Summary: You enjoy your last day with Henry before heading back to work.
Ship: Henry Creel|Peter Ballard|Vecna|One/Reader
Tags: Fluff, Hand-holding, Whipped Henry Creel, ST 5 Fix-it
WC: 3.6K
A/N: Hello it's me again, tension is ramping up!!! Just so you know, there most likely won't be a chapter released this upcoming week. I am going on a weekend trip, and I usually write on the weekends, whereas due to that, I won't have that time. But you never know, miracles can happen. Also thank you for all the love and comments, especially to those who comment every week, it seriously makes my day and I love waiting to see your guys reactions!!!
PART SIX
It's impossible, said pride. It's risky, said experience. It's pointless, said reason. Give it a try, whispered the heart. - Sonu Sood
The sun was barely up this morning, but it still cast long pale stripes across the hardwoods of your bedroom floor. Usually, you would hear Henry shuffling about downstairs, but you had been surprised before, so it really shouldn't have shocked you today that he did something else new.
When you padded downstairs into the kitchen, your eyes rubbed from sleep, he wasn't in his bedroom. Instead, you found him standing in the kitchen next to the sink, leaning all of his weight on his good leg. He had one hand on the counter to steady himself, and the other was awkwardly, but determinedly wiping down the counters with a damp cloth.
He was wearing the same dark gray t-shirt from yesterday, his blonde hair uncombed and sticking up in a few places. He looked focused—unusually so—as he wiped up the crumbs.
"Henry?" you asked as you walked into the kitchen. "Am I still asleep, or are you doing chores right now?"
He didn't startle as you spoke, but he slowed down his swiping. He didn't look at you, instead doubling down his focus on a stubborn smudge near a vase of fake flowers. "I found myself annoyed at the various maple syrup rings and graphite powder."
"Uh-huh. So this is purely selfish?"
"Entirely," he muttered.
You walked over and took the washcloth from him, your fingers brushing against his in the process. He didn't pull away or stiffen at the contact. He looked at you, without a single hint of irritation in his eyes.
"You've been able to walk around? All by yourself?" you noted as you nudged him toward a chair.
"Yes," he said as he allowed himself to be guided into a seat. He watched as you started the kettle, his eyes quietly following you. "I've decided I no longer want to be recovering. I no longer want to be a permanent fixture on your furniture."
"I'm not sure if that's a decision you get to make, but you can sure try," you teased as you set down two mugs. "You are actually being really pleasant this morning, no complaining, no lecturing me. You are losing your edge, Henry."
You poured the water over a teabag and handed it to him, steam curling around his features. He took a slow sip at first, his eyes drifting over to the window where the morning light hit the trees.
"Perhaps I am," he said softly. "I've been finding it difficult to be grumpy when I no longer feel like my body wants to explode."
He tapped his fingers along the length of the table before speaking again. "Are you making breakfast? I assume you haven't forgotten how to."
"Okay, Bossy," you say, looking in the fridge for some milk. "Cereal okay?"
"Yes, that's fine."
"I have to head back to work tomorrow," you said as you poured the cereal and milk into a bowl for him. "My emergency leave can only go on for so long."
Henry stilled at the thought. He knew deep down that he didn't want you to leave, but it was unavoidable. The air in the kitchen grew heavier with his discontent.
"Do you have to?" he asked rather sheepishly.
"Yes, but I'll be back in the evenings," you said as you leaned against the counter. "The fridge should be stocked, and the phone is right over here in the kitchen. You are moving well enough that I think you can reach it if needed."
He finally looked up at you. There was a spark of something behind his eyes—not anger, but it seemed to creep towards annoyance.
"I see," he said, voice regaining a bit of its formal, clipped edge. " You must get back to your engineering. I suppose you cannot play nurse forever."
"Henry. I am not a nurse. I'm just… A friend who has been helping her very stubborn roommate," you corrected, not letting him fall victim to his shell of bitterness. "And you are doing fine. Better than fine."
He let out a short, dry huff of hair and looked towards his sketchbook on the island. "I suppose I'll manage, I have endured years of silence in the lab; surely, a few hours of your absence will not result in my psychological collapse."
"Is that so? I was getting worried that you would miss me too much."
"Never. I will suffer through this with my dignity intact," he counted, though the corners of his mouth twitched. "Though I suspect I will continue to have to listen to the annoyance of these birds in the morning."
"One of these days, Henry, I will get you to smile. One day," you said, watching him, realizing that as much as he complained about the noise and chaos of your life, the opposite, the emptiness, scared him as well.
"I will be back before dinner," you promised. "I saw you staring at the piano the other night," you gestured to the corner of your living room. "If you get bored, you can play. I'm not sure how in tune it is."
He looked over and then back at you. "Maybe," he murmured.
You set your mug down with a clunk and got out an empty notepad from your drawer. "If you are gonna be home alone, I need to set some ground rules. I do not need you getting injured in the short time I am gone."
He arched one of his eyebrows, "Rules? How delightful. It is as if I am eight years old again."
"Very funny. Rule number one: No Mountain Climbing." You pointed your finger at him. "I am very serious, Henry. Do not try to get things you can't reach. I know you like the fancy tea I have up in that cabinet."
He let out a grumble.
"Rule number two: The phone." You gestured to the mounted rotary phone in the kitchen, its coiled cord dangling. "If the phone rings, take your time getting to it. Do not—I repeat, do not—sprint for it. If it's so important, they will call back. And if you need to call me, the number for my office is sitting on a post-it note next to it."
He looks at the phone as if it were an alien artifact. "I have no intention of sprinting anywhere."
"Rule number three: Ice is going to be your friend," you gestured down to his foot. "I know that you are healing, but if it starts throbbing, I want you to prop it up and get some ice from the freezer."
"If you insist," he muttered, clearly annoyed by your sentiment.
"Good," you said, tearing off the list of rules and sticking it to the fridge with a small fruit-shaped magnet. "Now, since today is my last day off, I'm thinking we can go sit outside, it's too nice out on the porch not to."
"Shall I go fetch my cardigan?"
"Hurry up, let's go."
The screen door gave its signature creek at your opening, Henry following behind slowly. The dewy air was crisp, and it carried the scent of freshly cut grass and mulch.
"Careful getting through the door," you cautioned as you held it wide open.
He quickly maneuvered himself over the wooden lip with a focused grunt. "I am perfectly capable of getting outside myself, thank you. Though I suspect you haven't painted your porch since before even I was in the lab."
"Hey! It has character," you shot back, pulling a wicker armchair close to him so he didn't have to move too far.
He eased himself into the chair and propped his foot up on the nearby ottoman. He pulled his cardigan on, and his eyes narrowed to adjust to the brightness of the real world.
"Your backyard is very green," he remarked as his gaze took in its expanse.
"Yes, because we are outside, Henry. It tends to do that in the spring." You sat on the porch railing and let your legs sway back and forth. "Better than inside, right?"
He didn't answer immediately; instead, he watched some blue jays land in the birdbath, his head tilting at the birds' erratic movements. The tension that he seemed to always carry lessened at the breeze of the calm morning.
"It's nice out. I suppose I can manage sitting out here, granted the birds do not get too noisy."
"Don't count on it. They seem to be very opinionated this time of year."
You both sat in silence for a long time, just taking in the nature. It was a quiet, but a well-needed rest.
"You know," you started, leaning against a porch post. "If you keep that look on your face, I'm going to start thinking that you actually like sitting out here. You almost look—glowing. I think it would be quite damaging to your reputation."
He shifted in the wicker chair, slowly and deliberately. "I do not glow. You are making it sound like I am some sort of radioactive material."
"Well, whatever you want to call it, you look healthy," you said, voice softening. "The way you were standing in the kitchen this morning told me that you are getting your strength back. You aren't the same guy I found practically dead on the road. "
He looked down at his good hand and flexed it, then finally looked back into the yard. "This version of myself is far more demanding. He requires tea and clean sheets."
"And he helps with the dishes," you couldn't help but grin as you reminded him. "Don't forget that."
"I am not your maid. Do not expect it to happen again," he huffed, but there was no real bite to his words.
"I wouldn't dream of it. I would probably find everything meticulously arranged or something equally as exhausting."
He let out a short and dry chuckle—the sound much fuller than it had been a week ago. "I suppose I should be thankful that you didn't try to 'heal me' with something truly dreadful, like these awful neon headbands I see the neighbors wearing."
"Don't say that, Henry. You might give me ideas. If I come home and you're bored, I might have to find you some spandex."
"If you bring spandex into this house," he said, his blue eyes flashing with his sharp wit. " I will be forced to reconsider your 'no mountain climbing rule' just to find places to hide."
"See? That's the spirit." You stood up, brushing some dirt off your jeans. "You are doing great, Henry. Really."
He didn't look up, but he didn't look away when you placed an encouraging hand on his shoulder. "I feel… much better. I don't know about great," he muttered as he settled deeper into the chair. He looked more like he belonged on that porch than any of the untouched furniture.
You both stayed out there chatting and in silence for hours, until the sun hung low and painted the sky into messy streaks of oranges and violets. Out on the street, there was the distant sound of a lawn mower and a dog barking a few houses down.
You remained on the porch, resting your chin on your knees, as you sat on the top step.
"The colors are too… loud," Henry muttered, breaking the deep silence.
"Too loud?" you questioned, glancing back at him. "I don't know if that's what I would use to describe it, but the sun is setting. It's supposed to be the most beautiful time of the day."
"It's just.. a lot," he said, pointing up to the changing colors of the night sky. "It's been a long time since I last saw one. I was probably a boy. The lab did not exactly have windows to keep track of the sky's patterns."
"Well, I suppose nature isn't known for being subtle," you spoke softly. "But I think it's probably better than looking at the never-changing ceiling?"
Henry leaned forward, the orange catching the lines on his face. "Yes," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "It is better. It's just… it makes the world feel very big. I'm not used to that anymore."
"It will be here when I get home tomorrow," you said as the last of the sun dipped below the trees and plunged the evening into darkness. "The sky, the outdoors, none of this is going anywhere."
He shifted his gaze from the horizon to you.
"You are right. It will be here," he said, but this time it wasn't a snappy comeback; it felt genuine. "And while you are at work, I promise not to trip over the phone cord."
"Good. Because I was serious about the neon headband thing. If I catch you climbing on the counters, I'm going to bring one home and make you wear it."
He let out a real laugh this time. "I will stay on the floor," he promised as he steadied himself on the chair arms to push himself up. "For the sake of my dignity, if nothing else."
You stood up and walked over to help him, and as you both headed inside to the warmth of the kitchen, the house felt like it was truly full.
"I'm not quite ready to call it a night yet, what do you think?" you said, nodding towards the TV set. "We could see if there is a movie on or at least see what the weather is supposed to be like for my day back tomorrow."
"I will watch with you," he said, turning towards the TV.
"Perfect!" You helped him settle into the sofa, which involved engineering in itself to maneuver his legs up. Once he was successfully propped up, you grabbed the remote and the screen hummed to life, first setting a blanket across the back edge.
The evening was starting to settle in, the floorboards creaking as the house settled. Instead of going to sit in the adjacent armchair, you plopped down right next to him on the sofa.
"Make some room, leg-man," you muttered, scooting over until your shoulders brushed each other.
Before he was able to protest, you grabbed the blanket and draped it over both of you, tucking it under his legs and over your lap. The weight of it trapped the two of you together.
"Is this supposed to be a part of my healing protocol?" he asked, voice rough.
"Hush, Henry. The movie is starting," you countered, leaning back.
The tension in his shoulders bled away. He didn't move away, but instead sank further into the couch, his attention fully focused on the screen. For someone who had been so touch-starved, he didn't seem to mind it.
You smile to yourself, it's a small victory. On the screen, there was a beautiful party with dancing and gowns, where the lead was making some grand romantic speech, but you weren't really listening.
All you could feel was the weight of him against you.
Underneath the heavy wool of the blanket, the heat radiating from him was as if you were in a furnace together. He was tall, and taking up more space than you were used to sharing, and the proximity was doing something funny to your heart rate. But sitting here, together, he felt much more like a man than you were willing to admit.
Get it together, you told yourself during a commercial break. He's just a roommate, one who is very tired and very grumpy. This is just… friendly.
Then Henry shifted; it wasn't much, but his head tilted, and his breath ruffled the stray hairs on your temple.
"You smell a lot like your lavender shampoo. It is… distracting me," he murmured, the weight of his voice settling deep in your chest.
"Are you complaining?" you asked, your voice coming out a little more breathy than you had intended. "I thought you said that you had liked it?"
He turned his head towards you, but because you were so close, he didn't have to move far. His face was just inches from yours.
"Yes, I did. I am not complaining," he said softly.
You found yourself looking at the line of his jaw and the way his lips were slightly parted. You are not staring at his lips right now, you told yourself, though it was undeniable. The only thing that mattered now was the space between you; the TV was just background noise.
You wondered if he could hear your heart thumping. You wondered if he knew that your hand was just inches away from his under the blanket.
Here I am. Making things complicated.
As you drifted through your thoughts, Henry did something unexpected. His good hand, which had been resting on his lap, moved towards you. He didn't lace your fingers together—not all of the anyways. But he let his pinky hook tentatively over yours. It felt like you had just been struck by lightning.
He didn't look away from you. "You leave in the morning," he stated, voice deep.
"It's only a few hours, I promise," you whispered.
"And those hours will be the longest I have ever felt," he said. He didn't pull his finger away. If anything, it was now gripping yours tighter.
The tension was so thick that it was choking the room. You suddenly felt the urge to reach out and touch his cheek, to see if he was as warm as he felt through the sweater. But before you had the opportunity to collect your thoughts and decide if this was the best— or worst idea you've ever had, a car backfired on the street outside, breaking your trance.
Despite that, he didn't move his hand, keeping you both tethered together.
"I think I should let you finish the show in peace. Since you have a big day at work tomorrow."
"Nothing too important, Henry," you laughed. "For the tenth time, I'll be back before you know it."
"I'll be counting down the seconds," he said, though it didn't sound like he was joking.
The movie on the screen developed into a chase. But despite the enthralling picture, you still couldn't pay a lick of attention.
Stop overthinking this. He is just tired, and you are reading into things that aren't there.
But the way he was looking at the television suggested that he wasn't paying attention either,
"You are very quiet," he observed, but he wasn't trying to jab at you.
"I'm just thinking about what I am going to have to do when I get back to work," you lied.
"Liar," he muttered. He didn't say it in a mean tone, but you had no clue how he saw through your facade. He turned his head back towards you and leaned it onto the cushion. "You think this is a mistake."
You let out a small, shaky breath. "Is that what you think you are? A mistake?"
"I am disrupting… this. Everything you have here," he said, his gaze dropping to your lips for a split second before snapping back up to your eyes. "And even now, I am taking up your evening."
"I'm not exactly complaining, Henry," you said, voice barely above a whisper. You decided to be brave for once—to take a risk, and you slid your hand over his until they fully met each other.
His sharp intake of breath startled you. For a second, you anticipated he might pull away, but instead, he relaxed and curled his fingers around yours. It was the grip of a drowning man, who finally found his raft to hold on to.
Oh, you thought. Maybe this isn't just… friendship.
"Tomorrow," he started, voice dropping to that deep register that always seemed to settle within you. "When you are at your desk, obsessing over lines and rectangles on your drawings… will you forget this?"
"No," you said, and you meant it. "I don't think I could forget this if I tried."
He looked like he wanted to say—or do —something else, something heavy that had been bottled up for three decades. He traced his thumb in circles over your hand.
Then, the TV cut to a loud and bright commercial, startling you both, making the reality of the hour set in.
"You should sleep, it's getting late," Henry said, hands still together.
"Probably, but the blanket is warm," you admitted, though it was not only the blanket.
"It is," he agreed.
He leaned in, just a fraction, so close that your foreheads were almost touching. For a heartbeat, you thought he might actually bridge the gap. You could feel the warmth of his breath and the faint smell of your soap on his skin.
Then, with the squeeze of your hand, he pulled back.
"Go," he prodded, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. "Before I insist you stay up and watch the sunrise with me."
"Don't tempt me," you teased, feeling the rush of cold air as the blanket slid off you. "Though I thought you didn't like the colorful sky."
"I never said that," he countered with a smirk.
You felt a little lightheaded from his lingering touch. "I'll see you in the kitchen for tea before I leave. Don't break any rules."
"I do not know if I can promise that," he called after you as you retreated to the stairs.
Pairing: Henry Creel x Reader | Rating: E | Word Count: 3877
Read on A03 | Previous Chapter | Master List
Summary: Henry finally takes you to the new world. Someone is waiting for you when you get there.
Trigger Warning: Canon Typical Violence including depictions of Mindflayer assault and the aftermath. It can come across as SA coded.
A/N: I didn’t realize how emotionally draining writing this was until yesterday. I rewrote the latter half twice. I also took liberty to make Dimension X different. The pain tree is also smaller oh well. LOL.
Tagging: @cristalbeesnow @isbirdi
July 4th 1985 (continued)
“We will go to the new world. I will show what we are working towards.”
“Okay.” You nodded. “Are we going now?”
“Yes.”
He dropped his hand and turned. Grabbing your bag, you followed him down the stairs and out the front door. Chittering to the right on the porch made you look over: the crawler from before stood and bounded over to you.
“Hi,” you cooed. You leaned down to touch her head. “Have you been here this whole time?”
No, she hadn’t. You just knew the moment you touched her skin. She didn’t stay but she came back often to look for you, which made you pout your lip.
“Oh, you’re such a sweetie.” Henry sighed loudly from the sidewalk. You made a face. “She came back for me! It’s sweet.”
“Then she can follow you. Come.” You swore he rolled his eyes. He turned and headed down to the steps towards the road.
“You need a name.” You looked down at her. “How about Pumpkin?” The crawler tilted her head. “Pumpkin it is.”
“Pumpkin?” Hearing it from Henry’s deep voice was almost comical.
“Stop eavesdropping. Come on, Pumpkin.” You finally left the porch, Pumpkin following behind you. Henry watched you with a scowl. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Pumpkin.” He scoffed. “You shouldn’t name them. You’ll only upset yourself when she dies.”
“You’re such a pessimist out here. I don’t care. Her name is Pumpkin. There’s nothing you can do to change that now.”
His sigh came out like a rumbled growl. He didn’t press further. You smirked to yourself as you followed him down the barren road, the newly named Pumpkin following behind you.
“Where exactly are we going? Is there a gate?”
“Yes. It isn’t far.”
Only the sounds of your feet against the pavement, Pumpkin’s chittering, and thunder filled the air as you followed him. Your mind wandered off; Henry never seemed to enjoy speaking on the outside. You wondered if his vocal cords were damaged. It would explain why his voice was so deep.
“They were.” You startled and looked over at him. “Your thoughts are loud.”
“You keep saying that.” You gripped your bag tighter. “I never hear your thoughts.”
“Mine are not loud. I whisper. You should try it.”
Your lips parted. Then you laughed. Your laughter rang out in the quiet, only drowned out by the thunder when it rolled.
“You’re so mean.” There was no bite in your comment. You’d nudge him with your shoulder but you didn’t need him anymore grumpy than he usually was. “How much farther is this gate?”
“Close.”
It didn’t feel close. Walking past empty houses overrun with vines made it feel like you were in a horror movie. Henry’s presence and the occasional Tall One or Crawler running by reminded you that technically it was like a horror movie. You didn’t know what that made you. A villain? The protagonist? Something in between? Maybe you were just a victim, like Lucy Westerna and Henry was your Dracula. The only difference was you’d let Henry bite you.
“You are loud.” Henry turned his head to glare at you.
“Am I wrong?” You refused to be embarrassed. Even if your cheeks felt on fire.
“Yes.” He stared ahead this time.
“That’s not true-“
It happened so fast. He stopped and with his normal hand grabbed you by your hair. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to force you to look up at him. Your lips parted; you felt confused, like you could not decide if you were afraid or turned on. Or both.
“The last time I did, you were angry.” He let go of your hair. “The gate is ahead. Behave.” Pumpkin roared at him from behind you but stopped when he cut his eyes down to her. “You as well.”
