Pairing: I’m actually not sure, Henry creel/ Steve Harrington x fem!reader but also neither?
Summary: Henry took you to be his perfect little wife or ‘Mrs whatsit’ but Holly realises pretty quick that you’re not Mrs whatsit you’re Steve Harrington’s girlfriend who ‘died’ tragically
warnings: kidnapping? nothing shocking just like stranger things, things
a/n: this has been on my mind since volume one dropped
part 2:
part 3
—————————————————————
Holly first noticed there was another person in the house when Mr. Whatsit first “saved” her, as he put it so kindly.
It was before she even stepped inside.
She’d been standing at the edge of the garden path, her sneakers soaked from the dew-covered grass, staring up at the looming house with its too-clean windows and too-perfect roses. The sky above was a soft, syrupy gold, like the world had been dipped in honey and left to harden.
And then she saw her.
A woman in the upstairs window. Pale, still, framed by gauzy curtains. She didn’t wave. Didn’t smile. Just stood there, watching.
Holly blinked. The woman was gone.
“Come along,” Henry said, his hand warm and firm on her shoulder. “You’ll be safe here.”
The house was strange. Beautiful, comfortable. But strange. The clocks ticked, but the time never changed
“Who is that woman?” Holly asked after she’d been in the house for an entire day and still hadn’t been introduced to the woman upstairs.
She’d seen her again—just a flicker of movement behind the lace curtains. A pale face, unmoving. Watching.
Mr. Whatsit didn’t look up from the teacup he was polishing. “Oh, that’s Mrs. Whatsit,” he said lightly. “But she’s come down with the flu, which is why you haven’t met her yet. Wouldn’t want you to get ill as well.”
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. It never did.
Holly frowned. “She was standing at the window.”
“Was she?” he said, setting the cup down with a soft clink. “She’s always been a bit restless when she’s under the weather. Nothing to worry about.”
“But—”
“Why don’t you draw something for her?” he interrupted, already reaching for a box of crayons. “She’d love that” Holly got distracted when Henry started talking about bringing ‘dipshit’ derek and her other classmates to the house as well.
It was two days later when Henry was almost sure Holly would not go into the woods she finally met the woman in the window. “She’s feeling better,” he said. “Finally. I think it’s time.”
He led her to the sitting room, where the curtains were drawn and the light was soft and golden, as always. The woman stood by the fireplace, hands folded neatly in front of her, wearing a pale blue dress that looked like it had been ironed a hundred times.
“Darling,” Henry said, his voice warm and proud, “this is Holly. She’ll be living with us from now on.”
The woman turned.
There was something awfully familiar about her. Holly’s breath caught.
She knew that face.
From home.
“Hello, dear,” the woman said, smiling kindly. “Tea?”
Her voice was gentle, but there was something behind it. A tremor. A question.
Holly nodded slowly, eyes locked on hers. “Yes, please.” It took her one more day.
One more day of wandering the house’s endless, too-clean halls. One more day of Mr. Whatsit humming tunelessly as he arranged flowers that never wilted. One more day of watching you from the corner of her eye, trying to place the ache in her chest every time you smiled.
And then it hit her.
She was brushing her hair in the mirror when the memory surfaced—uninvited, sharp.
A funeral. White lilies. A closed casket. Her mother’s hand on her shoulder. Steve Harrington standing at the back of the church, eyes red, jaw clenched, not speaking to anyone.
Y/N Y/L/N.
The pretty cheerleader. The one who used to date Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington and volunteered at the hospital. The nurse who gave her an extra lolly when she broke her leg. The one who died when the earth cracked open and swallowed half of Hawkins.
But she wasn’t dead.
She was here.
She was Mrs. Whatsit.
And she was trapped.
Holly waited until Henry left again—off to tend the garden that never grew, or perhaps to hum to the walls like he always did. The moment the front door clicked shut, she crept into the parlor, where you sat on the floral loveseat, hands folded neatly in your lap, staring at the fireplace that hadn’t been lit in days.
“Y/N?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Your head turned slowly, eyes wide and polite. “Sorry?”
She swallowed. “Y/N Y/L/N?”
A pause.
You blinked once. Then again. “Holly dear, are you feeling well?”
Holly stepped closer, her fists clenched at her sides. “Are you?”
You tilted your head, smile still fixed in place. “Of course. Darling—” you hesitated, just for a breath, just long enough for something to flicker behind your eyes. “A letter came for you.” (Almost sure)
Holly blinked. “A letter?”
You reached into the pocket of your apron and pulled out a folded piece of paper. The edges were soft, worn, like it had been read a hundred times. You handed it to her with delicate fingers.
She took it slowly, eyes narrowing. “Who’s it from?”
You didn’t answer. Not directly.
“You must go to the woods,” you said, voice light, almost sing-song. Your smile never wavered. “It’s very important.”
Holly’s heart skipped. “What? But Henry said—” (almost sure)
“The fox is waiting,” you interrupted, tone still sweet, but your eyes—your eyes were pleading.
——————
The woods were colder than the house.
The trees here didn’t sway. They loomed. The air was thick with silence, like the whole forest was holding its breath.
Holly stumbled through the underbrush, clutching the letter you gave her, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t know what she was looking for—only that you’d said the fox is waiting, and somehow, she knew what that meant.
Max.
She found her near the red tree, crouched low in the undergrowth, eyes sharp and wary. Her hair was longer now, tangled and wild, but her face was the same—older, maybe, but still Max.
Holly gasped. “Max?”
Max stood slowly, eyes narrowing. “Holly?”
And just like that, the world shifted.
When Holly came back before Henry, you were relieved. Max took Holly to her cave
Max explained what she could. About Henry. About the way he built his world out of memories and grief. About the people he pulled in. About the ones who never got out.
Holly listened, wide-eyed, the pieces clicking into place.
“Mrs. Whatsit,” she said slowly. “That’s Y/N, isn’t it?”
Max nodded. “Yeah. That’s her, all right.”
“I don’t understand,” Holly whispered. “She died. We went to her funeral.”
Max’s jaw tightened. “She didn’t die. Not really. He took her. Right before the quake. I don’t know how. I don’t even think she knows.”
Holly looked down at her hands. “She’s so… quiet. Like she’s trying to be perfect.”
“She’s surviving,” Max said. “That’s what he wants. A perfect little world. A perfect little wife.”
Holly hesitated. “Maybe Henry… liked her?”
Max’s eyes darkened. “He wanted her. That’s not the same thing.”
Silence settled between them, heavy and cold.
“He calls her Mrs. Whatsit,” Holly said. “But she’s still in there. I saw her. She remembered me.”
“She’s fighting,” Max said. “But he’s strong. He doesn’t just trap your body. He rewrites you. Makes you forget who you are.” Holly looked back toward the trees, toward the house that wasn’t a house. “We have to help her”
————
You were relieved when Holly came back before Henry did.
