Y/N forgot about the tryouts and rushed out of band practice, only to arrive three hours late with messy hair and a sweat sheen body from the heat of the basement she had practiced in. And, like Johnny said, she was lucky to still be given a chance to tryout. Especially considering the fact that she wanted the money. She needed it.

The musician that went in for his tryouts walked out of the back room in a huff, kicking the cans on the floor and slamming the heavy door of the warehouse shut behind him, she could vaguely hear him yelling curse words as he walked further from the building. The other person in the room stared at her, the intimidation clear on his face.

The echoes from the back room could be heard down the hall as they bounced off the walls, “You can’t keep humiliating and talking down to all the tryouts, Bowers!”

“I was just fucking with him; not my fault he can’t take a fucking joke,” a man said, his voice raspy from the yell, she assumed it was Henry Bowers, as if Johnny calling him by his last name didn’t make it obvious.

She heard childish snickering coming from the room, “Oh, you think this is funny, Hockstetter? We go on tour in three fucking weeks! You need a new guitarist to--”

“I see another guitarist come into that room, I’m going to beat the shit out of them,” Henry said loudly, and she could almost picture the boy standing with his arms crossed and a sneer on his face.

The other musician in the room, seemingly intimidated by Bowers’ words, immediately grabbed his equipment and scurried off. Y/N smiled to herself, crushing her cigarette under her boot, just me now.

“We only have two more left,” Johnny said in a gentle tone, as if he was trying to comfort a band of toddlers.

“Just bring the next person in, Johnny,” a tired, softer voice said, “Henry will get over it once this is over, he just needs to dip into some pussy.”

“Fine,” Johnny spat, “But you’d better fucking sit your ass through these tryouts or so help me god I will--”

“ I will, I will ,” a mocking voice repeated, mimicking Johnny’s voice, “Shut the fuck up and bring those sorry cock suckers in here.”

A roar of laughter erupted from the room. Seconds later, Johnny appeared in the room, confused and puzzled that Y/N was the only one there. Y/N shrugged, simply explaining, “Guess your other tryout bitched out.”

Johnny rolled his eyes and motioned with his fingers for Y/N to follow him, “Just don’t take anything they say too personally- they can be pretty rough.”

“I can handle myself,” she assured, rolling her eyes.

“Seriously,” he paused, a look of terror in his eyes, he needed her now more than ever. “ Please , don’t take it personally.”

Y/N nodded, raising her brow, “I’ll be fine.”

Johnny released a loud sigh from his nose, the stress obvious when he began to rub his hands together. Y/N followed Johnny into a large open room, the walls spray painted with graffiti all around save for the large window on the other end. There was a large plush, black couch pushed against the wall, two men occupied that one, and she immediately matched the guys to their photos; Vic Criss sat on one end of the couch, scrolling through his phone with a bored expression on his face. Belch Huggins looked as if he was dozed off on the other end of the couch, his head laid on the hand rest with his cap over his face, while his feet were sprawled over the edge.

Near the large open window, Henry Bowers and Patrick Hockstetter seemed to be having what looked like an impromptu knife fight. Henry lunged toward Patrick, who jumped out of the way, cackling maniacally, “Getting a little slow there, huh Bowers?”

“Fuck you, twig,” Henry spat.

Johnny cleared his throat, trying to get their attention, “Guys, this is Y/N.”

At the mention of her name, all eyes were now on her. Even Belch, who had been snoring a few minutes prior, was wide awake now, gaping at her like if she was a figment of their imaginations.

Vic Criss tilted his head, a small smile spreading across his lips. He quickly put his phone down and crossed his arms over his chest.

Henry and Patrick however, stared at her in shock. Henry ran his hand through his outdated mullet styled hair, “Are we starting the pussy party early, Johnny? Cause if so, I think you really should have brought more.”

“We can share her,” Patrick whispered, a devilish grin spreading across his lips. His playful figure quickly turned into a sexual gesture, as he thrust his crotch out, his long fingers running over the zipper as he licked his lips. His eyes observed her from her moss green doc martens, the black laces wrapped twice around her ankles, up to her torn skinny jeans, and then to her exposed belly area. His eyes lingered on her obvious cleavage, admiring the way her torn shirt showed just enough skin to tease his imagination, “I go first.”

“In your fucking dreams, creep,” Y/N scoffed, setting her sticker covered guitar case on the ground.

Their eyes watched the movement, and in a sudden instant, their expressions went from flirty to hostile in a matter of seconds. Patrick was the first to speak up, laughing, “Aw, she thinks she can try out for the band, Hen.”

“You can try out,” Henry started, slowly walking towards her, “If you get on your knees and suck my dick.”

Y/N laughed, loudly, throwing the men in the room off, “I’m sorry, but I only fuck with guys who are over 8 inches, and you,” she paused, checking Henry out and sighing dramatically, “You look like you’re 3 inches, tops.”

Vic and Belch snickered at the insult. Henry was livid, and Patrick stared at her darkly, his hand fidgeting with something in the pocket of his plaid red and black overshirt. Y/N turned to Johnny, “Where do I plugin?”

Johnny, who was eyeing Henry and Patrick carefully, turned to her, “We use the Line 6 half stack over here for the tryouts.”

Y/N nodded, kneeling down next to her guitar case as she casually flipped the latches open. Her guitar had seen some better days, once, before she owned it. Now, the once white Ibanez GRG had chipped paint on the edges, the fretboard was slightly warped from previous water damage. The permanent marker drawings she made on it were covered with stickers that she had given up on removing. But, she loved that guitar with all her heart; the only thing she ever really loved.

Lazily, she placed the mickey mouse strap over her shoulder, plugging in the amp cord that Johnny handed to her, and strummed the guitar to make sure it was in the proper tuning.

“You really play with that piece of shit?”

Y/N tried to bite her tongue at Henry Bower’s rude comment, instead opting to focus on her guitar, still tuning it, “This piece of shit has more balls than you and your boy put together.”

She could feel Henry’s glare on her, but she refused to acknowledge him, telling herself that if she lost her temper right now, she wouldn’t get the opportunity to earn the cash for her own musical interests.

Stepping stones , she reminded herself; trying to suppress the fact that she genuinely did enjoy the music these assholes created.

Once her guitar was properly tuned to drop d, the tuning she knew these boys played on, she strummed her guitar rhythmically, playing a small piece of a song from her other band.

She turned to face the guys all staring at her, Vic, the lead singer, leaned back on the couch, “Well, go ahead and blow us away, babe.”

Y/N’s fingers went to the slightly warped fretboard, the tips touching the strings - her nails briefly touching the other strings before she adjusted them - as the fingers on her other hand grasped her 0.5 pick, strumming the strings as she played a technical solo, her fingers bent the strings as she shredded on the frets, doing sweep movements, and finger tapping; her eyes caught a glimpse of Vic’s face, his jaw dropped open in awe and Belch nodded his head to an imaginary beat in his head, as if he was playing his drums along to her.