“I was mad because you left a bruise.” You grumbled.
He had nothing else to say to you it seemed. He walked ahead and after getting your wits about you, you followed. The gate was indeed ahead; a red crack pulsing on a wall- the lab wall. You didn’t realize you’d walked to the lab. It was just as foreboding in the middle as it was in the real world.
“You’re going to open it, right?” You didn’t want gunk on you. You literally just changed.
Instead of answering, Henry stopped close to it. He didn’t have to move to make the edges part, the stringy goop falling away as it widened with just his mind. Your mouth fell open. The other side was bright- so bright you winced. It took a moment for your eyes to adjust. He went through, Pumpkin following behind. Once your eyes adjusted you stepped through.
It was a valley. A barren, rocky valley. In the center was something you would akin to a large leafless bush or tree. Just numerous claw-like branches reaching toward the sky. The three of you stood atop a plateau, the gate behind you cut through a large rock. Where the middle was tinted in blue, this place was tinted in orange. Despite the sunlight (if it was that), the air felt frigid. Even your sweater didn’t fully chase away the chill.
“Why is it so cold?” You pulled your arms tight around your body.
“He likes it cold.” Was the only response you got.
“You said this place was better.”
That made him look at you.
“It is.”
“It’s a desert.” You replied flatly.
He didn’t reply. He went to the right and with a huff, you followed him. Rounding the large rock you stopped in your tracks. As if a line cut through, the barren dusty ground gave way to rich blueish-green grass. Beyond that, maybe half a mile away, was a lake. At least, you think that was water or something close. Milky white waves ebbed and flowed over the grass. You looked back to the valley. In the distance, far enough you could barely see it, was something close to purple. Trees? Those same trees were on the other side of the lake. Bushes and flowers? They looked like flowers, littered the rest of the field.
A noise made you look up. A flock of creatures flew overhead.
“Flyers.” Henry said, watching you.
“How original,” you said without even thinking. That made him grumble. “So why is that barren?” You pointed down to the valley then to the land behind you. “But all this exists.”
“The heart is below.”
You closed your eyes and took a breath.
“You’re speaking in riddles, baby.”
“I am being literal. Come.”
You followed him. Pumpkin ran off- to where you didn’t know. She disappeared into the thicket of bushes around the large rock. He went around the edge of the plateau to another cliff and stopped. Your bag tugged and you let it go. He floated to himself and sat it on the ground.
He said, “The Shadow is here.”
It did not take long to figure out what he meant. A strong, icy wind whipped up suddenly. You staggered and dug your heels in the dirt to brace yourself. From the tree below, smoke billowed out. It whipped up into the wind, the grey smoke-like clouds twisted to the heavens. Your lips parted as it split and grew. The clouds became eight large tornadoes connected by a large round cloud in the middle- a body. Another smaller mass formed of whirling dust and cloud like a head. This was the creature you’d seen in the middle. You were paralyzed, unable to move, your hair whipping in the wind. It tilted its head, lowering to get closer. You were terrified. Henry didn’t move nor did he seem fazed.
“Henry,” you tried to speak but the noise of the wind was too loud.
Do not show him fear. Henry whispered in your head.
You backed away. Something bad was going to happen. You knew it. Henry knew you were going to run; he held you in place. No matter how hard you struggled, he didn’t release you.
Let me go! Tears fell from your eyes, wiped away by the wind. Henry please.
You’re only making this harder for yourself.
No! Let me go!
Henry released you when lines of swirling grey escaped the large mass and darted down. You couldn’t even scream, just gasp loudly and flitch. They started at your feet, twisting up your legs. The hairs on your body stood on end as they went higher, over your pants and sweater. Your eyes widened when one reared back from your chest.
It didn’t move.
The particles swirled while it centered in front of your face, rigid. Like it was studying you. Then a loud ringing in your ears made you yell. You covered them with your hands even though it did little to quell the noise inside your head.
The grey thing lunged at you.
You felt it hit your body. It forced your mouth open; pressure in your ears, nose, and throat built as it forced its way in. It was so cold it burned, like pins poking all over your skin and insides. It was everywhere, touching you in places you didn’t think possible. It hurt. Then it stopped. Suddenly, you were in a black inky void. You’d been there before, in a dream you could barely remember; in a memory that didn’t belong to you. Whispers echoed around you. Smoke flew past and circled you. You still felt the terror in your bones, the urge to flee, to shove back whatever held you there.
“Hello pretty girl.” Echoed so loud it hurt your ears. “Don’t disappoint me.”
“I won’t.” You whispered, shaking. “I won’t.”
“Do you know what happens if you do?”
“You’ll kill me?”
“Oh pretty girl, I will do more than that.” Something, a wisp of smoke, came and slid around your neck, tightening. “But you won’t be the only one punished.”
You screamed. Henry’s mangled body appeared in front of you. His eyes were empty sockets, arms and legs twisted into odd and unnatural angles. The voice laughed. Spiders crawled out of his mouth and eyes. You wanted to vomit. Henry’s body disappeared. With a jolt, you were back in the other world. The smoky grey particles fled back to the larger whirling ones. Henry grabbed you to keep you upright.
The grey shifted and collapsed on itself. The wind picked up and you watched the particles twist into it and dive to the ground. The grey disappeared into that dead looking tree at the bottom of the valley. The wind stopped.
A clicking noise filled your ears. It was your own teeth chattering. Your body shook like it did when you had a fever. Henry’s touch felt like it burned your skin even though your arms were covered by your sweater. You couldn’t move. You thought you heard his voice but it was just noise to your sensitive ears.
Then everything went black.
You woke up, the ceiling above you told you where you were. You gasped and sat up, like you were jolted back into your own body. Henry was sitting on the bed beside you. You were going to throw up. Jumping out of bed, you stumbled into the bathroom and fell to your knees. There was barely any time for you to hold your own hair back before you vomited into the toilet. You gasped for air when you were done. That was when you realized Henry was beside you. He held your hair and flushed down the contents you spewed up.
“What. Was. That?” You spit into the toilet, disgusted with the taste in your mouth.
”The Shadow.” He handed you his handkerchief. ”That was The Shadow.”
Your hand shook as you took it from him. In fact, your whole body was shaking. You wiped your mouth.
”I know. I meant. I meant what did he do?” Your voice cracked and it wasn’t from the acidicness from your vomit. You whispered,“What did he do to me?”
Something inside you broke saying it out loud. A flood gate of tears opened and you put the handkerchief over your mouth when you let out a sob. You curled up in yourself against the cabinets below the sinks. The grey mass was no longer in you but your insides burned from the cold it left behind. The ghost of nonexistent hands lingered on your skin. You screamed when you felt something touch you.
Henry pulled you to him.
You fell apart in his grasp. His body felt like a flame against your own, so warm to the touch it almost burned. You sobbed into his chest and your hands dug into his shirt. He let you sob until you were gasping for air. He murmured something, too low for you to hear. Your sobs turned into sniffles and your breathing evened out. His hand rubbed your back in a steady rhythm. Your eyes were swollen when you finally pushed yourself up out of his embrace. He watched you, studying your face like he’d find answers in it.
“I can run you a bath,” he said softly. “It will help warm you up.” You nodded. Henry didn’t move. “Do you want to talk about it now or after?”
Your eyes burned. You cried until you couldn’t anymore and yet they still lingered.
“I don’t know.”
His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Bath it is.”
He moved around you and got off the floor. He’d moved you while you cried. You were near the wall across from the sinks. You watched him push up the sleeves of his blue sweater and turned on the knobs. You stopped shaking, at least. The sound of running water filled your ears and you stared ahead as Henry milled about, gathering things.
Don’t disappoint me.
The line repeated over and over in your head. The image of Henry mangled and bloody flashed in your mind. No matter how many times you banished it, it came back. You didn’t even register he was beside you until you felt his hand on your shoulder. You gasped and looked up. He held his hand out to you.
“Come on, sweetheart.”
Almost in a trance you took it, numbly getting onto your feet. He moved to pull at your shirt and you shrunk away from him.
“I‘ll do it,” you stepped to the side. You stood there and stared at the countertop. You fought back more tears. “Can you leave?’
Henry whispered your name and asked, “are you sure?”
”No. I don’t know.” Your lip trembled. “I just can’t.”
“I will wait in the bedroom.” He moved around you, deliberately not touching you.
“No,” you let out a shaky breath. “Stay. Just. Give me a minute.”
He stood and waited at the door. Your hands shook again while you pulled your top off. You felt exposed when you dropped it to the floor, even with your bra on. You looked over and Henry was watching you. Concern was etched in his features.
”Do you want me to look away?”
You thought for a moment. “No.”
You pushed through it and stripped the rest of your clothes quickly. You went over to the tub and put your leg in.
“Jesus, this is hot,” you yelped, but you climbed in anyways.
Hot water was what you needed. Hot water would cleanse the terrible feeling you could shake. It would chase away the cold in your bones. You forced yourself into the water, letting it cover you up to your neck. You didn’t care that you had to scrunch your legs.
“Can I come closer or should I stay here?”
You didn’t look at him. “There please.”
When you finally did look, you saw he’d sat on the countertop space between your sinks. Silence stretched between you while your body adjusted to the water temperature. He laid back against the mirror, hands clasped together on his lap.
“Are you ready to talk about it?”
You took a deep breath and sighed, lying back and staring ahead. You didn’t answer him. Another lapse of silence before Henry spoke again.
“The Shadow,” he paused like he was finding the words, “he can be aggressive.”
“Can?” The water sloshed when you turned to peer at him, your fingers curled on the rim of the tub. “That,” you were starting to hyperventilate and focused on the rug. You took a few deep breaths and said, “it was everywhere. It hurt. It burned.”
“I know.” Henry was on his feet again. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“He forced his way in.” You blinked and tears fell. You didn’t think you had any left. “And you let him. You held me in place.”
“I know.” His voice wavered as he repeated, “I didn’t have a choice.”
You wanted to believe him. The desperation in his gaze told you it was the truth. But god, were you angry; angry and hurt. So when you asked, you didn’t ask it harshly. You didn’t even raise your voice. But you asked it all the same.
“Why didn’t you fight it?”
There was a heavy silence between you as he stared back at you. He finally looked down, like he was ashamed.
“I tried,” he whispered.
He walked up to the tub and knelt down on the floor. You didn’t move away and he didn’t look you in the eyes.
“I tried to fight it and I failed. I was so scared he would kill you. I cannot lose you.” He finally looked up at you. “But I promise that it will never happen again.”
“Can you make that promise?” Sharp words fell from your lips like a viper strike. “You don’t even know what it felt like.”
His icy blue eyes turned deadly. “I know exactly what it feels like. He forces his way in and every fiber of your being rebels against it because it is not of our world. That’s why it hurts. It would have been worse if you weren’t already changed.”
Then he put his hand over yours, lifting it up to grip it. It wasn’t as warm as earlier; a sign the bath helped with the cold.
“He will not do it again.” His thumb rubbed along your knuckle. “There’s no need for him to do it again.” His shoulders visibly relaxed. “I will not let him do it again. I promise you.”
This time, you believed him.
”Okay.”
“I mean it.” He squeezed your hand gently. “Finish your bath. I will make some tea. Once you’ve rested, you will feel better.”
“I hope so.” You pulled your hand away and lowered it into the water.
“I know so,” he said as he stood. “Are you okay with me leaving? I should have asked.”
“Yes. I’ll be fine.”
He seemed skeptical but left the bathroom all the same. You ended up scrubbing your skin nearly raw by the time he returned and convinced you to get out of the tub. He helped you dress into a silky pajama pants set; you didn’t flinch away that time. You followed him downstairs to the living room and he brought you the tea as promised.
“Can I sit with you?”
“Yes.”
You curled your fingers around the warm cup he handed you. It wasn’t lost on you his body did not touch yours when he sat down. He waited until you took a few sips of the chamomile and honey tea. He sat perfectly straight with his hands folded in his lap. It annoyed you a little.
“Are you feeling better?”
”Yea, thank you.” You continued to drink your tea and he waited. You huffed after about the fourth sip. “I’m not fragile.”
”I didn’t say you were.” He didn’t move; just stared ahead.
You stared down at the tea. “Can you just do something?” You snapped.
“What would you like me to do?”
You clenched your jaw, anger welling in you. “I don’t know anything instead of just sitting here?”
You looked over at him and he watched you with a blank expression. That just made you angrier. The lights started to flicker around you.
“That’s all you do, isn’t it?” You got off the couch, onto your feet. His gaze followed you but he remained still. Observing. “You just sit there and let things happen.”
You threw the cup, tea flinging onto the carpet before it hit the floor. It surprisingly didn’t break. His gaze didn’t leave yours.
“Do you feel better?” He asked, more calmly than he ever would in similar circumstances.
“No!” Your eyes burned.
“You’re still angry with me.”
“Yes I am!” The lights flickered faster. “Why didn’t you fight harder? If you knew what it felt like, why did you let him do that to me? Why didn’t you protect me?”
You were so sick of crying but the tears fell anyway. Henry was on his feet and the moment you felt his hands on you, you hit his chest with your fist.
”Come here,” he said gently.
”Why didn’t you stop him?” You hit his shoulder again but weakly. He pulled you into his arms and you did it again. “I trusted you!”
”I know. I know.”
You broke down again and he held you tight through it. Once you calmed down you realized what you’d done.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered and tried to pull away, “I’m sorry.”
”No, no, I can take it.” He murmured into the top of your hair. “I can take it.”
”You shouldn’t have to.”
He pulled back to look you in your eyes. “Look at me,” his hand cupped your face. “I want to. I love you and I will take whatever you throw at me.” His lip trembled a little. “I should have protected you and if anger is what you give me for not doing that then I will weather all of it.”
“But it’s not fair to you,” you protested.
He chuckled, “nothing is ever fair for me.” His thumb stroked your cheek. “You need rest. Let’s get you to bed.”
“But the carpet,” you looked back at the results of your shameful tantrum.
“The carpet can fix itself.”
Sure enough, the tea disappeared and so did the cup. Henry scooped you up into a bridal hold, literally sweeping you off your feet. He carried you up without any protest. He put you in bed and to your surprise, he got in with you. He curled around you, his arm around your waist a grounding anchor.
“Henry?” He hummed in response and you stared ahead. “I know it wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry. I know you didn’t have a choice.”
His arm pulled you tighter to him, gently squeezing you with reassurance.
”Focus on getting rest. I’m not going anywhere.”
”No, but I need you to know that.” You tried to roll over but he held you tight against him.
”I know.” You felt his face against your hair. “I promise I know. Go to sleep.”
“Okay.”
There was an unspoken agreement between you both the next day to not bring it up again. You liked to think it was because both of you would end up in an endless apology loop. The truth was you didn’t want to think about it ever again.
ᯓ★ 001 doesn't have to put on the good boy act when you are asleep.
Pairing: Henry '001' Creel x f!Reader || Stranger Things
Warning: smut, dom!Henry got his powers back, slight manipulation/gaslighting, fear play, still con though, choking, unprotected p in v, cunnilingus, restraints on reader [his powers], feral 001, a bit rough
Chapters: [Part 1] | [Part 2] | [Part 3] | [Part 5]
Song: I suggest listening to Closer - Nine Inch Nails for this one. I snuck a few lines of the song in.
001's shoe pressed confidently against the tiling, causing an echoing sound that made your blood freeze. Each step, calm and calculated, chilling.
A thud.
Another.
Nothing but the silence pierced by the sound of his shoes.
The air was heavy, dizzying. In your ears, a subtle ringing, but insistent, a forewarning, matching the pace of your heart.
"Don't do that. You... know better than to do that, sweetheart."
Henry's head cocked to the side so slowly that you couldn't tell if he was taking his time or time itself had stalled. You didn't even realise your feet were working against you, causing you to back with each step 001 took forward, closer to you.
"What's wrong?" 001 furrowed his brow, every muscle in his face tense, his eyes locked on you. Behind them, nothing you could discern, nothing but that radiant otherworldy blue hue that bore through you. "You are not afraid of me, are you? Why are you trying to leave, sweetheart, hm? Answer me."
But you couldn't. The words were stuck in your throat. What was there to be said when you witnessed the orderly fling someone across the room with a mere wave of his hand? His pristine white orderly uniform was stained here and there with prickles of red. Unfortunately, you could've guessed the origin of the crimson liquid even if you hadn't just witnessed 001's show of strength.
"What have you done?"
001 drew back, offended, his head cocked to the side still, before he leaned in closer, conspicuously close to you.
"What have I... done? Sweetheart... you don't remember him? He is the one who dared to..."
"And you killed him?"
001 scoffed.
Why did it matter? The punishment was fit for the offence. That man, a few weeks prior, had dared to act indecently with ludicrous intentions in mind. And now, he was permanently dealt with. Was that not a good deed, if anything? He spared the lab and world of another pest who only sought a body to conquer. He was insignificant, a nuisance that had to be disposed of, and he had done just that. Perhaps, it made sense. At first, you'd not understand his pursuit, but you'll get used to it. You'll learn.
He will teach you.
001 had to remind himself that you, even though you understood him to an extent, still had your mind plagued and corroded by the ideals and desires that those pests bore, and he had to unteach you. To show you the truth of his path. So the tension in him eased, his lips relaxed in a smile, and his hand came to your cheek. Despite what you had seen, his hand was not any different from the hand you were used to, from the hand which caressed you time and time again.
It was the same delicate texture, the same slightly cool skin that stroked your cheek.
"I understand, sweetheart. It is all so... so new to you... You are only starting to see it now. But I will take care. I will make you understand the world the way it should be understood. It will be scary at first... unlearning... it is always scary."
"What are you talking about?"
"Shhh... Don't question it now. Back when I saw the truth, I was alone. But you have me, sweetheart. You should be grateful. In this new, better world... with the right order..."
"You need to stop this."
"No... No, sweetheart, don't oppose it. Don't you trust me?"
"I do! I... I did. But I just saw you..."
"No. What you saw... it was necessary. I showed you that fear... is not something that should rule you anymore. It was fear all along that made us hide, was it not? This fear... of what? Of him?" 001 pointed at the man splattered on the floor a fair distance away from you. "No. You were not afraid of him, but of what he represented. The hierarchy, it can all fade away, but you have to let go of everything you have up here," the index of his right hand pressed lightly against your forehead. "And let me show you the true nature of this world. Accept this gift... and you won't have to feel fear, frustration, pain... nothing of the kind."
"This can't be."
"But it can... You saw the proof before your eyes. What I can do... is it not proof of a gift? A gift I can offer you."
001 saw you were hesitant.
He didn't like that you had to think about it; after all, did he not prove his loyalty to you? He could have taken his revenge for your punishment, but he chose to allow it, and now you were hesitant. A soft displeased grunt left his throat, and the noise, in sheer contrast to the room's stillness, made you nod.
"I accept it."
There was worry in your voice, concern, as if you said it only to please 001. The man dreaded that, the fact you felt you had to say something for his sake. The orderly wanted you to be eager to join him. Eager to share his vision and be by his side. You were lucky. You were different and had the potential the others in this lab lacked, and more than that, you were the one person he would have done anything for.
"Is it fear that makes you accept it?" 001 lifted you slightly off the ground, his hand making you levitate until your feet no longer touched the tiled floor. "Hm, sweetheart? No... It's not fear that should rule you. Accept it because you believe in me, and my cause. It must become our cause."
"I mean it, I accept it..."
"And yet, I still sense fear in you, sweetheart. This... power can be used for good."
001 got an idea, bringing you closer and keeping you still with his powers. He leaned into your ear, speaking barely above a whisper.
"Allow me to prove it to you, sweetheart."
001 shoved you back into the wall with his powers. He wasn't as rough as he could have been, merely using this chance to display a figment of what he could do. With you stuck against the wall with his powers, he approached, his eyes trailing predatorily from your eyes, lower to your body, taking in everything now that you were at the mercy of his power. From your lips to your neck, shoulders, chest and below, nothing escaped 001, a smile tugging at his lips.
