Can you something with Henry Bowers x a goth fem reader or just, alt weird reader.
Henry Bowers x Alt Reader
Henry tries his best to terrorize you
2.7K words
Trigger Warnings - dead animals, vague threats, briefest mention of witch executions.
'You Put The Fun In Dysfunction'
Derry was Hell. It was small, a tad redneck and not the place to be anything other than what was expected.
You didn't get this memo when your family moved. You'd lived in small towns before, so the immediate staring wasn't anything out of the usual. In fact, you liked being something to stare at. The whispers were normal as well, and every now and then you'd catch just a bit.
Whether people were calling you a freak show, talking about how you probably eat babies or wondering what cult or circus you came from, they never managed to be quiet enough.
It was fun sometimes. To listen to their little conspiracy theories about you, to watch them quietly until they noticed your gaze and quieted down.
So you knew what to expect when you stepped into Derry's abysmal little high school for the first time. And while you got the stares and plenty of whispers, what you hadn't expected was the comfort of the ignorant. Some whispered, but most spoke loudly. Like their judgments were the correct view and nothing worth hiding.
You couldn't tell if it bothered you or not.
It took about a week for you to decide it was much less fun to listen to people's bullshit when they didn't care if you heard. Apparently all the fun came from their shock and horror when they realized they were busted, or thought you'd hex them or any other stupid shit.
Of course it's not like what they said bothered you at all. It just no longer brought you any amusement, and in small towns like this, amusement was lacking. You found yourself bored before you knew it.
The first time you caught the eye of the Bowers gang was your third week. They had heard plenty about you by that point. The smaller the town the faster the gossip spread.
You'd not been doing much of anything to draw attention (aside from your look in general). You simply stood at your locker, picking between papers looking for your homework for the next period when you felt their eyes on you. There were almost always eyes on you, but eventually you did spare a glance over your shoulder.
You locked eyes with Henry Bowers. His gaze was hard, trained on you like an attack dog without the guts to actually bite. His lips were pulled into a small sneer, and you simply held eye contact. You blinked once, then twice, and eventually he crossed his arms and led his band of asshats away and down the hall.
You didn't think much of the interaction.
.
.
.
Henry Bowers rarely changed his mind. He had known he didn't like you and didn't want you around long before that pathetic stare down. The first time he'd overheard people talking about you, the way you dressed, the way you stared and the way you acted, he had decided this town didnt need that fuck ass satanist shit.
So when he did see you for the first time, it didn't shock him. You looked exactly how people had described you, and he immediately knew his gut feeling was right. And that gut feeling didn't fade by the time he was home.
“Prolly gonna have to lock the animals up at night-”
He grumbled, voice low as glanced up from his dinner, eyes landing on his father, who was absently nursing a beer and watching TV. For a moment, he didn't think he had been heard, but as he opened his mouth to repeat himself, his father finally spoke.
“That little culty girl right?” He asked, not moving his eyes from the TV. Because small towns had few secrets. After a moment of awkward silence his father sighed, and nodded. “Definitely lock the animals up.. Can't do anything to her for just looking like a fuck up, but if she actually does something I can arrest her for, I dont want it happening to our animals,” He huffed.
They didn't speak any further on the subject, but Henry locked up each animal that night, safe and secure and hard to steal and sacrifice.
It was a hassle, but he told himself it was for the better. The best of course, would be getting pitch forks and torches and chasing you outta town, or drowning you like they did to witches in what he considered to be the good times.
He, of course, couldn't get away with any of these options.
So instead he stewed, grumbled and groaned. He discussed it with the guys, brainstorming anyway possible to scare you or correct whatever was clearly wrong with you.
“Just leave her be. People like that crave the attention. She'll probably melt without it-” Vic hummed, sipping his soda as he leaned against Henry's locker. He was always the most calm. Belch, however, scoffed at the idea of leaving her be.
“Sure, leave her be. Till she drains you on the street-” He spoke, voice cautious. Patrick rolled his eyes, thinking it too easy to insert a dirty joke.
Vic however rolled his eyes at the commeng. “Shes not a fuckin vampire, just a freak.. Or cultist or something-” he argued.