She continued to shred on her guitar for another minute before pausing. When she stopped, Vic and Belch stood up and gave her a standing ovation, along with Johnny Ray.

Belch was the first to speak, smiling as he walked over and high fived Y/N, “That was fucking awesome!”

Vic came up beside him, holding out his fist for a fist bump, “Hell yeah, I like her, Johnny! Better than the fucking sugar sniffers you brought in earlier - she actually knows how to play.”

Johnny, pleased with himself, smiled, “I knew you would,” his eyes trailed over to the other two men who were eyeing their bandmates with vicious disdain, “What do you guys think?”

Henry pursed his lips together, staring at Y/N up and down, “Do you even know any of our songs?”

“I’m a fast learner,” she answered, holding her guitar by the fretboard.

Henry scoffed, staring at Patrick. Though, Y/N noticed a tiny glint in his eyes, like he was impressed as well. Patrick, however, still remained stoic as he lazily waltzed over to her side. He reached out towards the rack of various guitars, picking up a black ESP Kirk Hammett signature guitar with white symbols imprinted on it. Y/N stared at the instrument with awe and envy, wishing she could afford something as beautiful as the guitar Patrick held in his hands, plugging it into the other Line 6 half stack.

It didn’t take long for him to tune his guitar, and he stared at her with dark eyes as he also began to shred in front of her. He was taller than her, staring down to her with his legs spread.

Y/N knew what this was, he was establishing his dominance; he was cementing his territory, saying with his stance, his hard stare, and the gesture of playing during her tryout, that she was never going to be a part of their band.

The hell I’m not , Y/N thought.

She immediately began to finger pick as well, keeping up with Patrick’s ever increasing speed, refusing to back down and let him win.

The air in the room was tense, she knew all eyes were on herself and Patrick, but right now, it was only she and him. Both of them fighting for their right to play in the band, neither refusing to back down. His riffs were raw, angry and powerful; communicating with her that she was not welcome.

Hers were just as heavy, pushing back, unrelenting.

Finally, Y/N shredded so heavily, so quickly, that two of her strings popped loose, flying and snapping hard against her fingers. She felt the pain in her hands as a small cut formed on her fingers, still, she played with the remaining strings, choosing to stick to soloing.

The battle wasn’t over until Patrick ended his solo with a hard riff, prompting Y/N to stop as well.

They both stood still, the silence in the room was deafening as they glared at one another. Johnny came up beside Y/N, keeping his distance, “Y/N, are you alright?”

“Huh?”

Johnny pointed to her hand and she looked down at it as it covered her strings and guitar in blood, “Oh? This is nothing, I’ll be fine.” She shrugged, rubbing the cut fingers on her jeans.

“Like a badass,” Belch smiled, nodding his head in approval; Vic nodding along with him in agreement.

Henry’s face was blank, void of any emotion, but his eyes trailed to her open wounds, and then up to her eyes; he furrowed his brows slightly in amusement, but it was quickly replaced with indifference when he gazed upon Patrick’s dark stare.

Y/N scoffed, smirking when she met his eyes, “Is that all?”

Patrick opened his mouth as he was about to speak, when he was crudely interrupted by Vic, “For now, yes. We’ll keep in touch, but, I think you’re the one.”

“Fuck yes,” Belch agreed.

“Fuck no,” Patrick said, “There’s not a chance in hell--”

“We’re not letting a chick in the band,” Henry said, his arms crossed over his chest.

“What the fuck are you talking about? You just saw--”

“No,” Patrick interrupted as Vic was trying to make his point.

Y/N, frustrated with the bitching between the guys unplugged her guitar and gently placed it in its case while the guys continued to argue. She picked her case up from the handle, speaking loudly over the boys, “Look, mull it over or do whatever the fuck you guys gotta do, but I got shit to take care of and I am not staying here to listen to grown ass guys bitch like high school girls.”

The boys stared at her in shock, their eyes wide as she turned to speak to Johnny, “Take down my number, gimme a call when these pussies make up their minds.”

Johnny smirked in amusement at her obvious ballsy nature; he pulled out his phone, dialing her number, “Let me walk you out.”

“Later, bitches,” she casually said, flipping the boys the finger as Johnny ushered her out of the room.

When they were finally out of the warehouse, he spoke to her as he lit a cigarette, “You shouldn’t antagonize them; your chances of joining won’t be pretty now.”

“I don’t think my chances were great to begin with,” she confessed, somewhat defeated. Johnny handed her his cigarette and she graciously took it, puffing on it and exhaling a cloud of smoke in relief.

Johnny lit another cigarette for himself, his voice was slightly a mumble with the cigarette pressed between his lips, “Probably, but, I’ll see to it that you make it in. Whether they care to admit it or not, you’re the best tryout we’ve seen; and you’re not afraid of them, which means you won’t bail at the first sign of trouble.”

Y/N tilted her head, bringing the cigarette to her lips, “Just how much do you know about me?”

“Enough to know that you’re the real deal,” he said, smirking. His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he quickly took it out to read a barrage of text messages coming in. He chuckled with a slight sigh. He pushed the phone back into the pocket of his blazer, looking down at her bloody hand, “Make sure to get that looked at; if you make it in, we can’t have you taking hiatus before you’ve even had the chance to start.”

“I’ll be alright,” she assured, cockiness in her voice.

Johnny laughed in amusement, turning and entering the warehouse, “And get those strings replaced.”

Y/N flipped him off, the blood was now dry on her fingers when the door shut behind him.

She turned, slowly dragging her legs along the hard concrete ground. Nighttime was setting in, and she could have called a cab, but her funds were running low and in all honesty, she preferred to feel the night air on her skin. It was going to be a long walk, but she needed it if she was going to ponder the possibility of being in Mind Failure.

Patrick and Henry were adamant that she was never going to be in the band, but, she had Vic, Belch and Johnny on her side; which had to count for something… right?

It had been two and a half weeks. Two and a half fucking weeks and not once did she hear a peep from Johnny, or any kind of status updates on Mind Failure’s website on the new rhythm guitarist. She checked the sight hourly, waiting to see if it would change, but it still read in big red letters, “Tryouts Open.”

She groaned in frustration for the fifth time that day, vaguely paying attention to the members in her band going on about how they wanted to change the sound of the band, for the third fucking time.

Y/N stood in the background, scrolling through her phone; band practice today was held at Evan’s garage, or more specifically, his parent’s house.

“Yo, who the fuck is that?” Evan asked, pointing to someone outside.

Y/N turned to see Johnny Ray leaning against a black Ferrari.

“Oh shit, yo, I think that’s Johnny Ray, the manager of that fucking band--Mind Failure,” Sam said, snapping his fingers, and jumping up in excitement, “Fuck, maybe he’s here to sign us!”

