Chapter 1: Victor Criss: The Kissing Bridge
You follow Victor quickly into the park, laughing with him as the two of you run away from your latest victim. The kid had put up a bit of a fight, it would have been easier with the rest of the gang to help you, but the two of you took him down easily enough.
The two of you stop to catch your breath on the Kissing Bridge, and he leans back against the railing, pulling out his cigarettes with shaking hands as he pants happily.
“Fuck, Vic, your hands,” you point out, taking his hand in yours once he's lit his cigarette between his lips. He doesn't smoke often, but enough that the smell always lingers in his clothes.
Vic looks down at you as you examine his hands, the Band-Aids covering old wounds dirty with new blood and starting to peel off from fighting the kid. “'s not too bad,” he says calmly. She looks up at him. “Doesn't even hurt, really.”
He nods and takes one of his hands back so that he can take the cigarette out of his mouth, flicking it down into the river below. Then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a peppermint candy, unwrapping it and popping it into his mouth. He knows that you hate it when he smells and tastes like cigarettes…
“You know something?” he says, smirking lightly. You tilt your head a bit and he grabs your waist, turning you both around so that you're now pressed against the railing of the bridge. “We're on the Kissing Bridge.”
You feel a flutter in your chest. “Yes,” you agree, reaching up and touching his blond hair gently. He leans forward and captures your lips with his. Normally he wouldn't do such a thing in broad daylight, in a place where anyone could see, but with the adrenaline of fighting still in his veins, the thought of stopping at the Kissing Bridge like a sign from Heaven, he couldn't resist scoring another win today.
His hand finds your waist and he pulls you closer to him. The taste of his peppermint is almost overwhelming, making your eyes water and your breath feel cold. But the way he's kissing you is so sweet, so gentle, that all you can focus on is how soft and warm he is. Your other hand finds the nape of his neck as he deepens the kiss, his tongue finding its way into your mouth as he pressed himself impossibly closer to you.
“V-Vic…” you gasp against his lips, and he moves to start kissing at your neck, his hands caressing your torso gently.
“Will you let me have you today?” he asks gently against your neck. You shiver. “Will you let me take you to my house and kiss you everywhere I can kiss you?”
“Don't have to know you're there. We'll sneak in,” he says. “I want you…”
“I want you too…” you agree. You reach down and touch his hands, noticing his wincing. “But we should clean you up first…”
“Then I can have you?” he questions eagerly.
You smile softly. “All to yourself.”
Chapter 2: Belch Huggins: Car Troubles
(Belch Huggins x Reader) Kissing Headcanon
Word Count: 1, 679
“I really appreciate you taking the time to look at it.”
Belch looks up at you as you say this and gulps, nodding. “Y-Yeah, no problem,” he tells you with a small smile. He looks back at the engine of your car. “Any idea what the problem is?”
You sigh a bit, leaning against the door. “I don’t, it just makes that weird noise whenever I start it up, and it didn’t used to do that, and I don’t want the engine to blow up, and then die while I’m driving or something,” you say. He laughs lightly.
“No, we don’t want that,” he agrees. “Could be a problem with the ignition… or the muffler, or anything really… but the engine did heat up pretty quick when we test started it…” He looks at you again, seeing how distressed you look, and stands up straight. “I’ll try my best. But… it might take a little while. Do you want me to drive you home? Or I could have someone come get you?”
“No, I can wait,” you smile sweetly. He blinks, and you see the pink tint in his cheeks. You tilt your head a little and keep that sweet smile on your face. He sighs a little and looks down at the car, rubbing the back of his neck as he pretends to look for an issue.
You were in one of his classes at school, some kind of science class or something. He didn’t pay enough attention to actually figure out what class it was. All he knows is that you sit next to him, and you’re partnered with him for labs, and that you do all the work, and that you’re so beautiful to him that he doesn’t act like himself around you. You aren’t like the women in the dirty mags that he and the boys look at, or the drop dead gorgeous actresses in the movies. No. Compared to you, Winona Ryder and Molly Ringwald were average, in his eyes.
“Belch! You home?”
He freezes, hearing the voice of Henry call out from the other side of the house, near the front door. If the boys ever found out that he’s out of his mind for a nice girl like you, he would be dead.
