#reggie huggins imagines

[reggieservices]

if you are accepting requests right now, the gang with a verrry short s/o, like 5'0 pls 👉👈

Yessss gladly <3 I made it non-poly, Im sorry if you didnt want that!

Bowers Gang x GN! Short! Reader

Warnings: mention of size kink (basically Patrick being Patrick)

Henry Bowers

+ Oh my oh my.

+He would absolutely ADORE you.

+ He's over the average height (I'm thinking -5'11 or 6ft), So he absolutely loves being around a shorty like you

+ Will 100% bend down and rest his hands on his knees to talk to you

+If he's annoyed with you he'll put things that you need on the very top shelves, making you ask him to get it down

+ Constantly poking fun at you and lifting you up like a cat

+ Enjoys giving you big ol' Forehead kisses every time he sees you

+ always rests his hand on you head

+ Hugs you from behind and rests his chin on your head

+ Will beat tf out of anyone who tries making fun of you tho

+ That's for him to do only.

+ will protect you with his LIFE

Vic Criss

+ The Short King himself

+ He is absolutely thrilled to have you as his s/o

+ finally, someone he has like 8 inches over

+ Dont be dirty readers ik what you're thinking😑

+ He finds you small size so adorable, and is always telling you how cute you look

+ Once for your birthday, he got you a step ladder as a joke.

+ Since you are so short, he loves buying you big ass platforms because ✨rich kid syndrome✨

+ Absolutely spoils you

+ He calls you his "Thumbelina" after the Hans Christian Andersen story

Patrick Hockstetter

+ Okay well the moment he saw you he had to have you

+ Our pale, lanky, stick of a man thought you were the cutest thing ever

+ He loved giving you his shirts since they almost went down to your knees, and he just thought that was so hot

+ Definitely thought about you under him and how big he was compared to you turned him on immensely

+100% has a size kink I dont make the rules

+ He loves holding things above your head and teasing you when you can't reach

+ Like Henry, he rests his hands on your head while you guys hang out

+ Always reaches over you

+ he would definitely poke fun at you all the time for your shortness, but at the end of the day he adores it

Reggie Huggins

+ Oh wow

+ He is a GIANT compared to you

+ Big man is maybe 6'4

+ Constantly giving you piggy back rides

+ You guys recreated the Simba and Rafiki lion rock scene from The Lion King

+ Would absolutely melt when he sees you stealing his shirts and hoodies

+ First time he saw you he was actually astounded at how short you were. He physically could not fathom it

+ Whenever he hugs you he lifts you up a foot off the ground

+ His strength and height basically makes him like a big soft guard dog for you

+ Cuddles cuddles cuddles and did I mention Cuddles? He will smother you

+ First time you guys actually did cuddle he was scared of rolling over on top of you and squishing you :((

+ Will be delighted when you ask him to get you things from high places, he loves doting on his s/o

+ will do anything in his power to protect you and smack anyone who makes fun of you

************************************************************************************************************************************************

AAAA this was so freaking adorable

Again I am so so sorry to everyone's requests I have not gotten to yet I have been incredibly sick and busy but I have a couple in the drafts rn so do not fear!!! have an amazing day and reminder to please send in more requests!!!

~Reggieservices

[prettygirls0nly]

Possessive - Patrick Hockstetter

Word count = 1033

• You became friends with the Bowers Gang over the summer.

• All of your friends and classmates were out of town, except, of course, the 4 boys that made the Bowers Gang. So after a couple of really boring days, you came up to them and started a conversation.  

• You were surprised to find out that after what seemed like an endless amount of weird and sexual comments they could have a normal conversation.

• The first person to warm up to you was Henry. He asked you questions about yourself and invited you to come along with them to Quarry (with the disapproving faces of his friends, of course.)

• After that day, the guys picked you up every day to bring you with them to party's or to just drive around town. Everyone seemed to be happy with the new company, except Patrick...

• You didn't talk a lot and opted to stay quiet when you were together in the backseat of Belch's car. But, when one late and drunk night you got left alone with him in a room for whatever reason, a conversation sparked between the two of you. You talked for what seemed like hours and a friendship has existed ever since that day.

• The last couple of weeks of maybe the best summer of your life flew by in what seemed like seconds.

• You were a little sad. Not only did school start again, but your friendship would probably be forgotten and you'd have to go back to your old friends.

•  But when the first day of school, the familiar blue Trans Am pulled into your driveway, you knew that this school year was going to be much different than the ones before.

• Your friendship stayed the same and lucky for you, you even shared some classes with The guys. Math, History, and English with Henry, and Chemistry with Patrick.

• Because you shared so many classes with Henry, you two grew closer. You did homework and projects together and you tutored him for Math.

