Henry Bowers x Fem!Reader
Chapter Three (3)
Word Count: 1, 647
Tag List: @ashisthresh @lesbian-flowerpower @turtlebabeparadise @cortneyblack @mads—world @snek-shit@goldofight-blog @trenchcoatofbaddecisions @trashywolfhard@worthington @mythicalamphitrite @fiction–is–better @hiighdeex3 @farbowanylisek @franklydisagrees @inkmonster21 @imaginesforthepeople ( it won’t let me tag you for some reason, turtlebabe :/ )
I gasped, my mouth making an 'O' shape as I put my hands up against my chest, and I took a small step back so that the carton of chocolate milk wouldn't splash all over my legs as it hit the tiled floor, busting open. The plastic green tray hit the floor with an echo, and the rest of my food followed right along. A small bit of pizza sauce splashed on to a pair of black Doc Martens. My eyes traveled up the dark washed jeans, past the studded belt, over the gray tank-top that was slightly hidden behind the opened up, navy-white-polka-dotted button-up shirt, and landing on the blazing eyes, stoned faced Patrick Hockstetter.
The wind almost seemed to be knocked out of me. As much as I wasn't expecting this to happen, I especially didn't expect for Hockstetter to be the one in front of me. Henry had been the one messing with me all day, hell, I would've preferred it to be him then this creep that stood before me.
The cafeteria was silent. It appeared as if everyone had stopped breathing, shocked at the scene before them. Some of their faces even shared the same scared, wide eyes as mind did, going back and forth between Patrick and I.
Even as a long piece of his black, greasy hair fell down around his left eye, Patrick continued to keep them strictly on mine. A glint of mischief passed through them. I felt my heart rate pick up and I suddenly got the uncomfortable urge to nervously mess with my fingers. "Watch where the fuck you're going." It was obviously him that had run into me, but I wasn't going to be the one to tell him that. His eyes let up as well his tight lined lips, creeping up into a no teeth grin that definitely would've made me shiver if I wasn't so petrified. "Next time I won't be so... generous." And with that, he stood back up straight, his eyes scanning the room indicating that everyone should go back to what they were doing before.
Quiet mumbles pick back up as heads turn back to their own tables instead of the mess in the front of the room.
As if they had a mind of their own, my eyes whipped to the back corner of the room where seven others sat (soon to be eight with Patrick on his way toward there) at their known table.
Victor Criss sat on the right end of the table, his back turned toward me. A plain white shirt stuck to his pale, skinny body and his bleached platinum blonde hair fell to the left of his face, almost covering his entire left ear, but he'd end up getting it cut by the time next week rolled around.
Peter Gordon, a rich West Broadway kid that only hung around Henry to spite his 'perfect parents', sat beside Victor. A jean jacket loosely fit around his torso and the collar of a white button up could be seen peeking out from the top of it, and his black hair was set in a perfect Elvis Presley wet look. Peter's girlfriend, Marcia, sat next to him, his right hand sat still on her left thigh.
Marcia Fadden was another rich West Broadway kid that's often hanging out with Greta. Despite how pretty she could be, Marcia didn't keep up with her skin too well and has heavy face acne that's hidden behind her perfect white smile, blue eyes, and shoulder-length blonde hair.
Steve Sadler completed the end of the front side of the table. Also called 'Moose', he's currently in his second year of being a senior no thanks to his own self. I could only see the back of his worn brown shirt, but I was more than sure some stupid words were scrawled on the front of it. His jet-black hair stuck out in odd angles in a rockstar kinda look.
Opposite of Moose sat Gard Jagermeyer, a sophomore that you could definitely tell was in the year below the rest of the gang (two—or three actually—for Moose). He's even skinnier and smaller than Victor is, but he makes up for it in his speed and reflex when fighting.
Belch Huggins was next in line. His real name is actually Reginald Huggins, but the only ones who call him that are the teachers, and Belch is just a given nickname (you could probably guess why...). He's heavier set than the rest, but his build evens it out good. His brown hair is almost always hidden behind some random baseball cap and I don't think I've ever seen him not wearing a band tee-shirt.
Patrick had taken his seat beside Belch by now, and on the other side of Patrick, directly across from Victor, sat mullet boy himself. Despite how normal they all sound, the same menacing glare that Henry wears all the time is also etched onto all their faces. The only difference is that they're not as bad as Henry is (Patrick an exception though). They just follow along with what he does and with what he tells them to do.