"Do you... understand now, sweetheart? No... no. I am getting ahead of myself. We've merely begun."
He held you still against the wall, his hand looming over your shirt, playing teasingly with the fabric, slowly, gently lifting it. It was enough for his hand to sneak underneath and feel the contours of your skin, far warmer than his own. The contrast of heat made a soft, curious hum leave his lips as his hand rode up underneath your shirt, the fabric rising too with the motion, revealing your abdomen. But as tempting as that was, 001 wasn't looking at the revealed skin.
His eyes were locked on yours, learning every reaction, as minimal as it was; each arch, each wince, all had a display on your features, and 001 needed to memorise them. The soft quiver in your lips, the hue in your cheeks, the soft squeeze of your eyes shut.
The man exhaled.
He removed his hand with a displeased grunt. Your shirt was slowing him down, distracting him, so he lowered you with his powers, just enough so he could personally tug it off your shoulders and discard it on the floor, before stunning you again.
"Does he bother you, sweetheart?" 001 asked, his hand reaching behind you to unclasp your bra and remove it too, calm. Imperturbable. Unphased by the sight of your breasts, which before would have humbled him to his knees. He was in control now, your body his to play with.
His finger curled and came to rest underneath your chin, holding your head up to face him.
"Who?"
001 nodded. The orderly liked this answer better.
"That pest. The sight... It had upset you before, sweetheart. I am glad... You're no longer focused on what isn't important."
You remembered the dead body in the corner of the room, which had left your mind in such a swift way once 001 began to play with you. After all, like all beings, when you were the target, your mind would become selfish and seek its own survival. But was it survival? You knew 001 wasn't going to harm you, and yet you couldn't help the looming anxiety that you felt with each movement he made, his mannerisms so close to that of a hunter, carefully running the game where he wanted it to be.
001 did the same with your lower half, as he had with the upper. He didn't need the clothes to distract him. Yet as he undressed you, he couldn't help but feel a slight... resistance against his powers.
"Don't you fear we'll be caught?"
001 sneered.
"I mean, our room... why did you kill him here? He will be found."
"Do you believe we'll be here for much longer, sweetheart? This room... It no longer matters... Nor does this facility. Nor anyone inhabiting it."
001 made sure you were completely naked before he released you from his powers, allowing your own feet to keep you upright. His hand came to your neck, thumb pressed lightly into your pulse point as he held you before him, head tilted forward so his forehead was against yours.
"From now on, sweetheart, you must unlearn everything and start again. Everything here is a lie," 001 lifted the cuff of his orderly shirt, exposing his tattoo to you. "But you are no longer under its haze. I will help you see it all clear..."
Your eyes lingered on the tattoo.
Brenner had never told you; he had always made it a point to never talk about 001.
"My name is Henry."
"Henry..."
Hearing his real name off your lips stunned him for a second, so used to hearing that false alias of Peter Ballard. For a moment, he was back at that soft, yearning man he had been before he regained his powers. For a moment, he gazed into your eyes with a humble frailty that made you reach out and hold his cheek.
No.
001 drew back.
He must not be weak. It was not the time for that.
Henry could have used his powers to have you on the bed, but he chose his own strength over it. He picked you up, cheating a little as he did use his powers to make his time easier, but that didn't matter. Before you could do as much as complain, you were back on that bed that had witnessed far too many times the lengths of Henry's longing for you. He unbuttoned his shirt, shrugging it off his shoulders with your aid, then helped himself out of his trousers as swiftly as he could before his hand was on your cheek, guiding you to lie back with him hovering over you.
"You denied me this... for so long; all I've wanted was to be able to have you... and you denied me. At first, I had to deny myself... to respect you... to worship you, sweetheart. And then you punished me for my restraint..."
He pressed his forehead against yours, one hand on your cheek, the other reaching boldly to your thigh. Henry's breathing hitched as he felt how warm your flesh was in his palm, how obediently you allowed him to find his way between your legs. How right it felt for his body to be against yours.
"Will you deny me again?" Henry sounded as if he wouldn't take no for an answer, and yet you knew that he would; for you, he would restrain himself again, but this time, why should you have him hold back? "No, I see it in your eyes, in your mind. You will not play any more games with me. Isn't that right, sweetheart?"
His lips lingered at the sensitive spot beneath your ear, pecking it, making your body shiver.
"Yes, that's it, sweetheart. Obey it. That hunger within you, let it speak, let it consume you... It is uncorrupted hunger, devoid of this world's impurities. The only desire I allow myself to feel..." Henry's lips trailed across your neck, leaving soft kisses from beneath your ear all the way across your pulse point and to your clavicle. "The only desire you will allow yourself to feel from today on."
Henry continued to kiss, below to your breasts, humming praises over them as he appreciated the feel of a woman's body. The softness of your chest, the taste of your nipple as he twirled his tongue over it, giving it a gentle suck before releasing it, both of them receiving the same treatment before he moved on lower. He kissed your sides, your stomach, thighs, knees, and calves, to your ankles, his eyes closed to fully feel everything, every spark of that desire as it set him ablaze, yearning for more.
He moved up again, his lips trailing across the inside of your thighs until he reached your cunt. This time you were awake to see and feel it all, observe how he guided your legs to rest on his shoulders, his eyes glued to yours as he let his head descend lower, mouth pressing reverent kisses on your cunt.
"We will relearn everything together... From this..." He gave your cunt a long lick, tongue pressed flat between its lips, gathering your taste and letting it spur him on. "Do you think you can take that, sweetheart? Oh... even if you can't..." He flicked his tongue over your clit, grunting needily, "I will make sure you can. That's why you have me, after all... to make sure you can take it..."
He anchored his arms around your thighs, keeping them on his shoulders as he started eating you out. Your hand reached down to grab his hair, but he lazily glanced up, using his powers to force your arms above your head, pinned to the bed, eyes closing to devour you again. His mouth was relentless, starved, lapping everything he could. The more your body tried to arch and escape him, the more your hips jerked and rolled, the harder he used his powers to keep you still, to make you take it.
It was as if you could hear him in your mind, vividly, telling you, "Don't try to escape it, sweetheart, let it consume you."
He could have used his fingers again, but he didn't want to give you that satisfaction. Your cunt had to crave him, so all you'd have for warm-up was his tongue abusing the sensitivity of your clit until you came undone, held in place with his powers.
Your desperate arches stood no chance in front of his powers, and he had to put in no effort to have you spread open for him as soon as he was done.
He wiped his mouth, taking in the sight of his progress. The way your body was taking in the aftermath of an orgasm he leisurely gave you with his tongue alone.
Henry wasn't done.
Not so easily.
He guided your thighs to rest against his hips as he moved to hover over you, your bodies pressed snug together so he could feel every inch of your skin bare against his own. This union, so strange and enticing, so human yet right, despite the pestilence nature of humanity. You wanted to speak, to say something, but you didn't get to because his lips found yours and he used the opportunity to deepen the kiss right away. Henry's tongue was gentle in its wake, exploring with care the taste of yours against his, the flavour of your mouth and his own, your own slick's savour mingling with the taste of your saliva.
What a strange and alluring blend of tastes which he took in greedily, his body moving against yours reflexively.
Despite all, his nature was undeniably human.
He too felt what was right in this moment. What a human ached to have at a time like this. His hand reached down between your bodies, and he angled himself against your cunt, lips away from yours just enough to warn you.
"It will be for only a moment," Henry cautioned, his words a mere whisper above your lips, "Allow me to be in you... mind and body, sweetheart... Let me feel, explore it all... Let me have it all..."
A soft grunt, the head of his cock prodding your cunt.
"Let go... Let yourself go... Let me be the Master of your mind and body," Henry's breathing quickened, heart pounding in his chest as he felt himself slowly make progress, his cock pushing inside you. "That's it, sweetheart, you're so brave for me..."
Henry didn't want this torturous ache to keep you apart any longer, and his hips thrust forward sharply, a loud gasp filling the room as he pressed himself to the hilt inside you. Your cunt welcomed him, but not without a slight opposition at first, which faltered quickly upon hearing his voice encouraging you to have him.
His voice felt like it came from not only his mouth but your own mind, as if he knew how to talk to you without words.
And then it changed.
Whatever gentleness he gave at first turned to need. His hand latched onto your throat to keep you at his mercy on the bed, his hips pressed harder into yours despite already being as deep inside you as he could be. When your hands tried to claw at his shoulders, he glared at you, forcing them down again with his powers.
"That will not work, sweetheart; haven't you learned?"
He began to move his hips against yours, thrusting so slowly it was torturous, yet he loved it. He loved the way your eyes welled up with tears, aching for a different pace. Yes, those tears, those same tears you had him spill, now were in your eyes. Henry licked his lips, his other hand finding your breast and giving it a slight squeeze, groping it.
The sensation caused you to arch slightly, but Henry shoved his hips forward against yours, punishingly, his cock snapping into you, causing you to moan and obey him again. Lying with him, resuming the slow, aching pace.
"I wanted you for so... so long, sweetheart. Why should I rush? You don't understand the power it takes to hold back now... I am afraid your body would not endure the things I wish to do to it."
Henry gave your lower lip a nip.
"Perhaps, if you are so eager... I should give it to you, hm?" His tone was almost mocking you. "Perhaps you will surprise me... with your... resilience."
Henry tightened the hold on your throat, his hips picking up the pace in an instant, cock thrusting inside you like a feral animal, desperate to conquer your body. He was driven by something he couldn't understand, a need, a hunger that he didn't lose himself to before as completely as he had now. His mind was no longer his own, but it was intoxicated with the need to keep going, no matter what; he had to keep going. He was capable of destroying an army with a flick of his head if they'd dare interrupt him in this moment.
He grunted, his cock working at a pace that made you arch and moan, yet this time Henry didn't keep you still with his powers. No. This time he wanted to see what he made you feel. He wanted to feel each reaction of your body as he claimed it, your body and mind, both his.
He growled, leaning into your ear.
"That's it, sweetheart. Help me get away from myself..."
It was addicting, this feeling of his mind no longer his own but vassal to his desire. Vassal to the shared need you had too.
"I want to feel you from the inside."
Your body was his, but he was greedy. Henry wouldn't stop at that.
He pulled out and rolled you onto your chest, driving inside you again, this time from behind. Henry's hand slid up the back of your head, burying his fingers into your hair, gentle at first, almost hypnotic before he gripped and pulled your head back. His lips came by your ear, licking the shell of it as he pounded into you.
Your mind was as easy to penetrate as your cunt.
He kissed the back of your neck, his mind doing the talking now while he pounded into you.
"You belong to me, sweetheart. And you will take everything I give you... Without ever complaining." Henry gasped, feeling your cunt throb around him. Oh, that was right; you were close; he could feel your body nearing it. "We... are one now. Your mind is my servant. Its servant. Pride yourself on this gift..."
He kept going, his cock twitching too; after all, your minds and bodies aligned had the effect of your needs to match too. He continued at the same pace he felt you enjoyed most, one hand in your hair, the other sliding down between your legs to tease your clit.
The sensation brought tears to your eyes again, too much to take. Even if it was good, it was too much, but Henry didn't stop. That was what he wanted, to push you past every boundary you once believed yourself limited by. Quicker, more. More, until your body was mindlessly subdued to his will.
"Cum for me."
And you did, and so did he, the command powerful enough to bend the limits of both your bodies as you came undone. The bliss was liberating, your body shivering, arching into his and his own coiled around you, hips pressed into yours, seeking to cum deeper inside you. Fascinating, the bliss, the need for closeness, for absorbing the other and to become one.
He had achieved it, more than any other human ever could.
And still, it was a trick, for it wasn't enough.
He let himself drop against your back, panting, barely able to catch his own breath as you did the same. He was worn out, more than he had ever been, but it was to a blissful extent. A magnetic and captivating extent. He found your mind so easy to bend to his will, so willing that as he had fucked you, it felt as if your mind had become his; not a mere servant, but its equal and mirror.
"Are you alright, sweetheart?"
You nodded, too weak to respond with words, but pleased enough to give him an answer. His power had been indeed enchanting, because you felt it in a way that made you want to have it.
Henry had achieved it.
He had successfully shown you the allure of this gift. And had you not already wanted to be with him, you certainly did now. Henry moved away from you, giving you room to catch your breath without his weight on you. He helped you roll on your back, his hand caressing your cheek as he observed the beauty of your body. It lay there, recovering from his demonstration.
How beautiful it was, how stunning.
The only one deserving of learning to stray away from the deceptive rules of this world, away from fear. Another like himself. And despite how much there was still left for you to learn, Henry had managed to overcome the most important barrier.
Your mind, the opposition against change.
With that aside, everything else would be only a matter of time.
He pushed himself up and dressed himself while you turned to give him a curious look. With his back turned to you, he already knew you were watching. Your mind was his, wasn't it? Your thoughts- he heard them, tasted them. He knew you were curious.
Henry's head turned to yours, that menacingly innocent smile on his lips again. Yet, you found solace and comfort in it now as you always had.
"Don't worry, sweetheart..."
Henry placed a tender kiss on your forehead.
"I will be back before you know it. There are still some... things... in this facility that I must mend before we can leave."
NOTE: Thank you everyone for requesting Part 4. Even made a specific new banner for it. Hope it was worth the wait :3
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Perhaps there were ways, far more entertaining and effective ways, to play around with 001 and gain a proper, heartfelt regret from him. A physical approach, whilst effective, would not quite make him understand his lesson. Or perhaps it would, but would it be fun? Not quite. Which is why the approach you decided to take was a little unlike what he expected. A little unorthodox.
"Sweetheart... what are you doing here? Your shift was supposed to begin 10 minutes ago."
That was a futile question. 001 knew perfectly well what you were doing there, leaning against the lab wall, talking with one of those men in uniforms and laughing at his pathetic excuse of a joke. The orderly knew and dreaded it, but what could he do or say? How could he stop you from allowing those mongrel guards to flirt with you? You were encouraging them; you were willingly talking with them as of late to earn a reaction from him. You were letting those male guards gawk at you and facilitating that, especially when you knew 001 would be there to see.
It was never anything else, though.
It was only edging him.
Giving him the chance to see how easily it would've been for anyone else to have you if you permitted it. It gave you a rush. Being able to see the way 001's innocent face remained the same, yet every muscle in it would tense. It was hard for anyone who didn't know him to notice, but you knew him. You knew him like the back of your hand and could see how his neck would tense. His lip would twitch; his eyes would be barren of empathy as he would glare down at the guard talking to you.
His self-restraint was fascinating; that much you had to admit.
The guard checked his watch, making a half-frustrated groan and turning to 001, eyeing him lazily.
"Boy's right. See you after the shift, girl?"
"No, you won't see her," the orderly replied with an eerie yet singsongy lilt to his voice. He took a step toward the guard, with a smile plastered on his lips, but you knew that wasn't a smile. You could feel the way 001 was drilling through the other man with his eyes, the smile only a facade to restrain himself. "Mr Brenner... He doesn't tolerate this kind of indecent behaviour. It would be a shame if he came to find out. He might have you released."
"Are you threatening me, boy?"
"No... of course not. I am merely letting you know that your actions can have consequences."
You had to put down your head to hide a snicker. 001 would know about consequences. However, he was taking them well. He had a smile on his face while being passive-aggressive to that guard, all for your sake. You had to admit it was quite entertaining.
"Shall we begin our shift, sweetheart?" 001 asked as he turned to you, disregarding the guard.
"Hey boy, I wasn't done talking to ya'."
"...oh?" 001 turned calmly to the man, "No... No, you are wrong again. You are done talking to us."
001 led you away, despite the guard's incessant snappy comments. There was no need to dwell on him yet, since there will come a time when problems like him will have a far, far more effective and quick solution. He glanced back one last time at the man, making sure his face remained imprinted on his mind. After all, he will need a test subject soon.
A few steps and around a corner, as soon as you were a safe distance from anyone else who could hear you, 001 turned to you, brow furrowed.
"I don't like this, sweetheart... This isn't fair. This isn't fair on me, or yourself..."
"Putting me to sleep against my will wasn't fair either..."
"But this is different. Sweetheart, this is not the same thing at all. This is... Upsetting."
"That's true. But it's fun nonetheless."
001 glared at you, but he didn't dare to say anything, seeing how he was in the wrong and had to accept the punishment, whichever form it took, be it physical or making him jealous, because at the end of the day that was exactly what this was. You were toying with his feelings to make him crave you more. The harder he desired you, the more he was punishing himself.
This would be one of the days when you'd have the tea-time, but that was not going to take place anymore, was it? 001 hadn't even bothered to try. He followed you across the hall as you patrolled the area. The silence was quite painful, but 001 didn't know what he could say without making it worse for himself.
"You know... I decided to be lenient."
001's attention perked.
"I will give you a chance. Either I prolong the emotional punishment for another... full week, or you accept the physical punishment, and it ends today."
The malevolent, far too confident grin should have been a sign for 001 to choose the first option, but the prospect of it all ending today was too convenient to pass. How much damage could you truly inflict on the orderly? What kind of physical harm could you ever give him that would compare to the emotional one? None. But it felt too good to be true, right? Far too good to be true.
"Tell me more about the options, sweetheart. I can't make an educated guess otherwise."
"No, you don't get to know anything else. Take your pick, or else I pick the first by default."
No. No, 001 didn't want that. The orderly didn't want the first; no more of that filthy behaviour with the guards. No more jealousy.
"I pick it all ends today," he swallowed hard, his breathing quickening a smidge as he eyed you, heart beating faster, even if the thrill wasn't even there yet. "Physical. Physical punishment. I can take it, sweetheart. Anything, if it ends today, and... and you forgive me. Please, sweetheart. Anything if it means you don't... entertain those... those-"
"I got it. Come on."
You smirked, grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him into your secret room. You were lucky you had never been caught, and nobody bothered to check this room, since it had become the perfect place to find seclusion in this lab. Only you two knew the kind of things this room had witnessed.
"Sweetheart," 001 whispered, closing the door behind the two of you. "We have to be careful. What if that man is following us? What if we are found out? We could lose this room..."
"Who? Oh, come on, you really think he cares enough to spy on us? He is thrilled he's got the night off. He won't be a problem. I'd be more concerned with the cameras. I heard Brenner is planning to install more."
"I heard so too... This place... Maybe we should leave it, sweetheart. Sometime. Sometime soon..."
You blocked the door, to be sure, then guided 001 to sit on the edge of your bed, which he complied with, his heart wasting no second in starting to pound painfully against his chest.
"We will. But it's not the time for that yet... Right now, it's time we make things even, hm?"
001 knew what that meant. The orderly nodded, hands clutching the sides of the bed. The man observed you curiously. His eyes followed as you paced around him, apprehension looming as he heard each soft thud of your steps echo in his throat and ears.
He watched as you got closer, how you hovered right above him, but did nothing. 001's hands remained glued to the edge of the bed, whilst you planted your hands on his knees, slowly descending before him.
001 swallowed the knot in his throat, letting his head drop back so he wouldn't see it. How you knelt before him, how your hands were working on his belt. He buried his fingers in the white sterile sheet, which he carefully changed each week, trying to keep his breathing even. His feet lodged in his shoes remained steady on the ground, his entire body tense with suspense.
"What... What is this, sweetheart? What are you doing..."
"I'm punishing you. Isn't that what I said I would do?"
"...This... can't be the punishment."
"Because it isn't yet."
Your vagueness was enough to make 001 grunt slightly and roll his hips, trying to get more comfortable, but it was in vain. Your hands had already worked on unbuckling the belt, the metal hoop no longer a barrier to your reaching the button keeping his white trousers in place. With a light flick of your fingers, the button came undone, and you tugged his pristine white trousers lower, hearing the fabric rustle as you brought it down to his knees, before they dropped by themselves to his ankles.
He didn't dare to look down. To face your reaction. When it was just him and your asleep body, he wasn't afraid. He knew you'd not be able to judge him, but now with you awake, so many things changed. He was anxious, not because he didn't want it, but because he wanted it so deeply that he feared a negative reaction from you upon seeing him.
