bobsbagofmeth

[bobsbagofmeth]

Just wait untill my 6 tumblr mutuals hear about this

[bobsbagofmeth]

bitch is reading bob x readers at SCHOOL …. @cassanduhhh

[bobsbagofmeth]

yes

he’s the leader actually

[bobsbagofmeth]

happy pride everyone! 🇲🇽

[bobsbagofmeth]

[bobsbagofmeth]

BOYBAND!PB&JJ—> au where Peter Parker, Bob Reynolds, Johnny Storm and Joaquin Torres commit their life to new songs and funky hairdos.

[bobsbagofmeth]

PB&JJ as The Penguins of Madagascar

[bobsbagofmeth]

𝐏𝐁&𝐉𝐉 જ⁀➴ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭

Boy band au where Johnny and Joaquin get too carried away with a “duel” of sorts

Somewhere between soundcheck and the late-night pizza delivery, they all got bored.

Which meant something ridiculous was about to happen. Every single time.

They were stuck in a small-town venue green room with half-functioning AC, mismatched couches, and one lopsided pool table. Outside, their security detail leaned on the vans, half-watching the back door and half-scrolling their phones. Inside, chaos brewed.

Johnny was tapping on the coffee table like a menace, fingers a blur as his drumsticks bounced off every possible surface.

“Can you not make everything into a beat?” Bob muttered from the floor, where he was sprawled out like a ghost, hoodie over his eyes. “It’s giving me a headache.”

“That’s a you problem,” Johnny shot back without looking, grinning. “I’m an artist. Art is pain.”

Peter let out a loud fake gasp from the beanbag chair he’d claimed like a raccoon in a nest. “Was that… poetic? Do we have a second Bob in the room? Did he just unlock his mysterious boy era?”

“Shut up,” Johnny said, flicking a stick in Peter’s direction.

Peter dodged dramatically, rolling off the beanbag and smacking into Joaquin’s leg.

“Okay. If no one’s gonna do anything fun,” Joaquin announced, “I’m declaring war.”

Bob groaned. “No.”

“Yes,” Johnny said at the same time. He jumped up from the table, sticks in hand, and took a fencing stance.

Joaquin’s eyes lit up. “Sword fight. Right now. You and me.”

“With what?”

Johnny brandished the drumsticks. “These babies.”

Joaquin smirked and reached into the cup holder of the couch. “One of those is mine now.”

Peter raised both eyebrows, intrigued. “Oh god. This is gonna be so stupid.”

“It’s gonna be amazing,” Johnny corrected.

They faced off like two knights in a medieval kitchen, plastic water bottles and chip bags strewn around them like rubble. Peter immediately pulled out his phone.

“Everyone ready for The Dork of the Rings: The Two Dipshits?”

Joaquin and Johnny circled each other with exaggerated steps, twirling their makeshift swords. Bob didn’t even open his eyes.

“If one of you breaks something,” Bob said, not moving, “I’m telling management.”

“That’s fair,” Peter replied, filming steadily. “But only if they break something expensive. If it’s just Johnny’s pride, we let that slide.”

Johnny lunged. Joaquin parried. The hollow thock of wood on wood echoed in the green room, followed by an obnoxious, mutual “HYAH!”

It wasn’t a real fight, but Joaquin moved like a dancer — dramatic, spinning, overly serious—while Johnny fought like a kid who grew up hitting things with sticks, grinning wide, laughing between swings.

They were both fast. Not trained or precise, just chaotic.

“En garde, dork!” Johnny yelled, laughing.

“You don’t even know what that means!” Joaquin shouted back, matching his energy.

“Means I’m winning!”

Their feet scraped on the floor. One of them knocked over an unopened water bottle. Peter, now fully invested in being the narrator, gasped like it was a live-action telenovela.

“OH, THE HUMANITY,” he yelled. “They are unstoppable. They are feral. They are—”

CRACK.

Everyone froze.