You didn’t exactly know why.
Or maybe you didn’t remember.
You had dinner, the three of you. Roast chicken that never cooled. Mashed potatoes that tasted like memory. Holly barely spoke. You smiled too much. Henry carved the meat with surgical precision, humming something tuneless under his breath.
Afterward, you washed the dishes while he dried them. Holly sat at the table, staring at the red crayon in her hand like it might bite her.
And then, as always, you and Henry went upstairs.
You slept in the same bed. You always did.
The sheets were cold and stiff, tucked too tight. The room smelled like lavender and dust.
Henry took off his glasses and placed them on the nightstand with care, as if they were made of glass and secrets.
He turned to you, voice soft. “How was your day?”
You smiled. “Lovely.”
He reached for your hand beneath the covers, lacing his fingers through yours. “You’ve been quiet lately.”
“I’ve just been thinking,” you said.
“About what?”
You hesitated. “About how lucky I am.”
He smiled, pleased. “You are.”
You nodded. “I know.”
And you meant it. Or… you thought you did. You loved him, didn’t you? You must have. He saved you. He gave you peace. He gave you this house, this life, this stillness.
He gave you himself.
And yet—
Sometimes, when he touched you, you felt like glass. Like something fragile he was keeping on a shelf. Something he dusted and admired, but never really saw.
You turned toward him, resting your head on his chest. His heartbeat was steady. Predictable.
Safe.
“I’m glad Holly’s here,” you said.
“She’ll settle in,” he murmured. “Just like you did.”
running from things that you didn’t understand—emotions you weren’t used to, concepts you couldn’t apply, situations you had no control over—and it worked.
you escaped brenner and his inhumane experiments, you conquered the demogorgons that followed you through thick and thin, you survived the rift that tore hawkins in half.
but running could only get you so far.
heavy pants ripped from your mouth, sweat beading on your brow. twigs and branches snapped beneath your feet, the crunches of leaves behind you eliciting a wave of fear. mud, tar, and blood caked to your clothes, uncomfortably forcing the fabrics to cling to your clammy skin. the black tendrils that seemingly stuck and winded around everything squished and churned, as if alerting him of your location.
you knew he was chasing you, he had been for years.
you were stuck confined to the onyx hellscape, your only comfort the crimson spikes of lightning in the skies. the loud screech of a demogorgon made you freeze, yanking the grapple you’d crafted from scrap metal from your belt and scaling a nearby tree. stopping, when you knew he was so close, was incredibly risky, but you’d prefer to not be tore open by a bloodthirsty demogorgon.
as if he’d ever let them touch you.
you were exhausted, cold, and so hungry. you couldn’t remember the last time you had a proper meal (yes, you could. it was with him, remember?) and you knew it wouldn’t be long before your body collapsed. the soft chitters of the fleshy being neared, and you saw it creeping through the trees. it lifted its petaled face, as if sniffing you out. the demogorgon approached the tree you’d chosen, massive claws digging into the bark.
it snarled, baring its countless rows of teeth dripping with saliva.
it lurched forward, and stopped. you stared, breathing heavy and limbs wracked with static. its inhuman ligaments trembled as it fell to the ground with a thud, and you tilted your head as it stalked away.
“barbaric creatures, yes?”
you flinched, the chill of the upside down seemingly warm compared to the ice flooding your veins. you launched from the tree without a second thought, but it was too late.
henry had you.
you hovered mid-air, that suffocating grip of his powers coating your body. your pack—stuffed with things you’ve made and lived on—was stripped from you and tossed aside. your eyes fell to the ground when his arms circled you. he was warm, his chest pressed against your back.
“you’re freezing, dear. have you been down here all this time?”
you didn’t answer.
your throat closed slowly, and you instantly dug your fingers into his hand. he kept it clasped around your neck, eyes narrowed in displeasure. “answer me.” you nodded as best you could, and he loosened his hold. he hummed, unreadable. henry rested his chin on your shoulder, tracing the imprint of his fingertips left in your skin.
“you were right in front of me for so long,” he whispered, “hiding, waiting—watching.”
he traced a finger down your arm, slipping his hand into yours. the inky abyss surrounding you bled into daylight, and you saw his home before you. it looked flawless, bright, and beautiful. henry gently ushered you forward, guiding you inside. “where…”
“my mind, darling. an oasis for you to rest in.”
tears welled in your eyes as you tried to pull away. he shushed you softly, coaxing you back into his embrace, “it’s alright, you’re safe here. i promise. nobody can reach you but me.”
that made you cry, trying to push him away.
your nose bled, mind straining from the effort of using your powers. “ah, that lovely gift of yours doesn’t work in here, i’m afraid,” he smiled serenely, cradling your face in one hand, “there’s no reason for you to need it.”
you’d realize that eventually, he thought. right now, you’re vulnerable. tired from years of surviving in a wasteland of sludge and bloodthirsty creatures, mind worn from escape plans and nightmares.
he had you right where he wanted you.
“let’s get you inside and warmed up, hm?”
you nodded, accepting defeat.
henry was possessive, obsessive of you in all the wrong ways—but he took care of you. he stalked you when you snuck out, unleashed demogorgons to scare you back into his arms, but then he’d prepare you a five star meal. he would get angry when you ignored his voice in your head, refusing to join him in the mindscape for those precious moments he wanted so badly.
you held his hand as he walked you inside, him smiling at your poorly-disguised relief of a warm home.
he already felt much better. you were where you belonged:
with him, in a sanctuary he controlled.
“i will begin dinner while you get cleaned up,” he muttered, glancing at your filthy clothes, “i’ll make your favorite. how does that sound?”
“sounds nice,” you resigned to your fate, a kind one despite the cruel nature of the world he was creating. henry kissed your temple, moving past you to the kitchen.
after your shower, you quietly went back downstairs. you peeked around the corner, spotting him at the stove. soft hums of your favorite song made a chill run down your spine, and henry simply smiled, “no need to hide, dear. i know you’re there.”
you moved to stand next to him, your senses flooded with aromatics and spices. “i’m glad you’re home,” he laid the wooden spoon to the side, turning to you, “i’ve missed you terribly.”
he held your face in his hands, eyes shifting briefly to your lips. you lifted your hands to rest atop his, and you barely nodded.
why did you ever leave? his voice echoed, this is where you belong.
your mind couldn’t conjure any reasonable explanation, no logical argument even though you’d had several planned points to make. it was like they were vanishing, erased and painted over with the happiest of memories with him.
only me, he thought spitefully, fingertips casting memories of your friends on the surface aside in favor of filling the void with his affections.
