Well here’s my collage our Gossip Queen herself, Jenna Rolan!
First off, can we talk about Jake’s face in that one picture? What a special boy, I love him. Secondly, let’s also talk about how even SHORTER Rich looks when he’s sitting down in front of everyone. Adorable. Thirdly, Michael giving Jenna bunny ears (and that face he’s making…)
Queen Trashmouth / Henry Bowers x Reader / Chapter Two
(A/N: hope you guys enjoy!! Let me know if you like it / want more ❤️ next chap will be smuttier 😈)
Only one week had passed since the standoff. You barely saw Henry around the school, but when you did, you made sure to head in the other direction.
You walked Richie home from school every day, now - at least every day that he wasn’t hanging out with all his friends. Eddie Kaspbrak, local hypochondriac, happily informed you of the latest gossip as you walked him and Richie down to the Kaspbrak house.
“It’s all around the school, ‘Stacie Tozier tried to fight Bowers on campus’, ‘Stacie Tozier expected to go missing’, ‘Henry Bowers was chewed out by a girl’. It’s hilarious. You’re a folk hero, now, basically.” Eddie chattered.
You let out a nervous sigh. “I hope he just forgets about me. All I want is for him to leave Richie alone.”
“Crazy dudes like that hold grudges, Stace. You’re fucked.” Richie affirmed with an uncertain smile.
You enjoyed how Richie and his friends would occasionally shorten your name in conversation, but you never called your brother “Rich”, and it was impossible to come away unscathed after calling Eddie “Eds”. You rolled your eyes.
“Hey, thanks. If I’m fucked, what does that make you?” You sarcastically inquired. Richie shrugged in response, and that seemed to be the end of it.
The three of you arrived at the house, and you stopped in the front lawn, putting your hands in your pockets.
“You’re gonna be fine walking home, right?” You asked. The two boys turned around, and Richie opened his mouth to respond when Eddie interrupted.
“I don’t think you should be worrying about Richie, Stace. I heard that Bowers has been stalking you for the past week.”
Eyebrows raised, you cleared your throat and leaned forward. Richie turned and looked at his friend equally as confused as you felt.
“I-I’m sorry, what was that?” You calmly asked. Eddie’s eyes darted between you and Richie, looking suddenly nervous.
“Well, Bill said that Tim Johnson said that Josh Pierson overheard Bowers bragging about how he’s been following you all week and you haven’t noticed.”
Richie stared at Eddie, mouth hanging open. “And you didn’t fucking say anything?”
He turned to you, eyes wide and appearing even wider due to his glasses.
“You’re gonna fuckin’ die. Stay here with us. Eddie, this is your fault anyway.” Without waiting for Eddie’s response, Richie went to open the front door. You stepped forward.
“Hey, no, it’s fine. If he’s planning on fucking me up, then I don’t want you to be there for it. I don’t want you to get hurt either.”
Richie had never looked at you so serious before. “Stacie, now isn’t the time to be a fucking martyr. If what Eddie heard about is true, Bowers is waiting for you to be all alone so he can strike. Haven’t you seen all the missing kid posters around town? Haven’t you wondered who’s doing that?”
You had noticed them. Every week a new poster would go up, a new name, a new face, each one burned into your memory. So many of the kids were even younger than Richie was, disappearing without a trace. No one knew why.
“You don’t really think that he’s behind all of them… if any of them, do you?” You weakly asked, wearing the ghost of a smile.
Richie stared at you sadly. You both knew you weren’t about to come in and hang out with his kid friend and Mrs. K - but there was a real chance that Henry was waiting just for a moment like this.
With your eyes, you did your best to say it; ‘Don’t worry about me, home is right through town and I’ll be there before you know it’, and you were thankful when you saw him look down and tighten his lips in defeat.
“I’ll see you at home, Stacie. Just… watch your back.” Richie finally answered.
You put a hand up to bid goodbye.
“See you soon.” You replied.
You had a feeling that Richie was right, that you shouldn’t be walking alone, even toward home in the daylight, but all you could think about as you left Eddie’s house was how Henry could’ve really been stalking you all week without having a clue. It was terrifying - you liked to think that you were always aware of your surroundings, and despite wanting to disregard his threats, you really did try to watch your back that week. Apparently, you didn’t do it well enough.
You passed the movie theatre, scanning all around you as you walked, probably looking suspicious as hell to anyone who wasn’t aware of the worries now clouding your judgement.
While mulling over the possibility of dying that evening, you looked over your shoulder one last time to see Henry Bowers walking right behind you.
You were about to let out a terrible cry of surprise when the boy shoved you hard into the adjacent alley, causing you to fall hands first onto the pavement below. Despite the searing pain of your now-bleeding palms, you scrambled to your feet and found yourself immediately thrown like a rag doll against the wall, hitting your head on the brick behind you.
Henry held you up so forcefully, you couldn’t move. Within the same moment of realizing an attempt to run was likely futile anyways, you heard it.
Shink! Went his switchblade, right at the base of your throat.
You opened your eyes to look at your attacker, and Henry’s expression was one of complete satisfaction.