The guys started yapping away about the possible idea of being signed. Y/N lazily unplugged her guitar, pushing the instrument behind her back as she walked out of the garage and towards Johnny.

“You here to check out my shitty band?”

Johnny laughed, removing his sunglasses, “I’ve had enough of that piece of crap band of yours; and I’m sure you have too,” he turned, opening the door to his expensive car, “Grab your shit, let’s go.”

“What--”

“Do you want to be in Mind Failure or not?”

Y/N turned suddenly, meeting the stares of her ex bandmates and flipping them off as she shouted, “Hey guys, fuck you! I quit!”

She quickly ran to the other side of the car, jumping in and trying her best not to jump in anticipation as Johnny explained to her how her life was going to change, “Right now, I’m taking you to Empire Records to sign a temporary contract.”

“Temporary Contract?”

“So, the way we work this out is we have you sign a minor touring contract; this is only because these guys go through musicians fast, once you have stayed for a full year, then you will sign a permanent contract similar to what the rest of the band members signed,” he said, looking at his phone as he drove, typing a quick text message.

Y/N nodded, “And what are the terms of this contract?”

“You’ll see when we get to the office, I have my lawyer on call to review it for you in case you don’t understand it or want to change something, and I’ll be there as well,” he smiled, eyeing her sideways.

“And the guys?”

“They’re prepping for touring; we leave in a week, so we need to get this underway as soon as possible. If you agree to the contract, I’ll need you to pack essentials to bring on tour with you, as well as your equipment,” he said, turning into a large parking garage.

He hurriedly opened the door, his legs rushing towards the elevator in the parking garage, prompting Y/N to hastily shove her guitar onto the passenger seat. She felt her body begin to tremble with anticipation; she couldn’t believe this was actually happening to her.

She followed Johnny into the large office on the 25th floor, Johnny leaned over the counter of the receptionist’s desk, “Hey Joan, how’s my favorite lady today?”

Joan stared at Johnny with a hard look, the older lady in her mid forties obviously not having Johnny’s flirtatious advances, “You’re late to your appointment, Mr. Ray.”

“Is he pissed?”

Joan smirked, “Fuming.”

Johnny shrugged, walking towards the wide, large doors on his left. Without knocking, he pushed to doors open, strutting inside like he owned the place, “Alright, sorry I’m late, but I was caught in traffic.”

Tristan Roberts, who was sitting behind his desk, leaned forward on his desk, “Traffic? It’s fucking 10 AM,” his hard stare fell on Y/N; he took in her appearance, smirking as he stared at her standing there in her signature green Docs, black jeans rolled up to cuff above her boots. Her fishnets she wore under the jeans rested above the waistband, clinging to her skin, the old standard round neck t-shirt that rested at her hips, eyeing the obvious tattoos on her skin, “Nice, I see why you were adamant about his one Johnny; record sales will skyrocket if someone as good looking as her is in that band.”

“I recruited her for her skills, Tristan,” Johnny said with irritation in his voice, “Now, let’s get this shit started.”

Johnny motioned for Y/N to sit beside him as he dialed the band’s trusted lawyer while Tristan handed Y/N a copy of the contract. She looked over it, listening to Johnny’s lawyer explain to her the legality of it all, “Now, here’s the thing, since you are going to be signing a temporary contract, the only revenue you will make is from playing shows. You will not receive any pay from streaming sites, royalties or record sales until a full contract is signed; this is just so we guarantee that you stay in the band, once that has been established, we will make a permanent contract and you will receive the same amount of pay as the rest of the members, including participating in the making of their future albums.”

Y/N nodded, knitting her eyebrows at the legal jargon on the paper. Tristan and Johnny stared at her when she looked up from the paper, “So,” Johnny said, handing her a pen, “What’s it going to be?”

The tour bus was thick with the scent of cigarettes and cheap beer, Johnny hoped the guys weren’t up partying in the fucking bus again, but once he gazed at the sight in front of him he slowly felt himself die inside; Vic was sprawled over the small couch, Belch was retching in the restroom, Henry laid naked next two blonde women and Patrick was nowhere to be found.

Angrily, he grabbed the air horn he kept hidden in the driver’s seat of the bus and obnoxiously squeezed it; the boys automatically jumped up in surprise, yelling in shock “What the fuck, Johnny?!”

“You guys leave for touring today, get your shit together,” he chastised, his patience wearing thin as he tried not to yell, tossing the blonde woman her skimpy clothing, “Where the fuck is Hockstetter?”

“Fuck if I know,” Henry answered, recording the whole ordeal on his phone; which was going to end up on his instagram account, “Ask mom over there.”

Johnny turned to Vic who shrugged, rubbing his face as he stretched, “You know Hockstetter, he wanders off doing god knows what and doesn’t show up until it’s time to leave, he’ll be here.”

Belch slammed the door of the restroom shut behind him, rubbing his forehead with his sleeveless flannel shirt, “Coffee, aspirin.”

“The coffee is on it’s way,” he said, “Aspirin is in the cupboard right there; you guys really should reevaluate your partying, I don’t think this mess is going to make a good impression on Y/N.”

Henry rolled his eyes, sitting up on the floor, still naked, “I think it will; she’ll see that I’m not a weak three inches and soon enough, she’ll be on her knees begging me to fuck her.”

He laughed at his own joke, amused with his humor. Vic rolled his eyes, tossing Henry his faded jeans, “She’s out of your league, Hen.”

As if it couldn’t get worse, the door suddenly opened and Y/N furrowed her brows at the mess inside the tour bus. She smirked slightly when she saw Henry’s back as he pulled his pants up, catching a glimpse of his ass, “I can’t say much about your dick, but you do have a cute ass.”

Henry turned beet red while the guys all laughed, he marched off towards the restroom in a huff, slamming the door shut behind him.

“Sorry for the mess,” Vic apologized, a sheepish half smile on his lips, his fingers carding through his hair.

“The only thing you need to be sorry for is not fucking inviting me,” Y/N said, pushing the guitar on her strap behind her.

Belch and Vic smiled, already liking the new member of the band. Johnny rolled his eyes, glancing over at Y/N, “Did you bring your equipment?”

“Yeah, your roadies are hauling my stack into the trailer,” she said, kicking the beer cans aside as she sat near Vic, photobombing his selfie with a kiss to his cheek. Vic didn’t seem to mind, as he moved his arm further to catch both of them in it.

“Belch get in here,” Vic called.

Belch jumped on the their laps, prompting groans of pain from Y/N and Vic.

“Vic, show Y/N to her bunk, I have to get back to the office; but remember, try to be on your best behavior- ugh I don’t even know why I bother,” he said, mostly to himself as Belch began to play with Vic’s nipple guard through his mesh shirt, “Make sure Hockstetter is on this bus before it leaves.”

Johnny promptly exited the bus, leaving Y/N alone with the boys for the first time.