• Although you spent a lot of time with Henry, you still made time for time for the others. After school, you hung out with them all at the Quarry, and every night Patrick knocked on your bedroom window. The two of you talked, and talked, and talked, for hours. And one night you both fell asleep on your bed.

• The morning after was also the moment Patrick realized that he had a crush on you. You just looked so cute. Laying there with your eyes closed, your pink lips slightly parted, and your face only inches away from his. It took him everything to not press his lips to yours, but he was a good boy and quietly climbed out of your window.

• After that morning, Patrick felt a strike of jealousy hit him every time he saw Henry put an arm around you or just touched you. Every time he saw it he just wanted to rip you out of his touch and kiss you right in front of them and show them you were his, and only his.

• So when one day he sees Henry put his arm around your waist and push you to him, he couldn't contain himself anymore. He practically ran to his friend and wrapped his hands around your arm before pulling you away from Henry.

- "What the fuck?" Henry cursed as he looked at his friend with a bitter look. Patrick, however, chooses to ignore his friend and let his eyes settle on your figure that now stood in his arms. As his eyes looked at you, you couldn't help but blush. His stare was so intense and so hungry...

"Don't let him put a finger on you again, I'm the only one that gets to touch you."

• That day after you left, Patrick shouted some words and threats at Henry and made sure that after today he'd be the only one that got touch you.

• Not long after that day Patrick gathered all his courage and went up to you.

- "Hey, Patrick!" You exclaim as Patrick climbs through your bedroom window.

"Hey, I need to talk to you." Patrick nervously scratches the back of his head and sits down on your desk chair. You sigh and quickly follow behind him before sitting down on his lap.

"If this is about Henry. He hasn't even looked at me for the last couple of days." Normally those words would've brought a smile to his face, but he was to focused on keeping down the whimper that threatened to leave his lips as he felt parts of you rubbing against him that he had never felt before. "Patrick?" You say and put a hand on his cheek. "You still there?" Patrick snapped out of his trance and looked at you. God, why did you need to look so beautiful?

"Y-yeah, I just need to tell you something." You nod and Patrick takes a final breath. "I like you, Y/N. And I want you to be mine."

You smile as you listened to his words. You already knew he liked, you were kinda just waiting for him to confess. And now that you hear his slightly nervous confession, you can't help but feel a little happy. As you thought about your answer, Patrick looked at you with nervous eyes. Did he just fuck it up?

After a couple of seconds, you looked into his eyes and cupped his cheeks. "I think I'd like to be yours, Patrick." As you finish your sentence you lean and let your lips collide in a gentle kiss.

[muscle-gay-ghost]

Man i wonder what it'd be like to be Patrick Hockstetter's girl.

Like, at first he didn't think much of you, but somehow you showed up on his radar; somehow standing out among the crowds in school, whether it's because you're quiet and shy, never with the rest, even if you're physically standing in the middle of the throngs of people. It's obvious that you're not part of them. Or maybe you're very outspoken about being different, it's so prominent; how you dress, act, your vibe, if you're like, goth, emo, punk etc.

Whatever it is, you catch Patrick's eye. And so, not completely of your own free will, you start hanging out with the group, but even the other three are well aware that you are his, and they know not to touch you, or even come within a foot of you. Other people at the school, be it your friends, other peers, teachers, they also take notice of this, because Patrick makes sure everyone knows you're spoken for. And these people, on more than one occasion, try to warn you and they pity you for your naïveté, because surely there's no way you're in this situation with all the facts, right?

Lol, if only they knew. This murderous psychotic solipsist has somehow decided that you're real, and therefore, he must protect you at all costs. You are his to keep, his to love. And you know everything about him, his little brother, his fridge, everything. You know him. He's your Patrick, your silly little pyromaniac. And you know that this unfathomably dangerous man would do anything for you. Other people are always so flabbergasted when they see the local sociopath holding your hand, walking you home, tenderly stroking your cheek.

The other three Bowers' gang members can only laugh when some poor soul tries something with you; they know that it's only a few seconds before Patrick shows up, because he's never far, something that brings you great comfort and makes you feel safe. He would take you into his arms, check you over for any signs of hurt, discomfort, anger. If you're crying hell shush you and whipe your tears. Once he knows you're alright, he kisses your forehead and lets you go to stand with the other three, while he turns to the culprit with murder in his eyes.

Patrick being soft for you, and you alone. He would burn down the whole world if it meant you could be warm.