“Henry, he’s in the garage!” Patrick calls out, closer to him. He turns around, seeing his friend staring at you with a look that makes his stomach turn. With a big, predatory grin on his face, he adds, “He’s got a girl with him!”
Belch glances back at you, seeing that you look a little nervous with the way Patrick is looking at you. Henry comes around the other side, stopping when he sees you. Victor walks around the house behind Henry, and stops behind them.
“What’ve we got here?” Henry questioned, walking into the garage. The other two take this as the queue to also go into the garage. Henry stops right in front of you and you blink up at him innocently. “You get a cute little piece’a ass over and you don’t even call us?”
“Well--” Belch started.
“Yeah, Belch, what’s the deal? You didn’t wanna share?” Patrick cut him off, standing next to you and grabbing your chin, forcing you to look over at him. You only gasp a bit in surprise, stumbling and grabbing his wrist so that you can catch your balance again. “Pretty… bet she wouldn’t put up too much of a fight, huh, Henry?”
“I bet’cha she wouldn’t,” the leader agrees.
“Um… can you let go of me?” you ask carefully, trying to pull Patrick’s hand off of your face.
“Hey Vic, come on over and look at what Belch brought home,” Patrick says, ignoring you. Their blond friend walks over and Patrick holds you out for him to look at. “What’dya think, huh?”
“Cute,” he says, looking you up and down. “Bet she’s a virgin.” Your eyes widen as you finally catch onto what they’re talking about, and you yank yourself out of Patrick’s grip as he starts laughing, falling back against Belch and your car. He catches you and you look up at him, that pretty, care-free look he had seen earlier now replaced with a look of terror and helplessness.
He looks up at his three friends as they start closing in on you, and he pulls you behind him. “G-Guys, she ain’t here for that,” he tells them. They stop, looking at him. “I’m just fixin’ her car, is all. I was actually just gonna drive her home so she wouldn’t have to wait around while I work on it.”
“Oh, well, we’ll come along, I can keep her company in the backseat,” Patrick suggests, leering at you. You hold onto Belch’s arm and hide behind him, smelling motor oil and the faint smell of whiskey on his vest.
“Come on, dude, she can stay a while, can’t she?” Henry smirks, trying to reach behind him and grab you.
“No!” Belch snaps without thinking, pulling you farther away from his friend. Henry stares at him in shock, his bright blue eyes sharp and unsatisfied from being denied what he wants. “I’m sorry… but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“What’s your deal, Huggins?” he scoffs.
“Yeah, man, it’s not like she’s food or something, you can share,” Vic teases him. “What, d’ya like her, or something?”
You feel the boy in front of you tense up and you look up at him as his face goes blank with fear. You understand, then, why he’s standing up to you against his friends. You let go of him and step in front of him, getting in his friends’ faces.
“My father is the chief of police, Henry Bowers,” you tell him. You see his face pale and he steps back. “So if you put a hand on me, not only will you have my father and the police on your ass, but you’ll have your Daddy to deal with.” Patrick and Vic look at him uncertainly, and his shock melts into anger.
“Fuck you, little bitch,” he mumbles, glaring you up and down. “Come on, guys, she ain’t worth it.” The three of them slink back out of the garage, soon turning the corner out of sight.
You turn to look at Belch, who has a hand on his head, looking at you. “I’m sorry,” you both say. You both look at each other in shock, then start laughing. You lean against him a bit and he tenses up again. He looks down at the engine of your car again and clears his throat.
“Well, um, let me get started on this,” he says.
“That’s okay, I’m sure it’s fine,” you tell him. He hesitates, looking up at you. “Thank you for standing up for me. I know that wasn’t easy.”
He blushes again, and stares at you. “Y-Yeah… no problem,” he stammers. “Um… and that was really badass that you stood up to him.”
“You think?” you laugh lightly. He smiles.
“Yeah. It was hot,” he blurts. Your eyes widen a little, and you see his face turn red. On the inside, he’s cursing himself out. How could he be so careless? After what had just happened, did he think you would be okay hearing something like that? It’s not like you would ever go for a guy like him anyway.