After all, you hadn't seen what was beneath those white trousers, but only guessed based on that wet stain you saw the week before. You didn't see the bulge, didn't feel the outline. You didn't know what to expect, and 001 feared just that. The orderly feared your reaction.
"So quick?"
001 opened his eyes, knuckles painful and white from the grip. He let go slightly, exhaling the air he had been trapping in his lungs.
"W-What's quick, sweetheart?"
"You. You're already getting hard... I didn't even get to touch you..."
001 swallowed the knot in his throat. He should've guessed.
Your tone was mocking, playfully, your fingers pressing against the fabric of his boxers, outlining the shape of his half-hard cock with them. The touch, even dulled as it was by that layer, was enough to make him shudder, abdomen tensing and hips moving forward into your palm.
Too slow.
You removed your palm with a smirk.
"Oh no. No. No, you don't get to decide that now."
He peeked down at you, nodding.
"It is punishment after all, but I am sure you could manage, isn't that right?"
"Yes, yes, sweetheart. I... I can."
Your fingers hooked into the fabric, making note of the slightly damp spot that had already formed on his boxers as you tugged them down, letting them fall to his ankles too. Then your fingers trailed up his thighs, nails grazing the flesh enough to earn a grunt from him. His cock twitched, and he tried to cross his legs in vain.
He had a feeling he knew what your plan was.
Of what this punishment was supposed to be, and whilst it was indeed a punishment, it did spur him on.
"You are not allowed to use your hands, understood?"
"I promise, sweetheart."
"You are not going to play dirty, alright? No overpowering me. You sit and take the punishment so we have it even."
"I promise, sweetheart. I will accept it... for you. I deserve it."
Your fingers wrapped around the base of his cock, giving him a few lazy strokes, which were more than enough to have him rock hard and already on the edge. It was fascinating how touch-starved he was, how needy. How easy it had been to get him to be close with only a few strokes.
His head dropped back, eyes squeezed shut. You could hear how hard he was trying to keep his breathing steady, to keep himself from rocking his hips into your hand. It was enticing, a sight. Watching how your hand stroked him lazily, far too slow and light, almost to the point he wanted to beg. But he didn't. He stopped himself, his body nearly shaking with how bad he craved it.
You stopped right as he felt he'd tip over.
His toes curled in his shoes, and he let out a pained breath mingled with a desperate whimper.
"I..."
"You?" You knew he wanted to beg, but that was against his punishment. Like a good boy, he shut himself.
You smirked, hand regaining a pace. Light strokes, but your hand tightened slightly, a better grip this time, the man's own precum acting as slick to ease your strokes. 001 was getting into it. His breathing quickened again. He was feeling it build up. Your hand was enough to make him so close that he could almost feel it; he could feel it there...
And then you stopped again. A second time.
"Oh, such a shame... My hand gets tired so quick," you sighed, taunting him. It was obvious that your hand was fine, but you simply loved to take away his chance to cum, a second time now. "Oh, you were close, weren't you? I'm so sorry, that must've been awful... tut-tut."
"You are cruel, sweetheart... so cruel," he cried, breathing heavily.
"Oh, but it was an accident... I didn't mean to,"
You grinned, hand returning to his cock, stroking him again, this time not building the pace but giving it a quick rhythm right away, making him gasp. The gasp was feral, followed by a groan and a series of small whimpers as he felt it come closer. Once again getting so close to cum when...
You stopped. A third time.
"But no, no, this isn't right. You've never just used your hand, right? You also used your mouth."
"Sweetheart... I beg... I don't care what you use, please. Sweetheart, I can't..."
"Shh shh. You can, of course you can."
He winced, watching your hand wrap around him and start jerking him again. This would be the third time, and he was starting to feel like he'd cry. 001 needed to cum so desperately that he feared it would happen whether you allowed it or not. Each denied release only spurred him on further, making him feel like one more touch, no matter how light, would be enough to make him cum, shamefully, wherever he could reach.
Your hand worked at a steady pace this time, almost fooling him that this time he was going to be allowed to cum. Your mouth too joined in, lips grazing over the tip, tongue pressing flat against it. Your mouth enveloped it, sucking it lightly, taunting him. Then you took more of him, more than the head of his cock, tongue flicking slightly at the undershaft, hand still stroking the base. He was blissful, sweating. His forehead bore little trickles of it. He was dizzy, lightheaded. His eyes were watery, tears forming as he felt it so close. So dangerously close and so intense that he feared he wouldn't be able to withstand his own release.
But you were nice to him this time, right? You punished him enough. You were going to let him cum this time, weren't you? He sincerely hoped so; otherwise he felt his whole body would come apart.
You pushed him closer, and closer, feeling him twitch and his body writhing slightly as he tried to contain himself, to hold back even a moment longer. But you knew he was close, and whilst you could have forgiven him and be nice, you decided against it. You continued, tricking him into believing he was going to be allowed to cum, and you felt him relax, losing his barriers, fully allowing himself to be immersed in it.
"Sweetheart... oh, fuck... sweetheart... I think I'll..."
"Hm?"
"I think- I'm almost..."
You knew it, continuing until you felt it. That first twitch, the abdomen tense, the orderly's slight arch- and you pulled away. Hand and mouth, having him cum unaided on the floor tiles. This had been by far the most cruel, as you had stopped right when he needed it most, ruining his orgasm, making him tear up and rock hopelessly into nothing. He leaned forward, trying to get friction, but there was nothing to help him, nothing to make his release more pleasurable.
His body tense and he winced, shaking with each string of cum that landed on the floor at your feet. You smirked, watching his tear-stained cheeks, his innocent, betrayed expression and smiled. You pushed yourself up, guiding his chin to look at you with your index and thumb, smiling at the deliciously weakened and pathetic look in his eyes.
"Well, I think we're even now."
001 couldn't answer. After having been denied three times and his fourth being ruined, all he could do was curl into himself, his cock aching, tears ruining his face. You let go of his head and let it nuzzle your shoulder.
"Please... please make it right... Please sweetheart. One time... One. Please... Anything, just once. I learned my lesson, I beg you."
"I'm sorry, love, but no," you let your hand roam through his hair, gently massaging his scalp as he continued whimpering and begging weakly against the crook of your neck. "I know, I know... I know you want it so bad, but we can't do that, dear. Not today. Today is punishment only; I warned you, baby. I know..."
"But, but I..."
"Shhh shhh, it's okay, you can take it. You've done so well, now we go back to our shift, hm? And as soon as the clock hits midnight, we are even."
"But... but we won't be able... sweetheart, we... we wouldn't be able to do anything else tonight, and I..."
You smirked, placing a soft kiss on his forehead while he gazed up at you with the most innocent, desperate blue eyes.
"I know, baby, punishments are tough, but take the good side, hm? During our next shift together... we won't have anything holding us back anymore."
001 knew you could be stubborn, knew you'd not back down from your decision, so he knew there was no arguing to be done. He reached down, still shaky, to pull up his trousers, giving you one more soft look. Even after taunting him, tormenting him, he couldn't say he wanted to change anything. Sure, things had started off not in the best way between the two of you, but he was pleased that they progressed in a positive direction, and, at last, there was nothing else left to take out on each other. No more punishments or frustrations or resentments. From now on, he didn't have to resort to tricks...
You caught him glancing up and used the change to give his lips a kiss, light, just enough to make his thoughts come to an end and for him to blink, the slight inexpressiveness replaced by his familiar little smile.
"Do you feel ready to continue the shift?"
"I.... I will be honest, sweetheart... no. Not at all... but I must."
You laughed, helping him stand and dress himself.
"That's right, love. You must, after all; that's what good boys do, and you are the best boy I know."
NOTE: Thank you everyone for requesting Part 3 and supporting this fanfic! Here you have it~
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ᯓ★ 001 doesn't have to put on the good boy act when you are asleep.
Pairing: Henry 'Mr Whatsit' Creel x f!Reader || Stranger Things
Warning: smut, fingering, intense mind manipulation, makes you question everything, (Mind Flayer lowkey playing toxic cupid), I'd say dubcon... slightly between con and dubcon
Chapters: [Part 1] | [Part 2] | [Part 3] | [Part 4]
"Ah, sweetheart... Wake up. We have to leave... There are terrible, terrible monsters coming for you..."
Your eyes were still shut, but you were no longer asleep. That juncture, that moment of transition when your mind, engulfed by images of dreams, leaps back to consciousness. Dreams had always been an incursion into something, something buried inside of you that, like a mole, had tried blindly to crawl to the surface.
Your eyes were still closed. A cool breeze brushed your skin, gradually waking you. The window? You must've forgotten to close it when you fell asleep, and now, in the dead of night, your ears perked. You heard it at first, faint, muffled, the sound of ticking.
Tik... tak... tik...
The more your ears focused on it, the clearer the ticking. It matched the pace of your own heart to the point you could no longer distinguish the two.
Was it the clock ticking or your own heart?
Then a different sound. A twig creaking as the breeze reached it. The very same breeze protruded through the slit of the open window. It made your skin form goosebumps. It was colder now than a few moments ago.
Inhale...
A deep breath.
Your eyes still shut, trying to regain sleep. Sleep. You chanted to yourself that it was too early to open your eyes, and if you had, you'd not be able to fall asleep again.
The twig creaked again, and a stronger freeze made its leaves ruffle. The chill worsened, and then, as if due, the twig persisted in creaking and bending under the wind, which picked up in pace. The rustling grew louder too, and you suspected a storm would be starting soon. A swish of enraged leaves.
That had to be it.
That was why your body startled you awake.
A flash of light whitened the black beneath your eyelids, and a loud clap of thunder resounded next with the magnitude of an earthquake of the clouds.
Then the pitter-patter. Drippy tiny water missiles that began assaulting the surroundings and among the victims, your window.
"Ah, you're awake, sweetheart."
Your eyes opened, heart pounding, darting around.
You lived alone.
You had always lived alone. Your chest felt heavy, your mind hazy. With your eyes still blurry from sleep, your hand reached habitually for the switch, and when you flipped it on...
Nothing.
The window was shut, the trees were motionless... There was no breeze, no water droplets, no storm. No person who could have spoken those words. And yet you felt as if you hadn't slept. Your body was weary, heavy, drained.
You rubbed your eyes, rising to the edge of the bed, feet planted on the carpet. Your toes wiggled into the slight fur, comforting yourself in the soothing familiarity of the surface.
Home...
Home.
And yet, you felt home a moment ago too. Just as home as you feel now.
You rubbed your eyes again, "I need to be careful what I eat before going to bed." You rose up, and as you stood, you couldn't shake the memory of the house from a moment ago. How could it feel so real if it had been a dream? How could it feel so familiar if it was your house? Was it a friend's house? No. Your eyes had been closed, but the sensation felt so homey... if only you would've opened your eyes and seen the furniture. Maybe you could've recognised it. Who owned the home you had been in only moments prior?
"That was not your house, sweetheart... Not yet. But the monsters are coming... It will become your home. Safe from the monsters, lurking."
You turned around sharply.
Behind you, next to your bed, was a gentleman. He was familiar... you've seen him. That very night. What a long night it was... how many dreams you had.
"Not yet, sweetheart. There is no time to dwell on those thoughts now..."
"I know you. I've seen you..." you couldn't put it in a better way than that. You've never met this man before, and yet he had been in your dreams that night. You had lived a whole life within the span of a few hours... The gentleman in white.
The orderly.
"Henry."
The spiffy figure's lips curled in a smile.
Your confusion worsened. Your mind was grappling with this realisation. That despite never having met this man in your life, somehow you had dreamed months together in a single night. You knew him, everything about him, without having ever known who he was.
"And you are Y/N. We must go... Do you remember what I always taught you with? I know your mind... it must be foggy... but you have to believe me."
Henry took his hat off, holding it in front of his chest and bowing slightly to you. His free hand closed in the distance, but he stopped, hesitating.
"You must be so... so confused. But... you believe me. Right? Terrible monsters are coming. We have to go..."
"No wait. Henry, give me a second. I just woke up, and I'm... what are you saying? Please. Sit down. Don't talk in riddles with me; I'm too groggy for that.
Henry seemed to be rushing, but at your request, he sat down on the edge of your bed, knees close together, elbows resting on them as he glanced at you.
"I asked you before to trust me..." Henry began again, comforting little smile pointed at you. "And you have to trust me now, sweetheart. I am here to save you."
"I know you, but I don't know you, Henry. Maybe we should start with that?"
"I..." Henry gulped, visibly embarrassed, eyes glued down to his hat, fingers anxiously picking at the rim. "I will tell you."
You studied him. His mannerisms. It was Henry and yet it was a version of him you couldn't recount from the dreams.
"After I showed you the gift I have, and you put your trust in me, I failed you."
His nails stopped scraping the rim of the hat. Henry exhaled deeply.
"There was... an incident. Someone else with a gift like my own, sweetheart. I managed to deal with all but... this one. I... I will not go on much longer; the details would only confuse you more, but I was defeated. It must've been the wave of this friction that affected your mind."
He leaned in, still hesitant, but this time he cradled your head in his palm.
"All you knew... our experience together became locked. In this prison right here." Henry traced your forehead tenderly with his thumb. "And an opaque seal had veiled your memory of me. An abandoned box in an attic which I merely brought back to light."
"How did you return if you were defeated? Are you hurt? Henry-"
"No... and yes. You see... that bad, bad girl... the one who defeated me... she thought I'd never return. But I was stronger... and I made my way back. She doesn't know yet; she doesn't... wouldn't... and never will understand this gift, but you, sweetheart. You do. You must come with me."
"You told me that the monsters are coming..."
Henry nodded, putting on a worried look, so believable that you scooted closer to him and he draped his arm around you for comfort.
"When that little lady did what she did... " Maybe you didn't have to know more than that. The less you knew for now, the better. "She threw me in a place from where terrible, terrible monsters come. And I know these monsters escaped. And they are coming here..."
You were nervous, but Henry squeezed your hand.
"Now?"
"Yes. But the monsters will not be here yet. I... I had to meet you tonight. The time... was too short for a better remembrance."
"No, no. I understand. I believe you, dear. Everyone wanted to hurt us back in the lab... you taught me not to put fear first, but to believe in you, because you will liberate us from it."
Henry nodded.
"Are we leaving in the morning?"
"We will... I came tonight because I had to unveil the cloak from your memories."
"How did you do that?"
Henry smiled again, his hand sliding from the side of your head to your cheek and jaw. "When I was in that place... I learnt how to do many things, sweetheart. But there is still something which we should do. To... assure ourselves that your memory had been fully recovered."
There was a seriousness in Henry's voice that made what he said sound necessary. Mandatory even.
"It would be recommended... that you allow me to touch you. I know. I know. It's scandalous. And your memory is still so foggy, but my touch will make it all clear. Here... permit me."
He leaned in, nervously. Henry stopped right before his lips could touch yours, hesitated, then instead of your lips, he kissed a spot beneath your left ear, making your back arch. A specific soft spot, erogenously inclined, that always made your body react blissfully.
"How did you know..."
"This one was just a hunch."
Henry continued kissing, lower across your neck, to your clavicle, lips trailing across the bone to your shoulder, and then the other, then reaching his kisses slightly to your back, pushing himself to slightly hover over you. Then he rode up your ear with the kisses again.
"I was so terribly scared, sweetheart. I didn't know what came of you... if you survived. I was so frightened..."
His honeyed voice sounded truthful to your ears.
Especially with the memories flooding back.
But was Henry really honest? Had he ever been honest with you?
"Here, sweetheart. I can finally be with you again...."
Henry kicked his shoes off and climbed into bed, pulling you into his chest so that your back was resting against him. His legs opened, and yours did too, and his hand began stroking your sides, kneading the flesh as his head came to rest against the back of your shoulder.
"You smell good, sweetheart. Do you remember? In the lab you always told me how awful that sterile smell was. How... appalling..." Henry's hand went to the hem of your shirt, sliding underneath to feel your breasts.
Waking you from sleep meant the likelihood of finding a bra on his way was minimal, and he was glad to be right. His thumb grazed around your nipple, his lips applying hot kisses at the back of your shoulder, the chill sensation of his glasses' temples prickling the side of your neck.
He felt the shiver and grinned against your shoulder, kissing it again.
"We cannot do much tonight, sweetheart, but I can make you feel good. You trust me, I know you do. Just let go... let me take care of-"
"You smell good too. Is that... [Favourite fragrance] How did you know it was my favourite?"
"...Another hunch," Henry smirked teasingly, but you couldn't turn back to see the reaction on his face. "We have similar preferences, sweetheart. Your mind is a part of mine. Remember? I only had to come back and rekindle that. But too much talk... shhh. Close your eyes now."
His hand slid lower, to your stomach and thighs, playing with his nails on the fabric, causing you to grow aroused by the second, to demand more. Your hips arched, but Henry continued, patiently teasing you until he heard you wince.
Then his hand slipped inside your pyjama shorts, middle finger brushing against your panties, feeling them damp under his soothing touch. His lips still on your shoulder and neck became needier too, nipping the spots and suckling softly before releasing the skin with a slight pop, adorning your shoulder with the marking of his hickey.
His finger slipped beneath the panties, middle and ring finger prodding your hole, feeling your slick coating his fingers. You mewled, ready to take his fingers, but it wasn't enough. Henry felt that your hole needed a little more lubrication, so he pulled his hand out of your shorts and brought his fingers to your mouth.
"Sweetheart, open your mouth for me..."
He made you suck on his fingers, the sight so erotic and suggestive his own trousers felt tight. Yet he wanted to focus on you. He brought his fingers back underneath the panties, this time easing his two fingers inside you and thrusting them gently.
At first slow, until you warmed up, "That's it, sweetheart... this area... your pelvis... Let loose... good." His fingers picked up the pace. "Relax... relax, sweetheart. You're becoming tense. Keep loose... let your weight on me... all of it... let that mind free... don't brace it. Let go... let me take over."
Henry's words were less and less in your ears and more so in your mind, your entire body becoming familiar with this sensation of complete surrender to him. His fingers continued working inside you, the heel of his palm working to tease your clit at the same time.
His other arm wrapped around your middle, keeping you snug into him as he felt your orgasm closing in, building up around his finger.
"I'm..."
"Shhh... let it all go..."
And you did.
Your mind once more surrendered to him, to the blissful sensation of your cunt throbbing and squeezing around his fingers, satisfied and yet aching for more.
But more wouldn't come tonight.
Henry helped you gradually come down your climax before taking his fingers out and licking them clean. He let your body rest against his, your embrace enough to soften him up just enough so he would return it.
"I... I missed you. Even though I couldn't remember you. I missed you. I always felt... Something was missing."
"It was never missing. It was right there, sweetheart. In the unconscious... It had always been there..."
You smiled.
Your smart, brilliant, Henry. You let yourself doze off in his arms, knowing there was a lot to catch up on the next day. But for now... you could rest. You were safe. If anyone could keep you safe, that was Henry.
Henry sighed.
His soft expression relaxed, in his usual more rougher one, with sharper edges and less honeyed hints. His brow furrowed, his cheeks relaxed... and he let a deep exhale leave his lungs.
How gullible... He almost felt bad.
He almost felt bad for doing this to you.
These false memories that he planted in your mind...
It was a shame it wanted you. The Mind Flayer... It had instructed him to bring you. Henry Creel had always been serving this duty on his own, but this time he was pushed to bring over another... you.
Why you? Hm.
At the very least... you were so willing to believe him, so unlikely to put up any opposition to the infestation of your mind that he could perhaps accept it. Henry Creel could make peace with knowing that, for the time being, to achieve the true natural order... he would have to be seconded by you.
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Summary: Henry does not want to wake up, nor take a bath.
Ship: Henry Creel|Peter Ballard|Vecna|One/Reader
Tags: Fluff, Awkward Situations, Non-Sexual Intimacy, ST5 fix-it, Shared Hobbies, Henry has given up at this point
WC: 7.0k
A/N: Happy Saturday guys! This has been one i've been waiting for (smirks). We are finally out of the grumpy trenches.