“i’m sorry,” you murmured against his lips, voice wavering and pitched with sadness. henry let out a content sigh, as if grateful you’d come to your senses. he was worried he would have to overload your pretty little head, but it didn’t take much for you to relax in his embrace. his eyes sparkled with insanity, love swirling around his pupils.
“i know you are, darling. i forgive you.”
any semblance of logic and denial left in your mind shattered, blurred by the taste of his lips and the warmth of his body.
Plot Summary: Three weeks of playing house with the mysterious Mr. Whatsit, and you finally worked up the courage to test his boundaries. Lucky for you, he knows exactly how to handle disobedient spouses.
Warnings: NSFW, 18+ only, fingering, spanking, punishment, pain, pet names, praise, power dynamics, mild humiliation/shame, possessive dominant Henry, aftercare
The parlor smells of bergamot and old wood. You've set the tea service just as he likes it: the porcelain cups arranged precisely, the sugar cubes in their silver bowl, the cream in its matching pitcher. Your dress rustles as you move, layers of taffeta and lace that he selected for you, pale blue like a summer sky. It fits perfectly, as everything he provides does.
You know he'll be home soon. The pocket watch he gave you says four o'clock, and Mr. Whatsit is never late.
But your gaze keeps drifting to the window, to the dark line of trees beyond the manicured lawn. Three weeks you've been here, in this beautiful house at the edge of the woods, playing at being his perfect wife. Three weeks of tea and pleasant conversation, of his hand at the small of your back, of the way he calls you "darling" and looks at you like you're something precious.
Three weeks of wondering what's actually out there.
The woods pull at something in your chest. They always have, even before you came here, before you agreed to this arrangement. Before you understood what it meant to want something you shouldn't have.
The thought crystallizes with sudden clarity: you're going to look.
Just to the tree line. Just to see.
The grass is cool under your thin slippers as you cross the lawn. Your heart pounds, rabbit quick, and there's heat in your cheeks that has nothing to do with the afternoon sun. You know you shouldn't. He's been so clear about the rules, about the monsters, about keeping you safe.
But your feet carry you forward anyway.
The tree line looms closer. The shadows between the trunks seem to shift and breathe. You're ten feet away, then five, then close enough to touch the rough bark of an oak tree when you hear it.
"My dear."
His voice stops you cold. Not loud, not angry. Just... firm. You turn slowly, and there he is on the porch in his brown suit, his glasses catching the light. The wide brimmed hat casts his face in shadow, but you can feel his gaze nonetheless.
"Come inside, please."
The walk back feels three times as long. Your legs shake with each step, and that heat in your cheeks has spread down your neck, into your chest. Fear and anticipation twist together in your stomach until you can't tell one from the other.
He holds the door open for you, ever the gentleman, and you step into the cool dimness of the entry hall. The door closes with a soft click.
"I'm terribly disappointed," he says quietly, removing his hat and setting it on the hall table. His movements are measured, controlled. "You understand, don't you, that the rules exist for your protection? I've explained this. The woods are not safe. And yet you went to them anyway."
"I'm sorry, I just..." Your voice comes out smaller than you intended.
"Just what, darling?" He steps closer, and you can see his eyes now behind those gold rimmed glasses. Blue and sharp and seeing right through you. "You were curious? You thought you knew better than I did?" He tilts his head slightly. "Or perhaps you wanted this. Needed it, even."
Your breath catches. "I don't..."
"Don't lie to me." His fingers brush your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. "You think I don't see you? That I haven't watched the way you look at those trees, day after day? The way your pulse quickens when I remind you of the rules?" His thumb traces your lower lip. "You've been waiting for this. Haven't you?"
The words you've been too afraid to say lodge in your throat, but he sees them anyway. He always does.
"Come with me."
He takes your hand and leads you to the sitting room, to the velvet settee where you've spent so many evenings reading while he worked. But he doesn't sit. He stands there, looking at you with that mixture of disappointment and something else, something darker and more promising.
"You know what happens when rules are broken," he says. It's not a question.
Your mouth is dry. "Yes."
"Then lift your skirts and come here."
The fabric whispers as you gather it in trembling hands, layers and layers until you're holding it all at your waist. The cool air kisses your stockinged legs, the bare skin of your thighs above them. You're aware of every inch of exposure, of how vulnerable you are, of the dampness already gathering between your legs.
He sits and pats his knee. "Over my lap, darling."
You drape yourself across his thighs, your palms flat against the floor for balance, your backside elevated and utterly exposed. The position is mortifying and electrifying in equal measure. You can feel the solid muscle of his legs beneath you, the expensive fabric of his trousers, the heat of his body.
His hand rests on the curve of your bottom, and even through the thin cotton of your drawers, his touch burns.
"How many do you think you deserve?" he asks conversationally, as if discussing the weather. "For putting yourself in danger? For worrying me so?"
"I don't know," you whisper.
"No, you don't." His fingers trace the edge of your drawers, then slowly, deliberately, he draws them down to your knees. The air hits your bare skin and you gasp. "But I do. Twenty, I think. Count them for me."
The first slap lands with shocking force. Pain blooms hot and sharp across your right cheek, and you cry out.
"One," you manage.
"Good girl."
The second follows quickly, on the left this time. Your fingers curl against the floor. "Two."
He establishes a rhythm, alternating sides, each strike precise and measured. By five, your skin is burning. By ten, you're squirming against his lap, and you can feel him hard beneath you, his arousal pressing against your hip. By fifteen, you're sobbing out the numbers, tears streaming down your face, but between your legs you're slick and aching and desperate.
"Sixteen." Your voice breaks.
"You're doing so well, darling," he murmurs, and his other hand comes to rest on your lower back, grounding you. "Just a few more."
Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen.
Twenty lands harder than the rest, right where the curve of your bottom meets your thigh, and you let out a broken sound with it, trembling and gasping.
"There we are." His hand smooths over your burning skin, soothing now. "All done. You took that beautifully. So very beautifully."
His fingers trail lower, exploring, and you feel him pause when he discovers how wet you are, how the arousal has been dripping down your thighs.
"Oh, darling," he murmurs, and there's something almost reverent in his voice. "Look at this. Look at what you've been hiding from me." His fingers slide through your slickness, slow and deliberate. "Your body tells me the truth, even when your words don't. You needed this. You've been craving it. Haven't you?"
Still draped over his lap, vulnerable and exposed, you can only whimper as he explores you leisurely, as if he has all the time in the world.
"My sweet, reckless wife," he says softly, and his voice takes on that hypnotic quality, measured and certain. "You think you were seeking freedom out there in those woods. But this is what you were truly seeking. This surrender. This release." His fingers find your entrance and circle it, teasing. "I know what you need. I've always known."
"Please," you breathe. "Please, Henry."
His fingers stroke through your folds, circling but not quite touching where you need him most. "Please what?"
"Please touch me. Please, I've been so good, I've waited so long..."