“Ok, well I don't think cultists melt without attention Vic-” Henry finally said, shaking his head at his friends. “We just need something that'll scare her and her looney ass family into moving back to whatever shit hole they came from-”
“Man, scaring girls is easy. Whether she's a witch or cult member or just a headcase, it all works the same. Vaguely threatening note in the locker with like, some dead bugs or some shit and she'll probably piss herself-” Patrick suggested, smiling a bit. “Worked on Carly when she got me detention last month.”
Henry stared at him for a moment, wanting to comment on how fucked that was but also not entirely caring enough. Instead he rubbed his temples and shook his head.
“Right, ok. Threatening, anonymous, note in the locker. And what.. like a grasshopper?” He asked, cringing slightly.
Patrick raised a brow, looking completely unimpressed. “Um. No. Not like a grasshopper man. That's so not intimidating. Do a cockroach or wasp or some shit.”
“Right.. ok. Dead cockroach. What should I write? Get outta town or else? Freaks die in Derry?” Henry quickly began spouting out his ideas, and much to Patrick's dismay, he didn't seem to understand how to be vague. Patrick snatched his notebook from him, taking a pen and scribbling for a moment before handing it back.
‘This ain't a town for freaks like you, and trust me, people notice when you stand out- Sleep with one eye open’
Henry reread it a few times, nodding slightly. It wasn't terribly threatening, but that was probably the point. It was at the very least threatening enough to make a girl freak out, he assumed.
“Ok, guess I can shove this in her locker.. You have a dead cockroach?” He eventually looked back up to Patrick.
“Well.. yes.. but you can't put that paper in her locker. It was just an idea. Write something yourself- It'll be more intimidating with your bad handwriting” Patrick chuckled. Really he just didn't need another note with the same hand writing leading back to him after what he'd done to Carly. Detention got boring after a while.
Henry reread the note once more before crumpling it and shoving it in his pocket. He'd have to come up with something during one of the many classes he chose to neglect.
Patrick had promised to bring him a dead cockroach the next morning, so he had all day to come up with something. And even though he had all day, he still ended up rewording Patrick's original example just enough to look different. It always worked for essays.
During his last period he did just that, and he had to admit Patrick was right. Something about his sloppy scrawl definitely gave off more intimidating vibes.
And as he waited for Vic, Belch and Patrick, he reread his note. He found himself by your locker, watching you and looking back and forth between you and the paper that was beginning to crumble slightly under his grip as he glared.
You noticed, because you always noticed. And sure, he still looked kind of like a mutt about to snap, but he'd yet to actually try anything. He just looked. Hell, you didn't even hear him loudly shit talking like every other backwoods asshole. So you looked back, until he huffed and looked away.
And that was that.
Henry loathed it. He was supposed to be a menacing force, so the way you just stared back, unbothered, made him wanna punch a hole in the wall. He didn't of course, no way he wouldn't catch a beating for that one if the school called his father.
Instead he walked away, muscles tense and jaw clenched hard.
And that night, after another awkward dinner, he locked up his animals and reread his note one more time. To make sure it was good enough. Or, bad enough he supposed.
When morning came and Patrick handed him the small, dead roach he cringed. He held it with two fingers and gave Patrick the note for a quick read through. Once everything was deemed acceptable, they went right to your locker, getting it open in a matter of minutes thanks to the cheap locks the school bought.
Henry folded his note in half, set it down and laid the dead cockroach on top of it so it couldn't be missed. And once your locker was relocked, they made their way down the hall to wait.
When you finally arrived you quickly undid your lock, ready for another slow, boring day. But you paused the moment you saw the folded note and carefully placed dead roach. You tilted your head, carefully picking up the insect, turning it over in your hand almost curiously before setting it back down in favor of the note.
You unfolded it, noting the way it was crinkled like it'd been crumpled, uncrumpled then folded. The hand writing was barely legible, a quick messy scrawl, but you managed to make it out.
'Derry ain't the place to look like that. You stick out like a black sheep. And wolves prefer the isolated prey'
You read it once, twice, and a third time before folding it back up and humming softly. Slowly, you glanced around the hall, eyes landing on Henry Bowers. The boy you'd stared down a few times now. And your gaze darted between him and the note.
He stared back, and something in the way his eyes shone just proved to you he had written it.
You were the first to look away this time, setting the note back in your locker and carefully slipping the dead cockroach into your purse. You shut the locker and made your way to class without sparing him another look.
“...She didn't look very scared-” Henry grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest as you walked right by him. Patrick hummed thoughtfully.