“You ready, princess?” He teased.
The blade was pressed so hard to your neck, you could feel your pulse underneath it. He chuckled haughtily to himself.
It was clear to see that Richie was right, and you’d kick yourself about it if you weren’t absolutely terrified.
“Thought you said you’d be ready. You were pretty fuckin’ cocky last week.” He spoke in an excited, low tone. You could feel a sharp, cold sensation as the switchblade began to ever-so-lightly cut into your neck from the pressure.
You were nearly paralyzed in fear, but you couldn’t let him win. There was only one thing you could think of doing.
“I wish you could see the fucking look on your-”
You interrupted him with a quick shot of projectile spit, and it seemed to do the trick. Instantly he recoiled, stumbling backward with his hands to his face, the knife falling to the ground with a clatter. It was the moment of truth; whether or not you would fight, or take flight.
It was in Tozier blood to stand your ground, no matter the circumstances involved. The fact Henry Bowers thought he could slit your throat and leave you for dead next to the movie theater, paired with the fact he proved your little brother right about something, was all it took to choose fighting an opponent far stronger and more prepared than you.
“Boy, you’ve got some fuckin’ nerve.” He hissed, wiping his eyes. You raised your arms up on either side, egging him on, a fury born within you. Energy rushed through your arms and legs, ready to fucking die in an alley as long as it meant kicking his ass first.
You shouted at him, reveling in the moment. “Oh, come at me, you dumb motherfucker-”
And he did exactly that, but you couldn’t have predicted exactly how.
In a flash Henry rushed you, and while anticipating an impact to the face, it was not his fist that hit you.
Your mouths crashed against each other so violently you immediately split your bottom lip against your teeth, the pain as shocking as the event unraveling before you. In an instant, his arms snaked firmly around your waist, his body pressed hard against yours, and the metallic warmth of blood gushed onto your tongue as he kissed you ravenously.
You almost exploded with anger. One minute you’re preparing to die at knifepoint, the next you’re being kissed by the knife wielder. What the fuck was happening?
With a loud muffled moan of objection, you pressed your hands against his upper arms and pushed off desperately, lips still locked. As you struggled, he held you closer, arms winding tighter about you, his tongue flowing over the wound on your lip, begging for access.
You didn’t know what it was. You thought you hated him. Anyone who tried to hurt Richie would no doubt be deemed as an eternal enemy; yet somehow you could feel that same attraction he must’ve acted on merely seconds before. Henry touched you roughly, but you felt an unexpected softness there, a desperation that paralleled your desires exactly.
There was a spark that ignited upon meeting last week, and now the flames had begun to engulf you both. You decided to let it burn.
Slowly your muscles relaxed, and your mouth began to move against his, gently, softly. It felt like heaven.
It seemed like he read your mind, as the moment you decided to participate, Henry hastily picked up your legs and slung them around his waist, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck for support. With a rough grind of his hips against yours, you gasped, and his tongue pushed its way into your open mouth.
You worried he’d say something, make you instantly regret kissing him back, but he seemed unbelievably eager to get as close to you as possible, to keep his lips against yours. The energy was electric, and it moved through each touch, breaths shallow and hot. You couldn’t believe you were doing this.
Henry’s hands ebbed and flowed, wandering all over your body until they found what they were looking for. They made their way up your skirt, over the underwear, and with his left hand, he began to pull them down, fingers rubbing tenderly over your crotch. It was the shock that brought you back to your senses.
Either you summoned the strength you hadn’t possessed before to move him, or the mere act of touching you so intimately had completely disoriented him - whatever the case, you pushed him back hard, and the two of you finally separated.
Henry stumbled back almost drunkenly, hitting the opposing brick wall, staring at you with a slightly ajar, crimson stained mouth. Your blood was on his lips.
You laughed a bitter melody.
“What are you, a fucking comedian? You really think I’m gonna fuck you, of all people, in a fucking alley?” You asked, eyebrows furrowed in question, wearing a small sarcastic smile. As he stared, you noticed the feeling of physical ecstasy fade, and your palms, neck, and bottom lip began to sting horribly.
Henry looked confident. “I know when a slut wants to get fucked. You were wet for me.” He affirmed in a slightly raspy voice, almost in an accusatory manner, and you felt heat blossom on your cheeks.
“You still are.” He added, taking slow steps towards you.
You walked backwards down the alley, putting a hand to your neck where he’d cut. Blood stained your fingers there, and looking down, you noticed the small trail of blood that ended in a large blotch on your shirt collar.
“How do you know I didn’t piss my pants in fear? Y’know, when you put a knife to my fucking neck?” You sarcastically questioned him, an edge of anger in your voice.
Henry seemed to not hear, still walking in your direction. You swallowed hard.
“Were you really stalking me all week?” You quietly asked, standing before him.
Henry simply smirked at you, eyes scanning over your body before holding your gaze.
“I’m not finished with you, Tozier.”
His cocky smile was contagious. You bit your lip and slowly turned around, walking away and beginning your journey home.
Without looking back, you replied with one word you couldn’t believe was coming out of your mouth, mentally slapping yourself as it was uttered.