"You have been good," he agrees, and finally, finally, his fingers find your clit. The sensation makes you jerk in his arms. "Except for today. But we've dealt with that, haven't we?"
He works you with maddening skill, fingers stroking and circling, occasionally dipping inside you just to make you gasp. His other hand rests on the small of your back, keeping you pinned in place, completely at his mercy.
"That's it," he murmurs. "Let me hear you. Let me hear what I do to you."
The pleasure builds and builds, coiling tight in your belly. Your hips move against his hand, chasing it, shameless now despite the humiliating position. His fingers press firmly against your clit and everything inside you pulls taut, suspended on the edge.
"Come for me, darling," he says, and you do.
The orgasm crashes through you in waves, pleasure so intense it borders on pain. You cry out, your body shaking, your fingers scrabbling against the floor for purchase. He works you through it, gentle and relentless, drawing out every last tremor until you're boneless and gasping, draped across his lap.
When you finally still, he withdraws his hand. You hear the soft sound of him tasting his fingers, and even without seeing it, the knowledge makes something clench deep inside you all over again.
"Beautiful," he says softly. "Absolutely beautiful."
He helps you up then, carefully arranging you to sit sideways in his lap, your head on his shoulder. He produces a handkerchief to dry your tears, his hands gentle now, stroking your hair, your back, soothing away the last of the tension.
"You scared me," he says quietly. "When I saw you at the tree line. The thought of losing you..."
"I'm sorry," you whisper. "I won't do it again."
"I know you won't." He tilts your chin up and kisses your forehead. "Because you understand now, don't you? Why the rules exist?"
You nod against his chest. Maybe you do, maybe you don't. Maybe the monsters in the woods are real, or maybe the only monster is the man holding you so tenderly, the one who just made you sob and scream and come apart. Maybe it doesn't matter.
"Let's get you upstairs," he says. "A bath, I think, and some salve for your poor bottom. And then dinner, and perhaps we'll read together by the fire."
He carries you up the stairs as if you weigh nothing, and you let yourself be carried. Let yourself be cared for. Let yourself sink into the safety of his arms and the beautiful prison of his Victorian house.
The woods can wait.
They'll always be there, dark and full of promises, whenever you're brave enough to try again.
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SUMMARY: during the final battle, el and the group finds a girl floating inside the abyss, frozen in time.
Henry Creel never meant to love anyone and yet she existed.
She used to sit beside him on the living room floor quietly admiring Henry's pet spiders.
When other kids thought he was strange, she never did.
“You just think louder than everyone else,” she told him once.
Henry thought that meant she’d stay.
The disease came quietly.
At first it was nothing, headaches, dizziness, hands that trembled when she tried to write. She laughed it off, saying she was just tired.
Then Henry suddenly disappeared during her lowest point when she needed him the most.
Years passed, her body finally gave out. Her parents called for help in a panic.
She was rushed to the hospital, tubes and monitors surrounding her.
Even in the bright, cold lights of the emergency room, her thoughts drifted to Henry.
She imagined him standing beside her bed but he wasn’t there. He hadn’t been there for years.
The news came to Henry when an elderly man from the lab, one of the few Henry trusted, approached him quietly.
“Henry, she’s been admitted to the hospital.” He hesitated. “I heard from a nurse that she might not make it tonight.”
Henry froze, the world narrowing to that one sentence.
“Her name?” Henry asked, calm but sharp, though his heart was hammering.
The old man met his eyes. “The same one you asked me to watch for… years ago.”
Henry’s chest tightened.
Years ago, he had made the old man promise to keep an eye on anyone with her name, the girl he could never save.
He had thought that would be enough. He had thought that knowing she was safe somewhere, would be enough.
“If anyone finds out I let you go… you know what that could mean for me.”
Henry’s jaw was tight. “I don’t care. She’s in trouble.”
The old man hesitated a moment, then added, almost as if talking to himself, “I hope you know what you’re risking.”
Henry didn’t stop until he reached the hospital.
The nurse looked up, her brow furrowed, studying him like she wasn’t sure whether to trust him. “Sir… do you have any relation to the patient?”
“Yes. I—she’s important. Please. I need to see her.”
The nurse hesitated, but the urgency in his tone made her step aside. “Room 312. But… she’s in critical condition. Coma.”
He ran down the hallway two steps at a time, his mind replaying the soft sound of her voice that he has not heard in years.
Henry opened the door leading to room 312 and reached her bedside and froze. She was fragile, surrounded by tubes.
“I’m here,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’m not leaving. I should’ve been here. I—”
It seems like the world is against Henry when the monitor starts beeping rapidly, signaling that her heartbeat is starting to fade.
The monitor’s beeping was deafening, each rapid pulse a reminder that she was slipping away.
He knew what he could do.
Henry’s hands touched his neck where he could feel a small tiny device suppressing his powers, the small suppressor that had kept him obedient.
He reached into his pocket and drew a small, sharp knife he had kept hidden, one the old man had unknowingly helped him smuggle out.
With a swift motion, he cut the device free.
Pain flared as the device detached from his skin, but he barely registered it.
He closed his eyes, focusing every ounce of his power and ability on her and then it happened.
Time stopped. Only for her.
Not the world around him, but her body, her breath, her heartbeat, and every single fragile cell in her body .
The monitors froze mid-beep and the lights kept on flickering.
She was floating in midair perfectly still and fragile like the perfect moment snatched from the edge of death.
Every ounce of Henry’s attention was on her as she floated when the door to the room opened abruptly and the nurses rushed in panicked.
Henry’s head shot toward them and caught sight of their startled expressions.
He prepared to react, to shield her from them, to make her invisible if he had to but when he looked back at her everything had changed.
She was lying in the bed again.
Henry’s gaze darted to the monitor. The screen was fractured, the screen blinking erratically before going dark entirely.
Henry didn’t stay in the room as the nurses did their work then slipped into a nearby hallway.
He didn’t get far.
The first jolt hit him between the shoulder blades.
Henry collapsed to one knee with his teeth clenched and vision turning back and white.
Another stronger shock followed as hands grabbed him and shackles snapped around his wrists.
When he woke, the ceiling was familiar.
Dr. Brenner stood at the foot of the room with his hands clasped behind his back.
“You disobeyed a direct order,” Dr. Brenner said calmly.
Henry said nothing.
“And for what? a girl?”
That did it.
Henry’s head snapped up to meet his gaze, his eyes burning as power surged despite the restraints.
The metal groaned. Brenner barely had time to react before his feet lifted off the ground.
An invisible force was wrapped around Brenner’s throat. He gasped as his hands clawed uselessly at the air.
The lights began to flickered violently.
“You took years from me,” Henry continued, voice eerily steady. “You took her from me.”
For a moment Henry considered killing him but electricity from the electric chair went through Henry’s body.