To his surprise you just giggle and step forward, your skirt swinging a little. “So you were just trying to get me to yourself,” you tease him.
“N-No, of course not!” he argues quickly. “I would never do that to you!”
You touch his cheek and go up on your toes, kissing him gently on the lips. His eyes widen as yours close. When you move back and smile at him, he still looks shocked. “That’s ok. I’d rather you kept me to yourself,” you whisper to him. His mouth falls open in surprise.
“R-Really?” he questions, looking into your eyes.
“Yeah,” you agree happily. “My car isn’t really broken, either. It’s made that noise since I got it.” His mouth falls open even wider and he blinks. “Are you gonna kiss me or what?”
He gets a hold of himself a bit and leans forward, kissing you hard, harder than he meant to, but it was sweet, it was inexperienced. He touches your hips with his large hands, kneading your soft hips as he kisses you. He doesn't quite move, just holding his lips to yours, so you touch his hands gently, then his arms. He seems so comfortable with you, and you just want to hold onto him and kiss him more. He pulls away from you and smiles almost sheepishly.
“W-Wow… um…” he starts, looking down. “That was really nice.”
“Yes,” you agree happily. He looks down at you hopefully. “Can I kiss you again?” His face lights up again and he nods, so you move forward again, initiating the kiss this time, and making it deeper. He breathes heavily through his nose, and you can smell and taste the chewing tobacco on his lips as you lick at them. He moves back a little, surprised, and you smile. “You don’t have to be so gentle, you know? I’m tough enough.”
That was enough permission for him. He kisses you once again, his hands immediately going to your waist, and yours going to his face. Your mouths move together more intimately now, sucking on each other’s lips and sliding your tongues together, tasting, feeling. He backs you up slowly, until you feel your bottom hit one of the workbenches in the garage. He moves back to look down at you, and you can feel that he isn’t nervous any more, staring down at you with confidence, and excitement. “I wanna do more than kiss you…” he tells you, his voice coming out from deep in his throat. “My mom and dad aren’t home… will you let me do more than kiss you?”
You take a breath and nod. “Don’t ask… just do it.”
Chapter 3: Patrick Hockstetter: The Wrong Room
(Patrick Hockstetter x Reader) Kissing Headcanon
Word Count: 1, 409
He jumps a bit, spilling a bit of lighter fluid over his hands, gripping his lighter tightly in his other hand and turning in annoyance to the voice that called out to him, his annoyance turning to bitter anger as he sees his least favorite teacher in this shit hole school of least favorite teachers glaring at him.
Mrs. Maureen glares at him, her hands on her plump hips and her lips pressed tightly together. “What are you doing out of class? Don't you have somewhere to be?” she harps at him. He rolls his eyes and stands up, towering over her.
“Right. Class. I should go to that,” he says coldly, starting to push past her.
“I'll follow you to make sure you actually get there,” she insists. He wipes the lighter fluid on his hands onto his jeans and closes his lighter, stuffing both of them into his pocket before he takes off running down the hall. “Wha--?! Get back here!”
He doesn't look back to see if she's following him, rounding the corner of the hall towards the gym area quickly and ducking into the first room he can find, not quite looking to see which room it was.
The gym wing of the school is the best place to hide. It’s too big to know exactly where someone would hide, and during this period it’s empty and dark. He moves further into the room he’s in and freezes when he finds himself locking eyes with a half naked girl across the room.
Girl's Locker Room. He’s in the Girl's Locker Room.
He was lucky you didn't scream, just staring up at him in shock from where you stand against your gym locker. “You can't be in here,” you say quietly.
He smirks a bit, recognizing you-- the way he recognizes everyone in his world. You’re in his English class, you always let him copy your work. And word on the street is, you have a pretty big crush on him. That’s taboo to the others. Not for him, particularly, but the rumor has left you without friends. Without someone to watch your back in situations like this, where you get cornered in the locker room. He grins as this thought crosses his mind. It isn’t often that he has such a willing subject, someone who longs to be his.
“Ain't nobody else in here,” he points out, starting to move towards you, long legs making it easy for him the climb over the bench that separates him from you. He sits down on it and examines you, the way you have your arms crossed over your chest, since you’re only wearing a bra to cover your chest.
