#bowers

CW: Dub/Con, Rough/Aggressive Sexual Content,Physical Restraint & Choking/Neck grabbing, Marking and Biting, Toxic Possessive Behavior, All Characters w 18, Neutral Reader, Degrading Language, Dirty Talk.

Read at your own discretion because this is not a romantized version of Henry.

Enjoy!

The noise of the car horns and the blasting music made the entire Bowie house shake. Greta had cordially invited you to the party they threw every time a school term ended. A little bored, you started to move through the crowd, your eyes stopping for a moment longer than they should have on the group of losers that everyone always seemed to screw with. You laughed to yourself, imagining how Greta would lose her mind just by seeing them hanging around her house, with the exception of Eddie, but there they were.

You walked near them, quickly noticing how one of them tensed up immediately just seeing you walk in front of them for some punch. Beverly quickly noticed how her friend tensed up and whispered to Bill, both of them laughing maliciously. It had been a true miracle that the Marsh girl came out of her cave and her father's beatings, everyone knew what the poor girl went through but, for girls like her, it was a reason for mockery. Especially that time the whole fucking town saw her unhinged father chase her through the streets. Your fingers grabbed the plastic cup in an attempt to pour yourself some punch, you noticed someone else approaching to serve themselves too and you stepped aside. Next to you was Richie Tozier, the famous "Trashmouth" you had heard about. You laughed seeing him nervous by your side trying to keep up that cool guy facade. "I thought Greta hated you guys." You stared at his face with an amused smile. Richie tensed up like a rock instantly, he almost expected you to punch him or throw your punch on his white Freezers shirt. He smiled timidly before answering, shifting his gaze to the ground every two seconds. "Actually, she does." He smiled while taking a step closer to you. "But as long as she doesn't know we snuck in through the backyard, it's all good." He said almost whispering but loud enough for you to hear, it was funny. You had always seen Tozier as someone merely brave or slightly retarded. It had been newspaper news when he mocked Bowers calling him "banana foot" and how brats chased him for several blocks until he lost them in a store. "Let's see how long the fun lasts for you guys." You elbowed his arm while giving him a pretty smile. Richie's eyes lit up and he squeezed the plastic cup spilling a little liquid onto the floor, Eddie from the back was laughing at his stupidity, next to him the Hanlon guy and Hanscom were laughing right along at seeing him weaken over a simple exchange of words. Richie saw your silhouette disappear into the crowd and he was finally able to relax for a moment, he sighed and turned around heading toward the others who were just a few steps away. "Don't tell me you hooked up with her, ladies man." Hanlon patted his back a little harder while, once again, he spilled punch onto the floor. "From the quarry I could smell your armpits from how stinking and sweaty you were, fuck." Beverly mocked while smiling and waiting for him to comment on his interaction. "Go to hell, all of you." He smiled while flipping the bird to everyone who was surrounding him. While for you things were very different, after that brief exchange of words with the Tozier boy, you walked a few steps before being intercepted by Henry who looked pretty pissed off for some reason. His rough hands tightly grabbed your wrist without a shred of gentleness. "Hey! wow, what's wrong with you? Fuck!" You snapped, trying to break the grip he had on your wrist which was starting to become deliberately painful. His brow furrowed big time, his breathing became erratic and totally frantic, you noticed how his blue eyes twitched sporadically from brief spasms of bottled up rage. "You like playing around like a total bimbo, don't you?" He yanked your arm toward him while his body trapped you against one of the house walls. You gasped in pain, you looked around only to notice that the people there didn't give a flying fuck about what was happening around them. His rank breath hit your face with pure rage, you closed your eyes instinctively seeing him so furious. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about." You said firmly but still scared by his brutal strength.