Joaquin stood there, one half of the broken drumstick in his hand. Johnny stared at the other half at his foot. The tip had snapped clean off mid-swing. One second it was a sword; the next, it was a jagged twig.

Silence.

“…Oh my god,” Peter whispered, camera still rolling.

Johnny blinked. “You—”

“I—” Joaquin looked genuinely shocked. “That was not on purpose.”

Bob finally lifted his hoodie, eyes narrowed. “Did you actually break it?”

Peter zoomed in dramatically on the snapped stick. “Yes, Bob. He has committed a war crime.”

“It was an accident!” Joaquin insisted, holding the broken half like it was radioactive. “Dude, I didn’t know these things could break—”

“They’re not supposed to,” Johnny said, staring at the remains like he’d lost a limb. “I’ve had that pair since last summer’s tour.”

“Oh,” Joaquin said, the guilt hitting. “Like, sentimentally?”

Johnny gave him a slow, wounded nod. “They survived the stage dive incident. And the energy drink explosion in Tampa. They were veterans.”

Bob stood up, groaning. “Oh no. You guys made it emotional.”

“Okay, no, seriously,” Joaquin said, voice softer now. “I’m sorry. I’ll buy you new ones.”

Johnny looked up at him dramatically. “It’s not about new ones, Joaquin. It’s about what we lost.”

Peter was howling with laughter at this point. “Are you two gonna kiss or are we making a memorial?”

“Don’t tempt me,” Johnny said, picking up and throwing the broken end at Peter’s feet like a mic drop. “You don’t understand what we had.”

Joaquin dropped onto the couch, face in his hands. “I’m gonna feel bad about this for weeks.”

“Good,” Johnny huffed. “I hope it haunts you in your sleep.”

Bob, now fully invested despite himself, wandered over and inspected the broken stick.

“Honestly, this one was already starting to splinter,” he noted. “You probably just finished the job.”

Johnny gasped. “Don’t you dare let him off the hook.”

Peter finally stopped filming and dropped next to Johnny, handing him a juice box from the snack table.

“You did your best,” he said solemnly. “But sometimes the drumsticks we love… break in the dumbest possible fake sword fights.”

“Beautifully said,” Bob added dryly. “Very moving.”

Johnny rolled his eyes, but his smile was tugging at the corners now. “Fine. You’re all forgiven.”

Joaquin perked up. “Wait—really?”

“Yeah,” Johnny said, flopping dramatically onto the floor. “But only because I will force you to replace them. And also because I was winning.”

“You weren’t,” Joaquin argued.

Peter cut in, grinning. “Technically you lost. Your sword broke.”

“Technically he broke it,” Johnny pointed out. “That’s sabotage.”

Bob just shook his head. “You two are the reason our tour manager has gray hairs.”

The green room was dark except for the glow of a single phone flashlight.

Johnny had carefully arranged the two halves of the drumstick on a napkin like a tiny funeral display. A tea light flickered beside it — from Peter’s emergency candle stash (don’t ask).

Joaquin stood beside him, solemn.

Peter read from a paper towel like it was a eulogy.

“We are gathered here to honor this brave drumstick,” he said, barely holding it together. “May it find peace in that great guitar center in the sky.”

Bob stood in the back eating Cheetos.

“Can we go now?”

“No,” Peter said. “The ritual is sacred.”

Joaquin added, “I promise to never use your sticks in combat again.”

Johnny dabbed at an invisible tear. “Thank you. That means everything.”

Then he laughed, took the broken stick, and waved it in the air. “Also, I’m framing this. ‘Cause it broke in the stupidest, most us way possible.”

“Exactly,” Peter grinned. “You know what that means?”

“What?” Joaquin asked.

Johnny smiled. “Means we’re legends.”

The dressing room buzzed with pre-show chaos — someone was blasting throwback Bieber, Peter was trying to fix his collar in the mirror, and Bob was quietly chewing gum with his hoodie over his head like he was meditating.

But Johnny? He wasn’t doing much of anything. Just sitting cross-legged on the couch, tapping his sneaker against the floor with no sticks in sight.