Vic and Belch weren’t bad however, they both immediately started complimenting her on her playing, “Your riffs were sick; even Bowers was blown away, though, he didn’t want to admit it.”

Vic got to his feet and motioned for Y/N to follow him to the back of the bus, “The bunks are back here; Henry, Belch and I have the bottom ones, Pat has the top one and that leaves you with the other top one.”

He pointed to the only empty bunk in the crowded room, “It tends to get hot up there, so be careful. Also, there’s an empty drawer over there for your clothes. Make yourself comfortable, breakfast is being brought to us.”

“Thank you,” she said, shooting Vic her most sweetest smile, making the blonde haired guy blush slightly.

Y/N took a moment to glance around the dark bunk room, admiring how each bunk was easily identifiable to whom it belonged to. Vic’s was neat, with fluffy pillows and what looked to be like a soft, feather blanket. Belch’s was slightly ruffled, a pair of drumsticks tossed on it. Henry’s bunk was- surprisingly- somewhat neat, save for the numerous amounts of shirts piled on it. Patrick’s, however, was the filthiest of all. The blankets were on a heap on his bed, the thin mattress peeking out below the blanket; there was no pillow at all and a guitar lay on top of it, with small pieces of paper stuffed into the walls along with a half smoked joint and a pack of Camel Bolds.

She tilted her head, setting her own guitar on the bed. She began to unpack her clothes, fitting them and her accessories into the one drawer. She pulled out her small clip on fan, grateful that she even decided to bring it in the first place.

As she turned to head back towards the “dining” area of the bus, she bumped into the tall, lanky, shaggy haired guy that was Patrick. He wore tight black skinny jeans that were torn at the knees, the cuffs pushed into large, black combat boots. The blue and black flannel overshirt he wore barely covered the dried bloodstains on his white undershirt, his knuckles were cut open as if he was fighting.

He didn’t say a word, he just stood there, staring at her as he smoked his cigarette. Frustrated with the awkward silence, she asked, “You gonna say something or just stand there and stare?”

Patrick’s stare was still blank, until he finally pushed beside her and climbed into his bunk, his eyes still on her while he exhaled a large cloud of smoke as his hands began to play his guitar.

Y/N scoffed, knowing full well that he was still trying to intimidate her. Just to spite him, she stayed in the room, climbing into her bunk and enjoying the cool breeze of the mini clip on fan, smirking at Patrick’s sweaty face. The heat didn’t seem to bother him, as he was unaware of it, still staring at her.

Belch’s voice cut the silence in the air, “Yo, Pat, Y/N; breakfast is here!”

Y/N continued to stare back at Patrick, finally breaking her gaze as her stomach rumbled, betraying her.

She jumped off of her bunk, heading towards the delicious smell of pancakes, bacon, eggs and coffee in the air; she could still feel Patrick’s eyes on her as she left however, somehow, she knew that the only reason she was here was because of Johnny, Vic, Belch and maybe even Henry.

This was something that Patrick obviously objected to, and he wasn’t going to make her time with Mind Failure easy, she somehow also guessed that he would do anything in his power to make her quit. But, he had another thing coming if he thought he could get rid of her that easily.

Tag List: @owentteague @pattycake-hockstetter @purplezebra68 @livelikewonderland @nurserykryme @gizmo-the-gay @thicctor-victor @slyprides-blog @ashisthresh @toungepopperr @i-am-mcbroken @caddywhompered

#patrick hockstetter #patrick hockstetter x reader #patrick hockstetter imagine #vic criss imagine #vic criss #belch imagine #belch #reggie huggins #henry bowers #henry bowers band AU #henry bowers imagine #bowers gang bandmates AU #bowers gang band AU #bowers gang bandmates #patrick hockstetter band AU #band au #bowers gang #bowers gang modern AU

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domdarksiren · 2 years

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VIC ✉️ BELCH

Vic: Yo. You been quiet as a church mouse and we both know you'd burn up if ya stepped foot in one of those.

#int: text #int: belch huggins

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heckstetter · 7 years

Text

The Bowers Gang reacts to their S/O getting their nipples pierced!

What up, I’m Alex, I’m 19, and I never fuckin’ learned how to read and this is my first set of headcanons/drabbles for the IT (2017) fandom! I haven’t written fanfic in a very,,, long time,,,, but requests are always open!

The Bowers Gang react to their S/O after they got their nipples pierced for their birthday. Boys and Reader are 18+, I don’t mention a gender for the reader anywhere but they have breasts and wear bras because I said so, nobody requested this, it’s just self-indulgent to celebrate the two years since I’ve gotten my own done anyway ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

This gets pretty NSFW in some parts, but nobody explicitly has sex.

Everything is under the cut.

Henry:

“And just where the fuck have you been all day, Y/N?”

Of course, that’s the first thing out of your boyfriend’s mouth the moment he lays eyes on you. The school cafeteria was bustling with students eating, joking around with friends, or rushing to finish homework at the last minute. You weren’t surprised at Henry’s harsh words or the way his face was flushed with anger, you had skipped your first four class periods in a city a little over an hour away without telling him beforehand.

“I was doing something for me.” You say with a shrug as you sauntered over to where he was sitting alone, his gang of friends off either torturing kids smaller than them or spending their lunch period eating. Your lackadaisical response to his anger only seemed to piss him off even more, his fists clenched tightly by his side like he was considering decking you in the face. “My older sibling is in town for my birthday and they took me to go get my present.”

“And what, that couldn’t fuckin’ wait until after school?” He hissed, grabbing your arm roughly and dragging you closer to him, “You were in such a fuckin’ hurry that you had to be a thoughtless cunt and disappear without tellin’ me?”

“Henry, stop!” You whine as he pulls you closer, his chest now touching yours. The sensitive piercings slid harshly against the fabric of your bra and you cursed, shoving Henry away from you and gently crossing your arms over your chest to prevent anymore unwanted attention to that area. “Motherfucker, ow! If you’d have been nice, I would’ve shown you just what my present was cause it was ‘sposed to be for both of us.”

Henry paused at that, seeming to calm considerably at the idea that you would do something for your birthday that would ultimately benefit him. He carefully gave you a onceover, trying to figure out what your surprise could be.

“’M not sorry for grabbing you roughly.” He said, truthfully, “You usually don’t complain when I grab you like that.”

“It wasn’t the grabbing so much as the- the uh…” You trailed off, not sure how to continue. Your unease only furthered to piss him off, you didn’t usually act like a shy, stuttering mess and when you did, it was for something you knew would upset him further.

“Spit it the fuck out already, dumbass.” Henry said, with a roll of his eyes, stepping closer to you.

“The rubbing. Your chest against mine because… becauseIjustgotmynipplespierced.” You spat out faster than any nasty joke Trashmouth Tozier could come up with.