"You know damn well." His teeth almost ground together with the force behind those words. His eye, which still had that tic, didn't stop staring at you for a single second. "I guess you're gonna go blow that fucking trashmouth now, aren't you, bitch?" "Henry, stop fucking around with that shit." You looked to the side, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you broken, but it was unavoidable how freaking hot it was to see him so worked up and jealous. "You don't tell me what to do, bitch" he spat, completely shameless as he crowded your personal space. His lips were so close they practically brushed yours, his grip on your wrist still solid as a rock. You could feel his heart hammering wildly against his chest, the exact same frantic pace it hit when he caught you shooting the breeze with that four eyed piece of trash. His brow furrowed even deeper, but right along with that psycho rage came a twisted sense of ownership. That's exactly why he was doing this getting right in your face and claiming you like he was some kind of king. The king of the freaking garbage heap, more like. His lips finally twisted into a wicked grin as he yanked you down the hall, dragging you fast into one of the bedrooms of the massive Bowie house. He slammed the door shut behind him and slammed your body right against it. Before you could even catch your breath, his hand was wrapped firmly around your neck, not squeezing enough to choke you but solid enough to let you know you weren't going anywhere. He crowded you from behind, his crotch pressing hard directly against your backside. "You'd love for that fucking virgin to have you like this, wouldn't you, huh?" he whispered darkly in your ear, pinning you even tighter against the wood. "He don't know shit." The total irony of it all? You two had only hooked up once a few weeks ago. You figured it was a one and done deal, a random mistake, but this psycho completely saw you as some kind of trophy. He thought you belonged to him now, and it was becoming crystal clear that the king of the garbage heap wasn't going to leave you alone anytime soon. He completely lost whatever bit of control he had left, frantically ripping at his belt and yanking down his zipper. Without a single shred of shame, he shoved your pants and underwear down to your knees in one rough motion. He smacked his palm against your bare skin before burying his face deep into the crook of your neck, biting down so hard it was definitely going to leave a nasty, ugly bruise. "Fuck!" you gasped, thrashing against the door as a sharp jolt of pain shot through you. Taking advantage of you pinning yourself forward away from the bite, he rammed himself all the way inside you in one single, brutal thrust. The sudden, unyielding stretch made your breath hitch completely, your fingers clawing at the wood of the door as he held you tightly in place.

"Oh, sweet Jesus" you rasped, your words slurring together as your body completely short-circuited from the intense overload of pain and pleasure hitting you all at once. You let out a loud, breathless moan one that would have tipped off the entire town of Derry if the bass from the speakers downstairs wasn't currently rattling the windows. Henry let out a low, gravelly grunt, his free hand locking onto your hip like a vice grip. He used it to pull you back against him, driving himself even deeper into you with zero mercy. All you could do was gasp and whimper in response, completely helpless against the wall. He was absolutely wrecking you, and the total lack of control you had right now was just as dizzying as the sheer, brutal heat of him moving inside you. His hips kept slamming violently against your backside, which was already stinging and bruising up from his rough slaps and heavy-handed grips. "I'm gonna assume you want to fuck around on me with that little punk, huh?" he growled, a dark, twisted smirk spreading across his face. He let out ragged, breathless gasps, trying to swallow down the sheer rage and jealousy eating him alive. But the truth was, he was completely losing his mind over how tight and exquisite you felt wrapped around him. "No..." you breathed out quickly, shaking your head as you arched your back even more, practically begging for the solid impact of his body. Henry didn't hesitate for a single second. Catching your rhythm, he locked his grip onto your hips and began driving into you with even more brutal force, the heavy thud of his hips against you echoing over the distant thumping of the bass downstairs. His thrusts began to slow down just a bit, the heavy friction shifting as his grip moved. The hand that had been pinning your hip slid up along your abdomen, mapping the heat of your skin until it reached your chest, squeezing you tightly, bruisingly hard. He let out a low, guttural growl right against your ear, his chest heaving violently against your back. With a few final, heavy, deliberate thrusts that buried him as deep as he could possibly go, his entire body went rigid. Henry buckled against you, shuddering violently as he finally hit his limit, spilling himself deep inside you while his fingers dug hard into your skin, anchoring himself to you until the tension finally began to drain from his muscles. "Fucking Christ..." you breathed out, the words completely escaping you as the final, intense wave finally crashed over you. Your vision blurred and your knees buckled, giving out entirely under the sheer exhaustion. But Henry didn't let you fall. With a low, ragged huff, his arms wrapped securely around your waist, pulling your weight back against his solid chest. He held you up, keeping you pinned tightly to him while he remained deep inside you, his frantic heartbeat thumping hard against your back as you both tried to catch your breath in the quiet of the locked room. "Stay away from that little shit." he growled near your ear, letting out a low, satisfied groan that completely melted whatever resolve you had left. You let out the last bit of air trapped in your lungs, a breathless laugh escaping your lips. Even with your knees shaking and your skin bruised, you couldn't help but smirk against the wood of the door, feeling a wave of dark amusement wash over you. He was completely unhinged and territorial, but damn, he knew exactly what he was doing. You turned your head just enough to glance back at him over your shoulder, your eyes hooded but challenging, thoroughly enjoying the fact that you had the king of the garbage heap completely wrapped around your finger.