“I’m here,” you point out weakly. He just keeps on grinning at you, making you gulp nervously and glance away. “I-I’m trying to change.”
“I won't stop you,” he tells you. You frown and glare at him, turning around and grabbing your shirt to quickly pull it on. You can barely get it out of your locker, however, before you hear him stand up, and feel the heat of his body directly behind you. You freeze, shocked as you feel his hands running up your bare sides.
“P-Patrick, please just let me get dressed,” you plead nervously, shivering as his hands grip your waist and he presses himself against you from behind. You feel a hard bulge in his pants and your face heats up.
“I already told you, I ain't stoppin’ you,” he tells you. You’re pressed flush against the lockers now, the cold metal sending goosebumps over your entire body, and his breath next to your ear sends shocks to every nerve-ending. “But I ain't gonna make it easy, either… I like you better like this…”
“I-I have to get to class--”
“Skip it.” His hands move lower to start picking up your skirt and run along your smooth thighs. Then suddenly, he turns you around so that your back is against the lockers, and he keeps his hand on your hip, the other slamming on the locker next to your head, making you jump. “Stay with me, and let me kiss you in ways you didn't even know were possible….” Your eyes are wide, your lips parted in shock and your brow furrowed in uncertainty.
“But what… what if we get caught? What if you get caught? In here?” you say quietly.
“They'll do what they always do: kick me out and say 'Mr. Hockstetter, the next time we find you in the Girl's Locker Room, we’re going to have to take serious action against you’ and then never follow through,” he says with a grin. You aren’t a new girl, you’ve heard about Patrick watching girls change before, but you never knew whether or not the rumors were true. You still can't tell if he's telling the truth.
Before you can think to ask, he's pressed his mouth to yours with such force that you bite down. He moves back quickly, touching his now bleeding lower lip and your hand flies to your mouth. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn't--” you start. He growls in his throat, a noise so predatory and raw that when he grabs your hair and kisses you again, you let out a whimper. Of fear? Of want? Patrick doesn't know, and frankly, neither do you. All you can focus on are his lips, smooth and soft from what you can smell is Carmex, and the way the blood from his lip finds its way onto your tongue as he slides his own against yours. You let out another, slightly breathy whine as one of his hands finds its way to your throat, his thumb rubbing gently against your windpipe.
He moves back, blood dripping down his chin slightly. “I'm going to find out where you live. And I'm going to come to your house and break into your room and fuck you…” he tells you. “Or maybe, I'll take you somewhere where no one can find you, but everyone can hear you scream my name…” You look surprised, vulnerable, and he moved forward again, grinding himself against you. “And I'm going to make everyone in this whole fucking town know that you're mine. Mine .”
“Yours…” you whisper.
“That is, if you think you can roll with the punches…” he smirks wickedly. “If you think you can handle being my toy…”
“I…” you start, trailing off as you stare up at him. Then you nod quickly, and he’s back on you in a split second, his teeth scraping playfully against your throat, then moving to the nape of your neck, where he bites down. You gasp loudly and grab his hair and he starts sucking at the spot where he bit down. You realize what he’s doing, once your mind has caught up a little. He’s marking you, he’s making sure that everyone knows that you can’t be touched. That you’re his.
He pulls back with a loud pop and starts to leave smaller, more playful love marks around your breasts, the blood from his lip and from the bite on your neck covering his lips and your neck and chest. He lifts up one of your legs to rest on his hip, so that he can press himself even closer to you and roll his hips up as he continues to bruise you with his mouth.
He quickly puts his hand over your mouth, freezing in place. There’s silence for a moment, then high heels outside of the door. “Anyone in here?” Mrs. Maureen calls into the locker room. Patrick uncovers your mouth and grins, his face mostly hidden by his hair.
“Y-Yes, I’m changing!” you call out. She huffs and you hear her heels clicking against the floor as she walks off. Patrick stands up straight and kisses you, his hand back around your throat, sliding up until he’s cupping your face. When he finally pulls himself away he looks you up and down.
“School’s out in thirty minutes. I’m skipping early. Meet me out front when you get outta class,” he whispers to you. Before you can say anything, he lets go of you and moves quickly and silently out of the locker room. You slowly feel the bite and bruise on your neck and try to decide if any of what just took place was real, or if you had just stepped into Patrick’s reality.