[idkiwillfindone]

Alright but my favorite headcanon that came out of a fic is that Reggie’s dad is a short skinny guy who’s basically a nerd while ms Huggins is a 2 meters strong lady

Like imagine that one day, when they were kids, Henry and Belch were watching the cartoons at Reg’s house and his mother comes in the room and casually lift one end the couch whit them still on to clean under it

Henry is completely blown away, all his life he was taught that women were weaker then men while Reggie is totally nonchalant about it

She could easily kick Butch’s ass and he’s lucky that she doesn’t know that

[milkybonezz]

Concept! Instead of the losers club having to go back to derry its the Bowers gang 👀 Mayperhaps we can get a couple of hc with reader 👀👀

anon, I like your style... I have some hcs about these silly little boys and their silly little careers so you have unleashed something awful

We shall start with the man himself Mr. Henry Bowers:

Now, I like to imagine that Henry stayed in Derry, taking the role of Mike within this scenario because irony obviously, but it also seems the most fitting for him. He will have stayed on his father's old farm and refurbished it, growing produce and other such things to sell but business is sure to have fallen during the big boom of exported produce in supermarkets year-round. He was the one that made all the calls and got his boys (And you, dear reader) back together again in Derry, although admittedly he didn't want them to come back as he had never really settled down into anything serious relationship wise and that fact deeply embarrassed him. Kept his gorgeous mullet, as with it comes his true sense of identity

Patrick Hocktetter

This one's a tricky one, because I cannot conceive a world in which Patrick lives past 20 but let's all pretend that he does. In the book (despite my best efforts to forget any mention of Patrick within it) it is said that Patrick took a liking to art which leads me into thinking that he could have potentially done something with it if he could escape the clutches of the large brown scrawling phase, although that would definitely sell well because art has gotten to a point where a brown squiggle is worth more than an actually well-constructed piece. Okay rant over, but Hockstetter became their resident artist, and piggybacking off of this, he found he didn't need to settle down but could rather benefit from it and use that lifestyle to continue living his little pervy life with no resistance. The call from Derry was unexpected, but not unwanted really.

Reginald 'belch' Huggins

Reggie I feel went on to do some sort of public service, I'm particularly drawn to him being a firefighter but goddamn it he'd be one hell of a nurse. He for sure settled right down and fairly quickly too. A family man through and through but unfortunately without any kiddos at all, so he lives vicariously through fostering them with his wife instead. He lived pretty simply, and had gone on to maintain vintage cars like his trans am in his free time. God he's the sweetest middle-aged man in the world and he'd pretty much completely forgotten about Derry until Henry, his old pal Henry, had called into his work, telling him it was back. That really shook him up, but he's not one to go back on a promise. He moved out of Derry not long after his mother passed away, but didn't leave a moment before. Reg became her primary carer in her final years of life and was there right until the bitter end.

Victor Criss

Initially I had Vic pinned as more of ant arty, free spirit type of guy and then I realised he would probably be suited to a profession requiring intelligence and a lot of it, so I chucked him in as a civil engineer, earning his degree at one of the most prestigious tech universities in the world, MIT. His hair is no longer bleached, a phase that clung on until his mid-twenties and let thereafter. Vic was the richest when they were kids and this still remained, he had shitloads of inheritance money from both his grandparents as well as his actual parents piled up on top of his pretty handsome salary. When Henry called he was pretty freshly divorced and on the verge of being all washed up, nothing but money and a big empty house, so it was nice to hear someone else's voice, even if it came with the announcement that he would have to pack some clothes and fly himself back to Maine... Back to Derry.

Our dearest reader

Now, I cannot actually decide what line of work you want yourself to go down in this scenario, but I can try and prompt where I think you guys might have ended up. If this doesn't suit you, feel free to disregard it and build your own storyline. However, for the sake of this I'm lumping the readers together and putting you all down as a photographer, okay? Okay. You moved out of state after high school to pursue these photography dreams of yours and you got really good at it too, I mean photographing celebrities for Vouge kind of good. You found someone halfway decent and got eloped, just a small thing, no big deal at all. Admittedly you don't truly know if you love them or if you're just with them to fill the void. Like shoving a matching piece from a different puzzle into a jigsaw so that there's no gaps, even if it doesn't feel quite right. The call from Henry gives you an out, it gives you an opportunity to retrace your steps. To find that puzzle piece you seen to have lost along the way.

BONUS ROUND

adding Peter Gordon and Moose Sadler to the fray bc I'm bitter they weren't in the movie(s)

Peter Gordon

Peter Peter Peter oh boy! For those of you who have not read the book, Peter is another rich, West Broadway kid and therefore I'm a little drawn to him just sort of lounging jobless and relying on daddy's money to keep him afloat but at the same time he could potentially buy out a big company and work as it's head so that is the path I selected for him. I feel like he'd definitely be all about benefiting from the US's terribly unfair health system and run himself quite the successful pharmaceutical business. Got himself a wife or four and lived pretty damn good. The call from Bowers probably brings up a lot of resentment that he'd been harbouring after the rockfight where he stopped being friends with Henry, but in his heart he knows it's go back and fight or commit one final act of cowardice and end it all. He chose the former.