༘⋆𖦹 🎪 🎈˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

Well, I loved the idea of ​​keeping their bratty side in play for this scenario. I hope I met your expectations, honey

Be free to suggest anything my lovers!

Hope y'all enjoy!

𝑩𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓'𝒔 𝑮𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒒𝒖𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒚 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

CW: Leering and intense non-consensual fixation, implied animal cruelty, implied childhood physical abuse (Henry scars), period-typical vulgar and derogatory language (including 1980s slurs) and toxic group dynamics.

"Come on, you fags." he raised an arm to get everyone's attention.

"We're going to the quarry. It’s hot as hell out here, and you guys want to roast your asses inside Belch's car." Henry scoffed, furrowing his brow as a bead of sweat rolled down his cheek a dead giveaway that the heat was already taking a toll on all of us.

Victor started complaining that being at the quarry was just as hot as hell as staying inside the fat boy's car.

"You're a fat ass, Victor." Patrick laughed for the first time in the conversation, though he couldn't care less about being in the car or at the quarry it was all the exact same shit to him.

"Oh shut up you fuck-face" He shot back.

"That place is full of garbage." he muttered one last time, leaning back against your side. To you, this was just a bunch of childish bickering, but what were you gonna do? Unfortunately, you had to call these guys your "friends."

Henry flashed a quick glance at your legs before looking up at your face, shamelessly admiring your cheeks, which were flushed from the heat inside Belch’s car.

"What about you? You’re so quiet it’s making me jumpy." Henry muttered through his teeth as the others shifted their attention to you. Henry bit the inside of his cheek, staring at how close Victor was staying to your side.

“I don’t give a crap.” you said, completely brushing it off as you rolled down the window to get a breath of fresh air—inside the car, it felt like walking on literal lava. Henry rolled his eyes and whipped back around toward Belch.

“Get your ass moving to the quarry. Asking these brats anything is like talking to a damn brick wall.” Belch chuckled, shaking his head, while Patrick stayed dead silent the whole ride… except for when he spotted a fly inside the car.

It took a couple of minutes before we finally hit the quarry grounds and made it up to the ledge. Everyone piled out of the car. Victor barely even wanted to budge, but Henry and Belch kicked his ass right out of there.

Since he was being a lazy chump, Henry and Belch exchanged a look before rushing him, stripping him of his clothes until he was down to his underwear.

They grabbed him by his arms and legs and bolted toward the ledge of the quarry.

"No! NO, NO!" Victor thrashed around, but the two of them wouldn't let go for dear life. They started swinging him back and forth before tossing him over, busting a gut laughing. Patrick and you watched the whole scene from the back with zero intention of stepping in.

Patrick smirked wickedly when they let go of Vic, sending him plummeting into the empty air toward the water. You couldn't help but laugh uncomfortably at the sound of that maniac's chuckle.

Belch dove in right after Vic in a cannonball that nearly blasted all the water out of the quarry. Henry started stripping down to his underwear, and you couldn't help but notice the scars patterned across his back. You quickly snapped your gaze over to Patrick, who, by contrast, was skinny to the point of being scrawny.

To be honest, it was a bit hilarious lookin' that difference.

You ended up diving in right after Henry, stripping off your clothes and tossing them by Belch’s car. Patrick seemed lost in some kind of trance, staring at an ant colony near the ledge while flicking his metal lighter dangerously close to them. You didn't want to stick around to see how that turned out.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

"Christ." Victor muttered, wiping the water dripping from his hair and face with his forearm. From where he was standing, Belch tossed a towel straight at his face, expecting nothing in return.

Everyone was soaked to the bone. You had to admit it was pretty funny, but at the same time, seeing Patrick actually jump into the water was weird as hell. You'd never pictured him doing something like that, and honestly, even trying to imagine it was a stretch.

"Hand me a beer from the cooler." Henry said, drying off his mullet, which was now all matted down from the water. His skin gleamed like a pearl, and you could see the tension in his muscles as he caught the beer Belch tossed his way.

You stayed in the water, admiring and feeling grateful for the temporary peace this place could offer you. No shouting, no bickering, no nothing.

After a little while, you found yourself craving one of the juices you'd brought along, the ones you had nicely asked Belch to keep in the cooler. You climbed out of the water, waving your hand at Belch to signal him to toss you a towel.