It wasn't pointed out too much, but there was a clear line between the boys (and girl). They were all considered apart of Henry's gang, but Belch, Patrick, and Victor were the only ones who are really seen with Henry a lot. The rest of them were more like acquaintances of Henry's. Beverly likes to call them his followers.
My eyes landed on an icy-blue pair that I couldn't seem to escape from all morning. Instead of the usual smirk and gaze, his face held an observing look to it. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that he was the one to set the whole play up, telling Patrick to bump into me.
I didn't notice Brian had walked over toward me until my eyes moved down to the floor, taking in the mess that painted the white and green tiles. Thankfully, none of it had gotten on me. "Fucking asshole," Brian muttered, bending down to help me pick up the mess as best as we could. Beverly had already walked off to get some paper towels from a stack that was placed on a table full of food essentials, like sporks and napkins, near the kitchen area.
"It's fine, Bry," I whispered to him, sighing in defeat as I picked up the busted carton and distorted pizza slice. We walked over to the trash, throwing everything in the bin and he set the plastic tray on top of the part of the trash that stretched outward (like you'd see at a fast-food restaurant).
"No it's not, [Y/N]. He obviously did that on purpose." Brian shook his head slightly, some of his blonde hair that was swiped to the right of his face fell out of place and he used his hand to comb through it, making sure to put it right back. Brian was undeniably handsome, with blonde hair that got darker as it neared the roots and perfect green eyes that complimented his tan skin. His jaw set in a clench and he narrowed his eyes at the table that the school's tormentors sat at. "They're all either gonna end up dead or in jail rotting before they're even twenty-five, and not one person is gonna feel sympathy for them because it's what they deserve."
I didn't say anything back to that, because their wasn't anything to say to that. It was the sad truth that no student or even teachers spoke about, but everyone thought it. I had even heard the teachers talking among there selves about it once about a year ago. I bit my lip and went back to the mess where Beverly was currently at, laying down napkins on the spilled food. We finished cleaning, leaving only a sticky floor as evidence that the situation ever happened.
Brian took my hand in his, intertwining our fingers together. "Wanna get another tray? I'll pay," he offered.
Despite the fact that I knew my stomach would be growling like a whale next period, I shook my head and denied the offer. "Lost my appetite," I shrugged and he didn't push any further on the situation, leading me to our table where our friends sat—in reality they are actually Brian's friends and their girlfriends. I know of all of them and they all know of me. I didn't mind Brian's friends though, or their girlfriends; just a bunch of jocks and cheerleaders that liked to mess around and party.
When we sat down, Brian immediately joined in on a conversation that was going on between two of his best friends, Josh and Damian. "Hey," I looked to the petite blonde that sat in front of me, Adriana. She wore her green and white cheerleading outfit since a football game was going on tonight. Adriana is my favorite person out the group. "You okay?"
I nodded, "Yeah."
"They're just assholes that like to pick on people that are better than them. Don't get too worked up about." She gave me a friendly smile that showed in her eyes. I just gave her another tight smile and nod, wishing everyone would forget what just happened and stopped talking about it. "I'm having a small get together at my house next weekend, you and Brian should come." Her eyes glanced over towards Beverly who sat on my right, "You too, Beverly."
Beverly gave her a toothy smile, her cheeks flushing as she moved a little piece of her red,wavy hair behind her ear. "Sure, sounds like fun."
They both raised an eyebrow at me, waiting to here my answer.
"How'd your date go?" I ask my mother, seeing her in the kitchen fixing herself a cup of coffee. I make a bee-line toward the fridge and open it up, getting out the blue carton of eggs and the jug of milk.
"Amazing, as always with him." My back was turned toward her as I grabbed a plate from the cabinet, but I could still practically hear the smile in her voice.
I hum in response, then grab the bread bag out of the pantry. "Did you ask him to come over for dinner so I could finally meet him?" I steal a quick glance at her to catch the thoughtful look on her face, then return back toward my food.
"Uh, no, not yet. But, I was planning on calling him later to ask actually." She walks over to help me make breakfast, grabbing a few pieces of bread and putting them into the toaster. "I actually wanted to ask you, is it alright if I tell him to bring his son along with him?"
I snap my head towards her, "His what?! You didn't tell me he had a son." She gives me a sheepish smile and a shrug. "How old is he?"
"Fifteen or sixteen, I think that's what Oscar said. I don't really remember, but he's in your grade and goes to your school." My mom grabs the butter and jelly out of the fridge, proceeding to grab a butter knife from one of the drawers.