Steve 'moose' Sadler

Now, I can imagine Moose leaving Derry, but I don't think he'd ever leave Maine. Poor thing's dumb as a box of rocks withing that state so going elsewhere and having an accent barrier was just another thing he didn't want to deal with. Much like with Reg I do picture him to be a family man, or at the very least settled and comfortably married. A construction worker seems like his calling. He's big and strong and too dumb to know that his job doesn't really pay as well as his wife would like it to, but it keeps them in their house and puts food on the table so she can't complain all too much now can she? Moose's phone call was the longest, as he had retained the least of that summer they all faced It together, but he was certainly the most eager to come and reconcile with Henry. Where Peter held resentment with Henry after the rockfight, Steve was clinging on to shame, and lots of it.

[bubbl3sworld]

IT

The Bowers Gang

Imagine…

Bowers gang dating a black girl

Bowers Gang as shoes

Bowers Gang taking out your hair

Reggie ‘Belch’ Huggins

The Hardware store

[patrickhockstettersfrisbie]

Bowers gang when they're drunk oneshots

Henry-he gets super touchy and all his walls break down he tells you everything about his dad and how much he loves you, you definitely use that to your advantage to try and get him to go to bed because you know he'll have a massive hangover the next day but you have to go to bed with him or else he won't sleep Henry stated you did agree though and a couple minutes later he's out like a light.

"Henry,you have to go to bed or else you heads gonna hurt really bad tomorrow" he groaned laying his down on your chest "No" "please" "I'll go to bed if you cuddle me" "deal"

Patrick- he's really giggly and horny when he's drunk, when he's behind you he'll grope your ass and whispers you the dirtiest things in a slured voice, he's super happy tho his face is in between your boobs giggling and having a great time he wasn't doing anything Sexual...yet suddenly he was fumbling with your bra you looked at him suspiciously then he stopped and you didn't pay attention until you felt a sharp pain come from your nipple he pinched me

"Ow, Fuck that hurt patrick" he giggled "aw no milk came out" you stared at him for a moment "because I've never had a child patrick" he Smirked "I can change that you know" "patrick you need to go to sleep" "only if you sleep with me" "fine but behave" "no promises"

Belch- he's really confused and clingy when he's drunk he'll randomly ask weird ass questions that leave both of thinking about it "if life's not fair for everyone...wouldn't it make it fair" "Reggie how do you come up with these.." he also hugs you a ton kisses you and picks you up where ever you are to

"What came first the color or the fruit orange" "Reggie how long have you been thinking about this" "long enough to talk to you about it" I gigged "well let's talk about going to sleep I'm tired" he groaned and flapped down on my stomach "but I'm not tired..." plan b than "but I can't sleep without you Reggie..we can cuddle to.." he groaned and layed his head on my chest "fine..only because I love you"

Vic- vic is very whiny and clingy at the same time when he's drunk he'll complain about the smallest things and tell you how much he actually loves you its sweet..but kinda annoying to he'll continuously try to play with your hair and complain about the guy he saw yesterday afternoon

"I really really really don't like him is my point" vic slurred "I think I heard you say something like that.." I sighed and laid my head on vics chest quiet until vic broke the silence "..can I tell you something" "yea" "I love you..like a lot" I paused "I love you more vic" he silenced passed out

[bitches-who-write]

Bower's gang

Outfit he'd buy you

Patrick

Belch

Henry

Victor

[junk-yard-hearts]

REQUEST - Hi, I love your writing! Would you be comfortable writing one of your poly Bowers gang imagines about a girl with an abusive family and the gang protects her? If not I understand!! Thank you

A/n: the topic is really dark so I decided to give this a kinda cheesy happy ending ♡

TW for implied/ themes of abuse

"Y/n, we gotta talk."

You were sitting at one of the outdoor lunch tables near the edge of the parking lot, drinking pop and drawing on the cover of your Biology notebook instead of studying your free block away like you swore to Mr G you would, when you heard Reggie's voice from behind you. You popped up in your seat a little, taking off your headphones and turning to face your boys walking up to you.

"Hi babe." You say to Reggie, smiling. But your smile fades when you recognize the somber expressions on their faces. "And other babes. Whats wrong? Why the long faces?"

They crunch their way over the gravel, making their way to take the remaining seats around you.

Vic, sitting right across from you, reaches out and takes your hand in his, stretching out your arm. The newest bruise there, on the pale underside of your arm on display to the whole group.