Belch looked at you and tossed a towel, but not before tilting his head away in embarrassment. The truth was, it was the first time you’d been around them in so little clothing.

Henry shamelessly stared at your cleavage and the way the water droplets rolled down it. Flushed, he tried to play it cool by pretending to look out at the horizon, restlessly bouncing his leg in an effort to calm his raging thoughs.

Vic’s pale skin had turned a subtle shade of pink that you didn't even notice. In fact, you hadn't caught a single one of those "little" glances, even though these guys didn't know the first thing about being subtle. You walked over to them, completely clueless about how you were driving every single one of their thoughts wild.

Patrick stared dead at the water droplets tracking down your skin without a shred of decency. He followed you with his eyes until you were standing right in front of him, completely oblivious to how he was examining every single detail of your body with genuine fixation, a pretty bizarre one, to be completely honest.

You crashed down onto one of the towels to catch some sun and dry off since, with this whole plan being so sudden, you hadn't even had time to put on or bring a change of clothes.

Every single one of them was admiring every detail of your body, in a cowardly and pretty embarrassing way. Victor finally decided to grab the juice that belonged to you and hand it over. "It's… pretty cold... hehe" he said, not really thinking about what was coming out of his mouth on the inside, he was dying of secondhand embarrassment at his own words.

"Thanks...?" you smiled, not reading too much into how he was acting, even though it was pretty weird for all of them.

Henry swallowed hard, watching how completely calm you were, totally unaware of how you shook up the whole atmosphere just by being there. It made him feel incredibly weird.

You noticed the atmosphere getting weirder by the second, and you looked at all of them, frowning in total confusion.

"What the hell is wrong with you guys?" you muttered, somewhere between a laugh and sheer bewilderment at the way they were acting. "You look like a bunch of little piss-pants staring at a girl walking by." You finally smirked, realizing how a couple of missing layers of clothing had completely struck them dumb.

Henry finally snapped out of his trance, his brow furrowing at the mere mention of those pussies who made his life a living hell, according to him, obviously. Those poor devils didn't hurt a soul. Nobody asked for having a "please punch me" face to be a crime in front of this ape.

𝑩𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝑮𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝑻𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆⋆ 𖤓 ⋆˚࿔

Cw:Strong lenguage, Cruel humor, Underage smoking, past violence.

(Not Pat include because is book ref babys)

♡

“Pass me that pack of cigarettes, Vic.” You waved your hand in the air, gesturing for the blonde to give you what you’d asked for.

Uncharacteristically, it was a rather quiet afternoon, completely free from the noise of any trouble or nuisance with a first and last name.

You felt grateful as you sensed the cigarette pack in your palm, lighting one up with ease.

Vic walked over and sat next to you on the trunk of the car as he took the pack of cigarettes back.

“Don’t want a drag, Belch?” Vic looked over his shoulder at Belch, who looked like he had just stepped out of a sauna with how sweaty he was.

"Nah, catch ya later on that." he muttered with deep concentration, turning the wrench on the car engine or whatever it was he was fixing.

Vic shrugged, slipping the pack into his leather jacket while inhaling and exhaling his own cigarette with a hint of anxiety.

You noticed how Vic tensed up as he inhaled the smoke and completely relaxed his body the moment he exhaled it. You drifted your gaze toward the inside of the car where Henry was, unusually quiet, staring at the switchblade his old man had given him.

"This is total shit." Henry’s gravelly voice finally cut through the calm of the afternoon. He propped his feet up on the dashboard, sinking deeper into the seat. We all went quiet, waiting for him to go on.

"Don’t just sit there like a bunch of goddamn morons. We should be doing something" he spat, his irritation rising, though his focus never wavered from the edge of his switchblade.

Belch was about to rag on him for putting his feet up on the dash, but he thought better of it and kept to himself, using his forearm to wipe away the beads of sweat dripping down his face.

Vic tensed up instantly, getting antsy for the simple reason that Henry's idea of "doing something" never meant anything good.

He still had flashbacks to the rock fight, which had started as a simple "Let's go blow some firecrackers up that black kid's ass" and ended with Henry flat on the dirt with a broken nose and a bruise the size of a battleship.

Those little shits made Henry's blood boil if anyone so much as breathed a word about them around him, but sometimes you just had to risk it for a good laugh... right?

You blew out a cloud of smoke, chuckling a bit before you spoke.