Not because he didn’t have replacements—he did. A few random backups, mismatched pairs from techs or picked up at the last venue. But they didn’t feel like his.

And Joaquin noticed.

“Yo,” Joaquin called, peeking into the room with something behind his back. “Got a sec?”

Johnny looked up. “Uh, yeah?”

Joaquin walked in, suddenly looking a little awkward—which wasn’t like him. “Okay, so I know it’s kinda stupid and sentimental or whatever, but…”

He pulled a brand-new stick bag from behind his back and dropped it gently in Johnny’s lap.

“…I figured you deserved better than the Frankenstein pair you’ve been using.”

Johnny blinked. Then blinked again. The bag was packed. Sleek black exterior, with a perfect zip — and when he opened it?

Holy shit.

There were mallets. Brushes. Custom sticks. A GoPro tucked into a lower pocket. Even a small box of gel dampeners, still in their case. And a digital watch—the same kind Johnny used to keep time during rehearsals but had lost months ago in Miami.

He looked up, stunned.

“You… did all this?”

Joaquin rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. I mean, Bob helped me figure out what kinds you actually use. And Peter picked the GoPro. Said you might wanna film solos again.”

Johnny ran a hand over the velvet interior, taking in the lineup of sticks like they were trophies.

“I even got you those bamboo rute things you were obsessed with for like five minutes,” Joaquin added, suddenly shy. “Figured they’d make up for the ones I… uh, murdered.”

Johnny let out a breathy laugh and shook his head. “Dude. You didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to.”

Silence stretched a little. Peter peered into the room, then ducked back out after seeing the moment happening.

Johnny stood up slowly, letting the bag hang from one hand. Then he clapped the other on Joaquin’s shoulder.

“This is, like… best gift ever,” he said, voice quiet. “Seriously. I thought you were just gonna Venmo me or something.”

Joaquin smirked. “And miss out on being dramatic? Please.”

A beat.

Then Johnny grinned wide and said, “You wanna hit each other with them again backstage?”

“Only if we sign a waiver first,” Joaquin replied, laughing.

First fic for this au!! Kinda sickkkkk!! (likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated and requests are always open!!!)

[bobsbagofmeth]

roomates!pb&jj — au where peter, bob, joaquin and johnny share an apartment in new york

[bobsbagofmeth]

𝐏𝐁&𝐉𝐉 જ⁀➴ 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐔

𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 - “𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲”

The chaos of the group. Peter is the one climbing hotel furniture, doing dumb dances, and interrupting interviews to compliment Joaquin’s outfit. He’s funny without trying, messy without caring, and full of that golden retriever energy that makes fans want to both adopt and date him. But when it's his turn on a bridge or a middle eight? Suddenly, he’s got this cracked-glass voice and eyes that say way more than his jokes ever do. The kind of guy who texts you he’s fine, but his Spotify playlists say otherwise.

Skinned knuckles and tangled headphones, hands in pockets, gum behind his ear, hoodie strings chewed, voice cracked from laughing too hard—the kind of boy forgets he’s already unforgettable.

“I didn't mean to fall off the stage. I was just trying to do the spin Joaquin did. Gravity betrayed me.”

Age: 17

Nicknames: Pete, PP, Baby (started as a joke from Johnny)

Gender/Pronouns: Cis male (he/him)

Sexuality: Queer (figuring it out—has crushes on everyone but pretends he doesn’t)

Close Friends

Joaquin Torres (his cool older brother)

Johnny Storm (friendly rivalry)

Bob Reynolds (terrifies him but he loves him)

Likes

Math memes

Youtube rabbit holes

Sugary cereal

Texting lyrics to Joaquin at 3 AM

Making fan edits of their own band (secretly)

Dislikes

Autotune

Shaving

When Johnny steals his snacks

Being called “the baby of the group” (even though he is)

Personality

Chaotic good—says the wrong thing at the worst time but always means well.