"What is this?" he demands, not wasting any words. You blink back, dumbfounded, not knowing what sort of excuse to use.

"Um. I- What do you mean?" You stammered.

Henry rolled his eyes, huffing at your feeble attempt to play dumb. "We're not stupid, y/n. Its every fuckin' time we see you, it's like soon as one bruise fades there's 2 more in its place. Who did that?"

"What do you mean 'who did that?'" you ask, stalling because you knew exactly what was coming.

"What was it this time, princess?" Patrick asked. Patrick's expression looked less like he was concerned for your wellbeing, and more like he was finding amusement from guessing with himself on what kind of excuse you could throw together this time. Would it be blamed on that short blonde girl from your PE period antagonizing you again, or tripping? Were you finally going to admit what they all were sure they knew? You looked around at your surroundings, almost like you were searching for an escape route. Vic's grip tightened on your hand to bring you back to the situation.

"I don't know what you're talking about." you snapped, snatching back your arm. "W-We played dodgeball in gym today," you began stammering through a recycled excuse. "And Greta has it out for me - She kept throwing them right at me even though we were on the same team."

Reggie sighed, shaking his head.

"Y/n. You used this same story last time we asked. You gotta tell us."

Your face flushed and you wrapped your arms nearly around yourself, tucking your hands into your armpits. "I don't know what you're talking about." you whispered, fighting back embarrassed years.

"Princess," Patrick began, wrapping a bony arm around you. "Last time you told us that, we trashed her car. And then we found out, she's not even in your class."

"I just don't want to talk about it." Your voice had dropped to a low whisper, your cheeks beet red.

Henry stared at you, his face shifting from a determined frown, to one of outright annoyance. "Don't you know if you just fuckin' tell us, we can do somethin' about it?" He lowered his voice to speak his next sentence. "Y/n, if your dad hit you again, we can protect you. We won't let you be alone with him again."

You sighed, knowing your resolve to keep your suffering to yourself wasn't going to hold. You'd wanted to keep this private, knowing your boys and all your friends had their own struggles; you didn't want Vic and Henry worried about your father when they had their own fathers to fear themselves. And Reggie had struggled seeing the way his own dad treated his mother before putting their home in his rearview. But you could see in them, save for Patrick, just how okay it would be for you to share this with them. Because if anyone would understand, it would be them, right?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You hadn't stepped foot in your own house in weeks. One day after school, when your father was at work, your boys followed you up the stairs into your room for what you hoped would be the last, and they "helped" you pack your clothes into their emptied bookbags- helped by laying on your bed, putting your stuffed animals in lewd positions, and rifling through your underwear drawer dividing your panties into "grandma" and "hot" piles, respectively.

With all their bags full of your clothes, your perfume and makeup and your most beloved stuffed animals, they walked you to Reggie's house.

They'd came up with a plan they were thrilled about, to trade off who's house you'd be staying at every few days. Henry knew his father, always concerned with town talk and appearances, would never so much as raise his voice in front of anyone else. The thought of you sitting on his sofa doing your homework, keeping his father's aggression at bay thrilled him.

And that's what you did. After a night sleeping curled up to Vic, he'd walk you to Patrick's house where his mother and father were ecstatic to greet you- just happy to see their antisocial boy finally have someone want to be around him. His little brother, Avery, would insist on dragging you to his room to play with his new Legos until Patrick finally got sick of waiting. And at the end of weekend you'd move on to Reggie's, who's mother would see you two out the door to school, and always check in before bed. At Henry's you'd help him with his farm chores, and when his father took late shifts to avoid the house, you'd try your best to put together supper with what was left in the fridge.

And you were happy. As long as you were showing up to school, passing all your classes, your father didn't make any attempts to bring you back, knowing he'd have to reveal why you'd left.

When you had to return to your house to find your birth certificate for a job interview, you entered the house surrounded by your boys, and you felt like the first lady guarded by secret service. They were true to their word- they helped you leave and they kept you safe and protected. You never had to fear returning home again

[reggieservices]

Hey could you maybe do an hc where the reader is the twin of Patrick and he loves her so much (brotherly) and like (not in a creepy incestuous way) obsessed with her

I've seen something like this, thank you for giving me the chance to write it!!!

Patrick Hockstetter x F!Twin!Reader

warnings: semi-obsession

Authors Note ~ Reader has shoulder length hair thats cut almost like a wolf cut, kind of like patricks

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~From the moment you guys were born, you guys were completely inseparable.