PART FIVE
PART SEVEN
"At the end of my suffering, there was a door" - Louise Glück, The Wild Iris
This morning was different. You could tell by the way the sun was so hot and high that it baked the dew off the shingles before you even awoke. For the first time since you had brought Henry to your house, the morning was eerily quiet. There was not a single sound coming from downstairs, not the shuffling of feet, nor even the slow turn of pages that you normally heard in the morning.
You pushed the door open, expecting to see Henry sitting up. You had assumed he would be staring out the window, at least that's what he was normally doing when there was minimal noise, since you hadn't heard anything. But no, the curtains were still drawn tight and Henry… He was still in bed?
Henry was buried deep under the duvet, his long frame taking up the entirety of the bed, and his knees curled inward just a little so that all of him would fit. His features were soft, and he seemed finally relaxed. His mouth was slightly open, and you could see the way his chest rose and fell in time with his breathing. At long last, he was getting some rest. Good. He needed it.
"Henry?" you called as you stepped into the room. "Wakey wakey, sleepyhead."
He didn't move, and he acted as if he didn't even hear you. So, you decided to walk over to the curtains and rip them back, letting violent, bright waves of light bathe every aspect of the room.
Henry let out a sound that was half-hiss, half-groan, burying his face in the pillow to escape from the rays. "Stop—" he rasped out, his voice uncharacteristically lethargic. "The sun. It's too bright."
"The sun is fine. You are just a vampire," you teased as you leaned against the bedpost. "I was starting to think you ran away, but I guess you really just like the smell of these old linens."
He rolled off his stomach onto his back, stretching out like a dog, his joints popping. He blinked up at you, his bright blue eyes clouded as he squinted. His blonde hair was chaotic as it splayed against the pillow, strands going in every direction.
"What is the meaning of this?" he muttered. It was obvious that he was not a morning person.
"Meaning of what? Me waking you up? Henry, it's nearly noon," you said as you reached down to pull the blanket off of him. "Plus, I've been up for a couple of hours. And it's getting boring. And you are the only entertainment around here."
"I am not a circus animal," he said, pushing himself up on his elbows. He looked around the room as if he were seeing it for the first time."I slept through the night."
"Yup. You did. No screaming, and you didn't break any cups. I'd say it was a success."
He sat up fully, the duvet sliding down his waist so that you didn't have to pull it back. He looked at it and then over at you. "It was… nice."
"Exactly. That's what happens when you listen to me, and you eat, and you're actually safe," you said as you offered him your hand. "Now come on, get up, before I go get a camera and take a picture of your crazy bed head."
"You wouldn't dare," he said, letting out a long sigh. He looked over to your stretched-out hand. "You are relentless, you know? Very well. Help me up."
With a firm grip, he took your hand.
"I need to check your stitches, okay?" you said as your tone became more serious. "Come on, sweater off."
For once, Henry didn't argue; he lifted off his sweater and folded it, setting it down neatly on the bed beside him. The morning light was unforgiving against his body, the light highlighting the bruises and stitches.
You went to the kitchen and came back with a pair of latex gloves and the medical kit. You leaned in close to his body to examine the stitches on his stomach first.
"The bruising is almost gone," you say, surprised as you probed around his stomach. "Your body is… remarkable, your skin is knitting together perfectly. But it really hasn't been that long since—"
"My biology has always been efficient," he says, interrupting you as if trying to avoid questioning.
He sat perfectly still, the only movement his focused eyes, tracking your hands as they touched him. You reached for the scissors in the medical kit to cut the tapes, but instead of grabbing more gauze, you took the kit and set it down on the nightstand.
"What are you doing?" he asked with a puzzling look on his face. "You aren't putting on the bandages."
"I'm leaving them off."
He turned his head, brow furrowing in even deeper confusion, and he looked down at his bare torso and then back at you. "And your reasoning for that? You have spent the past week and a half obsessing over me. For you to suddenly stop seems… very inconsistent with your liking."
"You've been bedridden for days, Henry. To put it quite bluntly, you stink."
Henry froze. The silence following your statement, or rather fact, was absolute. His mouth snapped shut, and his eyes widened.
"I do not… stink," he said, the word offensive on his tongue. He pulled his shoulders back, finally sitting up ramrod straight. He was trying to reclaim the little dignity he had while sitting half-naked in a bed with a rumpled duvet draped across him. "My body has been focused on healing, not on the triviality of—"
"It's not a triviality when I can practically smell you from the hallway," you interrupted, unable to hide a smirk. "Look, I get it, it's been a lot, you've been recovering. But the bandages stay off because you will be getting in the shower. Today. Preferably now."
He looked over towards the attached bathroom door, his expression shifting to the scowl you know all too well. He had the look of a cat right before it was going to be sprayed by a spray bottle.
"The steam of your shower is suffocating. I find the entire process to be a waste of time."
"Boo-hoo, you seriously need it," you said, reaching into the closet to grab some fresh towels. You tossed them to him, and he caught them with his good hand, the fluffy fabric soft to the touch. " I left some more of my clean clothes on the counter. There's soap in there. Please don't fall, or I'll have to come in there and scoop you up. And we both know you'd rather die."
Henry let out a long huff of air. He stood up, his movements still a bit shaky, but more sure than the past days, though he still kept his hand on the bedpost for stability.
"You are very blunt today," he grumbled, making his way towards the adjoining bathroom.
"Always when it comes to you," you retorted.
"Insufferable," he whispered, the corner of his mouth twitching as he said it. He made it in and closed the door."
"Wait!" you said, catching the door right before it shut. "Would a bath be better? Because let's be real here— in your condition, there is absolutely no way you can stand up long enough to shower. Your knees will most definitely give out."
He opened his mouth to protest, but no words came out. He conceded and gave a stiff nod of approval. "Sure, if that will satisfy your obsession with how 'fragile' I am."
You slipped past him further into the bathroom. The bathroom was set up as a combination unit: a tub with a shower head attached. It would be perfect. You reached in and twisted the knob to hot. When the tub filled up, you reached for a small bottle on the ledge and poured a generous amount into the water.
"What is that?" Henry asked, appearing beside you. He looked down and saw a rising pile of what appeared to be foam. "Why is the water… growing?"
"Aren't they so fun! Bubbles! It'll help you relax. Plus, they smell good."
"Bubbles?" The word sounded ridiculous and childlike on his tongue. He looked at the suds in the water as if they were some type of trap. "This is absurd. It is childish and a waste. I do not need them."
"Deal with it," you said. You reached into the water to test the temperature. "Do you need help? I can stay and—"
"No," he shot back. "I am perfectly capable of doing this alone. You have done enough already. You can leave."
"Fine, fine. I'll be right outside, though, in case you do need any help."
You stepped out of the room, shutting the door, but not all the way. You kept the door slightly cracked and went and sat down on his bed. For a minute, there was no noise, then you heard a very frustrated sigh. Finally, the sound of a zipper being struggled with, followed by a string of curses that sounded very old and very formal.
After that, there was silence for a long time, too long. You could hear the continuous rustling on his trousers, and then the sound of him losing his balance and hitting the side of the wall with a dull thud.
"Henry?" you called out. "How are you holding up?"
"The… the button," he rasped out in a tone laced with a hint of fury. "It's not working, my hand refuses to cooperate with it."
You bit your lip, trying to suppress the urge to laugh at him being caught up with a pair of jeans. "Do you want me to come in, or are you going to fight your pants for twenty more years?"
There was an agonizingly long pause before he spoke.
"I find…" his voice dropping to a defeated murmur, "That I would like your help. Just this once."
"Okay, I'm coming in," you say as you push the door open.
He was sitting on the edge of the tub, with his face flushed in a deep, humiliated red. His shirt was off, but his pants were hopelessly stuck on his hips. His hand was shaking a bit with the effort of trying, and failing, to undo the button. He looked at you as he came in, head cowering with a great deal of shame.
"So this is what you are struggling with?" you asked softly, kneeling in front of him.
"Yes," he muttered, closing his eyes as you reached for the button. "I hate this world. I hate these bubbles. And I especially hate these pants."
You undid the clasp, your fingers working fast and efficiently, hoping to keep the moment less awkward than it already was. Thankfully, it gave way easily, and you started to guide the denim down his hips.
As you pulled them down, Henry's breath hitched, his head turning away to hide the flush of his face. It was to no avail as it extended up his neck. For all his talk of the past week, he was now reduced to something painfully human, just like you.
"Stay still, you murmured as you helped him finally step out of the fabric, your hands brushing against the skin of his legs as you worked.
"This is humiliating," he spoke, still not looking at you. "The scientists poked me with needles and did many things that would be considered horrific… But this? This is the worst."
"Henry, it's just a bath," you said as you threw his pants into the hamper. You would have to do the laundry later this evening, as you didn't have many clean clothes that would fit him left. You tried to keep your voice light, but you gulped as you saw the scars that littered his body. He was so clearly mortified, and it made your heart ache with empathy.
He let out a short and shaky breath. "You saw me scream. You have seen me fail. And now you see this," he gestures to his own frame. "You're turning me into a joke."
You stayed where you were, the tiles biting into your knees. You looked over at him; he only had one functioning arm and one functioning leg that could barely take any of his weight. There was practically no way that he could make it into the tub alone, especially not without him cracking his head on the porcelain.
"Henry," you said, your voice with an uneasy tone. "We might as well… finish the job. You're not going to be able to balance on one leg and pull the rest off without toppling over."
He went deathly still. The flush on his neck grew even more upwards, to the point where it seemed to pulse under his skin. He looked at you, his eyes widening with unadulterated horror.
"You cannot be serious," he said, barely able to get the words out. "You have already taken away my dignity, my privacy, and now my pants. Do you truly intend to—to—" He couldn't even finish the sentence.
"I want to make sure you don't nearly die on my watch again," you reached out, hands to his waist to steady him. "It's nothing I haven't seen before. Believe it or not, I have a body too."
"It's not about that!" he said, his hands white-knuckled as he gripped the edge of the tub. he looked like he wanted to vanish. "This is an invasion! It is a… a removal of every boundary that we have. I am a man of—of—"
"Of very little balance right now," you finished for him. "Look at me, Henry. I'm not laughing at you, and I'm certainly not judging. I'm just trying to help."
His eyes squeezed shut once more, his chest heaving with jagged breaths. He looked utterly defenseless and mortified.
"Turn… turn your head away," he commanded, but his voice was weak. "I don't want you to look, please."
"Head turned," you promised, your head facing the wall.
With your eyes fixated on a small imperfection on the wall, you reached out. The process was quick and easy, but full of deafening silence. You could feel the heat radiating off of him and the way his muscles tensed under your touch.
You kept your eyes closed and let him get into the tub himself, a splash, and the sound of a few bubbles popping.
You finally looked into the bath, and Henry was submerged up to his chin in water, his blonde hair wet, sticking to his forehead. The suds covered his body, but his face was bright red and angry.
"There you go," you said, exhaling out a breath that you didn't even realize you were holding. "You're in. No bones broken. No dignity… Well, mostly no bones broken. No new bones broken."
"I hate you," he said, though there was no real bite to it.
"I know," you said, closing the toilet lid and sitting down to keep him company. "But I think you will feel better after this."
Henry leaned his head back against the rim of the tub. He let out a groan as the warmth seeped into his bones. He didn't look like a threat; he hadn't all morning despite his dislike of his current condition. He had hoisted his injured leg up, resting it against the porcelain to keep the cast away from the water. The position made him look disjointed and awkward.
For a few minutes, you just sat there, the only noise the occasional popping of bubbles and your combined breathing. He stared over at the bottle of shampoo with frustration. He tried to move to pick it up, but with the awkward angle his body was in, it made it impossible. His moments to try to grab the bottle made him wince in pain from his ribs.
He let out a frustrated noise and sank back into the tub.
"This is impossible," he muttered. He sounded utterly exhausted as he spoke." I only have one hand and a mountain of foam obscuring me. " He gestured to his body once more with his free hand.
"I cannot reach anything," he admitted. "And I am trapped in here. I am a failure, I can't even complete the simple task of bathing."
"Henry, you're not a failure; you are incapacitated." You reached for a washcloth and dipped it in the warm water. You shifted off the toilet seat and moved closer to the tub. As you got closer, the steam curled around you both. "Do you want me to..?"
He stared at the newly wet washcloth in your hand. "It's Fine. I have clearly lost my privileges to object."
You quickly moved the bath mat over from under the sink to the tub and pressed your knees to it, eventually leaning over the edge. The water was still scalding hot, but you would bet money that Henry liked it that way.
"Tilt your head back," you instructed him.
You set the washcloth aside and cupped your hands together. You then dipped them into the bathwater, filling them, and poured the water over his head. His hair darkened further as the warm water seeped into his scalp. The water continued to roll down his temples and down over the tips of his ears, one droplet in particular tracing his jawline.
You reached for the bottle of shampoo hidden away in the niche of the wall—the one that smelled of lavender, that filled almost every other smell in your house. You squeezed the bottle until a sizeable amount littered your palm.
You worked the shampoo into his hair, and he let out a sharp gasp as you made contact for the first time. Most touch he had felt in his life had been cold, but your hands were different. They were warm and soft, and gentle, more gentle than anything he had ever felt in his life. The way you moved your hands was different—rhythmic and grounding. It was like a drug—your touch— and he was getting addicted.
"It smells like you," he remarked, voice sounding hollow. His body didn't move, but you could feel the tension melting away under your thumbs.
"Same one I use," you said, your voice softer than usual. "It's nice, expensive, it'll be good for your hair."
"I do not require expensive things."
"It's just shampoo, don't think too hard about it." You continue lathering the shampoo into his hair, your fingers dancing over his skull. As the foam built up, it brought the lavender out further, intensifying the smell.
"I do not know if I like it. It's… aggressive," he murmured, but his eyes remained closed. "When I was in the lab, there were no scents. Everything was mundane."
"Is it such a bad thing?" you said as you rinsed your hands, cupping them again to pour water over his hair to rinse out the shampoo. "It takes away from the lab, no?"
He didn't answer your question; he probably didn't want to. Answering your question would require evaluating his time at the lab, and that was far from what he wanted to do at the moment.
You opted to condition his hair as well. You didn't know any guys growing up—at least ones with short hair— that used conditioner, but you thought it would be a nice touch. You reached over him once more to grab the conditioner and poured a dollop of the milky white liquid into your palm. You slid it between your palms before making contact with his hair again.
"You are very thorough, you know. With your hands," he said, voice thick, almost sounding drugged.
"I told you I am not leaving until this job is done," you said, massaging it in where the tension at the base of his skull was wound tightest.
He wasn't going to argue with that. You were actually coaxing him to relax, something that he didn't think was even possible anymore. The last time he had felt so alleviated had to have been back at the lab. The doctors used meditation to bring out psychic powers, and he also would do it occasionally in his pastime. But it was always for something. This. This was simply relaxing for the sake of relaxation.
"It feels nice," he said quietly as if it hurt to say the words.
"I'm glad. But it's just someone taking care of you, you don't need to overcomplicate it."
He drifted off in the bath for a moment.
"I do not suspect I will ever be able to rid the smell of lavender," he said, though he didn't sound too displeased.
"Probably not. Just like you are stuck with me," you tease as you go to rinse his hair for the final time.
He didn't snap back with some sort of insult or sound of annoyance. If you hadn't known better, you would think that he liked having your own scent coating him.
"There you are, clean now," you said as you grabbed onto the side of the tub to pull yourself up.
He blinked and opened his eyes back up fully, the blue a sharp contrast to the flush of his warm skin.
"I feel like I have been marinated," he remarked, but in a more playful tone than normal. "Does that happen to all your guests? Do you subject them all to this?"
"Only the ones who stink," you giggle.
He rolled his eyes. Before he could speak, you interrupted him.
"Did you just roll your eyes at me?" You looked at him, astonished.
"I did no such thing," he retorted, looking down at his hands.
"You totally did!" You let out a big grin. "Seems like you are settling in just fine."
He stared down at the bubbles and then back at you. "You have no proof."
"Okay," you said. "I'll believe you for now. Your hair is done. Now for the rest of the situation." You gestured along his body.
His wary eyes flicked towards you. "The 'situation'?"
"Your body," you picked up a loofah from the side of the tub. "Do you think you will be fine to do it yourself, or do I need to stay and help you?"
The flush that had finally faded came back. He looked down at the loofah and then the foam covering him.
"I think I can manage by myself. I have a hand. And the loofah. Do you really think I am that incapable?"
"No, I'm not questioning your capabilities," you pointed out with a teasing glint in your eyes. "I am just taking in your current state. You have one broken leg propped up on the tub and an arm that doesn't work. You are definitely going to miss some spots."
He let out a long sigh. "Your dedication to this is bordering on sadistic. I promise you, I will be clean."
"Sadistic, huh?" you said, fully standing up at this point. "You know I've been told—"
You stopped talking after the death glare he started giving you.
"Fine. Fine. I'll step out. But if I hear a bunch of splashing or yelps? I will be coming right back in. You understand?" You handed him the loofah as you spoke.
"Yes, I understand. But you seem to have an egregious lack of faith in me," he grumbled as he looked at the loofah.
"Don't take too long," you said, heading to the door.
"Heaven forbid," he muttered to the bubbles. "A man must have some boundaries left."
You looked at the fogged-up mirror and finally pushed the door open to leave the restroom. In the time you let him wash himself, you ran out to grab some more towels and an extra razor you had from your bathroom upstairs.
You returned to the bathroom, and he was exactly where you had left him, though there were fewer bubbles left in the bath. He was more exposed now, trying to rinse his good arm, but struggling with the caution that his broken arm brought with it.
"I see that you are still afloat," you said as you stepped back over to where you were previously kneeling by the tub.
His head snapped towards you, his eyes narrowing as he took in the items in your hands. "I did it. By myself. I am sufficiently clean."
"Except for the face," you countered, holding up the razor. "You have about a week's worth of stubble going on. It's gonna get itchy once you step out of the bath. I also don't want you looking like you crawled out of a shipwreck when I just got you all clean."
He reached up and touched his fingers to the stubble forming along his jaw. His expression shifted; it wasn't often he didn't have a clean face, and as much as he liked to disagree with you, he preferred his own face clean-shaven.
"Fine," he said, eyeing the blade with suspicion. "Are you finally giving me the autonomy to slit my own throat?"
"No. Given the fact that you could barely wash yourself, I think I'm gonna take the lead this time."
He didn't argue with you; he knew if he tried himself, he'd end up looking like a patchwork quilt. "Go ahead. But I swear, if you nick me—"
"Carefully what you say, Henry," you tease. "I'm the one with the blade in my hand."
"How terrifying," he whispered while closing his eyes as he felt your hand cradling his jaw. "Truly."
"You are being very dramatic this morning," you said as you attached a fresh blade to the razor, clicking it in place.
"I am worried. Worried you will cut me. I do not always think you have the best intentions."
"You know that women shave, right? I shave," you said as you squirted shaving cream on your palms, then rubbed them together until you had a thick lather.
His eyes snapped open in confusion, "What..?"
"Obviously I'm not shaving my face, but I've been shaving my body since I was like thirteen. I'm not going to nick you, Henry. I promise."
He let out a skeptical hum, "How reassuring."
"Shut up and hold still," you muttered as you leaned in closer to his face.
His notions died down as your hand cupped his jawline, steadying him. You could feel the warmth of the bathwater and the heat radiating off of him between his shoulders. You started to move the razor in short, precise strokes, clearing away the blonde stubble. Henry stayed even more still than when you bandaged him up, his breathing long and thorough.
"See?" you say as you finish up a section, wiping off the blade to get all the hairs off. "I didn't cut you."
"Yet," he rasped out.
You finished the last swipe of his jaw and reached for the washcloth to wipe off the remaining shaving cream. You set the razor on the side of the tub and sat up further on your knees, but as your weight shifted, so did you. The combination of water, steam, and foam made the ground so slippery that your knees gave out.
"Whoa—"
Your arms flailed trying to catch onto the side of the tub, but it was to no avail. Your chest hit the edge of the porcelain. You yelped out, and your arms plunged into the water, elbow-deep.