Loyal to the core—would walk out of an interview if one of the boys was upset.

Cracks jokes as a defence mechanism but his hugs are 100% sincere.

Makes friends everywhere, from drivers to stage crew—knows everyone’s name.

Appearance & Style

Layered necklaces, band tees from concerts he didn't attend, and scuffed sneakers

Favourite hoodie is from a skate shop that doesn’t exist anymore

Looks like he got dressed mid-jump out of a moving vehicle

The kind of style fans recreate because it’s chaotic, accessible, and so him

How He Smells

Clean laundry, drugstore body spray, lemon zest, and Sharpie ink

Smells like someone who showered just in time and used whatever he had

Always leaves a little trail of warmth behind—the scent equivalent of a hoodie hug

Little Quirks

Writes lyrics in the notes app… with no punctuation or structure whatsoever

Keeps weird mementos: ticket stubs, broken guitar picks, notes from fans

Talks to himself when he thinks no one’s listening—he’s always thinking aloud

Laughs at memes he saw a week ago mid-conversation—completely out of nowhere

Still eats cereal dry, from the box, with his hand, like a baby

[bobsbagofmeth]

my boys my boys my boys

[bobsbagofmeth]

𝐏𝐁&𝐉𝐉 જ⁀➴ 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐔

𝐁𝐨𝐛 𝐑𝐞𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐬 - “𝐆𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐁𝐨𝐲”

Bob doesn’t say much in interviews—but when he does, the room goes quiet. He’s the one fans write long Tumblr posts about, the one whose hoodie sleeves are always too long, whose solos are slow and aching and sound like midnight. He’s the moodier one, sure—but not cold. There’s a quiet kindness in the way he tunes Peter’s guitar or lets Johnny steal his fries. The one with the voice that stays in your head for days.

Dark circles under quiet eyes, sleeves pulled over ink-stained hands, guitar pick tucked between his lips or behind his ear, chipped black nails tapping out beats on his thigh, headphones in—even if there’s no music.

“If I write about you, you’ll never know. That’s the point.”

Age: 18

Nicknames: Bobby (he hates it for many reason but won’t tell anybody but the boys), Mrs Torres, Golden Boy

Gender/Pronouns: Cis male (he/they)

Sexuality: Gay (very closeted—even the boys aren’t sure)

Close Friends

Peter Parker (childhood friends—share everything)

Joaquin Torres (massive crush on him but will never admit it)

Johnny Storm (feels like Johnny hates him but have deep mutual respect)

Likes

Poetry books

Cigarettes

Vinyl

Staring out windows during thunderstorms

Playing piano

Dislikes

Being stared at

Fame

Being misunderstood in interviews

Social media (his account is run by management)

Personality

Silent but observant—he sees everything, says very little. Always looks a little lost in thought or like he’s writing a poem in his head.

Social battery runs out fast—disappears mid-party and no one questions it.

Has major golden retriever energy hidden behind his black cat behaviour.

Doesn’t know how to accept compliments. Will blush and look at the floor hiding a small smile. Every time.

Appearance & Style

Oversized hoodies, thrifted jackets, flannels he wears until they literally fall apart

All-black outfits with one random pop of colour (like red shoelaces or a blue beanie)

Always has headphones in—even when he’s not listening to anything.

Half of his wardrobe is technically Joaquin’s. He either “borrows” it without asking or Joaquin sneaks it in Bob’s laundry (whether it’s so he doesn’t want to do his own laundry or he wants Bob to wear it? No one knows.)

How He Smells

He smells like clean cotton, campfire smoke, and something earthy.

Wears subtle cologne—woodsy, almost musky, definitely trying to attract Joaquin.

Sometimes he smells like vanilla shampoo and hotel room coffee.

Little Quirks

Taps his fingers in patterns when thinking—fans have noticed it matches drum lines.

Keeps an old guitar pick in his shoe—says it’s “for balance” (no one knows what that means).

Keeps an oddly large collection of Polaroids in a tin Altoids box—never shows them.