“You— I’m… You did… I want to see!” Henry blurted out, his hands immediately flying towards them hem of your shirt to tug it up.

You slap his hands away but before he can protest the rejection, the school bell rang signaling that your lunch period had ended and that you needed to start making your way towards your next class. When you expressed that to Henry, he snorted.

“What, so now being in class is so fuckin’ important to you?” But nonetheless, he let you scurry past him down the hall and towards your next class.

You couldn’t help but feel that he only let you do so with the hopes of you being more eager to show him the surprise under your shirt. A smile creeped its way onto your face as you imagined your boyfriend spending the rest of his day agonized over actually getting to see the now-ruined surprise. Henry would bitch and moan at you until you finally showed him, but you planned to make him wait. After all, the payoff would be oh-so worth it.

Patrick:

“Come with me, please?” You asked, your eyes wide and doe-like as you tugged lightly on your boyfriend’s arm, “I wanna show you something, babe.”

“Mmhm, is that what we’re calling our little trysts in the Janitor’s closet now?” Patrick teased, his hands grabbing at anything he could reach while he let you lead him towards the closet; your hips, your ass, the hem of the shirt you were wearing. “Show n’ Tell?”

“Oh, it’s a Show n’ Tell, alright.” You said with a snicker as you ushered your freakishly tall boyfriend into the cramped space before you entered it yourself, closing and locking the door behind you.

Patrick reached around you to flick the light on, his hand brushing against your chest as he pulled it back towards him. You hissed in pain and immediately whirled around to slap at him and his creepy, wandering hands.

“No touching until I say you can!” You said with a snarl, before reeling back and realizing your mistake.

Patrick didn’t like his dominance over you being tested like that, and you knew you’d really be in for a brutal punishment if the widening of his grin and his tongue darting out to wet his lips was anything to go by.

“Wait! Before- before you punish me for… well, anything you’re about to punish me for, really, can I show you my surprise first?” You ask, looking up at him from under fluttering eyelashes, your lips in a perfect pout, and altogether a look of innocence and assured submission if he could grant you this one little request.

Patrick’s eyes roamed over your form from head to toe as he mentally weighed the pros and cons of acquiescing your request. He tilted his head to the side, his grin turning into a scowl and a deep suffering sigh fell from his lips.

“Just make it fucking quick, Y/N. You’re already pushing your luck with me today, what with not showing up for school for over four hours without telling me why. That alone has you on thin fucking ice.” He said, and while normally that dark, promising tone of voice would have you panting for a punishment and sobbing for his forgiveness (and an orgasm), today it felt like a wave of relief and a god damned miracle.

You made quick work of your t-shirt but stopped when you got to your bra. Your initial plan had been to thoroughly tease Patrick before the big reveal of what you had done to your body, but you knew his patience had already been worn thin by your absence from school earlier in the day and anymore teasing would land you get you in more trouble than you were ready for. You decided that the quicker your surprise was revealed, the better it’d be for the both of you and you hastily removed your bra.

“Ta-dah…” You say without much confidence, but are instantly reassured as soon as Patrick’s eyes are fixed on the silver barbells protruding from each nipple. He opens and closes his mouth, rendered speechless for a good few moments.

“Did… did it hurt?” He settles on, and then makes a sour face at his own question. Of course it had fucking hurt, and he could still see flakes of dried blood around your nipples.

“Yea, not a good kind of hurt either, but I couldn’t get the thought out of my head after you mentioned seeing it in a porn mag, and I wanted to do it because I think it’s pretty but also because I knew you’d like it.” You say softly, looking down at your own nipples, “They’re super sore now too, I didn’t really think about how long it’d take ‘em to heal or how long they’d be hurting but, uh… It’s gonna be a while before you can touch ‘em or play with ‘em. Sorry.”

“No!” He blurts out, somewhat uncharacteristically. In this moment, it would have been usual for Patrick to take advantage of your self-proclaimed mistake, to turn your apology into a favor you’d owe him but all he could think of was you did this with him in mind. You had paid someone to mutilate your body for him to play with, for him to tug at and suck on and every other little nasty thing he was planning in the back of his head and if that was just about the hottest god damned thing to him. His hands cupped your breasts softly, careful to avoid the fresh piercings. “Don’t be sorry, babygirl, I love them now and I’ll love on them when they’re all healed up.”

“You really like them, Patrick?” You ask, your voice shy and soft but your body language screaming otherwise. You leaned into his touch, arching your back to show off your modified chest even more and then slowly rolling your hips into his. Patrick’s evident arousal tenting in his jeans was all the proof you needed that he truly loved your little surprise but you wanted to hear him say it again, and again, and again.

“I do.” Patrick said honestly, “But you better get on your knees and take care of the problem they’re causing before I change my mind about waiting ‘til they’re healed.”

Vic:

“Okay, explain this to me again. Somehow, it’s your birthday but I’m the one who’s getting a surprise?” Your boyfriend asked, his face scrunched up adorably in his confusion as the two of you make your way up to your bedroom.

You had been absent from school for the first half of the day, but had the forethought to warn Vic that you’d be gone beforehand and to ask him if you could monopolize his time as soon as school got out. Being the ever-dutiful boyfriend that he was, Vic agreed to follow you home without hesitation, regardless of the whipping noises and other lewd jokes his friends had been making from behind him.

“It’s not just for you, Vic.” You say as you open your bedroom door, allowing him to step inside, “It’s for me too, but I probably wouldn’t have had the courage to do it had you not expressed your interest beforehand.”

“My interest in whaaaat?” Vic whined as he flopped down on your bed, toeing off his boots before you could scold him for getting your bed dirty. “Stop being so fuckin’ vague, just show me already!”

“Is that anyway to treat your S/O on their birthday?” You asked mockingly, closing the door behind you. He looked up at you with a lecherous smirk, his hand snaking down to his crotch, grabbing it roughly.

“I’ll give you a birthday treat if you ask nicely.” He said, continuing to palm himself through the front of his jeans. “Let’s skip the surprise and get straight to the birthday sex!”

You couldn’t help but giggle as you crawled onto his lap, threading one of your hands through his bleach-blonde hair to tug him forward. He let out a choked out moan as his hair was pulled, his hand stopping the rubbing movements to grip at his growing erection.

“Mmm…” You moan softly, your lips brushing against his in a chaste mockery of a kiss, “As much as I’d love to skip straight to the birthday sex, my surprise is going to lead there anyway.” You loosened your grip on his hair so he could slump back with a sigh.

Vic removed his hands from himself, placing them on your waist instead. Irritation flared in his chest; he was a teenage boy, he was horny, and he wanted you now. But ultimately, Vic loved you too much to protest your rejection and instead just gazed into your eyes lovingly. His thumbs rubbed small, soothing circles into your hips as he spoke,

“If that’s where this was gonna lead this whole time, you should’ve just said so.” He said, letting you take control of the situation in the only way a Bowers’ Boy could. “We’re alone now, what’s the surprise?”