“I still remember when Belch wiped out right on top of the loudmouth over by the Tracker Brothers' field.” You smirked, taking another drag from your cigarette. Next to you, Vic couldn't help but laugh along, shaking his head. Henry cracked a few light chuckles, nodding as he finally tore his eyes away from his switchblade for a second.

“That fat ass of Belch's could barely move, and when he finally did, it was just to land butt-first right on the loudmouth.” Henry started laughing out louder, especially remembering how when Belch got up, he'd snapped a couple of the kid's fingers in the process.

Belch just offered a weak smile, turning a bit red at the memory.

“Oh! Oh! And don’t forget the burp of the century he let rip when he stood up. That hypochondriac kid's face was priceless!” you said, slapping your palm against your thigh, which was clad in tight black drainpipe jeans and high boots.

Henry and Vic busted out laughing, ragging on Belch right then and there for being a total pig most of the time.

“Go to hell, all three of you.” Belch finally said, grabbing a rag to wipe the grease off his hands. We couldn’t help but laugh even harder at that.

♡

♡

I hope y'all enjoy this little scenario and tysm for being patient

˙ . ꒷🍰 . 𖦹˙— ʙᴏᴡᴇʀ'ꜱ ɢᴀɴɢ x ʙᴜʟʟʏꜰᴇᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

CW: Severe bullying, physical violence, strong language, severe harassment, Reader with mean girl personality, Queen-Bee dynamics.

(Short scenario but i think i will do more abt this topic...)

You stared at your reflection in the girls' bathroom mirror, slicking on a coat of strawberry lip balm while admiring how good it felt to be a total bitch. Your 'friends', if you could even call them that, since they acted like desperate puppies begging for your approval, and God, you loved it were huddled next to you, pretending to check their own hair but constantly stealing side-glances.

They envied your beauty, suffocating their own jealousy under a layer of cowardly, complicit smiles

You started twisting the cap back onto the small balm, catching one of them out of the corner of your eye.

She was the girl brought in to sub for one of your regulars who’d been out sick.

You openly, shamelessly sized up her outfit, and you immediately noticed how she tensed up under your gaze while you kept your chin tilted high, radiating absolute superiority.

You flashed her a sweet, venomous smile just before you began to tear her apart, piece by piece

"That sweater looks sweet." You offered a closed-mouth angelic smile. "Where did you buy it?" You feigned astonishment as you stared at the hideous sweater stepping closer to her.

"My mom buy it for me..." she said, visibly happy and blushing at having your undivided attention on her, while the other girls stood watching expectantly, exchanging complicit glances that showed their annoyance at having your attention taken away.

"How sweet." you sentenced with a fake smile as you walked alongside her, while making a silent gesture behind her back for two of your girls to grab her

She couldn't help but let out a sharp gasp of surprise as she felt foreign hands tightly pinning her arms, leaving her completely immobilized. You stood right in front of the girl, looking down at her with pure disdain. There was no apparent reason for doing what you were about to do to her but you enjoyed it more than anyone. You glanced over at your clique and motioned for one of them to come closer, whispering something in her ear that remained a complete murmur to the rest.

The blonde girl rummaged through her pockets and pulled out a pair of school scissors, a malicious smirk blooming on her rosy cheeks as she closed in dangerously on the girl.

You just watched, chin tilted high, radiating an aura of pure wickedness.

You smiled and dropped a few final words before stepping out of the bathroom to keep your hands clean.

Walking a few paces away from the restroom, you headed toward your locker. You opened the metal door delicately, catching your reflection in the small mirror attached to it, and fixed your hair, noticing in the background of that very mirror how that gang of misfits was watching you, like wolves eyeing a flock

You slowly closed your locker door before heading to your classroom.

──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!

"What a stuck-up bitch" Belch muttered with obvious disgust, watching you walk smoothly toward your classroom. Henry stared intently at your every step, as if he were looking for something in you

Victor tried his best not to look at you; there was something about you that captivated him, but also something that repelled him. He figured it was because Patrick never took his eyes off you.

"I don't think she's a stuck-up bitch" Patrick said for the first time all morning, his eyes locked onto the bounce of your hair with a sick fixation. "She's like that Elvis song" He murmured to no one in particular. Henry, visibly annoyed, began to furrow his brow.

"We'll see how long her little act lasts" he said with a malicious smirk, crossing his arms over his chest with obvious satisfaction. He was imagining all sorts of twisted ways to make you stop being such a stuck-up bitch.

his father had taught him well how to break girls of that act, and he wouldn't hesitate to put it to the test.