~ Where ever you go, he went

~ And wherever he went, you went

~ Your parents thought it was a little bit weird, how close you two were, so you were taken to a child's psychologist

~ While your parents were away talking to the doctor, you and Patrick had a grand time in the playroom, eating blocks and messing with other kids

~ The psychologist explained that you guys' relationship was pretty normal for Pigeon twins, and that the closeness would probably fade off in a few years

~ But actually, the exact opposite happened

~ By first grade, you and Patrick had almost morphed into the same person, personality wise

~ Even your hair matched

~ Maybe you had started fading away, or maybe Pat just thought you were, because it took an even deeper turn after 6th grade

~ His obsession with you got even further

~ He never thought sexually about you, but he felt an unexplained love for you that he couldn't control

~ You were real

~ Alive

~ You two were the only real people and he vowed to protect and love you forever

~ Lets be honest, Patrick is extremely narcissistic

~ And you're his twin. He sees himself in you, and how attractive you are reflects on him

~ He takes pride on both of your appearances

~ He combs your hair, and goes online to look at hairstyles for you guys

~ At school, he follows you around, always staying close and watching your every move

~ If anyone tried having a go at you, he'd have a say in it

~ You guys had power over Derry

~ You and the Bowers gang were a sight to behold

~ You guys ran rampant, going into the woods every night, getting trashed, throwing wild parties at whoever's house you could.

~ unlike Pat, you probably care more about your grades, so you end up doing your work and sometimes his, so he doesnt have to repeat another grade

~ The Bowers Gang was like a big gang of idiot brothers to you, and you would all protect each other against anything that came your way

~ Pat even tells you about his fridge, you’re the only person he’s ever showed it to

~ Patrick also likes to watch who you interact with

~ If the captain of the football team tries hitting on you, patrick would have a nice talk (read; threaten ) with him about talking to you

~ It does get really annoying, but you know hes just scared of losing you to anyone who comes close

~ As a result, he tries blocking almost everyone off from you

~ There are alot of rumours around Derry about you guys, mostly in the highschool

~ Patrick doesnt care about that though, he just wants to keep you in his pocket where he knows you’re safe

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Heyyy I am so sorry to everyone who’s asks I havent answered, I am working on them right now!! Please, you guys have requests send them right in!!! love y’all 

[prettygirls0nly]

Predictable - Henry Bowers

Word count = 939

"That is such bullshit. When I'm sticking it to a girl, I want her moaning as loud as possible."

"Well..." you sighed. "Have you ever really done it?"

Oh. It was almost scary how easily you saw right through him. Even for a guy like Henry who doesn't exactly have a hundred layers to peel back, you were fast.

"What are you talking about, God- yes, of course, I'm not a fucking loser." He spat out, his cheeks flushing when he finished. Henry had never really been the best liar, but speaking the truth would've taken much more courage than what he had left within him.

"Hmm." You weren't buying a second of it.

And he felt so damn ashamed. Was he really that fucking transparent?

After a short silence, Henry grabbed his drink and downed what was left of it. Feeling the quiet buzzing of heat streaming up to his cheeks, whispering courage into his veins.

"...I- I want to."

"Hmm." This time it felt more comforting. "It's nice," you said while smiling.

He thought about what you said for a second. Let his mind wander to all the places you may have been, to all the people you have been with, to all the ways you've done it. It made him happy, made him warm to his chest. Wherever, whoever, however, it made him happy that in whatever way it was, you enjoyed yourself.

You sighed while playing with the lacey hem of your dress, one, two, three cheap beers into the night you had slipped into a blissful state, just enjoying the moment of you and Henry alone in your living room. Sometimes, even though he was a year older than you, Henry would remind you of the guys of your past. So boyish, so crass, and completely clueless. You pitied him because of it sometimes, who was there for him to teach him what it meant to be a man? Who was there to teach him about life? Who was there to teach him how to treat a girl?

"You want another beer?" He asked, breaking the silence that had settled in.

"Yea sure." You smiled, watching him as he headed for your kitchen. You always found it quite charming how Henry could walk into any place and move around like he owned the damn place.

While in the kitchen Henry took a moment to light a cigarette, slowly inhaling the smoke as his thoughts raced. He felt so bare, wondered what other things you knew by just looking at him, wished he could ask you: "Am I really that predictable?". He wondered why it even mattered, nothing was supposed to matter.

He grabbed a few more beers from the fridge and walked back over to the living room with the cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. God... He loved the way you looked tonight. The white lacey babydoll dress that loosely sprawled out over your thighs was his favorite, made you look like an angel. The whole night he had almost been scared to look at you, just talking and talking hoping it would distract you from the fact that he was flustered from just being around you.

"You know damn well my parents don't want cigarettes inside the house." You said, hoisting yourself up onto your knees on the couch and reaching up to grab Henry's cigarette from his lips.

Henry smiled, "Your way too much of a goody two shoes, you know that.".