Henry let out a choked noise as you face planted into his personal space, landing inches from his chest.
For a heartbeat, the only sound was the slosh of water from your fall and the smell of lavender on Henry's skin. You were pinned between the tub and Henry's, very wet, very shiny torso, heart hammering fast against your ribs.
He froze, his arm coming up to catch your shoulder, fingers digging into your now-wet shirt. He stared down at you in shock, his face still half covered in shaving cream and only inches from yours.
"Lost your footing?" he asked, voice trembling ever so slightly.
"Shut up," you snapped, though it lacked any real heat. Your face was flushed bright red, probably even more red than you had ever seen his, and you were still leaning against his bare chest.
You scrambled back, struggling to catch your footing, palms sliding over the tub. You managed to haul yourself over to the bath mat, further towards the sink. He was giving you the most "told you so" look you had ever seen from him.
"I thought you were an engineer, no?" he began, voice crackling with amusement. "It seems you forgot how to calculate friction."
"One more word, Henry—"you said, pointing at him while you tried to wring out your shirt. "If you keep up that attitude, then I'm not giving you any breakfast."
He actually chuckled for once, maybe even laughed? The sound itself even seemed to startle him. "Earlier, you were worried about me breaking bones. I would be more worried about yourself."
"You are lucky that you are still in that tub right now," you said, grabbing one of the towels that you had reserved for him. "I am going to go change. Are you able to get out, you think?"
He reached for the edge of the tub, his gaze lingering on your—now soaked—body. His gaze wasn't as severe as you had expected it to be, considering you quite literally fell in the tub where he was sitting. Naked. Instead, he looked at you with an almost playful look. "I think I can manage. Not falling like you is a very powerful motivator."
"You are unbelievable," you said, heading for the door. "I'll make some pancakes in the meantime. They'll be ready in ten-ish minutes."
"Hopefully I'll be dry by that point," he called out behind you, the only sound the one of splashing water as you entered the hallway.
True to your word, ten minutes later, the griddle was screeching, and the kitchen was filled with the smell of pancakes. You had changed into a clean sweatshirt and a matching pair of pants. Your hair was still a little damp around the edges from the whole debacle.
You heard the sound of his limping and turned your head. Henry appeared in the kitchen, as stubborn as ever, refusing to let his injuries define him.
Surprisingly, he had managed to change into a clean pair of clothing, not dissimilar from your own, a grey pair of sweatpants, and a charcoal t-shirt. He had also draped his—or rather your—sweater over his shoulders, not too dissimilar from a cape to accommodate his arm. His hair was still wet, but it had been combed back, his face was smooth, and still slightly pink from the heat of the bath.
He stayed leading his weight against the doorway, watching you flip the pancakes on the griddle. He stayed silent but watched you with intense focus.
You turned your head to look at him, "I can't say I'm not impressed, I thought I was going to have to help you again."
"It was a battle of attrition, I assure you," he replied with his raspy voice. He hobbled his way over to the table and sat down in the chair, a low grunt escaping his voice as he landed. "The clothing is not particularly made with immobilized limbs in mind. But I was able to figure something out."
"I see you kept the cardigan."
"It protects me," he replied with a hint of lightness in his tone that wasn't there before.
"From what?" you asked.
"From you." You shot him an annoyed look. In another life, he would have been smiling back at you. You finally came over with two stacks of pancakes and set one plate down in front of you. He didn't immediately go for the pancakes, though; instead, he looked out the kitchen window, looking at the birds chirping in the morning.
"You are still wet," he observed, looking over your hair.
"Just my hair. Maybe next time I'll have to wear a wetsuit." You poured yourself a cup of tea and sat down across from him.
He looked down at his plate, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. " I believe I owe you an apology for it. I had gotten a bunch of water on the floor in my… attempts at bathing."
"Apology accepted. Now eat before your pancakes get cold."
He took a bite, the sweetness of the syrup overwhelming his senses. As he ate, his eyes wandered from the griddle, which you had left on in case he wanted any more, over to the counter before landing on a worn sketchbook. It was open, landing on a couple of drawings, but it was hard to make anything out from your seats at the table.
He paused, fork halfway to his mouth. "I didn't know you drew," he mentioned, nodding towards the book. "I thought I entirely occupied your time."
"You wish. It's just a hobby, though," you got up from the table and walked over to the counter and grabbed it. "You can take a look, if you want to."
He set his fork down and pushed the plates away, not wanting to get syrup anywhere near your book. It was precious to him in a way. Based on your occupation, he had expected to find maybe blueprints or something technical, but that was far from the case. Most of them were of people or animals, mostly made from graphite.
His long, elegant fingers trace the length of the pages as he flips through them. "You capture things remarkably well. It's like you can feel their expressions through your art."
"Thank you. I just try to capture what I see in everyday life," you said, taking a sip of your tea.
He turned another page, stopping on a drawing of your backyard. He stayed on that page for a long time, just absorbing its contents.
"When I was in the lab, I used to try to remember what people looked like, other than the doctors," he said softly. He didn't look at you, still focusing on the graphite lines. "But after a while, the people I remembered, their features started to blur. I wasn't able to hold on to their details. "
"Well, hopefully you don't forget my details, considering that I am right here," you said, trying to bring the mood back to the lightness of before. He closed the book and slid it back over to you.
Then quietly he added, "Sometimes I don't even remember my own family's features anymore."
You couldn't quite understand the look on his face, but you knew not to press further. He looked down, fidgeting with his hands a bit after he said it, as if he was waiting for you to judge him, but no judgment came.
"I suppose I now have to worry about you sketching me in my unfortunate state this morning," he remarked, picking back up his fork.
"Don't worry, you are safe. For now."
He didn't reply, instead going back to taking small bites of his pancakes with a thoughtful expression adorning his face. "I used to draw," he said, his voice so quiet you almost didn't hear him. "When I was a kid, mostly. There weren't too many opportunities in the lab. But I had found a small colony of spiders in the vents when we moved to our home in Hawkins. I drew them."
You paused your teacup halfway to your lips. "You drew? Didn't peg you for the type."
"Quite often, I remember." His gaze drifted over towards the window.
"Why draw the spiders?" you asked. "Most people find them daunting to be around." Your question was posed without judgment, rather with curiosity.
"I am not most people," he replied, finally looking at you. "They are solitary creatures. Much like how I felt at that age."
"And do you not feel the same now still?"
He paused, giving you a puzzled look, though it seemed as if he was questioning himself more than you. "I do not know."
A bout of silence followed.
"You say most people. You did not include yourself. Why is that?" he asked, cutting off a piece of pancake and breaking the quiet.
"I like spiders. They get rid of much less desirable insects. And they look cool," you say, though a bit mumbled with your mouth full of food.
"With that, we are in agreement."
You head over to the counter to dish out more pancakes onto your plate, and surprisingly, they are still quite warm. "Wait right here. I'm pretty sure I have a spare sketchbook somewhere you can have."
Henry looked up at you. "There is no need for you to get it now. I am currently—"
"—Very bored and clean and having nothing to do. So. Yes, I am going to find it," you yelled out while running up the stairs. "Don't touch my pancakes!"
"I have had enough already!" he shouted back, voice echoing throughout the house.
You laughed and took the stairs up, two at a time. Upstairs, you scrambled throughout your room, dropping to your knees to look under your bed for your extra sketchbook. You tossed aside some clothes that you found under there, as well as a couple of books, before your fingers found a brand new one.
You then headed over to your desk, where you kept your pencils, and pulled out a handful—varying degrees of lead from a 2H to a 6B.
"Found it!" you yelled, heading back downstairs.
You were practically out of breath by the time you made it back, but the biggest difference was the huge smile that adorned your features. You threw down the new supplies right in front of him, and he looked at them as if they were some sort of challenge.
"There you go," you said as you slid him a pencil. "Draw whatever or whenever you want."
He picked up the pencil, his long fingers slipping and curling around it. The next couple of hours flew by as you were both engrossed in your respective artworks; the only sound interrupting you was the occasional chirp of a bird or other wildlife. Despite how focused you were on drawing—trust me, you really were—you couldn't help but find yourself watching him more than your pencil.
Henry was, to say the least, a perfectionist; he moved his hands with deliberate strokes, cradling the sketchbook as if it were a precious relic. His face showed most of his concentration, his brow furrowed, and he didn't look up, not even once.
"It doesn't need to be perfect, Henry," you teased him.
"Yes it does," he muttered, still focused.
"You are overthinking it."
"I want to get it right. There is a difference."
You peeked your head over your own spot to try to get a glimpse at what he was drawing, but he pulled himself and the book away from you. "What are you drawing?"
"Nothing," he said, finally setting the pencil down to look up at you.
"So your pencil is the one who is drawing instead?" you tease, nodding at his page.
He shoots you a scowl, turning his chair to look slightly at the window, the angle making it harder for you to see anything on his pages. He vigorously flipped through the pages as if he had a distaste for what he had just drawn.
This time, though, he looked over at you. Silent. His gaze wasn't piercing or predatory but instead soft and observant. He started to draw.
You had figured, of course, that he was drawing you, though he had never asked you to pose, but you didn't stop him. You just went back to your own sketch, scribbling away until the sun went down. Eventually, Henry set his pencils down.
"I am exhausted," he admitted, his voice low and weary. He looked down at his hands, the sides and splint covered with patches of graphite.
"A good kind of tired?"
He looked over to his sketchbook and hesitantly pushed it toward you with the flick of a wrist. "I would say so."
You turned it around to get a good glimpse. Even though he had been staring at you, as a whole, that is not what he drew. He drew your hands—the lines of your knuckles, the slight callouses on your fingertips. It was beautiful, really.
"You make my hands look much steadier than they are," you whispered.
"You are steady," he said as he leaned back into his chair. He watched patiently as you continued looking at the drawing, perhaps searching for some hint of approval.
"Come on, that's enough for today. If you fall asleep at the table, I'm not sure I'll be able to carry you to bed," you said, closing both sketchbooks.
He let out a huff of amusement. You came over to where he was sitting and held out your hand to help him up. This time, he didn't hesitate; his grip firm as he transitioned upright. There was no apology for struggle, for weakness, just the steady noise of your footsteps together.
At the door, he paused, his gaze lingering on you for one last moment. He had a strange look on his face, not anything you had seen before.
After all, there had been stranger things today.
A/N: I don't usually write authors notes at the end but I just HAD to bring up something. When I was starting to write this I was talking with my friend about my intentions, especially with how I thought it would be so funny if the reader fell into the bathtub with him. My friend thought that the reader was going to fall on/in his dick. I assure you that that DID NOT and WAS NOT going to happen. Also sorry if you cringe at the last line, I also thought that would be hilarious (because I am full of joy and whimsy).
ᯓ★ 001 doesn't have to put on the good boy act when you are asleep.
Pairing: Henry '001' Creel x f!Reader || Stranger Things
Warning: smut, sleeping pills/drugging, noncon that turns to con this time, cunnilingus, handsfree cum for 001
Chapters: [Part 1]
"I suppose... Maybe something is wrong with me. I haven't been like this before, you know? There's something wrong with this lab."
001 kept a close watch on your reactions as he walked by you, noting the shifts in your voice as you told him what was weighing on your mind. With each step of yours thudding nearly simultaneously against the lab's sterile flooring, the more clear it was to 001 that he must have overdone it.
You know what they say? The first step, the first time, is the hardest. That turned true for 001, too, when it came to you. When he first drugged you and brought you into that forsaken room, it had been the most frightening and exciting of times. The following attempts turned less and less terrifying, except for that window of time from when the drugs would begin to work to when you would reach the room. Always the same pattern, which worked flawlessly, yet that small frame was always a risk.
Or at least, in theory, it was, had the guards done their job.
It didn't bother him in the slightest to be proven time and time again how reckless and insufferable those guards were, and equally how lazy and unprofessional. Perfect exponents of the pest species that humans were, provoking in him a distaste while equally fueling his interest in you.
And something else, 001 came to conclude your value was all the more worth it, since it proved among these pests that humans were, there were some, very few, who deserved his guidance. Alas, it had become rather clear that his interest was growing into an obsession.
"I know, sweetheart, this lab, there is something very scary about it, isn't there?"
"You could call it that... It just feels like I'm in this constant dream-like state. Even right now. I am not sure if I'm even awake or not."
001 furrowed his brow.
That was a side effect he should have expected for multiple uses. One time, it could've passed for exhaustion, yet the times that followed, with a similar pattern, must have slowly gotten to you. You had told him all he needed to know, too, the slight apprehension when you'd tell him it was always this recurring dream which - And you'd stop. 001 knew why you would stop; you feared telling him the nature of this dream, and he never pressed you because he already knew.
It was not quite a dream, was it?
Perhaps to you it was.
To him, it was the exciting weekly moment of bliss when that forgotten treatment room turned into his domain, and you into his object of adoration. Perhaps that sounded too cold, but he found no better way to put it.
A soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Sweetheart, you are awake. I think if you were dreaming, you'd dream of prettier things, no? Being outside of this lab, not having to work or deal with me," he grinned, his eyes bearing a played innocence that passed so easily for honesty that you didn't spare a second to nudge him as you walked.
"Oh, don't speak like that! You know you're the only good thing that's happened to me since I came here. I told you that before! You know what, I think you're just craving the praise by now."
001 snickered softly, putting his head down, his smile showing hints of shyness, perhaps embarrassment? It was hard to tell. What you were doing to him was difficult for 001 himself to understand, and his emotions were so conflicted between their played, carefully acted versions and a true softness which he hardly thought himself able to feel.
"Perhaps. But whichever the case, I won't confess, sweetheart."
"I know you won't. And you don't have to, I already know all I need to know," you winked.
001 flinched.
His heart skipped a beat. He was always on edge, always trying to figure out how much you knew, and such comments, lighthearted as they were, didn't make him any less suspicious. How much did you know? Was there something more you were trying to tell him? The slight tension in his body eased, however, since you didn't press the matter and continued walking with him.
001 had to be careful.
So careful.
You were feeling the side effects. You were slowly coming to realise what 001 was doing to you, and if the orderly pressed on, you would surely find the common link. The threat which tied 001's story and once pulled, everything would come undone. 001 didn't want to risk it, and yet the man had already risked it so many times.
How could he stop now?
How could he give up on this?
How could he put an end to the only moments of freedom he felt in this lab?
Those moments of quiet in the dimly lit room, with you asleep, with your body so responsive to his touch. So quiet, so intimate. His eyes scanned you as you walked, a knot in his throat making him swallow hard, to push it away. His eyes, piercing blue orbs, locked on you, and he stayed behind to watch you gain a little distance.
How he wanted you to know and how he feared that very same possibility.
001 didn't care about humans, but he was frightened of the fact that he was acutely, painfully, scorchingly caring about you.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't notice I-... I must've started walking too quickly. Is everything alright?"
"Yes, sweetheart. It's not your fault. Silly me, I got a bit lost in my own thoughts."
"You never tell me what's in your mind..."
001 knew that was a burden he would never be able to share. There were things in his mind which even if you accepted the truth about him, he would never be able to share. Things he had no control over. Yet he averted his gaze, his soft tone playing with you again. You could feel a 'blush' in his voice; it didn't have to show on his cheeks.
"Oh, sweetheart, there are very bad things in my mind."
"I'd sure hope there were! Honestly, you have been working here way before me, not getting any mischievous ideas would be quite abnormal."
"No! No- Sweetheart, I didn't mean that kind of..." he replied, frightenedly, with total mortification visible on his face.
Your smirk made 001 flush. Genuinely redden and turn away with a half-shocked, half-flustered expression that made you laugh.
"Oh, don't get shy now. I actually feel sorry for both of us in that regard. At least the guards can leave from time to time, and they have some life outside of here. But us? Brenner is really expecting us to be abstinent monks," you rambled.
The orderly was speechless. Floored.
His quietness made you stop. Oh. You had crossed a limit, haven't you? 001 was always such a shy, prudish sweetheart that you felt awkward for bringing it up.
"Did I make you uncomfortable..."
"No, no, I... I merely didn't expect to hear that from you, sweetheart."
While you were awkwardly continuing your round, nearing your well-deserved tea break, which had become a tradition by now, 001 was dealing with a surge of new thoughts. If you had been so comfortable just now bringing these things up, maybe there was hope that you'd not reject him? And yet, had he known this before he used the sleeping pills on you-
Now it was too late. Even if you'd say yes, the orderly's consciousness would never be clear, knowing how many times he had taken advantage of your sleep to gain what he could have if he had merely dared to ask.
"Tea time?"
001 nodded.
This tea break would have to be the last time the man'd indulge himself in having his way with you before he had to rethink what he would do from now on. His mind was a windwhirl, clouded and swept by thoughts of everything. You were beginning to catch on to what was going on. You mentioned those inappropriate thoughts. What could all of these mean? As much as he knew and understood humans, when it came to you, your mind was not as simple as every other person's.
You were blissfully unaware as 001 prepared your tea.
He had perfected the dose. The first time, he had used too much. It kept you asleep for a few too many hours, and it had been a risk bringing you back to your sleeping room in the middle of the night without being caught by Brenner's cameras. The next few times, the dose became perfect, just enough to keep you out of it for an hour or two at most.
Right when the end of your rounds would be.
He was always so careful that you'd drink every drop. That was the catch. If you didn't, you'd not be awake long enough, or your sleep would be too light. The orderly was always keen on making certain everything was perfect.
However...
"You know, our weekly tea break has become my favourite part of these rounds. The one round we have together is the best, don't let that get to your head though!" You laughed, taking the glass from 001.
You sipped, 001's eyes on you. However, the man's attention was drifting to his thoughts. For once, he let himself slip into taking in the new information, not focusing solely on you sipping down the drug. His mind was so taken with concerns of what he'd do next that he didn't notice you only drank about half of the tea before you stood up, placing the glass aside.
"It's so... calming. I mean, it's... how can I put it? It's like being in this dense, thick, cold, scary dark forest, and suddenly there's a clearing right in front of you with lots of wildflowers and rays of light, and a deer is hopping with a butterfly on its snout... Are you listening to me?"
"Of course, sweetheart." He was partially listening. "It's like a fairytale..."
"Oh yes, that's it! See? You understand me perfectly."
001 wished he did. Unfortunately, as much as you thought he understood, he felt like he knew absolutely nothing. He was never certain when it came with you, possibly because he cared. That made him feel like nothing was ever clear enough.
You left together again, to go toward the last section of your round.
001 was starting to focus on your growing tiredness. The man was already familiar with the signs, with how you reacted when sleep was threatening to overcome you. First, you'd have a talkative period that would slowly become less and less logical. The second phase was the quietness, which he'd prod at by asking small questions, which you replied with yawns and often hums or nods. And the third was leaning into him and ultimately dozing off completely in his arms.
That much he knew. Your body was easy to read, unlike your mind and intentions.
As the third phase hit, without any change to the usual course, he took you into the room and barricaded the door. 001 almost felt guilty. Almost. He saw your sleeping form on that bed, and he was reminded that without seeing this, he would lose his mind. 001 already felt as if only being able to catch this sight once a week was too little; stopping completely would've meant declaring war upon himself.
He sat down by you, one hand on your cheek. His thumb soothed a line against the skin as he felt the warmth emanating from it.
"Sweetheart...? Can you hear me?"
001 didn't expect nor want an answer. And none came. The orderly smiled, standing up without a sound and coming around the bed. This would be the last time before he found a different method. He couldn't stop, no. He couldn't give up on you. All the orderly had to do was find another way.
He followed the same familiar pattern, his hands soft, almost feminine and gentle, tugging your trousers to your knees. His lips drawing the same reverent patterns on your thighs, with his mind, as always, craving to do more but never daring to. From that very first encounter, 001 had wanted to do more than this. He loved it, but it was only natural that he'd be curious to do more. 001 promised himself he'd try the next time, but he never dared to go further than this. Perhaps if he did, your 'dreams' would be different and you'd be less suspicious... or maybe more?
001 grunted. The orderly's mind was too loud. The man had to shut it.
To get in the moment.
This was his last opportunity for a while.