Brenner dropped, collapsing to the floor.
Henry screamed and his vision blurred as the world collapsed into noise and pain.
Brenner staggered back to his feet, adjusting his tie with trembling hands, breathing ragged.
“Enough,” Dr. Brenner said to his assistant who turned on the power of the electric chair.
Dr. Brenner slowly approached Henry.
“You will never leave this facility again,”
Henry laughed weakly.
Brenner stared at him for a long moment then he smiled.
Dr. Brenner went to the hospital once more surrounded by guards from the laboratory and went to the girl.
“She isn’t progressing, no brain activity loss and no signs of decay and her vitals are completely unchanged.”
That got his attention.
She lay on the bed like a porcelain figure.
Brenner stepped closer and he checked.
Time had simply stopped touching her.
“Incredible,” Brenner murmured.
“Sir… she’s not breathing.”
“And yet she lives,” Brenner replied softly, very impressed.
“Her cells are suspended. Locked in a temporal stasis.”
His gaze lifted slowly.
“Prepare her for transport,” Brenner ordered, his voice precise and cold. “We are bringing her to the lab. Love, it seems, makes him unpredictable.”
Back in the lab, Henry screamed because he felt the moment Dr. Brenner laid eyes on her and for the first time since he was a child, Henry was afraid, not for himself but for her.
Henry’s fists tightened around the restraints after a while when the doors opened and Dr. Brenner entered.
“This is your new cage which is designed to suppress every ounce of your ability.” Dr. Brenner held a small device.
The device hovered near Henry’s neck then it latched onto his skin as lights flared under.
“You are strong, yes… but now every spark of power is monitored and crushed.”
The abyss was quiet in a way Hawkins never was.
Then she saw her.
“Wait,” Eleven whispered.
The others hovered behind her with their weapons half-raised.
In the center of the hive, a girl floated in midair, motionless.
She wore a hospital gown as it fluttered gently with its sleeves lifting with its hem swaying like she was submerged in water.
Her hair drifted around her head, strands spreading in every direction.
She looked breakable.
Robin’s breath hitched. “Oh my God…”
Steve took an unconscious step forward, instinct screaming at him to help, like he always did when someone smaller and weaker needed it.
“She’s breathing, right?”
“She’s not but she’s alive,” Eleven said. Blood slipped from her nose.
Eleven dropped back into herself with a gasp, knees buckling as memories filled her.
“He hid her here,” Eleven said, voice shaking. “When she was dying. He put her in a sleep so deep even the sickness couldn’t find her.”
Joyce’s eyes filled with tears as she stared at the floating girl.
Robin swallowed hard. “So this is why he built all of this.”
“To keep her,” Will said softly. “To keep one thing untouched.”
“He put her to sleep without end,” Lucas repeated quietly remembering Max. “So the sickness wouldn’t reach her.”
Vecna stepped out of the void with his eyes burning with a rage so raw it felt almost human and went to stand in front as if shielding the only thing that matters to him.
Hopper raised his gun even though he knew it was useless. Joyce grabbed Eleven’s arm.
“El,” she pleaded. “Be careful.” Eleven nodded.
“I can help her,” Eleven said, voice steady despite the pain. “I can wake her up. I can pull her out without hurting her.”
“Wake her up to what?” He demanded, his voice booming through.
“A body that fails her? A world that abandons her? Did you think that I haven’t tried that?”
“You hid her from the lab to here,” Eleven shot back. “You trapped her between seconds so you wouldn’t have to lose her.”
Eleven stepped closer, “Let me help her. Let me help you.”
Vecna together with the abyss went silent.
The girl’s fingers twitched just once and Eleven felt it immediately.
“She’s waking up,” she whispered.
Vecna screamed in agony when the vines slid back into his skin.
His monstrous shape collapsed inward, shrinking, unraveling until the creature was gone.
A man fell to his knees.
Henry Creel gasped like he had just been pulled from deep water.
He stared at his hands, shaking. “No… this isn’t—”
The girl inhaled.
A sharp, fragile breath that tore through the silence.
Her body dropped from the air and Eleven caught her.
Her eyes fluttered open.
“Henry,” she whispered.
Henry crawled towards her, stopping just short afraid to touch her like she might vanish.
“You’re awake,” he said, voice breaking. “I didn’t know if you ever would. I tried to keep you safe. I didn’t know how to let you go without losing you—”
“I knew you’d come back,” she said softly. “I’ve always waited for you.”
She lifted her hand, brushing his cheek.
Henry’s chest heaved. Tears spilled freely as he pressed his head to her palm. “I’m here,” he whispered. “I’m here now.”
The hive began to collapse like a dream ending at dawn.
Joyce cried openly, wrapping Will in her arms. Hopper lowered his gun, exhaling heavily. Steve and the others exhaled their breath they hadn’t realized they had been holding.
Dustin’s mouth fell open. “Eddie?” he gasped, voice cracking. He stumbled forward, almost tripping in his excitement, and flung his arms around Eddie.
“I thought you were gone! I thought I lost you..”
Eddie held him tightly and slapped Dustin’s back gently as if grounding him in reality.
“I’m alive. You didn’t lose me.”
Tears spilled down Dustin’s cheeks as he pulled back slightly, searching Eddie’s face. “You have no idea what it felt like… I can’t… I’m just… I’m so happy you’re here!”
Eddie grinned through his own tears. “Yeah… me too, buddy. Me too.”
Meanwhile, Lucas and Steve’s eyes flicked to Billy, tense.
“How’s Max?” Billy asked wary. “Is she…?”
“She’s… she’s okay. Better than okay, actually. She fought her way through, like always. She’s a tough person.”
“Yeah, I know she’s tough. That’s my sister.”
Weeks later, the hospital room was filled with sunlight.
The girl sat upright in the bed. Her cheeks were flushed with color for the first time in years.
Henry sat beside her and his eyes shine brighter than they had in years.
“You… you’re really okay,” he whispered, voice cracking.
“It’s gone.”
Henry laughed, a sound raw with relief and disbelief.
“I couldn’t imagine… I couldn’t survive not seeing you alive like this.”
Eleven stood nearby, smiling softly.
The world outside the hospital was still broken in pieces, but inside this small room, everything was finally right.
She had been healed and Henry had never been happier.
Hellooo! I have a request for Henry Creel/001 x fem reader where they have known each other since before Henry got sent to the lab and years later they meet again whether it’s Brenner forcing the reader to work as a nurse in the lab or maybe she’s maxs mother or something? It’s up to you which one you decide! :)
❖ Request: Come, Little Spider
(Henry Creel/001 x Reader)
Tags: General, Slight Fluff, Angst if you squint really hard
Length: 14.4k
A/N: Sorry, I know this request took a LONG while, but I was halfway across the globe to catch The First Shadow in NYC, fell sick, and finally got well enough to finish it!!! It's been sitting too long in my draft pile so I'm gonna release it into the wild now...