Chapter 4: Henry Bowers: Inevitable Destruction
(Henry x Reader) Kissing Headcanons
Word Count: 1,764
Henry closes one eye and throws the rock across the stream with a grunt. You cheer as it hits the cans that you and the boys have set up across the water to try and knock down.
“Nice one!” Belch tells him.
“You're so good at this Henry, how do you aim so well?” Vic asks, sitting back against a rock.
You swear you see Henry's eyes flash to you, then he stretches a bit. “Practice,” he says simply. “It's like shootin’ a gun, you just keep your eye where you wanna hit, and keep your hand steady.” You giggle a bit, recognizing that he's trying to show off.
“What's the point is of hitting cans, anyhow? Why not go try’n hit some kids with rocks instead?” Patrick suggests, rolling one of the rocks around in his hands. You glance at him nervously.
“Oh, come on, there's no need to hurt nobody,” you speak up nervously. You had agreed to hang out with the boys when Henry had told you that they were planning on walking along the river that afternoon, but you had made him promise not to hurt any kids while you were there.
“What even are you?” Patrick scoffs, standing up and sauntering over to you. “Why’d you even come down here with us, babe? You didn't just come to come, you must've had a reason.”
“Dude, leave her be,” Henry sighs, going to throw another rock. He hesitates when he sees how close Patrick has gotten to you, and how you haven't moved away from him, sizing him up.
“You're a pretty girl, girlie,” Patrick continued, ignoring him. “And those are some short shorts for hanging out with four boys like us. You lookin’ to get some?”
You reflexively put your hand up as Patrick goes to touch your face, and he grabs your wrist instead. “Fuck off, Hockstetter,” you tell him, trying to pull your hand away.
“All you gotta do is ask us to fuck you, we'll do it,” he grinned, starting to force her hand down to touch his crotch. You grimace in disgust, fighting against him as hard as you can. “The four of us will fuck you real--”
He stumbles back as Henry throws his rock and it hits him in his shoulder. You quickly move back, and see Henry glaring at Patrick.
“Ow! What the fuck, dude?!” he cries.
“Shut up,” is all Henry says. He looks up at the dusky sky. “Come on, guys, it's gettin’ dark, we should get home.”
“Oh shit, that's right, my mom wants me home by nightfall!” Vic agrees, standing up quickly. Belch stands up as well, and the five of you start walking back up the hill towards Derry. You walk down the streets, Vic leaving first, then Belch as they pass their houses. Patrick and Henry and you live a little farther out, and the three of you talk while you make your way home.
Henry pulls out a pack of gum-- Juicy Fruit, you can see on the packaging, and holds out the sleeve to offer you a piece. You take one and thank him, and he gets a piece of his own, popping it into his mouth.
“So when did this little princess start hanging out with us?” Patrick spoke up, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He hands one to Henry, and, like the gum, offers one to you. You decline, and he takes one of his own, lighting it as Henry lights his own. “I mean, we're a tough crew to hang with. You sure you can handle it, princess?”
“Stop calling me princess,” you say, wishing that he would just leave so you could talk with Henry.
Patrick smirks and slides next to you, snaking his hand around your waist and chuckling. “Oh, I see. You think you're tough, little girl?” he teases you. He stops, making you stop too. “This is my house right here. Come on in with me, show me how tough you are.”
You feel Henry take your arm and shove Patrick back, his friend stumbling. “Fuck off, Patrick. I'll see you tomorrow,” he says coldly, starting to lead you back down the street.
“Night, Henry!” Patrick calls after him. “Goodnight, princess! See you in your dreams!”
You turn back and flip him off, and Henry laughs a bit. “What a creep,” you mumble.
“Yeah, I'm sorry about him. He’s like that to everyone,” Henry sighs. The two of you continue walking towards your houses, and you look over at him when he sighs. “Do you wanna keep walking around for a while?”
“You don't wanna go home?” you ask, concerned. He shrugs.
“Not really, no…” he says. You watch him, then take his hand.