Sleeps with his hoodie hood up and sleeves pulled over his hands.

Will ignore texts for 3 days then send a single meme and act like nothing happened.

[bobsbagofmeth]

𝐏𝐁&𝐉𝐉 જ⁀➴ 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐔

𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦 - “𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭”

The one with the wink. Johnny’s the boy in the tight tank who somehow still smells like fresh laundry. He’s all charm and chaos, pulling fans on stage, blowing kisses mid-chorus, and flirting with every camera like it’s the first date. But underneath the big energy and flashy smile is someone who burns fast and loves hard. He’s always the last to leave the stage and the first to check on everyone after.

Blond bedhead, sticky lip gloss on his cheek, gum snapped between teeth, bruised knuckles from a stage dive gone wrong, voice hoarse from yelling over the crowd—and still asking, “Did you see that?”

“I don’t flirt. I just talk and people fall in love. Not my fault.”

Age: 18

Nicknames: Blondie, J, Hotshot

Gender/Pronouns: Cis male (he/him)

Sexuality: Unlabelled and proud (has dated both fans and models—loves the attention, but craves the real stuff)

Close Friends

Peter Parker (his punching bag)

Joaquin Torres (his favourite person to annoy)

Bob Reynolds (respects him deeply, will never say it out loud.)

Likes

Sneakers

Flashy sunglasses

Parties

Taking shirtless selfies and pretending it’s “for promo”

His fans calling him “Daddy” on tumblr

Bashing the shit out of a new drum set—says he’s breaking them in

Dislikes

Getting rejected (definitely takes it personally)

Serious rehearsals

Being told no

When people say he’s “all looks”

Personality

High-octane charisma, constantly moving, constantly talking.

Flirts like he breathes—with fans, cameras, strangers, and even with his bandmates. (He’s kissed all of them except Peter, whether he was drunk or just for shits and giggles, he’s a boy kisser through and through)

Surprisingly thoughtful when no one’s watching (midnight snack drop-offs, “just checking on you” texts)

The kind of guy who can be super loud but still make you feel like the only one in the room when he looks at you.

Appearance & Style

Bleach blond hair, that the boys insist on dying random colours with semi-permanent hair dye.

Ripped jeans, designer sneakers, muscle tees with something dumb printed on them.

Lots of gold jewelry—chains, rings, bracelets he “borrowed” from someone.

Rarely seen without sunglasses, even at night (he calls it branding and says he’s trying to book a gig). Loves when fans give him custom glasses and cowboy hats.

How He Smells

He smells like citrus, after shave, and absolute trouble.

Body spray the boys clown him for but he loves it too much (says it’s his signature scent).

Always just-washed hair and something you can’t place—like the feeling of summer nights.

Little Quirks

Winks at every camera he sees—even when no one’s recording.

Chews pink lemonade gum religiously; always has a pack in his back pocket.

Refuses to eat before a show unless it’s spicy minute made ramen (“It activates me”).

Has a private finsta full of cursed pictures of Bob Reynolds, with captions to go with them.

Secretly gets stage fright right before they go on, always claps once to “shake it off”.

[bobsbagofmeth]

𝐏𝐁&𝐉𝐉 જ⁀➴ 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐔

𝐉𝐨𝐚𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐧 𝐓𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐬 - “𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐁𝐨𝐲”

The quiet one with the loudest fan base. Joaquin’s all sun-warmed skin, sleepy grins, and lyrics that sound like they were written on the back of a love letter. He’s the kind of boy who lets the others talk over him in interviews, then sings the verse that makes everyone cry in the car at midnight. He’s got that effortless Harry Styles feel: charming, soft, but always a little out of reach. Somehow shy and magnetic at the same time. The type to write a love song and never admit who it's about.

“He said his favorite sound is the moment right before you laugh.”