“Good boy.” You purred at his submission, your hands moving to the hem of your shirt. You ever-so-slowly pulled it above your head, flinging it to the other side of your bedroom once it was completely off. You silently wished you could have been wearing something sexier than an old, loose-fitting sports bra but you had needed something comfortable to wear at your piercing appointment. Making quick work of the bra as well, you sat straddling your boyfriend’s lap completely topless, breasts and brand-new nipple piercings bared to the world.

Vic felt his jaw go slack at the sight of the silver barbells in each nipple, completely speechless at the sight of his lover with such a provocative body modification. He felt his erection twitch in his pants, the excitement from such a sexual surprise stirring him back to attention.

“I… You…” He tried to think of a complete sentence, but words were the absolute last thing on his mind. He ended up squeaking out, “For me?”

“Yeah, baby!” You say with a smug grin, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of rendering your boy speechless. “Do you like them?” You ask, shaking your torso slightly, letting your tits sway in his face.

“Yessssss,” He hissed out and rolled his hips desperate for some form of relief, completely transfixed on how fucking sexy you looked sitting on top of him like that, your new jewelry catching the light and a downright dirty grin on your face. “Can I touch ‘em?”

“Not yet, baby boy.” You say, somewhat mournfully, moving your hands over his to prevent him from trying to play with your new piercings. “They need some time to heal before you can touch them, otherwise they’ll get infected and I’ll have to take them out.”

Vic nodded solemnly, lacing his fingers with yours to distract him from the temptation of playing with your new toys. “Can we do… other things?” He asked, looking up in your eyes in complete awe and adoration.

“Of course, Victor.” You say with a soft smile, “Didn’t you say something about birthday sex?”

Belch:

You sat silently in the front passenger seat of your boyfriend’s Trans Am, gazing out the front window but not focused enough to actually see anything. Belch sat next to you, hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. The two of you were just sitting in the high school parking lot when you should have been in class, but neither of you particularly cared about making it to your respective classrooms at this point.

He was upset with you, a rare occasion in and of itself because you weren’t one to get yourself in trouble or start fights and even if you were that kind of person, Belch was usually right by your side. Therein lied your whole problem, though. By the time Belch rolled up to your house this morning to pick you up for school, you were long gone over an hour away with your older sibling. You hadn’t told him you were skipping most of school today, you hadn’t told him that you were going to the next town over, and you hadn’t told him why.

“I just…” He began but trailed off, unable to verbally express his feelings. Instead of words, he moved one of his hands from the steering wheel to your lap, squeezing your thigh softly and squeezing his eyes shut as he inhaled deeply before saying, “You had me worried.”

“Reggie…” You sighed his other nickname softly as you moved your own hand to cover his, lacing your fingers together. “I’m sorry. It was supposed to be a surprise for both of us, I just… I hadn’t expected it to take so long. I should’ve told you beforehand that I was gonna be absent this morning but I didn’t think about it.”

After your apology the two of you fell into another uncomfortable silence, but he continued holding your hand which you took as a good sign. After a few more moments, you shifted your whole body, leaning closer to Belch so you could rest your head on his shoulder and he let out a deep sigh and turned slightly so he could kiss the top of your head.

“I can’t say it’s okay cause it… it’s not.” He said solemnly, “But I’ll forgive you, ‘s long as you promise not t’ disappear on me again, you hear me?”

“I promise, Reggie.” You say sincerely, looking up at him teary-eyed but smiling, “Can I show you why? I promise it’s gonna be a fun surprise.”

“Sure, baby.” Belch said, smiling back at you as the mood in the car lifted to something much more playful and happy. You shifted away from him, de-tangling your hand from his so you could tug your shirt up and over your head.

“Hold up, as much as I love havin’ you naked in my car, you sure you wanna do this here?” He asked, gesturing to the other cars surrounding you in the parking lot. Everyone else was in class, but it wasn’t uncommon for students to venture out to their vehicles either to skip or to grab something they forgot.

“I’m sure.” You say, working on the clasp of your bra, “No one at this school is dumb enough to get close to your car, babe. And anyone who is, won’t dare say a damn thing lest they want to worry about havin’ you and the rest of your boys on their ass.”

Belch doesn’t respond verbally, just nodding his head at the truth of your statements. Henry and the rest of the gang would be more than happy to beat the shit out of anyone who dared to disrespect Belch’s girl, regardless of if they actually cared for her (in Vic and Belch’s case) or if they just found joy in ganging up on people (in Henry and Patrick’s case).

You finally got your bra unclasped, holding the cups in front of your breasts with your hands as you smiled mischievously at Belch.

“You ready for this, hon?” You asked, slowly letting the cups of your bra slide down the curve of your breasts enjoying the way his eyes were fixed firmly where you wanted them to be. He shifted— almost nervously— in his seat as your bra finally fell into your lap and your surprise was revealed.

Belch let out a low wolf whistle as he took in the sight of the silver barbells fastened through your brand-new nipple piercings, a surprise he certainly hadn’t expected to receive for your 18th birthday.

He faintly remembers seeing a model with the same piercings in a porn mag that Patrick had passed around a while back. He hadn’t thought anything of it since then-- beyond a night of imagining you with your nipples done like that--but that had been a night spent alone with his left-hand. Not once did he think that you had also longed to see yourself with that body modification, and he never had the guts to bring it up to you outside of his fantasies.

Seeing you now, sitting topless in the passenger seat of his beloved car looking so fucking fine with your silver jewelry glinting in the sunlight, he couldn’t help but immediately move towards you. One of his hands went to the back of your hair, tangling his fingers through your H/C locks to pull you into a rough kiss. Your teeth clacked against his slightly, but you both ignored the pain in favor of letting your tongues explore each other’s mouths hungrily. His other hand cupped one of your breasts, careful to avoid the fresh piercing but firm enough to convey his pleasure at your body modification.

You pulled back from the kiss, a shit-eating grin on your face as you grabbed the wrist of the hand that was tangled in your hair to pull it down towards your other breast so that Belch could cup them both.

“Do you like them, Reggie?” You asked, voice deep and breathy, “That girl in the porn mag looked so fucking hot with her nipples pierced, baby, I’ve been thinking about getting ‘em done every day since I saw her.”

“Baby girl, Y/N, light of my fuckin’ life, I love them.”

#henry bowers x reader #patrick hockstetter x reader #victor cross x reader #belch huggins x reader #it 2017 imagines #henry bowers #patrick hockstetter #victor cross #belch huggins #headcanons #im not sorry #texts from the crypt

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banesbottombitch · 6 years

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Headcannons of the bowers gang as single parents?🤔 btw, love your writing!

Fuck it, lets do this. I’ve got so many feelings about this. For disclaimers sake, the boys are 20-25, so college age. This is long.