I finish up making the scrambled eggs, spooning them onto each of our plates. "What's his name?"
"It's, uh... dammit. It starts with an H, I'm positive of that." I rack my brain trying to think of any guys I know whom's name starts with an H. I was getting ready to speak when, "And before you ask, no I haven't met him, so no, I don't know what he looks like." I close my mouth, nodding. She finished making the toast and we sat down at the table, quickly eating our food.
"Oh," I remember in the middle of chewing on some eggs, "can you take me to school about twenty minutes early? I need to make-up a test."
"Sure, hon."
We finish up and she washes the dishes up while I finish getting ready. I grab my bag and we're out the door in record breaking time. My house is only about five blocks from the high school, so it takes us no time at all to get there. "Oh, and mom?" I say, already out of the car and about to shut the door. She gives me a look that says 'continue'. "Tell him to bring his son, I'd like to meet my future brother-in-law." I wink at her. That is, if I don't already know him.
I wrap my jacket around myself even tighter, shivering from the cold fall breeze as I make my way towards the double doors (a.k.a. the gates of hell). I pass by about three other teens sitting outside and a few on my way to Mrs. Williams room. Besides the them and some teachers, the school's basically empty. I go ahead and drop some stuff off at my locker since it's right across from her room.
When I enter, I'm surprised to see another student sitting in one of the front desks; the one closest to Mrs. Williams'. I'm even more surprised to see that it's Henry Bowers, the 'leader' of our school's little gang of bullies.
Henry's undoubtedly the most hated and terrifying person at our school—second most terrifying in my book, with Hockstetter taking the first place cake. Bowers has lived here all his life, like me, and I can't seem to even remember a time where he wasn't picking on someone or getting into trouble with teachers. I've always managed to keep quiet and steer away from his radar most of the time, but my best friend Beverly is a certain target he enjoys to mess with. Recently he's been claiming that they slept together; obviously it's a huge lie though, because I was with her at the time that Henry's saying they 'did it'. As thankful as I am for Henry never messing with me too much (besides the occasional trips and 'bitch's), I feel horrible for Beverly. I don't even know how Bowers stays in school with all the shit that he pulls. He's an absolutely vile and disgusting human being, and I hate him for all that he puts Beverly and the other kids through.
I tried to ignore his staring as much as I could as I walked to Mrs. Williams desk, her looking up in the process. "Ah, Ms. [Y/L/N], here to take your test?" She gave me a smile, the wrinkles in her face pulling up in tight lines. I nodded my head in response, just wanting to hurry and sit down and finish this so I could get out of this room, alone with just her and Bowers. Her slender fingers reach into a drawer on the side of her desk, then she pulls out my test and hands it to me. "Go ahead and take a seat over there," she points a finger at a corner desk opposite from Henry's and closest to the door. I try not to look too much at her unkept nail, and silently walk to my seat.
Altering sitting down and setting my bag next to my feet, I reach down and take out a pencil. I try to start on my test, but I can't help but feel an icy glare on me. I glance quickly to my right to see that Henry's still staring at me, more intently than earlier. Why is he even in here? I highly doubt that he's making up some work...
Looking up at the chalk board, I find my answer written in huge white cursive letters.
DETENTION
On a piece of paper write...
Morning detention? I didn't even know we had a morning detention. But if anyone were to have it, it'd be Henry. It did surprise me that his little posse wasn't here with him too. I switch my eyes back to my paper and tried my best not to show my uncomfortableness, not to squirm under such an intense gaze. I worked as quickly as I could to get through with the paper.
By the time I actually finished the test I was more than a hundred percent sure that I probably got a bunch wrong since I was rushing through it... my mind not exactly focused on the paper. He was still watching my every move when I got up to hand it to Mrs. Williams, in fact I don't think his eyes left my body even as I picked up my bag and began to walk out the door. I didn't mean to intentionally, but out of reflex I looked back toward Henry. My heart beat raced as I noticed the small smirk that was planted on his face. The smirk seemed to talk on it's own, telling me that he knew exactly what he was doing to me. And he was enjoying it.
I exited the room, letting out a breath I didn't know I had been holding. I absolutely hate him. How can a person be so malicious, so spiteful? You have to be something different if you enjoy watching someone crumble in fear underneath your stare. There has to be something wrong with Henry mentally, I concluded. No regular person is or should be like that. Or... maybe it was more than that. Maybe someone did something to him as a child...?
Whatever the case was, Henry was majorly fucked up inside.
. . . . .