"I am sorry, sweetheart, I am making you wait. I am such a terrible boy..." His lips kissed right above your mound, his cheek warm against your skin. "I hope you dream of a good boy... one who makes you feel good, better than me..." His finger pressed lightly between your cunt's lips, spreading it for him, sliding his fingerpad against your slick, which was forming already with the aid of his kisses. "Oh, sweetheart... but I don't want you to dream of any other boy, none other than me. Am I selfish, sweetheart? To only want you to dream of me?"
His tongue pressed flat against your clit, and that quieted him down for a little. Soft, content sounds reverberated from his mouth as he kept his eyes closed, fully submitting to the addicting taste of your cunt. This was all he needed; had he been forever stuck in this lab, as long as he could have this, from time to time, he didn't need anything else.
The man nearly mewled when he felt your body's first arch for that night, sensing your building pleasure. His finger slid down to your hole, prodding as tenderly as usual, sliding in with the aid of your slick and his own saliva, working its way inside of you at the pace established by his tongue on your clit. He didn't have experience before you, but he was quick to learn. Fast to memorise what pace you liked, how much you could take.
He purred, feeling your cunt take his finger so well, dripping with arousal against his mouth. God, he could get drunk on it. His eyes fluttered open, eyeing you, watching your body's little squirms. Listening to the soft, pleased sounds as you responded to him without any inhibitions. Your body obeying to pleasure beyond reason, as reason was shut under the sleeping medication's effect.
"You take... one finger... so well, sweetheart. Wouldn't I be too big for you? I'd hurt you... Oh sweetheart, I want to love you, I really do... but you'd wake up, wouldn't you? And you'd loathe me..."
He spoke, shy to say it, as if it were the most obscene thing he could think of. He returned to it, mouth busy with your clit again, eyes fluttering shut again, his finger working restlessly to bring you to the same pleasure he gave you each time.
The man smiled as he worked on you, fueled by the intoxicating desire that your orgasm was. He needed to see it happen, he couldn't let the night end without seeing your cunt squeeze him, feel it clench around his finger and taste the sweet taste of your slick for as long as he could. He continued until your cunt clenched with a climax around his finger and mouth, until your back arched and hips jerked with the overwhelming pleasure. The same way it went each time he brought you to this room, from that very first time, up to now.
But he got greedy.
As he worked his finger inside you, feeling your cunt around it, he gently attempted to add a second. 001 was nervous, anxious, but he wanted to; he had to. It was an instinct, a greedy instinct to see how much you could stretch and take him. And he carefully began to prod the second finger, to help it join the first.
He lapped at your clit, as if begging your cunt to spread and take more of him.
"Please... please, sweetheart. Do this for me, hm? I... I think you'd like it... No-... No, I am sure you would. You trust me, right, sweetheart?"
He felt the slight wince coming from you, and his heart nearly shattered. Was this hurting you? Was his greediness making you suffer? But then, as soon as you did wince, his second finger managed to fully join the first, and your body relaxed again.
His heart beat quicker. His breathing was stuck in his throat. He halted everything, looking down at the way his fingers, two of them, were nestled inside of you.
001 was speechless. And so aroused that it was only now that the orderly realised how tight the trousers felt. But there was no time for that. The man would take care of himself later, as he always did, recalling the image of you, recounting what he had done each time to earn sweeter noises from you.
"My... sweetheart, you did it. You... did it."
001 proudly stated, waiting for your cunt to adjust to his two fingers, starting all over again, gentler, moving slower and gradually picking up the pace with his tongue back on your already sensitive clit.
He lost himself in it again, in the taste, in the sensation of your cunt squeezing his fingers, his mind craving to replace them with his own cock. How good he could make you feel, how desperate he was for you. He ate you out, starved, parched, consuming your arousal as if he feared he could never do so again.
Your arching was coming back, almost more spectacular than before. Your hips shifted and jerked and rolled with 001's ministrations. The man kept going with a building desperation that tipped into frenzy as he tried to give it to you right as you wanted it.
"Ah... Mmhh fuck... Oh fuck!"
You let out the most frantic whine as you roused up, on the edge of an orgasm so strong your body shocked you awake, the halved quantity of the drug unable to keep you numbed. Your brain was fuzzy, but it cleared up nearly on the spot when you felt 001 still.
You pushed yourself up on your elbows, glancing down to see 001 staring up at you with a frightened expression, his hair slightly dishevelled and his mouth covered in slick. His fingers were still inside you. The earlier deer metaphor was perfect for the state of 001, motionless and shocked, unable to say or do anything. No apologies, no explanations could clear out the obvious. And he waited. He waited for his sentencing. Your screaming, kicking, calling Brenner, anything. He deserved anything that was coming at him. His chest was hurting from how fast his heart was beating, and his ears were ringing as he waited on the brink of shaking to hear your reaction.
You stared down at him. Your eyes scanned from his face to his hand, assessing properly what was going on before you let your body drop back on the bed, eyes closed again.
"I..."
You swallowed the knot in your throat.
Of course, you felt betrayed. How could you not? Hadn't you dropped enough hints to make him understand you were into him? You were trying so hard, and here he was, taking what he wanted without giving you a chance to consciously enjoy it.
"... would advise you to keep going. Don't... speak. Finish what you started."
001 was meek. The man would never let anyone make him feel meek, but you. Had this been anyone else making him feel this kind of humiliation, he'd punish them, but with you, he felt compelled to earn forgiveness.
At first, the man couldn't believe his own ears. He tried to stare up at you, but you were already lying back again, and he didn't get the chance to look into your eyes for confirmation. Thus, he started again, this time without saying a single word, focused on making you feel good without questioning it. He didn't dare to say anything, didn't dare to think anything. Only hoping the outcome wouldn't be as bad as he feared. If he had to make you cum a hundred times while he never got any relief, he'd have that. He'd rather have that a thousand times over than have you mad at him.
His tongue was eagerly on your clit, his fingers working their way inside you, his eyes closed. Squeezed shut as he worshipped you like a fearful, humbled dog.
"I can't believe you've done this to me..."
He felt his chest ache, shot at once by a thousand arrows dipped in a scalding poison. But he kept going.
"Pull my trousers off. Fully."
He yielded, not asking a single question.
"I can't believe you'd go to these lengths... When I made it so fucking obvious I want you. And still you do this? Ah fuck," you whined, hand reaching down and latching into his hair.
001 kept going as your thighs locked around his head. He nearly gasped, but tried to stick to his work. This was maddening, dizzying. He had never been this aroused and frightened at once.
"I should tell Brenner. But I won't. You know why? Because I have my own ways to punish you, far more efficient," you were messing with him by now. You were actually mad for about 10 seconds when you woke up, but now you were thriving on seeing how willing he was to serve you. After all, if he had his fun taking advantage of you, why wouldn't you return the sentiment?
"Sweetheart, I..."
"I said no talking, didn't I?"
He shut up, kept working on you as you rolled your hips against his mouth, taking his fingers, like you were made for them.
"You know, if you had told me before... We could've actually fucked."
001 winced, his free hand squeezing your thigh, almost begging for you to at least not taunt him any further.
"Yeah, you know. We could've fucked. I could've let you get it on with me anywhere. You have this cool place, right? This room? We could've snuck out so many times to come here and have fun... many times every week, maybe a few times a day," you were moaning those words, aroused by how pathetic 001 was clutching to your thighs as he ate you out, bringing you closer, and closer.
He was feeling dizzy. Dizzy from lust, almost tearing up. His cock was throbbing painfully in his trousers, and his hips began to grind up against nothing, attempting to fuck his own trousers for some friction, for any relief.
"Have you fucked me? Or just went down on me?"
"Just ate you out, sweetheart," he replied, weakly, fucking into the fabric of his own trousers as he got down on you more feverishly than before.
"Knew it. If you had fucked me, I wouldn't have woken up needing to be filled. Oh, you are so merciless. Getting me worked up and never fucking me properly. You are such a bad boy," you were close, barely holding back.
"Please?"
"Please? Oh, you dare to plead? You think you deserve help? Oh no, no you don't. You were a bad boy. This time, you finish yourself off. But first me, understood?"
001 nodded and, without another comment, continued until he pushed you into an orgasm, your thighs around his head, hand clutching his blond hair as he continued, curling his fingers and licking until he gradually had to slow down. The sight, the fact that he could finally do it while you were awake and aware, it brought so much bliss into him that as he felt your cunt come undone against his mouth and fingers, his own cock throbbed with a climax, staining his trousers with his cum, his whole body shaking from pleasure as he struggled to keep himself together.
When he got up, staggering, he was a mess, his trousers stained, his hair a mess, his face dripping with your slick, cheeks and lips flushed. He was breathing heavily, watching you regain your own composure.
You did, and you made sure to get a good look at him. You kept on a grumpy look at first, but seeing him in this state made you grin and drop back, breaking into a laugh. He was lucky, really. If he hadn't made you cum, you would've probably been quite moody, but you were, luckily for him, feeling satisfied.
"Sweetheart, I..."
"If you're going to try to defend yourself, there is no defending that can work."
"I know, sweetheart. But if I apologised..."
"Oh, you do have a lot of apologising to do. How many times have you done this? Without me knowing."
"...I... think around five or six."
"Oh, you are in trouble... five or six times? You know what that means?"
"I don't, sweetheart," he said, still frightened. Probably unaware that you were messing with him at this point.
"It means I have to make you cum five or six times. Tut-tut. How will you be able to do a good job for Brenner if I did that, hm?"
001 was confused.
If he was mad, you weren't acting any more sane either. Shouldn't you be furious at him? Shouldn't you at least threaten to do something bad? He did something very bad to you, didn't he? Why weren't you-
You pecked his lips.
001 softened up, blinking curiously as his mind shut off. Again.
"But you know, this will have consequences."
Finally, a normal reaction. 001 braced himself.
"It means I don't trust you with our weekly tea-time anymore."
NOTE: I've never received so much positive feedback for a fanfic before and I just want to thank all of you who commented and requested for more. Here you have it, Part 2! I hope the wait for this was worth it!
COMMENT if you want to be added to the tag list so you're notified each time I post! [if any of the @ people wish to be removed, also be sure to let me know!]
Guys both Henry and Mr Whatsit confessed to my mii and she picked Henry and now my Mr Whatsit is SAD!!! It’s breaking my heart how could I do this to my baby angel sweetheart husband 😢😢
I found this really funny Henry drawing on Pinterest and I would so love to post it, but I have no clue who the original artist is and I don’t want to repost it without permission or credits 🤧
I found this really funny Henry drawing on Pinterest and I would so love to post it, but I have no clue who the original artist is and I don’t want to repost it without permission or credits 🤧
ᯓ★ 001 doesn't have to put on the good boy act when you are asleep.
Pairing: Henry '001' Creel x f!Reader || Stranger Things
Warning: smut, somno, dubcon/noncon , sleeping pills, cunnilingus
˚₊⊹ masterlist: Sleep ✧ Tumblr | Ao3 ˚ ₊⊹
word count: 2.6k
001 wanted you to like him back.
You were special. You were a sweetheart. You were, however, not his. He didn't like that. He couldn't have that. Ever since you arrived in this facility, all you've done is make him feel things he shouldn't have felt. How dare you? How dare you get under his skin, even if it was more or less a willing decision? How dare you make 001 delay his plans for your sake?
Of course, it was merely a matter of time until you pushed him past the edge. You would refuse him, wouldn't you? He was certain you would, so why should he risk this kind of shame? You trusted him for now, saw him as someone you could rely on, and he didn't want to lose that. But the problem was, he couldn't wait any longer. He couldn't bear to see you all by yourself, so alluring. He was drawn to you like a moth to the flame, and as dangerous as this desire was, every day it became more and more a certainty that he would act upon it. Soon.
The time was ticking.
Orderly 'Peter Ballard' had no trouble walking past the guards with the substances he had temporarily borrowed from the treatment rooms. They wouldn't suspect him, not yet. He hadn't done a single bad thing warranting their attention. To them, he was orderly 'Peter Ballard' doing his rounds, nothing amiss. Nothing different from their own work. He walked past, without turning to look at them. They would pretend not to see him if he pretended not to see them.
Tricking you would be no harder.
You trusted him after all; you had no reason to doubt his kindness. So when he came during your shift with that soft, shy smile, offering you tea which he had for you, you didn't refuse it. It was a sweet gesture, since all day you had been pushed around from task to task, and you had told him about this headache, and now he brought you tea. How kind.
Kind...
It was a pleasant coincidence that your headache would arise in time. It made the 001's offer all the less likely to raise suspicion. The orderly had about an hour until the sleeping pills would knock you out.
He had to time this right.
To twist your growing fatigue on the premise of excessive work exhaustion. 001 tailed after you, watching you stagger, watching you start to fall asleep standing. How effective these medicines could be if the dose were right. But 001 had no time to linger on such thoughts, as the man rushed to your side. His arm around your waist, prompting you to stand, his other hand on your cheek.
"Hey... Y/N? Sweetheart? I got you..."
His worry was so believable that you fell for it. Perhaps the fatigue made everything so much more believable, your mind fighting to remain awake as your body became more and more limp in his hold. 001 was speaking to you, but his words were getting distorted by exhaustion, and you couldn't make sense of anything beyond the letters. You could nearly grasp these concepts, combined in these wonderful words that, had you been in your mind, would mean things.
"Easy, my goodness... oh sweetheart, let me help you."
"I don't know... what's wrong."
"Shh, nothing's wrong, sweetheart. Nothing's wrong. You are tired... that's all. You worked a long, long shift," his voice came in a soothing tone, as he slowly guided you around... to a room around the corner. "You need to lie down for a moment, Y/N. That's all. Don't worry, Papa won't know; he won't be mad if you take a little rest. I will vouch for it... I will tell Papa you worked so hard... You needed a break."
Of course, he could've been saying anything. Your mind was hardly comprehending anything, but the tone was enough to muffle your survival instincts, like a fly caught in a cobweb. Your feet moved, or did they? It was as if stepping on clouds, or dragging your feet? You didn't know. You were nearly asleep already.
But 001 knew that.
He timed it so intentionally, so you would be asleep by the time he reached the room. This room was abandoned, a storage room in the treatment area that he had prepared ahead of time. It was quite a struggle to get the key for it without being caught, but for you, he had to. It had probably been a treatment unit used occasionally by a nurse to sleep if the night shift wasn't too demanding. In the absence of need, the room had become abandoned and was used to store things.
But he didn't care. The bed in there was all he needed.
001 found it in poor condition. The man had to work extra to have it ready when he brought you. He had to replace the sheets without being noticed; luckily, whoever was doing the laundry never truly bothered to count, or they would've noticed an extra one that had disappeared from the count on the following laundry day.
You heard nothing when he guided you around the corner, out of camera shot. You were vaguely present, but as soon as you made the turn, you were out cold. 001 wasted no time, picking you up and taking you inside the storage room. He lay you carefully on the bed, trying not to wake you. He stopped for a moment.
This was foolish.
This could hinder everything he had worked for. Not only his plan, but also your trust in him. He had to be fast. To act before the medicine would wear out.
The man went to the door and blocked it silently with a storage box. He pressed his ear to the door to listen. No steps. There shouldn't be any; no guard was scheduled to be here for another hour. More than enough time to have you.
"I am sorry...," he whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed. He observed your body as you slept so peacefully. "But you might've turned me down. And... I would've felt terrible doing this to you then. Knowing you didn't want this... or... or me. Now... I harbour hope, sweetheart... I hope... Maybe you would've said yes."
Why was he explaining himself?
You wouldn't hear it. 001 was wasting precious time.
"I am sorry..."
He leaned in. The first step was the hardest. He'd never kissed anyone since being imprisoned in this facility. He hadn't touched anyone, and it was gnawing at him, this desire for closeness which he was repulsed by and equally craved.
001 hovered over your face, reluctant. Hesitant. One kiss, and this would break every form of trust if you found out.
He closed his eyes.
It was too late to draw back now.
The kiss was a gentle peck at first, testing the waters. His eyes opened, scanning your face for a reaction, but when he found none, he smiled and did it again. Another peck.
Nothing. Another. Nothing.
A soft, pleased sound escaped his lips as he roamed, lower from your lips, to your neck, kissing and nipping so tenderly that even if your sleep would become light, you'd feel it as a tickle of a hair rather than a man's passionate kiss.
He lied when he thought this would be the hardest step.
The hardest, he realised, was gaining access. Removing your trousers. But he had done more difficult things, right? He could do this. So he proceeded carefully, pulling the fabric lower, peeling it off to your knees. That should do.
He gulped.
God. He hadn't seen your thighs before. And he didn't think he'd be as impressed by them as he was... yet here he stood, swallowing hard at the sight of your inviting skin. The man leaned down, almost mindlessly, planting a soft kiss on each thigh, his eyes closing so he could focus on the sensation. Your skin, so warm, so inviting, right beneath his lips.
From here on, it went smoother, the kisses working up to your knickers, the fabric a layer that upset him. He kissed it first. The man took a deep breath, letting your scent invite him further. God, how he wished to claim you, to grab your thighs and delve in you, to eat you out with how starved he was for you.
But that would wake you up.
It would be too much.
He had to proceed more slowly. So he kissed above the fabric, kitten licks against it, starting to feel it dampen under his ministrations, slowly feeling your taste seeping through. The moment he felt it, his mind knew this wouldn't be the last time he'd do this to you. It was an addiction that began, an addiction for your taste.
One finger hooked into the damp fabric, slowly peeling it lower. Enough so the man could see for himself how your womanhood looked for him. Already plump, rosy, stimulated even through sleep by the gentle working of his tongue. He didn't waste another moment, already feeling he had lingered too much on observing.
"I knew it... sweetheart, I knew you'd be addicting..." 001 gulped, hovering over your cunt, "How dare you do this to me..."
He leaned in.
At first, kissing, then softly licking. Growing bolder as the man felt you still deep into sleep, if for occasional little squirms and soft moans. You were enjoying this... He was thrilled. You must be dreaming of it... He wondered what you were seeing. Were you dreaming of someone? Maybe of him... The idea that you might be dreaming of him going down on you aroused him, and he kept going.
With two fingers, he lightly opened the lips of your cunt, tongue pressed flat against the slit, lapping a line up to your clit where he stopped to suckle on it, lightly. The taste was more addictive than he could have imagined or pictured during the nights when he fantasised about this. You were perfect, exactly as he envisioned, and he no longer regretted doing this... if anything, he knew he would do it again.
Until maybe you'd wake up and let him keep going. Until you'd want him to do this for you.
He suckled the clit, then your lips, releasing them with a soft pop, then lapping and adding a finger to lightly stimulate your clit. He wasn't well-versed in these things, but he didn't have to be. It felt natural to do this; there was no training other than his instinct to pleasure you.
"Please, sweetheart... I know it's too much... but I believe in you...," he whispered against your cunt as he lapped eagerly. "Come on, please. Y/N... Even if you wake up, I... I don't care... I want to feel you cum..."
He knew he was on the right path.
Some signs showed it: your squirming in your sleep, the abundance of slick that he ate up with every slide of his tongue, the slight jerking of your hips when he did something right. Your little moans were, however, by far the most revealing, as the more he ate you out, the sharper and needier they were.
God, and you were still asleep.
If only you were awake, what kind of beautiful sounds would you make?
He didn't stop. The risk was great, but he needed to see your cunt clenching with an orgasm. Feel it. He changed tactics. Tongue taking charge of your clit, finger prodding your hole just enough so that when you'd cum, he'd feel.
And he wasn't disappointed.
When your climax hit, it was such a sight that he worried he had stained his own orderly trousers with the product of his adoration. The way you squirmed and how your cunt squeezed his finger, and those sounds. He wanted to keep going, but he knew he had to stop if he wanted to ever get another chance.
He took his finger away, giving your slit another lick, to gather all left slick of it and eat it up before slowly dressing you up, knickers and trousers, head turning to look at your face.
"Still asleep, sweetheart? I did so much... and yet you are asleep... Maybe-" The idea that next time he could be inside you thrilled him, but he had to hold back before he became too bold. Not this time, he told himself.
