hi!! if ur requests were open, if not thats fine!! i was possibly wondering if u could possibly write a henry bowers x masc reader? basically where the reader recently gets diagnosed with autism, and some assholes make fun of them for it, henry finds them crying in the bathroom and comforts them? if not that's fine!! thank u!!
PAIRING- HENRY BOWERS X MASC!FEM!READER
SUMMARY- Y/n was used to being made fun of for being different. She didn't dress like the other girls in her school, nor did she really act like them either. But when people find out about her diagnosis with autism and decide to poke fun at that? It certainly hit a nerve. Not only did this bother her, but it apparently bothers the biggest bully in the school and even brings out a softer side of him. BLURB.
WARNINGS- SWEARING, VIOLENCE, BULLYING, SLIGHT BEVERLY SLANDER (purely for plot, I love her)
A/N- Requests are always open, I just might not get to them very quick or even at all if the plot isn't what I'm comfortable with. Also, if you wanted a male reader, I'm sorry but I don't write that right now (maybe once I get more into writing I'll try)so the reader is female, just masculine. I also chose to stay pretty in character for Henry, take that how you will.
She didn't know why her dressing differently struck such a nerve in the guys at her school. It's not like she wore anything offensive. Why did it matter if she didn't wear skirts as tiny as Gretta's or shirts as right as Beverly. It wasn't effecting anyone.
Y/n got used to the picking though. She knew what it meant to be different in her time and eventually grew indifferent to the harmful words or physical actions.
What she wasn't used to, however, was a particularly bad group of boys going through her medical records at the drug store and finding that only says before, she was diagnosed with autism. That's when it really got bad.
The news spread around so fast, the morning of the day after, everyone in school knew about it. All day she had paper balls and pencils thrown at her head, words she'd never heard directed at her, and she'd even been shoved into her locker more times than she cares to remember.
It was only until the fifth period, after lunch, did she realise that it affected her more than what she led herself to believe. This realization grounded her in the girls bathroom, cigarette loosely hanging from her lips.
Y/n never smoked much, only when she was trying to seem cool or trying to piss off people around her, but the moment seemed worthy. The unfamiliar mass of smoke going in and out of her lungs was welcomed. Every puff that has the back of her throat aching and her tongue dry was her method of distraction from the tears burning her eyes and the reoccurring urge to puke in her belly.
Every word said to her replayed in her mind as every bruise on her body ached. The pain was just as appreciated as the tears. It was as if she deserved it. Overall, she knew she shouldn't feel bad about it, it wasn't like there was anything wrong with it, but insults can only be ignored so much.
These thoughts distracted her from the creaking door of the bathroom, which opened and closed with unneeded force. She only looked up when the sound of footsteps clicked in her mind. Her head shot up, tears unwillingly falling, and she was met with the strange sight of Henry Bowers. Henry fucking Bowers.
She panicked, immediately thinking that he was there to fuck with her. He had always kept his pack of boys at bay when it came to her, but she knew of the horrors he'd done.
When she expected him to begin his bullying, he didn't. Instead, he trotted over to where she sat down and leaned back against the wall. Crossing his arms and sighing deeply.
Y/n watched him wearily through teary eyes. Every movement of his alarmed her. What the fuck was he going to do? It appeared like he was working up the nerve to do something, maybe spew more insults, bang her head against the wall and ditch.
Then, finally, he broke the tension filled silence. "Ya' know, who gives a fuck,"
The words spiked a confusion in her, making her draw her brows together and stare as he went on.
"So fucking what you dress different, fuck those assholes. Why don't you fight back?"
It took a while for her to reply due to the shock that dominated her mind. "S' not that easy for me."
It wasn't. She had barely any friends, none who would defend her, and she couldn't fight anyone herself. And let's be honest, that's how everything is fixed now. Fight for it or let it happen, that's just how it was.
"Just because you don't dress like some of those sluts." Was she dreaming? Or was Henry Bowers comforting her? If so, he wasn't very good at it. Though, she didn't really expect that he would be. "Or are fucking different."
"Are... You comforting me?"
His head shot to her and he has a look on his face that made it seem like he was offended at the accusation. Once he took in her disheveled state, his eyes softened slightly. When his response never came, she asked something different.
"Why?" Her voice was so quiet, as if she was scared to ask.
To be honest, he didn't really know why he was being so nice. It wasn't often in his nature to be nice, not right away, anyways. If he did happen to choose kindness, it was someone he trusted, but he only knew the basics about Y/n.
The soft feeling within him was foreign, but not unwelcome, as much as it alarmed him to let his guard down. He sunk down next to her, stretching his long legs out. "Shut up."
As unneeded as the rudeness was, she wasn't mad. In fact, a small giggle left her lips. He was being nice to her and he was horrible at it. She didn't know what his home life was like, but she knew it was bad, so there was no reason to be upset with his poor ways of comforting.
The tears left her eyes red and cheeks damp, but they were gone. Her head rolled to the side and she looked at him. Did he always have such a cute nose? As these types of questions arose in her brain, other things came up as well. Things that never stuck out to her were now as clear as day. Faint bruises at the base of his neck, a jagged scar peeing out from his hairline, a sort of wildness in his eyes as he glanced around the empty bathroom.
As if a puzzle came together, she realised the rumors were true. Henry's dad wasn't only drunk, but he was a damn abuser.
"I'm sorry about your dad." It wasn't necessary in her nature to be comforting either, but he sure as hell needed something.
"Sorry about those kids sticken' their nose in your business."
"Thank you." Very, very slowly and very, very hesitantly, hee pinky overlapped his, which was resting on the floor between them.
While he did nothing to egg it on, he did nothing to oppose her affection.
"Fuck them." He muttered one last time.
Choppy, messy, ooc, late. I have new writer syndrome.