You rolled your eyes and dropped the cigarette into an empty beer can. "Well maybe I like being a good girl, not everyone can be like you."

"Yeah, I'm glad you're nothing like me." Henry sat down on the couch, cracking open his beer before taking a large gulp. It was true, he loved all the ways in which you were opposite of him, loved all the ways in which you were starting to rub off on him.

You moved closer to Henry grabbing the beer from his hands and taking a sip. "Well, we're more alike than you'd think."

You weren't far away from him now, with your body completely turned towards him and your knee brushing against the side of his thigh, Henry wondered if you knew just how nervous you made him. With wide eyes, he looked at you, tentatively anticipating whatever word you would say next. Secretly hoping that you would say nothing at all and simply lean in.

"I want approval just as much as you do, I want- no need someone to look at me and say that I'm worth all the heartache and stress."

Henry thinks of how brave you are, saying something like that, laying something vulnerable like that out in the open. He thinks of how honored he feels, how special he feels in this moment, how connected he feels to you. Yet his body betrays him, there's not enough power in him that can muster the courage to say to you all the things he wants to say to you. He simply looks at you, swallowing hard as his hands reach forward and cup the back of your head, enjoying the way your eyes slip close at the sensation of his skin against yours. He takes another second, making sure to take in every detail of this moment before leaning in and finally connecting his lips to yours. Vulnerable and fragile, the moment plays out, there's no movement, no frantic fighting of tongues, just lips to lips, savoring all the ways your bodies react to this moment.

[emotional-starfish]

Hey just wanted to let y’all know that it’s been a rough couple weeks but I’m picking myself up and dusting myself off.I’ve been trying to recover from a BED for a month or so now and I was doing quite well. Then my world went upside down and I lost a lot of control. It’s kinda like I’m a video game haha... you die then res pawn and know all the trick up till where u lost! And slowly u make it to the final level!

Relapses are hard but I want any and everyone who is going through it that they are not alone. AND UR BASICALLY A VIDEO GAME CHARACTER SO BE THE LINK WE ALL DESERVE!!

-C

[a-pretty-nerd]

Country Roads (Poly!Bowers Gang x reader)

Request: "Hey.. it was my birthday today and it was not a really good day and I just wanna cry.. I feel so bad.. so could you write something about the bowers gang for me..? I don’t want to bother ect, I just need something that can warm my heart in that shitty day.. ❤️ " ~ @derrynews

A/N: I have a Loki request that I answered first, which I will get to, I promise. This just took a lil more priority because of the circumstances. But it will not go ignored! So! Don't be afraid to make requests ✌❤

P.s. - This is lowkey meme af but I also tried to make it sweet. So...sorry not sorry!

Warnings: None.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

That morning was long and hard, for everyone. You hadn't partied the night before, no one was hungover or sick. This Monday morning was just particularly hard on you and the rest of the gang. You woke up sore from sleeping weird the night before, and you were utterly exhausted.

Henry was in a general bad mood, which you all chalked up to his father. Patrick was too tired to function, which was not a common accurance. When Patrick gets tired, he tends to fall asleep wherever he is, be it in class, with the gang, or (rumor has it) in the middle of sex according to an ex-fling of his. Reggie was fine, for the most part but he wasn't feeling too hot himself and whenever someone else is upset or sad, so is Reggie. And Vic, vic had a headache.

So everyone felt like a pile of shit first period, and met up between first and second. Where you all looked at one another and grouned and complained. The bell wrang and you all shuffled off to your respected rooms. You and Henry, having economics together. You sat in your seats, respectively next to one another in the back. The teacher watched you with a glaring, beedy eyed gaze. That was not your assigned seat, and you had many arguments with her about the topic. But you won. You were sitting wherever the fuck you pleased and if that meant next to your friend/lover, (its all very complicated) then fuck her.

Henry stared blankly at the front of the class, no information going in or coming out that hollow head of his. You stretched the best you could, trying to shake the pain of your sore back and muscles. You hurt all over and the stinging from your eyes wouldn't go away. Henry's leg began to shake halfway through class.

"Hey. Lets get the fuck outta here." He grumbled to you.

"Its only second period, if we leave now security will nab us." You groaned back. Henry gave an unsafe huff. "Lets just wait till lunch."

"I can't wait that long."

"Yes you can." You argued. The rest of class was silent note taking for the most part. Henry and you flicked bits of torn notebooks at one another for fun. You got scolded. You stopped...until she looked away. Finally, you were let out and once again you met up at Henry's locker where you all grumbled to one another.

"We should just skip." Vic said as he rubbed his eyes.

"Thats what I fuckin' said, but Y/N said no." Henry whined. Everyone looked at you, almost disappointed. Though it was never said explicitly, and it didnt always go this way, but there was unspoken rule that you and Henry were the decision makers. And you had to green light most things.