Have fun reading this one and thank you for requesting, anon! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)
Credit: Dividers by saradika
Henry Creel Master List | Also on Ao3! | Writing Master Lists
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It tickled him, at the back of his mind, of the way you’d seemed so familiar; yet he couldn’t quite put a finger on it. Until he did, and the horror set in. His little spider, come to play, in a treacherous web not his to name
Your relationship with Henry hadn’t always been smooth sailing. Not that he'd made it any easier, with all the hurdles you had to jump through in your quest to befriend him. In fact, he'd fought you every step of the way.
Henry was reticent for a boy his age, preferring to observe others in the safety of the sidelines rather than to join in on whatever commotion seemed to be the highlight of the day. He never really felt at home with his peers, neither comfortable in their company, nor willing to shed the polite veneer he wore in an attempt to fit in.
Was it the way he'd been brought up? Because his family was new to town? Or perhaps, just the fact that he’d been a difficult child, right from the start?
No one truly knew, and no one truly understood why he’d turned out the way he did.
It was no secret that the patriarch of the Creel house was decorated, having served time in the war. Hawkins was a small town, so word got around quickly enough, which made it tricky to keep things under wraps. The news had spread like wildfire the moment they’d moved in, their names carried under whispered breaths and fleeting looks. As such, people gave him a wide berth everywhere he went, not wanting to get on his bad side, and not being brave enough to risk an altercation with someone from a military family.
There was an unexplained otherness to Henry that was both foreign and intriguing. To his credit, it had managed to turn a few heads his way, but most eventually strayed away due to his less-than-accommodating personality. Staying out of the public eye, shying away from the spotlight, and coupled with the oddities that separated him from the general populace, he was an outsider in every sense of the word. This resulted in cordial interactions at best, and outright avoidance at worst. Most people left him alone to his own devices, not wanting the same label to be slapped on them and alienating them from everyone else.
Society was harsh, as most would come to learn in school. Even so, Henry had no qualms with it, largely preferring to keep to his own company. It didn’t matter if they’d called him a ‘weirdo’ behind his back, or even if there really was something inherently wrong with him. That was how he preferred it. The fewer people poking into his business, the better.
And then, you'd stepped into his little bubble.
“Hey! Wanna partner up?” You'd chirped, beaming with a smile so bright that he'd instinctively backed up.
There was something infectious about your cheer. Not in a bad way— just something that he wasn't quite used to, especially when it felt like the full force of the sun was being directed at him in one go.
He blinked, wondering if you'd mistaken him for someone else. After all, why would anyone want to talk to someone like him?
“Sorry?” He said, glancing at you in confusion.
Words of refusal sat at the tip of his tongue, but it was clear that you weren't about to take no for an answer. The unexplained sparkle in your eye was all the warning he'd gotten before you'd promptly taken things into your own hands.
Grabbing his hand in yours, you'd dragged him over to your table before he could so much as splutter in indignation. He’d withdrawn into his shell soon after the incident, bewildered at your openness to an otherwise complete stranger. But the damage had already been done; you’d left a lasting impression on him.
It was innocuous when it first started. Having shared a class with him, you'd had a few interactions with the guy over time. Mostly greetings in passing, or the occasional exchange while awaiting the bell to signal the start of the next period. And while he seemed to keep everyone at an arm's length, Henry seemed like a pretty decent fellow.
Just… odd. Not that he seemed particularly interested in assimilating with his new environment either.
You’d always faced him with a smile, seemingly undeterred by the looks everyone had shot your way as a result. Noticing how he’d always seemed to be by his lonesome, you doubled your efforts, seeking him out every opportunity you found, much to his chagrin.
Even loners needed a friend at times, right?
He’d been cordial, at first, knowing that you were likely to turn around and stab him in the back just as everyone here seemed prone to doing, no thanks to the rumors surrounding his family’s troubled past— they’d escaped to Hawkins in hopes of a new start. But what he hadn’t accounted for was your sheer stubbornness, even when the initial hubbub about there being a new kid in town had long faded.
No matter his biting words or how scathing he’d turned in an attempt to dissuade you from approaching him, you hadn't been deterred.
Henry had even taken to employing the simplest trick in the book to distance himself when that hadn’t worked by simply pretending not to hear you whenever you started hovering around him. But eventually, even avoidance grew old. You’d only gotten bolder in retaliation, as if being louder would make him concede.
“Henry! Wanna join us for lunch?” You’d called out from the opposite end of the corridor one day, standing at the head of your little group, waving at him to catch his attention in the crowd.
Inconspicuously raising his head, his eyes drifted in your direction at the sound of his name. Noticing the way your friends had started whispering in their midst with slightly furrowed brows, Henry had a feeling that they weren’t exactly as welcoming as you were, despite your open enthusiasm. Hence, he’d assumed it a trick of the wind, ducking his head and continuing on with his path, your invitation falling through, perhaps for the best.
Not to be disheartened, you tried again the next time you saw him, having caught him while shuffling between classes.
Students crowded the corridor, either swapping their books out for the next period or on the way to their next destination. Spotting Henry by the lockers, you raised a hand in greeting as you approached, deciding to invite him to the cohort-wide hangout after school if someone hadn't already done so.
“Finally caught you! There's a gathering after classes end for the day at the—” You'd started off, only to be cut off with a wave of his hand and the squeaky creak of metal as the locker door swung open.
“Sorry, but could we do this another time? I'm running late for the next period.” He'd apologized, unloading his books from his locker before promptly turning away. Pointedly, in the opposite direction, leaving you standing awkwardly in the hallway. Your invitation had fallen flat, again.
Shaking your head, you'd simply written it off as unfortunate timing and carried on your merry way. No matter, you could always just invite him for the next one.
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It was clear that you’d wanted something out of him, and Henry was happy to ignore your existence for the most part. Until he couldn’t.
Your persistence, while admirable, had started to draw attention from both him and the others. Unsavory attention, in a manner that he knew best— malice. It tinged the air, whispering at the edge of his subconscious. How he knew, however, he couldn't tell. It was a skill he had, yet hadn't quite mastered; an omnipresent sixth sense, at best.
Of course, that dismissal hadn't been enough to thwart your efforts. No, because you were back at it again a week later, like hardy weed that even the strongest weedwhacker couldn’t tempt into submission.
“Hey, Henry!” A voice called out from behind him, in the same cheery manner he'd reluctantly gotten acquainted with.
His shoulders tensed. Yeah, he definitely recognized that voice. It was you, again.
Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose.
Your stubbornness, it seemed, knew no bounds.
“Perhaps it would be best if you didn’t seek me out that often, hm?” Snapping his book shut, he’d turned sharply in your direction, hoping that the bite would make you turn the other way.