And he sat by your side.
"Mmmh..."
You were groggy. How long had you slept? It felt like millennia at best...
"Good morning, sunshine... What a sleepyhead you are," 001 smiled, looking down at you. It wasn't quite morning, but he liked teasing you.
The sight of him made you blush. There was a memory, a vague memory of a dream you had. You couldn't face him. He was so innocent, but that dream felt so real... Besides, what was he even doing here? You looked around, your surroundings unfamiliar.
Noticing your confused state, 001 pat your head tenderly.
"Sleepyhead doesn't remember she fell asleep during work? Oh, it was a good thing I was coming to let you know your shift was over, and I caught you before you could fall." 001 looked around himself, putting on a theatrical, embarrassed look which you took for honesty "I... I brought you here. It's my sneaky place. Don't tell Papa... sometimes I am so tired, and I come here and sleep a bit during my shifts. Your room was too far away..."
You snickered, obviously believing him, and growing even more embarrassed at your dream. He was so pure and innocent, how could you ever picture him in your mind in such a... way?
"Promise not to tell Papa?"
"Promise."
001 helped you up, sneaking you out of the room, and showing you how to avoid the cameras. Luckily, you woke up while it was still night. You would have time to get a few more hours of rest in your own room.
But as you walked... You felt... Well, no wonder...That dream.
Your knickers were soaked. And knowing this as you walked by 001, knowing it was this orderly's fault since you had a dream...
It was so embarrassing, really, to think that you must've been so touch-starved that you fell asleep and dreamed of him going down on you. Worse, it hadn't been the first dream of this kind. This time, you had it while he was watching over you so sweetly. Oh, you were vile for wanting him... yet, you were so afraid to tell him that.
He was so preoccupied with work that asking him was like asking for rejection. You were certain that if you'd say anything, he would refuse you. So for the foreseeable future, you'd have to live with these... dreams. And hope that one day, you'd wake up and it would be more than a dream.
That one day, you'll wake up from a dream like this and see him eating you out.
"The tea..."
"Tea?"
"Yes, sweetheart. The tea I made for you last night. Did it make your headache go away?"
"Most certainly... I didn't even remember I had a headache until you brought it up... Or that I had tea. Oh, I must've been so exhausted."
You laughed.
He chuckled. Exhausted indeed.
"Then I will be sure to bring you tea more often on late-night shifts, sweetheart. If it helps you... rest."
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Pairing: Henry Creel x Reader | Rating: E | Word Count: 3523
Read on AO3 | Previous Chapter | Masterlist
Summary: Henry left again and hadn’t returned. Taking a risk, you leave the mindscape to read your file notes from the lab.
Warnings: descriptions of Canon Typical Violence, canon typical unethical medical practices, Vecna!Henry.
A/N: this occurs during the events of season 3. I am heavily diverging from canon TFS and a little bit of the show. As someone who has knowledge of R&D projects, the sorteria specially would not have been ready that freakin fast. I’m just saying. I also hope I didn’t hype the files up too much that they are a disappointment.
Tagging: @cristalbeesnow @isbirdi
July 4th 1985
Henry promised when the gate closed to take you to this new place he kept telling you about. Yet, each week that passed he made no mention of it. You went back to your training routine like you weren’t trapped somewhere with no access to the real world. You started to wonder if he lied to you just to help ease your grief.
He still left; for short periods of time. You could leave the house again as long as you promised to not go near that wall of rocks. You didn’t have to promise; the area made you apprehensive for no reason. You were good; you kept yourself busy until he came back.
Then at the end of June, he left and didn’t come back.
He was gone for days instead of a few hours. You knew because you started to use the kitchen timer to track hours when he left. You marked each one in a notebook. Once you reached twenty four, you circled it. Five circles. Five Days. He’d never been away that long before. You were getting impatient.
Then you remembered: you had files. Your files were waiting in your bag on the outside. And if Henry could leave, why couldn’t you? You weren’t exploring the rock wall or the cave. It should be fine.
You put on your shoes and went outside. You walked down the steps and onto the sidewalk, heading to the lab.
The last time you left, you had to go through a series of memories to get out. You didn’t know why that was the case. You never thought to ask Henry about it. He always unhooked you himself, no memories needed. You stopped halfway down the block. If he was gone on the outside, how would you get back in? He would come back eventually, right?
A coward would turn around and go back to the house and wait. You refused to be a coward. You pushed forward to the lab. It was exactly where it was- god was it two years ago? Going inside, it took you a moment to orient yourself. Once you did, you went through memory after memory until you got to the first one: the day he first saw you.
The door was the same. You opened it and you were there, connected just like before. You made a face when you realized you had to pull the vine out of your mouth yourself again. You took a deep breath and jumped.
Your eyes flew open.
The vines retreated with a thought; much easier than last time. You coughed and looked for your bag. It was next to you on the floor. You pulled water out of your bag and tried to not drain the whole bottle, leaving about half in it. Once you got yourself together, you looked around and you nearly fell back on your ass.
Henry.
Henry was suspended in the air, nearly a dozen vines connecting all along his back, like spider legs. You crept closer, horrified at the sight before you. There was nothing wrapped around him holding him up. He was either using his powers or the connected vines held him. You didn’t want to know exactly how they connected to him. You continued to stare up at him. Henry was here physically, yet time stalled at the house like it did when he was gone.
Where the hell was he?
It didn’t matter, not really. At least he wasn’t missing. You would deal with how to wake him up later.
You took your bag and went over by the window in the back. The floor creaked under your feet but it was brighter than the rest of the attic. You sat down and took your file out first. The first few pages were typical medical records- records your employer shouldn’t have. Copies from your doctor’s office up until 1983. He was keeping tabs on you even after you were moved upstairs. You flipped forward and found paper that was different- plain paper with handwritten notes. The handwriting was a little sloppy, but the lines were clean and straight.
At the very top of the page was written: Subject Adult 014.
Subject Adult 014 (A014) acquired May 12, 1970. Progress to be documented.
Shortly after, the treatments started.
A014 first treatment completed with no reaction.
Twelve lines of you going in for treatment with no real notations other than ‘no reaction’.
A014 testing complete. Subject exhibited no neurological changes during or after trial assessments. Blood work is inconclusive. No retest necessary.
The next note was from December 1976. You read it, blinked and reread the line again.
Subject A014 contacted. Project Eden to proceed with introduction to the facility scheduled for 04, Jan. 1977. Placebo in place with pharmacy.
Eden? Placebo? You kept reading, uneasiness settling in you.
Initial contact with Subject 001 documented time of two minutes forty two seconds. Reintroduction successful.
Documented time on cameras of five minutes and thirteen seconds with 001.
Documented time on cameras of seven minutes twenty eight seconds with 001.
Documented time of twenty minutes eighteen seconds in the break room with 001. Close conversation noted from cameras. Will monitor for changes in behavior.
Documented time lapse of five minutes thirty seconds off camera with 001. Reemergence on camera with 001 showed no changes in appearance or behavior.
It went on for another two pages. Minutes of on and off camera notes. Changes in your appearance or behavior. You were noted smiling several times. Every few lines were the notes “progress noted, no interference necessary.”
Then you got to Christmas.
Documented time lapse of four minutes twenty eight seconds off camera with 001. Reemergence on camera with 001. Employee 5509 stated A014 showed signs of elevated mood and smudged makeup (lips). 001 documented with gift determined to be from A014. Progress noted; no interference necessary.
More notes documented other employees' comments on your mood and appearance. There were longer time lapses. Even a “progress plateau, may require intervention” noted around June.
Then you got to July.
Documented time lapse from the cameras of forty three minutes fifty three seconds with 001. Both subjects appeared disheveled. Moods elevated. Need to confirm contact. Will monitor for symptoms.
Symptoms of what?
Contact confirmed. Employee 5419 and A014 overheard discussing the encounter vaguely. No symptoms noted at this time.
Records from primary check up confirm blood work test negative.
Your eyes unfocused as you processed, your mind connecting the dots. You blinked and flipped back to the listed medications near the front from when you moved to Hawkins. Your heart pounded in your ears. It was right there and you missed it. An annotation of a star next to your birth control.
They switched out your birth control. You covered your mouth with your hand and flipped back to the notes. Line after line of times you and Henry went out of the camera's line of sight. Notes of possible encounters (which, the amount of actual encounters was a lot less than what he speculated). Constant remarks on “symptoms” or lack thereof. You flipped the pages and found the last notes.
No signs of progress. 001’s behavior is unstable. A014 removed from the children’s floor. Test negative. Moving to the fourth floor to monitor behavior. Retest required in one month.
Shit, they did retest you. You forgot about it. You were too depressed to care.
Retest negative. Placebo replacement discontinued. Reintroduction not possible. Melancholy temperament noted. Owens to monitor and report further mood changes.
You sat there in shock. Brenner tried to get you pregnant. He replaced your birth control and tried to get you fucking pregnant. He knew the whole time you and Henry were- god you were gonna be sick. That fucking bastard.
You put your files aside and pulled out Henry’s charts. You flipped to the notes, frantically looking. You skimmed years long before you were even involved.
Subject obtained. Testing will occur upon arrival.
Subject confirmed; Subject 001 was able to destroy testing object without contact when provoked with outward stimuli. Further testing required.
001 showing signs of aggression. Labs ordered. Soteria implant prototype in development.
Brain activity mapped; additional stimulation to be administered.
You skimmed ahead.
Nov 6 1953 - 001 escaped and found. 001 relocated and quarantined after extreme misconduct resulting in two deaths (adult and child) and two injuries (adult and child). Soteria prototype implanted.
You frowned. Henry told you the Soteria was put in after your trial. You kept reading. Then you found it.
Monitoring behavior; no changes. The first round of subjects showed no change in blood work. Removing prototype.
Further down you saw: First infant subject 002 deemed successful. Subject 001 maintaining stabilized behavior. Continued monitoring required. Reward system in place for compliance.
You flipped ahead and found 1970, the year you signed up for the trials.
001 sedated. Caught reviewing medical records. Isolation for a week.
Pills found under the mattress. No rehabilitation; will monitor behavior.
001 shows interest in Adult Subject 014. Monitoring behavior.
001 recorded speaking to Subject PA011. No rehabilitation necessary.
Who was PA011?
001 taken for observation. Compliance reward given. Monitoring behavior.
The next notes didn’t mention you. You flipped ahead.
001 tried to enter the nursery with infant subjects. Nurse injured. Rehabilitation required. Electroshock therapy implemented for misconduct, followed with restrained isolation and reconditioning.
Rehabilitation resulted in retaliation from subject 001. Two guards and a physician deceased upon restraint, one guard severely injured. Implanted Soteria 1. Notes sent to USG. Monitoring behavior.
Sorteria 1 trail subject 012 deemed successful. Final subjects to continue as planned. Second rehabilitation and reconditioning underway. USG granted subject 001’s stay.
Brenner’s ‘rehabilitations’, you quickly learned, was just various terms of torture. It hurt to read each one as you went through the notes. You had to wipe your eyes constantly. Page after page of electrical torture, isolation, restraint, and beatings just listed off like they were normal forms of punishment for ‘misconduct’ which could be anything. It was just excuse after excuse to give Brenner a reason to remind Henry who was in control.
Introduction with Subjects 002-006 successful. Previous misconduct corrected; improvement in behavior noted. USG notified. Will monitor.
001 responding well to infant subjects. Allowing supervised visits on upper levels. Testing and monitoring show subjects' abilities improve with repetitive interactions. USG stay granted.
During your scanning, your eyes snagged again on PA011. It was almost two years later.
Investigation determined 001 provided intel to PA011 during previous visits on subject 011’s location and routine. Rehabilitation required. 001 upper level permissions revoked. 001 isolated until PA011 can be reconditioned. USG notified of 001s termination.
PA had to stand for pregnant adult. PA011 was eleven’s mother. Your already queasy stomach churned more at the next several lines describing in detail the ‘rehabilitation’ Henry went through. A part of you was afraid to think about what Eleven’s mother’s reconditioning entailed. You moved on, unable to stomach more depictions of Henry’s suffering.
It also wasn’t lost on you that the government was notified of Henry’s ‘termination’. You flipped back to the front and through the medical records. All were under the name Peter. There wasn’t a way for you to determine when the records were generated; all of them were back dated to make it look like they always existed. You could only assume the day he tried to help Eleven’s mother was the day Henry Creel ceased to exist and Peter Ballard was born.
You went back to the notes, your finger holding your spot. You finally reached the week before you started. In big bold scribbled letters was Project Eden. You scoffed. You recognized it now for what it was. Eden, because Brenner thought himself God.
Subject A014 acquired. Placebo replacement started. Reintroduction to 001 to occur on 04, Jan. 1977.
Reintroduction successful. Will monitor behavior.
The lines were mostly the same. Camera interactions. Off camera interactions. A lot of notes didn’t include you.
001 noted speaking with 015 on multiple instances alone. Investigation required. Reprimand pending.
Two weeks later: compliance reward given. Monitoring behavior.
Few lines down: 001 noted encouraging subject 012 with tactics not part of training. Rehabilitation required; therapy to follow.
That was two days before you found him in the infirmary. You vividly remember Henry saying he deserved it. Your hatred for Brenner boiled your blood. You reached the day after Christmas fairly quickly.
001 caught on camera with contraband. No removal required. Contraband determined to be from A014. Monitoring usage and behavior.
The watch. Brenner called it contraband in Henry’s notes. It was a fucking Christmas gift. God, if you ever got your hands on him.
More notes of your “encounters” continued.
Things like: Documented time off camera seven minutes thirty nine seconds with A014. 001’s uniform noted as wrinkled. Progress; no interference required. Will continue to monitor.
Same notes as yours until you got to July.
Documented time off camera forty minutes fifty three seconds with A014. Both subjects' appearance is disheveled; moods elevated. Monitoring A014 for symptoms.
001 compliant and agreeable since physical encounter. More free time allotted to encourage more encounters.
You almost threw up in your mouth. Brenner all but locked you both in a room and watched you. Your face heated at the idea of there being a camera hidden in the rooms you both went into. You hoped that wasn’t the case. Those notes went on for a few pages. Encounters you planned and didn’t plan, encounters that weren’t actually encounters, just like in your files.
Documented time off camera twenty minutes seventeen seconds. 5419 overheard remarking on A014’s ‘ruined mascara’ and vocal distress. Moods still appear elevated. Monitoring 001 for signs of aggression.
That was the incident in the linen closet where Henry ruined your hair, makeup, and throat. 5419 had to be Mary.
You stared down at the files, fuming. You were angry at Brenner but more angry at yourself. You really thought you were being sneaky, keeping Henry out of trouble. The whole time, Brenner knew. He knew and it was part of his plan. You kept reading, getting closer to the end of the files.
Documented encounter off camera nineteen minutes twelve seconds. A014 severely disheveled upon return; employee 5312 remarked concerns. A014 determined to not be injured. Second occurrence with signs of aggression. Monitoring. Intervention and rehabilitation may be required.
You looked at the date and flushed. That was the last time Henry and you were intimate. He’d ripped your pantyhose by accident and, well, you were sore but not in a bad way. Henry wasn’t being aggressive- he was trying to get you both off before someone noticed you were missing. There were only a few pages left after that.
001 showing signs of erratic behavior. Noted down Hall E twice in two days. Confrontation with a guard in Hall C. Reprimanded and monitoring.
You didn’t remember that. Henry seemed fine when you were at work. But you only saw him in passing, if your memory was correct. He was probably in pain and hid it from you.
Then you reached New Year’s Eve and the time after you were moved.
001 still showing signs of unrest after being reprimanded. Left bed chamber at 11:44pm to go to infirmary. Returned from infirmary at 12:03am. Removal of A014 will be required.
001 has not reacted to removal of A014. Monitoring for changes in behavior.
001 noted looking for A014. Time stamps on cameras show three visits to the infirmary the day before. Time stamps today show additional visits.
001 realized A014 was removed. Behavior deteriorating; extreme reconditioning and rehabilitation required. Reintroduction not feasible. 001 isolated and sedated, will begin treatment tomorrow.
You sobbed when you read exactly what that treatment entailed. It was worse than when he was reprimanded for helping Eleven’s mother. You saw the memory of Henry throwing the watch, but it was so much more than that. You were several floors above him, acting like nothing happened while he was taken and tortured for days for simply missing you. You knew it wasn’t your fault, but it felt like it was. Notes tapered off again. More behavioral comments: some good, some bad; rewards and reprimands given.
The second to last note was: repeated engagement and encouragement with subject 011 noted. Change in 011’s strength determined interference. Reprimand resulted in unconsciousness. Will check in tomorrow.
That was before the massacre. He said he turned to Eleven for help. Brenner saw it too. You read the last note.
Subject 001 rebellion. 16 subjects and 20 adults deceased. Subject 011 survived and was found unconscious. Cameras document disintegration of Subject 001. Subject 001 determined deceased.
Disintegration?
Henry said Eleven tried to kill him. You saw the scars. You saw how he was now. You looked up to where he was suspended from the rafters. Whatever happened in the lab that day had to be brutal. Your heart ached for him. He’d been through so much, and for what? Thunder rumbled outside the house while you sat with your thoughts.
With a sigh, you tucked the files back into your bag. Your eyes caught on the clothing you shoved inside when you changed topside last year. You dropped the bag. Looking around you found the pile you’d left behind when you were disconnected the last time. When you returned, you didn’t put your things back into the bag. Henry hooked you up immediately because you were so out of it. Getting on your feet, you went over to the pile.
You picked the clothes up first, still carefully rested on top of everything else to keep them from touching the floor. They seemed fine. You brought them up to your face; they smelt clean. Then again, could you trust your nose? The air didn’t stink like it did before when you were first brought in. You gathered them and the other items you’d removed. You brought them to your bag and knelt down to stick them back in.
You ended up changing. The air was cold; you were cold. You looked up at Henry while you did so. You didn’t know when he would notice you missing but when he did, you didn’t want to be caught off guard. You wet a hand towel with some of the water and wiped yourself down once you got out of your old clothes.
“Gross,” you muttered to yourself.
You were in nothing but your socks because you refused to stand barefoot on that dirty floor. You moved as fast as you could to redo your deodorant and put on fresh clothes. You went with another pair of jeans and a lavender knit sweater. With the old clothes stuffed away, you sat and replaced your socks. You were putting your boot on when you heard a low rumble.
Your eyes shot up to Henry.
Another low rumble came from above. Like a huffed growl. Your heart raced in your chest and you shoved your boots on quickly. Vines moved, a squelching noise coming from them that made you want to gag. You stood in time to see the vines lower Henry and violent rip out of his back. You covered your mouth with your hand when you gasped.
He said your name when his feet touched the floor.
“What are you doing out here?” His deep voice held anger that made your stomach sink. He turned to face you, squinting at you.
“You were gone.” That was all you could get out. He let out another low rumble from his throat. You found your voice and added. “You were gone for five days, Henry.”
“So you left- disconnected, to do what?” He tilted his head. He didn’t step closer.
“To read. I had a book I brought and I had planned to skim it so I could read it in the house but that plan was foiled. Remember?” It wasn’t a whole lie- you did read. It just wasn’t a book. “I only left maybe an hour ago. I stayed in the house for five days waiting for you. Where the hell were you?”
“Trying to open the gate. A fissure opened the way.”
Hope swelled in you. “Did you get it open?”
An open gate meant you could go home whenever you wanted. It meant you’d get new things from the real world- not that you needed it, but it would be nice to know what was happening. Just as your heart soared, it sank to the pit of your stomach.
“No. The connection was weak. We lost control of the vessels. The fissure closed.”
You knew the disappointment showed on your face. Henry’s expressions were less readable, but you could feel his disappointment too when you reached out mentally.
“I guess you can just put me back.” Even your voice expressed your defeat.
“No.”
“No?” You frowned.
“It’s time.” He walked to you. His clawed hand lifted, one of the nails brushing against your cheek. “We will go to the new world. I will show what we are working towards.”
andulkaphoto
vaporwave
annaxmalina
dededos
areudirty