"I didn't say, no. I just said security will catch us!"

"Fuck security." Reggie huffed.

"Fuck this school." Patrick mumbled. And so, you left school. Security did in fact see you, but they simply watched as you all piled into the Trans Am, and drove off.

For a while, the car went silent. No one had a destination, or a word to say. You sat in the back, between Vic and Patrick as usual. You layed your head back, and rested your eyes. The warm spring air covered your body like a blanket and the breeze prevented it from being too hot. All was perfect. Vic leaned his head over and rested it against yours. For just a moment, you were content and happy with your boys.

"Lets see whats on the radio." Reggie mused. A loud click, and the car was flooded with the beginning of an old song.

West Virginia, mountain mama

Take me home, country roads

The song had just started. Normally, Henry would demand it be changed to the rock station or they play a cassette. But he didn't, he looked out the car window and just listened. Everyone listened.

And driving down the road I get a feeling

That I should have been home yesterday, yesterday

Patrick sturred next to you, and at first mumbled then he raised an arm above and wrapped it around your shoulder to pull you in closer. He spoke, and began to sing in a muffled tone.

"Country roooooads, take me hoooome."

"To the plaaaaace, where I belooooooong!" Belch joined.

"West Virginiaaaaaaa, mountain mamaaaaa!" You joined.

"Take me hoooome, country rooooooads!" Vic. You all began to sing along, other than Henry. Who sat there in the front with his hand over his mouth to stiffle a smile. You all song along, Patrick singing horribly at the top of his lungs just for the hell of it, and everyone else joined. Screaming the lyrics hysterically and happily as the car drove until trees which flicked the light above your heads.

The song eventually ended, which caused and eruption of laughter and more shouting. Patrick squeezed you close with goofy smiles plastered on your faces until it all quieted down again.

"You fuckin' idiots, we're in Maine!" Henry shouted through a smile. It made you laugh harder.

"WESTER VIRGINIA! MOUNTAIN MAMAAAAA!" You all shouted at him. Its funny how a song so strange and old and ridiculous could change your whole day.

[random-fanfics-101]

Bowers Gang x Friend! Reader Christmas Present Headcannons

Vic: Vic would gasp and stare with his mouth hanging open the second he looked at the present you got him. He was very pleasantly surprised to see a Polaroid camera staring back at him. He’d never told any of the guys that he was into art and photography, but you kinda were too so it was something you and him could bond over.

He’d throw his arms around you, trying to hide the tears in his eyes. From then on, his camera went everywhere with him, even if the guys always teased him for it. He always wanted to catch any opportunity to take any pictures when the gang was swimming at the quarry, having a campfire late at night, or just doing anything else he could capture good memories with.

Henry: Henry would never show how happy he was in front of the guys when you gave him a present, but later, when it was just you two, he’s give you a reaaaaaally long hug. The kind where he nuzzles into your neck to try and hide the face that he’s got a tear or two falling down.

Let’s be honest, this boy has never gotten an actual present before, so even before he opened it he was shocked. He just looked at it for a minute before grabbing it from your hand, taking note of the huge grin you had on your face. When he opened it, he was (secretly) happy to find a huge, fuzzy blanket. Because of the situation with his dad, who you all knew was super neglectful, Henry had only been sleeping with a sheet over him for a long time. In the summer it wasn’t so bad, but the fall and winter nights made him think his toes were gonna freeze off.

When he gave you that hug, at first you just gasped. You’d never expected Henry to do that. But it lasted about 2 minutes and he pulled away with teary eyes.

“Thanks Y/n,” he mumbled, trying to sound tough but failing when his voice came out choked.

“Of course, Henry,” you smiled sweetly, leaning up and giving him a quick peck on the cheek, leaving him a little pink.

Patrick: Patrick was a little dumbfounded when he opened the gift box to find... another box. Except this one was wooden. He undid the lock and lifted the top to find a picture of the gang in a small golden frame on the underside of the lid, and a really expensive looking switchblade placed ever-so-snugly in the foam casing that surrounded it.

He did not hesitate to give you a hug right then and there, and when the guys started teasing him about the big smile he had on his face, he refused to let it leave his lips. This was one of the nicest things anyone had willingly given him. His mom had gotten him presents when he was little, but that stopped once he got older.

Reggie (Belch): Reggie was always a pretty classy guy. He always insisted that he didn’t want anything. It was so difficult to shop for him since he never told you anything, so you just took into consideration what he likes the most. You knew his favorite color was black, and you knew he loved his car. Hence why there is now a pair of black fuzzy dice hanging from the rear view mirror in his car, that will probably never be taken down.

[rosalynbair]

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