Age: 19

Nicknames: Joa, JT, Pretty Boy

Gender/Pronouns: Cis male (he/him)

Sexuality: Bisexual (leans emotionally to guys more, physically to girls—overall a complete lover boy)

Close Friends

Peter Parker (like a little brother)

Johnny Storm (chaotic duo)

Bob Reynolds (very flirty friendship—fans ship them HARD)

Likes

Journaling

Thrift stores

Indie records

Polaroids

Late-night drives

Slow dances even when there’s no music

Dislikes

Loud arguments

Being rushed

Industry drama

When fans put the boys against each other

Personality

Warm & Grounded, with a genuine energy that makes everyone feel seen-he’s the one who always stops for fans, remembers their names, and signs the last poster even if he’s late to soundcheck.

Flirt without trying, has that slow blink, head tilt, and “you’re the only one in the room” look. His charm isn’t loud but it’s dangerously subtle.

Protective older brother energy toward Peter, but gets flustered when Johnny teases him back.

Appearance & Style

Floppy curls that fans want to run their fingers through (and that Johnny tries to mess up before interviews).

Soft brown eyes that always look like they’re hiding something.

Wears open shirts, bandanas, sports jerseys, rings, and jewelry gifted by fans. Never the same outfit twice on stage—always styled but effortless.

Has a tiny bird tattoo on his collarbone that peeks out when he performs. No one knows its meaning.

How He Smells

Vanilla, warm sandalwood, and fresh laundry—like a hug you never want to end.

Occasionally mixed with citrus or coffee depending on the season.

The kind of scent that lingers on someone’s pillow or hoodie long after he’s gone.

Little Quirks

Talks with his hands, especially when excited.

Always carries a leather notebook full of lyrics, doodles, and the occasional pressed flower from fans.

Likes to nap in weird places—backstage storage closets, under coat racks, on top of Johnny, or with his head in Bob’s lap.

Taps his fingers on his mic during interviews when he’s nervous.

Has a habit of kissing his necklace before going on stage for good luck.

[bobsbagofmeth]

𝐏𝐁&𝐉𝐉 જ⁀➴ 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐔

The pretty boy. The hotshot. The golden boy. The baby. Four boys, one band, and a million memories.

PB&JJ, friends that went from messing around in a garage only to be thrown together in a studio before they knew what was to come—now they’re figuring it out on the world’s biggest stage.

They laugh too loud, argue too often, and love each other more than they’ll ever admit.

Their music is messy but their hotel rooms are messier, coming together as friends and growing up as brothers.

⭐️ Each characters name has a link attached to their own separate character breakdown!!

🎤 Joaquin Torres - Lead Singer

✩ Harry Styles

Warm skin, sunlit curls, thrifted denim, ink-stained fingers, soft brown eyes that don’t look away, voice like honey, late night lyrics and black iced coffee.

🥁 Johnny Storm - Drummer

✩ Niall Horan

Gold chains and grass stains, lemon soda, bitten lips, loud laughter in quiet rooms, sunburned shoulders, cologne and heat, stargazing on rooftops.

🎸 Bob Reynolds - Guitarist

✩ Zayn Malik

Cold hands, cigarette smoke on sweaters, guitar cords in empty halls, unread texts, under-eye shadows, torn notebooks, midnight trains and eyes that never stay still.

🔊 Peter Parker - Bassist

✩ Louis Tomlinson

Messy hair, bandaids on fingertips, secondhand hoodies, bitten nails and chewed cheeks, cracked phone screen, tangled earbuds, late-night snack runs and laugh-crinkled eyes.

4️⃣ PB&JJ - Boy Band

Cracked knuckles, tangled chargers, Polaroids, tired eyes and inside jokes, the scent of cologne and candy, shared hoodies, gum wrappers and scribbled lyrics in denim pockets, freckles, bruises and borrowed rings, missed calls, laughter that turns to snorts, takeout on studio floors, petty fights over headphones and boys who grew into brothers.

Hey!!! I hope you love this as much as I do!!! I have so much more I want to write about for the AU so please please interact so I know people are reading!! Requests are always welcome and a masterlist and taglist are coming soon<333