"Hey," Beverley greets me, the biggest smile settled on her lips. I couldn't help but to smile back at her. She rarely ever looks this happy, at school nonetheless.
Beverly's... a character. In a good sense. In school, at first glance you'd think she's this depressed girl thats shameful of the things that she 'did'. Unfortunately, everyone judges her too quickly. Well, also mostly because of the things Greta Bowie says about her. If it wasn't for the 'most popular bitch' in school, Beverly wouldn't be called a slut and whore all the time (Bowers plays a huge part as well). From my opinion, Greta's just jealous that Bev's a lot prettier than she is, but that's getting off topic.
When you're friends with Beverly though, you know that she's actually a really happy, optimistic person that just wants to see everyone happy. She also always knows what's best for people. Which is one of the many reasons why I love her.
"What's got you in such a good mood?" I asked her, curiosity set in my eyes and a smile to accompany it with an eyebrow raised.
Her smile widened even more to show her teeth as she shook her head side to side. "Oh, nothing. It's just been a good day so far," I could see her eyes glaze over as if she was remembering something. I decided not to push her further into it knowing she'd eventually tell me later on. I hummed in response and nodded my head, pulling on my backpack straps as I sighed. Beverly gave me a look, her smile faltering a bit. "I'm gonna guess yours hasn't been?"
Not wanting to ruin a rare mood of Bev's, I just shrugged my shoulders. "Nah, it's been fine. Now c'mon, I wanna hurry and get there before all the pizza is gone." I grabbed her wrist and began pulling her quicker towards the cafeteria, changing the subject even faster. My day hadn't been fine though. In fact it has been the exact opposite. I don't know what I did this morning to gain the attention of Henry Bowers, but I desperately wish I hadn't of gone in that classroom. In my second period, after Henry had walked in late as always, his eyes set back on to me with that same smirk. I could feel them burning into the back of my skull from his place in the back of the room the whole period. And to make it worse I have him in two other periods, after lunch that is.
As expected, Beverly began talking about something that Richie Tozier had done in Chemistry class while we walked toward the double doors that led into the huge cafeteria. The buzzing sound of laughter and chatter entered my ears as we walked into the overcrowded place. Cliche and typical, but these white walls, gray rectangular tables, and dark green, plastic chairs are all a part of my favorite room in this hell hole. Unlike what most would say, the food was actually pretty good. For school food that is.
Beverly was just finishing up her story, laughing to herself as she remembered, as we got in line. We grabbed our trays and gathered food on it, picking each thing out. After paying, we began to walk to our table, but as I was walking (and not paying any attention to my surroundings) I felt a body collide into mine.
Henry Bowers x Fem!Reader
Chapter One (1)
Word Count: 1,358
"Going out with your mystery man, again huh?" I ask my mother, noticing the way she's all dressed up in a navy-blue dress with some bedazzled necklace strung around her neck, and a pair of earrings dangled from her ear-lobes.
Continuing to apply the red lipstick on to make her lips look like they popped much more than they really did, she let out a small chuckle. Rubbing her lips together, she made a pop sound then put the tube of lipstick back in her purse. "Yes, sorry. I know I said I was gonna try and stay home tonight, but he called and wanted to take me out."
I rolled my eyes, pulling my knees up closer against my chest from my sitting position on the couch. "More like to his bedroom," I mutter.
She snaps her eyes toward me, away from the small pocket mirror she held, and raises an eyebrow. "What was that?"
"Nothing." I reply too quickly, giving her a sheepish smile. I know she doesn't buy it for a second, but it's not like she'd actually do anything to me. We're way too attached and alike than a regular mother and daughter should be. I honestly do consider her to be my best friend (other than Beverly, a very persistent and spunky redhead I met in first grade). After my dad and mom broke up—they never did get married—when I was four, it's almost like he never existed in the first place. I've only seen him once since my childhood, at my ninth birthday party. He was completely wasted though, so my mother kicked him out after only five minutes. We haven't seen him since.
"So, when will I meet this 'divinely handsome and strong' man?" I ask, remembering the other day when she was describing Oscar; his name is the only thing she's told me about him since they started dating about three weeks ago.
She shrugs her shoulders, "Soon."
I throw my head back, "Ugh. You've said that all week... Invite him over for dinner sometime." I pipe up, watching as she grabs a coat from the closet in the hallway.
She looks at me, pondering, "Maybe." A honk is heard from outside and my mother's face lights up, "Oh, he's here! I'll be back by eleven, no parties while I'm gone!" She gives me a wink, being her all too sarcastic self. She's out the door in under five seconds and I hear the door of a car open and shut, then the engine begins to fade away.