However, your eyes had only lit up at that, for he’d finally acknowledged your presence.
“Why not?” You questioned, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
He’d given you an odd look then, much to your puzzlement. Why would someone go to such lengths?
You were impulsive in a way he didn’t understand. Headstrong, when most would falter.
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not the most liked around here. Poke your nose in places where it shouldn't be, and trouble will come looking.” He reiterated, hoping that you’d get the memo this time.
“Are you trouble, then?”
Henry blinked, not having expected that answer. Slowly, he replied after a moment's pause, the lone syllable falling hesitantly from his tongue. “...Yes?”
“Good, because I don't care.” You smiled, planting your feet firmly on the ground.
You weren’t budging from your spot now that you’d caught him and finally had his attention, even if he was keen on withdrawing it post-haste from the way his eyes darted almost nervously toward something behind you.
“You should.” He smiled, though not unkindly, as he pointed at the group that had gathered a ways away behind the both of you. “Not everyone is as nice as you are.”
You looked in the direction he was pointing at, noticing that there were a few people loitering about the corridor. They were watching your interaction with Henry with wary eyes, and with the slightly ominous buzz in the air, you had a feeling that they didn’t exactly have the best intentions in mind. However, they turned away, breaking eye contact the moment they'd noticed your gaze on them.
You looked back towards him then, slightly doubtful about his claim. “You don’t know that for sure.”
He tilted his head then, a wry look crossing his face. “Oh, but I do. Trust me.” Having said that, he distanced himself from you, walking away with a small shake of his head.
He could hear their thoughts, the ridicule and disdain, plain as day…
You watched as he retreated into the sea of students, alone like a piece of driftwood amid the tides. His words had given you some things to think about, but you’d heard his unspoken words all the same, expertly hidden between the lines: Stay away, if you know what’s good for you.
Something was bound to happen if you continued, and it was only a matter of time.
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By the fourth time you’d managed to strike up a conversation with him of your own accord, Henry’s brow furrowed.
Were you deaf? Had you not taken any of his warnings to heart?
He quickly surveyed the area around the hallway you’d somehow found him in, noticing how there wasn’t anyone present. You’d willingly chosen to approach him, again. He’d wondered then if you were stupid, or if you were truly oblivious to the dour way everyone had started to look at you the more you tried to talk to him.
People hadn’t liked him, and he was fine with that, for the most part. But Henry couldn't quite understand your actions. There was nothing to gain in attempting to befriend someone like him, a black sheep in a field of whites. Yet, somehow, he’d caught your eye. And, despite everything, here you were.
A thought flickered through his mind then. Maybe… it wasn’t an inherently bad thing?
Luck had never quite been on his side when it came to making friends with the students here, partially due to his own conscious actions of keeping everyone at bay. And… his internal turmoil with the unknown.
There was something within him. Something living, breathing, otherworldly— he didn't understand it, but he was cognizant enough to know that it was a part of him, much as he loathed to admit. It whispered into his ear, nudged at the peripherals of his mind, but it mostly lay dormant, nestled somewhere deep within him.
He sighed. It seemed that fate had other plans for him despite his efforts to thwart them.
Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he supposed he could start by gaining your trust. And the first thing he could do, as his father had always taught him, was to be charitable. All he needed was an opportunity to act on.
Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long, for the perfect chance had presented itself the next day, just as he’d been exiting the classroom.
He’d caught sight of you then, walking backward out of the teacher's office with jittering steps. He paused, head tilted in curious inclination.
What… were you doing?
He watched as you staggered, shakily proceeding down the corridor after backing out of the office with your arms fuller than he’d ever seen.
You were holding papers. A bunch of them.
Were those handouts? And… they were starting to slip.
You were a subject rep, that was true. So this was just part of your duties, he supposed. But this was a stupid endeavor to attempt alone, nonetheless.
Wherever had your partner gone off to anyway? There was no way you were managing all of that on your own. You needed another pair of hands, and as much as he didn't want to intervene, it was hard watching someone struggle that much.
Quickening his pace, he headed in your direction.
Except, something must have gone wrong somewhere, for you’d swerved the moment he’d nearly fallen in step with you, nearly bludgeoning his head with the tall stack.
And with it, went your balance.
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You'd been making your way down the corridor when you accidentally bumped into someone, the impact sending you stumbling a couple of steps.
“Whoa, careful.” You heard someone speak as you felt a pair of hands reach out to steady you as you attempted to regain your balance while maintaining your white-knuckled grip on the stack of papers you were carrying.
Unfortunately, due to the heavy-set papers blocking your vision, you couldn't quite tell who it was from the voice alone. Not that you had been paying much attention either, considering how you were focused on trying not to trip over your own feet and send papers flying everywhere.
“Sorry, I hadn't meant to run right into you.” Came the voice again in a more apologetic tone once they'd ensured that you were firmly rooted to the ground.
The next moment saw the weight in your hands considerably lightening, revealing a familiar face as half the pile was lifted from your hands.
“And where are these supposed to be going?”
“Henry?” Your brows quirked in disbelief.
He shrugged. “More efficient, fewer walking accidents. Now, where are you headed?”
You stared at him for a moment, all speech having left your brain at his sudden appearance. With how much he’d been avoiding you as of late, it was a wonder how he was standing before you now. Actively… interacting with you, in fact.
Once you managed to gather your wits back together, you replied. “The handout box.” Though with the puzzled look he’d given you, you doubted that he even knew what to make of that answer.
Henry drew a blank. He'd never heard of something like that. What or where was that even supposed to be? The office, perhaps? Then again, he was a relatively new enrollment here, so instead of trying to figure it out, he opted for the simple, “lead the way.”
You’d both walked along the corridors side-by-side as you made your way down. There were a sparse few groups of students who still loitered about, dotting the area with specks of life. And whilst the hallway was relatively unoccupied, given that normal classes had already ended for the day, it was still quite the trek to your destination— the other adjoining building.
You glanced sideways, observing Henry as you both proceeded onwards in silence. You weren’t quite sure what to make of his sudden appearance; it was the last thing you had been expecting out there. Walking in absolute silence, however, was not your forte, so you decided to strike up a conversation with your surprising companion.
Though it seemed that Henry had already felt your eyes lingering on him, for he’d made a sound in his throat before you could speak. “Hm?” He’d caught you staring. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“People have been talking about you, you know? About what happened at your last school. That’s why everyone’s afraid of approaching you, to some extent.”
“I’m aware.” He’d answered simply.
“Does it bother you?” You asked as you both stopped before the door that marked your destination.
He shook his head. "No." He was already used to it anyway. “Consider its days numbered— it’s bound to die down, eventually.”
“Then I pity the calendar.” You laughed, using your foot to nudge the door open a little wider before elbowing yourself the rest of the way in.