I'm back, i swear it's true this time fellas 😭

(Thank u for the 140 followers and the 1000 likes, i really love y'all)

TW: Disturbing content and a little smut.

🎬Patrick is the type of guy who when he bites his nails, doesn't spit them out; he swallows them or uses them as weapons against the flies he collects inside his pencil case.

🎬He has zero sense of personal hygiene. Once while crashing with the Bowers gang, they criticized him for smelling very bad (you can imagine how bad his scent was in a group of guys who have zero knowledge of the term daily shower) Henry threw a face of total disgust at him while Victor just let out a "Jezz" while his fingers pressed his nostrils and his free hand fanned the air.

🎬He tends to create very uncomfortable moments with his laugh. He is someone with a very strange laugh, and not in the funny sense but in the weird one.

🎬His mother forces him to pray every night before bed. The poor woman thinks that with the grace of some God she will be able to cure her "sick" son. He doesn't dislike it, really, nor does he care. He only gets irritated by the fact that his mother enters his room.

🎬He is prone to watching strange and disturbing things on VHS tapes that he rents illegally. He is capable of getting hard just by imagining you as the girl in the tape and him as the one who hurts you.

🎬He has a strange fixation with the movie Pet Sematary; he likes to watch and replay the scene when Church dies so he can touch himself (especially when he shows signs of rot)

🎬If he had a fixation on you, he would never leave you alone for a single moment, he doesn't know how to approach without being a total idiot or a pervert, he is incapable of saying anything "normal". He doesn't know personal space, he would be constantly fucking with you to get your attention in twisted ways, possible threats as well.

🎬He likes to steal your pencils and snoop through your backpack, he wants to have your belongings to feel like a part of you belongs to him.

🎬He isn't someone with any sense of shame; he wouldn't have any problem approaching you, much less with being handsy.

🎬He likes to play the part of the good boy with his mother; he isn't the most obedient son, but he isn't one to cause her trouble. Since Avery's death, his father has remained distant from him, but Patrick always plays his cards as the good, quiet boy of the house.

🎬He doesn't like being with the gang in general; he just observes and joins the violence when it actually looks fun to mess with people and give them a hard time. He knows Victor doesn't like his presence, and he uses that to make him uncomfortable by staring at him while rolling a fly carcass between his fingers.

🎬He doesn't understand the concept of softness; he just does things his way and according to his own needs. It’s possible he’d also be unfaithful and not feel guilty about it, since he doesn't believe anyone is real enough to ground an emotional bond (he doesn't know what that is, anyway).

🎬He isn't someone with refined tastes; he would look for someone just interesting enough (at least within his own head) and fuck with them until he gets what he wants.

🎬He will follow you home so he can see which routes you take without you noticing. He collects very personal things of yours.

🎬If you were to be intimate with him, it is likely you would be recorded for his personal use at a later time (he would never tell you about the tapes, and it is possible he would show them to the others).

Helloo! i know it's been a while but here i am lol, i will upload some headcanons and scenarios you guys send me, i promise!

Bowers Gang *ੈ🎡‧₊˚ 𝘝𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘦'𝘴 𝘋𝘢𝘺 𝘚𝘵𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘶𝘱 𝘉𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘛𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘘𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘋𝘢𝘺 Henry Bowers 𝘋𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘫𝘰𝘣 𝘉𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘚𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝐉𝖾αᥣⱺυ𝗌 Patrick Hockstetter 𝘝𝘏𝘚 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘏𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘋𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘭 𝘊𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘱 Victor Criss 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴

🚲ᯓ⋆.ೃ

"M'sorry," he had whispered into your skin, the radio playing some sappy song even at the late hour. And you had just shushed him softly, kissing the top of his head as your hands kept working against his skin. He hasn't said much else other than apologies since he got here, sorry about waking you, being an inconvenience, and every time you had stopped him gently. A soft act he didn't think he wouldve appreciated so much.

His hands are shaky as the wrap around your waist, after you've finished with the cream, and you pulling the blanket over the both of you, him shoving a stuffed animal off the bed abit too harshly, in which you laugh, "who needs bears when your here?" You had whispered, peppering soft kisses along his face, before you had fallen asleep in each others grasp.

Waking up in the morning with him still at your side, realizing the reason you had woken up was your father in the doorway, you had told them about his situation not long ago, needing advice on how to help.