I continue to sit on the couch, thinking about what to do. I could call Beverly and see if maybe she wants to come over and have a girls night. Then I get to thinking about her dad and it being a school night. He'd never let her out of the house past seven on a Thursday. I let out an irritated groan. Another boring night of doing nothing until I have to get up and have an even more so boring day at school.
—
After an hour of watching a bunch of random things on the television, I get tired of it and click the off button on the remote. Deciding to make myself a snack, I get up from the couch and walk towards the kitchen. I settle on some pretzels and a water, then take my snack with me up to my room. I set the stuff on my bed and pick up the book I have set on my nightstand, but before I could lay down and read I felt a cold gush of air hit me. Looking up I find my window open, the drapes flowing in waves due to the wind, and I walk over to close it.
Just as my hand reached up, I notice something moving on the sidewalk between the fall colored leaves that litter my yard and the dark pavement where a car drove by steadily, their headlights along with the street lamps being the only things that lit the concrete. It was a person, a teenage boy to be precise. I didn't need to see his face to know who it was. His tall, lanky figure combined with that posture and strut was enough to tell me it's Patrick Hockstetter. I only have one class with him, but that one class and some moments in the hallway as well as the cafeteria is enough for me to say I don't like Patrick. He's dark, and mysterious, and often I've caught him staring off into space with an almost sinister look on his face.
As he passed under a street lamp, I noticed the box he held tightly in his arms. Patrick often passes by around this time with a different sized box in his hands. I once thought I heard a small squeal coming from one some time ago, but dismissed it quickly thinking I was just being paranoid and overthinking the situation, but yesterday I know what I saw. I know I saw the box move in his hands, then Patrick proceeding to squeeze the box tighter.
Tonight's box is a lot smaller than last night's, small enough that he only needs one hand to hold it, but uses both anyway. Another car passes by, but he doesn't seem to even notice and nor do the people in the car.
Deciding it's none of my business and I should just stay out of it, I sigh and close the window, proceeding to shut the drapes. I fall back on the bed, stretching, then curling up and starting to read for a while. Munching on a pretzel, the home phone on my nightstand goes off, startling me. Regaining a heartbeat, I pick the phone up with a lousy, "Hello?"
"Baby?"
A grin immediately pops upon my face, "Brian, hey."
"Hey babe, so is your mom home?" My boyfriend says, rushed and determined. Folding my book up and setting it back on my nightstand, I already have an idea as to why he wants to know if my mom's home or not.
"Nope," I reply, popping the 'p' sound. "Gone on another date with her new man." I get up, walking around to wake my stiff legs back up. My fingers twirl the wire attached to the phone.
"Cool, so can I come over?" He draws out. I could practically hear the smirk on his face through his voice tone.
I was going to say yes, but then remembered that I have to get up early in the morning. "I don't know, Bry, I have to get up early in the morning to make up that test that I missed the other day." I use his nickname, sighing. "Mrs. Williams has been on my ass all week for not coming in to do it yet, and I don't wanna be half asleep while taking it either."
Brian groans, "Alright, whatever."
"I'm sorry, babe." I let out, feeling guilty—for no reason. Brian has always had that impact on me, and even though I know it's not healthy for our relationship, it's not like I could just break-up with him because of that one small detail. We've been together for almost two years now, since the beginning of freshman year. We are in (so called) love. I mean, I do truly love Brian and I know that he loves me back. It's just sometimes I feel like we aren't in love anymore.
"No, it's fine." I could hear him moving around in the background, the sound of shoes being kicked off and hitting the floor. "I'll see you in first period then?" I reply back with a quick 'uh-huh' and nodding my head as well, even though I know he can't see me. "Alright, love you."
"I love you too." The phone returns to it's usual buzzing sound when someone's not on the other line. My eyes make their way toward the digital clock that stood on my nightstand, reading the red ten'o'nine numbers. Deciding to call it a night, I turn my lamp off and get in bed.
Walking into the living room, my heart felt like it dropped to my stomach as I came to a mid-stop. I wish that would actually happen so I could be dead right now, because death is better than the sight of Henry Bowers and his father standing by my favorite corner of the couch. My eyes flicked to my mother as she started to speak, who stood beside Henry's father. "[Y/N], this is Oscar Bowers, the man I told you that I've been going out with, and his son, Henry, but I'm sure you two already know each other from school. I invited them over for dinner."