Henry “You are my Sunshine but you’re also a Pain” Bowers

First of all, he was’t ready. Nothing prepared him to end up alone, with a baby that was his newest and most precious responsibility.

The mothers either DIED, or straight up left the baby in his arms and was like “your problem now” either way, he does not consider adoption.

Called Vic first, actually crying, because how the fuck does he do better for this kid than his dad did for him? He has no idea how to nurture, to care, to help something grow and thrive. He confesses his fears, and Vic gets Belch and the three of them drive to the closest department store, picking out baby shit.

Has no idea how bottles work. Gets the cheapest kind possible, and is so upset when the baby wont drink from them (texture might be off, his dumb ass didnt warm the milk, his dumb ass gave the baby COWS MILK, the list goes on) and screeches in frustration when they leak because, yet again, he got the cheapest fuckers possible

He’d be out of his dads house by this time, probably college age (about 20-25) but he has made a point to not let his dad know of his child’s existence, because lets face it, Butch would wanna see his grandkid (especially if its a boy). So, Henry keeps the information that he’s a new dad on lock down

Calls Mama Huggins weekly for advice, and actively looks at parenting hacks online. He’s trying his best to be a good dad, and would take extra shifts for work to make ends meet. His kid would probably go into daycare sometimes, but he doesnt like leaving them with strangers and just tries to get one of the guys (or Mama Huggins) to take them for a few hours.

Uses his kid as a chick magnet. Goes to parks and hits on the single moms while he helps his toddler roam around. Gets a lot of ass because of this, since he comes off as a very caring dad (he is, surprisingly).

Dresses his baby girl up like bad asses. His daughter wears his old bandanna with her princess outfit (claiming she is a cowgirl princess, because of course she is) or gets a jean vest with decently kid friendly patches on it, and parades her around when he gets the chance. Insanely protective of her, and follows her when she plays at the park and later as she gets older, he makes her text him where she is at all times. Low key helicopter dad. The type of dad to clean a gun in front of her new boyfriend, 11/10.

His son’s hair gets styled into a fohawk daily and he’s encouraged to wear cool printed shirts his uncles (the rest of the gang) get him that have various metal bands on them and stuff. Teaches him sports, and drags him along to baseball games when he can. Was a bit torn when he heard his son was causing trouble in school, but decides that he cant have his kid doing the same shit he did and nips the bullying in the bud. His son got his temper, and it upsets Henry sometimes how easy it is for them to snap at each other once he gets older.

Takes his kid fishing, hiking, rides on motorcycles, ect. Lots of out door activities. His favorite is to take his kid out fishing, because they’re TRAPPED with him and he gets to spend the day with his mini-me, making crappy jokes and teaching them how to do proper techniques, like he always wished his dad would have done with him.

Gets really stern with his kid though. Takes no fucking bullshit from them, and lives the line “because I said so”, expecting his kid to listen. He loves them, he would NEVER raise a hand to them, but he’s not above a sit down and heavy glare if they mouth off to him or act up in public.

Lives his life better to make his kid’s life better. Goes to anger management if he thinks he’s starting to emulate Butch, and he’s explained to his kid why they’re so distant from his family. Doesn’t articulate what Butch has done to him, but makes it a point to focus on the fact that they Do. Not. Talk. To. Butch.

Makes a point to take his kid to school every day. Tells his kid how much he loves them. They do not go a day without a clap on the shoulder and a small little smile that he wears just for them.

Reggie “GET THAT OUT OF YOUR MOUTH RIGHT FUCKIN’ NOW” Huggins

He was a little shocked when he ended up with a baby. Dazed, confused. He just sat there with this bundle, all soft and small, and held them close. He didn’t know what to do, but does anyone when they become a single parent without word?

If his s/o died, he would be heart broken, but pull through for the kid. If his s/o dumped the baby on him and ran, he’d be fucking furious and vow to never let them within arms reach of HIS child.

The best at easing into parenthood. He told his mama that adoption wasn’t an option, and that he was going to take care of the baby. “I can do it,” he told her, “I’m a man, and men take care of their kids.”

Mama Huggins is overjoyed to be a grandma, even if she claims shes a little young to start being called Nannie, but she spoils that baby rotten. Reggie has to fight to keep her from buying the kid so many different outfits, as she goes overboard and buys too many, and they grow out of them before they can even be tried on.

Leaves the kid with his mom to work, which is fine for Mama Huggins, but Reggie feels like he’s ghosting his kid when he does it. So he works harder and advances in his career as much as possible, wanting to get to place where he can maybe get extra days off to be with his kid.

Wakes up early to make them breakfast. Every morning he sits down with them, from infancy till they leave his house (read as, his moms, he never moves out lets be real). He wakes them up gently, or flicks on the lights and heaves a great big “UP AND AT ‘EM, KIDDO!” But its all with love.

Doesnt seem interested in dating for the most part, but ends up meeting someone with kids at some point in time, and is happy to have his kid get a new sibling. He always wanted one himself.

Gives in too easily if his kids misbehave. If they cry, it HURTS him, and he just lets them do as they please. Had to nip this in the bud before they got into school though, because he wasn’t going to deal with a spoiled brat for 12+ years.

Straps his kid into the backseat of the Trans-Am, and has a Dad Bag under the seats for bottles, toys, and general baby shit. Patrick likes playing peek a boo with his kid, and Vic only complains a little bit of he has to feed the baby.

Stops going out with the guys, and is worried that it will dampen his relationship with them It doesnt, they just start coming over to his house and hanging out. Henry was scared to hold the baby at first, but Reggie eased him into it, and now Henry’s the first one to grab the nugget and bounce them on his knee to calm them down.

If he had a daughter, jesus christ. Jesus H Christ. His most precious gem, his princess, the light of his life. He spends free time doing tea parties, letting her “help” him with fixing Amy, and lets her run wild in the neighborhood. She is fierce, she is the wilderness- NO, HONEY, DONT PICK THAT SNAKE UP PLEASE- DROP IT. DROP IT. NO, DONT ARGUE WITH DADDY. DROP IT!

His son would have a very healthy and loving relationship with him. Everything is open for discussion, and he tries to lead his son into a better light than bullying or the like. Lots of sundays are spent in the front yard, tossing around a football while his son asks the craziest, but most wonderful shit he has ever heard. “Dad, whys girls gotta be so.. weird?” “Dad, do you think Luke Skywalker would have been cooler if he was a sith?” “Dad, if we die, do we meet god, or do we gotta wait in line with our guardian angel?” Loves his boy, cherishes him. He can do no wrong.

Goes to every single parent/teacher conference, and puffs up in pride when they praise his kid. Because, of course they’re praising them! He raised them right!

Victor “Pinterest saved my life” Criss

Legit hid the baby from his parents/bros for a good week before he ran out of excuses as to why they hadn’t seen him for days. He’s at a loss of what to do, and considers adoption. He isnt a paternal guy. he thinks, this wont work out.