“Please, she's probably just trying to act brave.” He said with a small shrug. Truthfully, he really hadn't cared about your presence one way or another. Scaring you out of town was more for fun than a response to you as a person for him.
Though he didn't plan on telling Henry that.
Henry stewed for the rest of the day, feeling weirdly offended that his little display had gotten 0 reaction from. You weren't scared? Fine. But there was no shock, no anger. Maybe a vague amount of curiosity but that was it.
And that made him sick.
By the time last period let out he was practically seething. He hadn't stopped thinking about it once, letting it simmer through the day. When he got to his locker, practically ripping it open, the sight of a folded note there was enough to make him see red.
He snatched the paper, unfolding it and staring at it. The writing, small and neat, if a bit scratchy, was clearly yours, that much he could tell.
‘Try harder- I'll be watching’
He crumpled it, face red and nose scrunched. The rage he felt was stronger than it should have been, and realistically he knew he shouldn't let you get to him. But that was harder said than done.
It took four days for him to calm himself down the slightest bit. And even that took a lot of work on Vic's part, and Patrick's offer to help him up his effort. Like your note said, he had to try harder. To show that he wasn't all talk and was more dangerous than you'd expected.
By the next morning Patrick had brought him something a bit more substantial. Henry wore gloves this time, but it didn't make handling the crow any easier.
“This was road kill?” His words came out slow and suspicious, and Patrick's small smile made him regret asking.
Henry inspected the bird, and what appeared to be a stab wound down its chest. The kind of injury that didn't come from smacking into a moving windshield. He tried not to dwell on it, because the way Patrick watched him handle the clearly murdered crow made him uncomfy.
“You know what, forget I asked. Just get the lock off her locker. I wrote another note.” he huffed, and Patrick quickly got your locker open. Henry posed the dead bird carefully, on its back, wings spread and chest wound on full display. The note was left atop one of the wings.
Henry practically buzzed with adrenaline as he and Patrick leaned back against the wall, far enough down the hall to watch. By this point he didn't really care about being caught, and you'd left that aggravating note in his locker. You already knew anyway and you hadn't reported him.
There was a certain excitement he felt when he finally saw you approach your lock, carefully putting the combination in. He waited patiently as you opened the door. For a scream, for panic, for anything.
But like the cockroach, careful and bare handed you took the crow into your grasp and looked it over. Your eyes were curious, and you frowned slightly at the bird's chest wound. After a moment you sighed, set the bird down and picked up the note, unfolding it and giving it a once over.
‘You don't wanna know what I could do to you-’
And while you didn't scream or cry, you did change it up a bit. You folded the note, slipping it into your locker and instead of staring him down you began walking towards him. Head up, clearly not intimidated.
Once you reached him you crossed your arms over your chest and cocked your head to the side. Your expression was hard, stiff.
“Did you kill that bird for this stunt?”
Henry blinked, once, twice. Out of everything you could have said, he hadn't really expected you to question that. Maybe ask why he wouldn't leave you alone. Challenge him again. Something like that.
“I- no. I didn't," was all he managed to say, so caught off guard by your question that his anger, adrenaline and threats put themselves on hold.
Your demeanor changed, eyes softening slightly at his words. You hummed, fingers flexing at your sides for just a moment. And the part that actually caught Henry off guard, the almost nervous expression and the slight flush to your cheeks.
“Well.. then I suppose the gesture was sweet.. And you certainly did try harder.” Henry stared blankly, but you just continued speaking. “If this Saturday is acceptable, I can be ready by 8. I prefer late night outings.. Just don't pick anything fancy. I find it kills the vibes of a first date-”
Before the words could fully hit him, you were already walking nonchalantly down the hallway, off to your first class. And the only thing that actually broke him from his blank staring was the sound of Patrick's obnoxious, mocking laugh.
“Dude, you're so fucked..” he managed to gasp the words between his breathless joy. And Henry felt all color drain from his face.
He could only wonder how the fuck he'd gotten himself into this mess.
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This one was fun. And Ive wanted to use that title for a while! Slowly working on all requests. The more inspired I am the quicker I work.. please request, even if its small stuff like head canons. I just wanna post more tbh. Ive done shit for Henry and Patrick but Id also do the rest of the Bowers gang as well as Ace and Eyeball from Stand By Me.