“Then let's walk around for awhile,” you agree gently. He smiles weakly and the two of you start walking along one of the dirt paths that eventually leads out of town. You spit out your gum at some point, and he does soon after, watching roll on the dirt path for a minute before stopping.
You look up at the moon as you walk, and you can feel his eyes on you, seeing his gaze out of the corner of your eye. The two of you stop to sit along a stone wall that once separated farm lands, and stare up at the moon, hand in hand.
“Do you ever… wanna get outta this town?” he questions, crushing his cigarette butt into one of the rocks and flicking it into the road.
“Sometimes, yeah,” you admit.
He doesn't say anything for a minute. “You probably got better things to do with your time than to hang out with me…” he continues, looking down at his dirty leather boots. You watch him sadly. “I wish I weren't so mean sometimes… I know you don't like me that way… but I guess I just am who I am…”
“At least you aren't a perv like Patrick,” you point out. He just sighs and you squeeze his hand. “I think you're pretty great, Henry. No need to try and push me away.”
“I ain't tryin'a push you away… I don't wanna push you away, is the problem… but I'm afraid I'll hurt you if you try’n get too close… I don't want you to end up on the wrong side of my fist,” he says honestly. “I'm… I'm scared I'll be stuck in this town forever with nobody I can't hurt… that's all I'm good for, is hurtin’ people.”
You listen to him and this rarity of him opening up to you, and move your hand to his back, rubbing it comfortingly. “Well… you're strong. I wouldn't mind you hurtin’ people to protect me,” you tease him, leaning against him a bit. He glances up at you. “I meant it when I said I think you're pretty great. I bet you anything you'll make it outta this town, and you'll be somebody.”
“Who? Who could I possibly end up being?” he scoffs, getting overwhelmed.
“Henry Bowers,” you tell him. He looks up at you. “That's all you ever need to be. I wouldn't want anybody else.” He stares at you, sitting up a bit and you smile sweetly. Then, he leans down and presses his lips to yours. You feel your heart skip a beat and you touch his cheek gently, feeling his hand find your waist. It's difficult to kiss you on the rocks, so he slides himself down, just barely moving his mouth away from yours and he rests himself between your legs and holds your waist. Your mouth keeps moving with his, your other hand framing his face now.
The taste of his gum, his cigarette, the cool night air flood your mouth, and you swear you fall in love just a little bit more every second. How wrong of you, to fall in love with this mixed up kid. That's what everyone would say. How could you fall for a menace, a psycho, a screw up?
Like this, you would say to them. Like this.
He moved back a bit, staring blankly at your chest as he thinks, then kissing your neck gently. “What… what if I do hurt you…?” he questions quietly. “That's the last thing I want to happen but I feel there's no avoiding it…”
You sigh and run your fingers through his hair. “We'll cross that road when we get to it,” you tell him simply. His eyes finally meet yours again. How could you not fall in love, you thought, with how he looks at you with such concern? No one's a monster all the way through, not from the start anyhow. It's the picks and the prods of others that send them closer and closer each day, pushing them further and further away from everything great they can be. He's got his issues, sure, but with a little bit (lot) of love, you know you can help him. “You don't scare me, Mister. You can't scare me away with a little threat of the inevitable.”
He cracks a smile and leans up to kiss you again, and you gladly lean your head down to meet him, letting yourself feel this moment, the press of your lips, the grip his hands have on you (afraid to let go), the taste of him mixing with you as your tongues move together. It almost feels childish, in the way that only a first kiss can. But you'll take it, because he's right: There's only so many of these moments with him that you can take before the inevitable strikes, no matter how hard you try to stop that day from coming.
One day, without fail, his self-destruction will start, and he'll take down everything around him first. Including his Dad. Probably Patrick and Vic and Belch. Most definitely you. And then himself. But you'll be there for him when that happens, until that happens, until you can't because he's destroyed you to the point of no return.
You kiss him deeper, wishing just a little that he could be fixed just by kissing you, that you could save him from all the darkness in his mind. You wish your love was enough for him to feel happy. But you know it's not. He's so trapped, and distorted, and
But you do love him. Despite all these problems he is and causes, you do love him. That's all you can give him.
Because the damage? It's just who he is. It'll always be a part of who he is.