Already moved out, like, come on. He’s a rich boy, his parents set him up in a nice apartment/condo in Bangor for school.

If his s/o was still alive, he’d have given the baby back to them. This only works if they ghosted town, or are dead. Otherwise, he’d have been like “fuck no”

Finally figures he’ll give fatherhood a shot, and quickly realizes how much he did NOT bargain for.

Reggie turned up to help one day with Vic holding his baby and sobbing back at the baby while it shrieked and squirmed, the poor guy having no idea what to do. Vic was escorted to the bedroom, and given a nap whole Belch attempted to get the baby to sleep.

Buys all the nicest shit the baby could ever need or want. Lots of sleepless nights are spent with him rocking his baby and scanning amazon, thinking that yet another Sophie the Giraffe is exactly what his demon spawn needs to keep from sobbing through the night

Turns to online archives and pinterest for advice, and slowly becomes a better dad. Lots of trial and error, trips to the emergency room from Patrick convincing a half-dead Vic that his baby’s cough is from the baby black plague, and some angry sobbing of his own leads to a decent routine that makes him and his kiddo happy.

Instagrams his kid, because to be fair, he made a gorgeous baby. Sends lots of photos of the kid to the guys, and Patrick uses some of the most unflattering ones as reaction memes, because he is a dick. Vic has laughed at them, despite being furious Patrick would dare to make his baby a meme.

Literally cried when his kid called him “Dada” for the first time. On the floor. Sobbing. He called Reggie and made him come over. Henry and Patrick came around and tried to get the bay to say swears. They got them to say “sheet” which is pretty close to “shit” so they called it a win.

Throws the biggest birthday parties for his kid. Confetti? Everywhere. Cake? Three layers and professionally made. Presents? Out of this world.

Most stylish child of the group’s kids. Sunglasses, designer clothes. That kid dresses better than you do by the time they’re five. They own it too, and flaunt it for the camera, because Vic takes 89,005,467 photos of his child on the daily.

Taught his kid Beastie Boys songs, and there are videos of his kid rapping along to “Intergalactic”. Vic is so proud of his kid.

Friend dad. Has a hard time punishing his kid if they do something wrong, and sometimes makes up for his own mistakes (raising his voice, getting to upset) by giving them gifts. Its not an amazing system, but his kid is humble…ish.

Having a daughter, that boy is her best friend. She can tell him anything, it wont phase him. Willingly talks about boys, clothes, music. Loves to take her to the park and watch her knock the boys down a peg or two. she inherits his sharp tongue, and its scary how fast she goes from 1 to 101. Blunt child, that one.

A boy? Vic’s son is given the coolest shit, there is no need for want with this boy. Probably some awful mix of fuck boy and wanna be rapper, but Vic loves him anyhow. Shows him off to the gang CONSTANTLY, and shows up in almost matching outfits without realizing it. Its cringey, but it could be worse. Teaches him how to throw a punch and encourages him to kick ass if people step up against him.

Puts his kid in after school tutoring, and thinks bonding time is shopping or watching TV together. Fills their schedules with sports, dance, and music. Expects a lot out of them, academically.

Loves his kid, even if they’re being an asshole, not matter what.

Patrick “You’re Demon Spawn and I adore that” Hockstetter

Was not here for this dad shit. Considered chucking the baby into the system, and would have done it too, if his mother had’t made him face the music.

Total “This is what you get for having unprotected sex, Patrick” rant from her. It ended with him being forced with a baby and his mother’s watchful eye on him. Shes not going to have another Avery on her hands.

Hates the baby the first few MONTHS. No love. Nothing there. Lets it cry itself hoarse, barely remembers to feed it, the type to forget an infant in a shopping market. Considers the possibility of it being real, since it came from him in one way or another, and feels a little threatened.

Drops the baby off with his parents 99% of the time. the 1% is when his parents force the baby back with him.

The first time he feels a little something for the kid is after getting them back from his parents and sitting in his apartment, with him screaming at the kid to shut the fuck up, (the baby is sobbing, lets be real) and they just stop. Right then and there, silence.

They lock eyes, and Patrick swears he sees a flash of something behind their little baby eyes, almost as if they are betrayed he’d treat them that way, before they quietly sniffle. And then Patrick Hockstetter, the man, the myth, the self proclaimed Literal Satan, feels guilt for the first time.

He picks them up and calms himself down, bouncing them on his hip and softly talks to them. No hate, no love really, just apathetic words that a baby couldnt understand. He does that for hours, until the baby is sleeping, and even then he keeps going. Pours out every thought he’s ever had to this little version of him, and the next time he puts them in their crib, he does so gently.

Lowering them down and tucking a blanket in around them. He decides they’re worth something to him that day, and everyone in his life see a drastic turn in his reactions towards his child.

Kind of a distant dad, but his kid knows that Patrick is their father and that he, yes, loves them. He’ll still drop his kid off with his parents sometimes on weekends, but as the kid grows up and he starts seeing more and more of himself in them, he’d be more attentive.

Goes on philosophical rants with his kid, and expects them to keep up. Raises his kid to question everything, and they grow up almost just as creepy and weird as him. He’s proud that they’re a little freaky, otherwise he’d be worried they weren’t his.

Patrick wouldn’t do too well with a daughter. He’d make it work, but there would be some issues. He has no idea what common ground to go off from, and would force his daughter to be more tom boyish and enjoy the same shit he does. Wouldn’t care if she was a bully in school, actually encourages it. Hands her cash, shares his weed stash with her once she’s older, and bids her good day. Doesnt see reason to punish her for misbehaving hopes she doesn’t end up dead in a ditch somewhere from her smart mouth. Grades are the least of his concerns. Will kill anyone who hurts his daughter though, and makes good on his threats too.

Patrick thrives with a son. A mini-me, that is almost indistinguishable from himself. Same creepy little smile, same predatory tilt of the shoulders and with eyes that pierce your damn soul. Praises his son to the high heavens, calls the boy a genius, and 100% thinks of him to be the Jesus to his God, if you feel me. The promised one, type of shit. Think of a young Trick from Black Mirror, and thats the kind of son Patrick hopes to have, if not MORE edgy.

Halloween is his favorite holiday as a dad, because he takes his kid out and scares the shit out of other children and teaches them to steal the candy.

The family photo of him and his kid is them out with the gang, with his kid (about 7) wearing his jacket by a bonfire and flipping the camera off, him squatting beside them and doing the same damn thing with the biggest shit eating grin. Ah. Parenting. Patrick’s a natural.

#The Bowers Gang #Hcs #patrick hockstetter #Henry Bowers #victor criss #vic cris #belch huggins #reggie huggins #Single Dads #THIS WAS LOOOOONG #Tbh I wanted to die laughing while writing Belch's #IT 2017 #Vic loves Beastie Boys fight me

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