You heard a small huff escape Henry as he entered the room after you. “And here we are.” You announced.
Surveying the classroom, he noticed the large box that sat atop a corner of the teacher’s desk. Was that the box you were talking about?
“Don’t think I’ve ever been to this side of the classroom block before.” He commented as he set the pile of papers down by the table at the front, watching while you worked at loading it into the handout box.
“Probably not. This is the seniors’ classroom. Though you should probably familiarize yourself with the school soon.” You replied as you loaded the last of the papers into their rightful place. “So… why did you help me anyway?”
Looking up, you noted the way he seemed to shuffle his feet in the same spot he stood, hesitant and slightly unsure. “You seemed like you needed a hand.”
But hadn’t he been avoiding you with all the times he’d turned you down?
The crease between your brows deepened as you came up empty. You couldn't get a read on him no matter how hard you tried, and it would be impolite to stare any longer than you already had.
That being said, you must have stared at him a little too hard while trying to puzzle him out, for his voice sounded again not a few moments later, laced with faint suspicion. “...And you should really stop doing that. The staring thing. It’s a little unnerving.”
“Well, since you helped me and all. I'd say that makes us friends at least, right?” You smiled, bumping a fist to his shoulder in mock camaraderie.
“We barely know each other.” He pointed out.
“But we are classmates! And you clearly need to be around more people. First step to everything, right?” Beaming, you held a hand out in offering. “So, friends?”
He saw the way your eyes brimmed in anticipation as you looked at him expectantly. And while he wasn't entirely against the idea… You certainly had an odd way of making friends, if he could even call it that.
Did you even know what you were signing up for? It was something that even he didn't know, himself. But perhaps things could be different this time around. Maybe… he didn't need to isolate himself from everyone and everything anymore. Not in the same way he did at his last school after the mishap.
The idea of it sounded good to his ears. Enticing, even. Maybe it was a good thing if someone could come to understand him.
Something in his subconscious stirred at the thought, moving in unnoticeable silence.
You could see hesitation flicker visibly across his face before his lips curled into a small smile. Taking your hand, he agreed. “Friends.”
And thus, a mutual agreement of friendship was made. Except, you hadn’t known the consequences that came with befriending someone like him. And you wouldn’t know, until much later.
But even then, it was little more than a vague suspicion that there was more to Henry than he'd initially led you to believe.
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Being friends with Henry, of all people, was actually rather uneventful, all things considered. He had his moments, sure. But everyone had their moments. Perhaps it was the stress he'd been facing, or maybe you were just too optimistic for your own good.
Or maybe both, now that you thought about it.
Your eyes flickered downward at a small nudge against your arm. Henry had extended something towards you— an offering. It looked like a paper figure of sorts. Something that he'd been busying himself with for a while now.
You took it from him, slipping him your own paper creation in exchange as you brought it up for a closer look.
He’d folded you a kangaroo, intricate with neat edges, looking almost life-like, as if its minuscule self would jump to life at any moment as you held it within your palm. You felt slightly bad at how your little origami squirrel looked terribly amateurish next to his work of art. Unfortunately, you hadn’t been blessed with nimble fingers like he had, it seemed. Glancing over, you gauged his reaction, watching as he squinted at the squirrel, turning it every which way and that.
Confusion marred his face as he tried to make out what it was supposed to be. “And what’s this? A possum…?” He guessed.
“It’s a squirrel,” You sighed, shoulders drooping, “but sure, why not?” If he said it looked like a possum, then a possum it shall be. Not that it looked anything like what it was supposed to be, anyway.
“Hey, don't look so down. You just need more practice.” He laughed, accepting your failed paper amalgamation nonetheless.
And so went your little exchanges after school over time. Your continued interactions, once awkward, slowly bloomed into a solid and tangible connection.
Then, came the rumors that arose months down the road…
Some people who’d crossed paths with Henry had claimed to have witnessed disturbing nightmares, whilst others complained not about nightmares, but of shadows flickering at the edges of their visions.
People were losing sleep. Afraid. And it all seemed to revolve around the newcomers in town, despite it being months since the Creels had first arrived.
You half-wondered if the rumors surrounding him were true. But given the time you’d spent around him, you’d turned out fine, haven’t you?
You certainly hadn’t suffered from nightmares, and you hadn’t experienced unexplained sightings, capable of spooking the common folk either. But all the talk had made you curious.
You could always check up on him, right?
He’d left school early today, claiming to be ill, and you’d overheard murmurs in the corridor that perhaps he’d gone home if only to curse his next victim. And now that you were standing on his side of town with a box of brownies in hand, you wondered if whatever misfortune had befallen them would come to plague you, too, in due time.
You glanced around the area. This was the neighborhood he lived in? Wow. It sure was different, though he hadn't told you his address, just mentioned the street he was on in passing. Hence, you'd resorted to craning your neck through the fences of the apartment houses until you'd seen the name ‘Creel’ written on the mailbox. And as you peered past the bushes that had clearly been meticulously tended to, you spotted him standing alone off to the side near the back of his house.
He looked focused… on something that you couldn’t quite make out from where you stood.
Why was he just standing there?
“Henry?” You called out.
‘Shit.’ He cursed inwardly as the item of his focus fell back to the ground with a sharp clatter, no longer manipulated by psychic forces to defy the laws of gravity. He had half the mind to swipe it under a bush, to hide all evidence, had you been of the observant sort, but it was too late for that, as he could already hear your approaching footsteps and the sound of grass crunching beneath your feet.
Your voice had startled him, breaking him out of the trance-like concentration he'd lapsed into while attempting to test the limits of his abilities. By unironically levitating a rock he'd found near his house. Small, simple— not a problem at all, right?
Except, you were here.
“What are you doing alone out here?” You asked, drawing closer to his side.
You glanced in the direction he’d been staring all so intently at earlier, but there was nothing there; only a lone rock resting amidst the semi-grassy pavement.
He wasn’t just looking off into space, was he…?
Then, your gaze returned to him— to the trickle of red dripping from his nose.
A beat passed before you spoke again in a slightly hesitant manner. “Henry…? You're bleeding.”
Right, he’d forgotten about that.
Wiping the blood off his nose with the back of his sleeve, he turned to face you, innocently brushing off your concerns. “Nothing.” He said, placing his hands on your shoulders as he steered you away from the scene. “I could ask you the same. What are you doing here?”
“Just came here to give you these,” you said as you held the box you’d brought out towards him before continuing, “and to see if you were okay.”
And to make sure that you aren’t actually cursing people in their sleep…
Which, for some reason, you imagined the involvement of a voodoo doll of sorts. But, of course, you didn’t mention that. Still, you were slightly suspicious of how he had just been staring at literal space.
No weird-looking dolls in sight, however.
A faint wave of relief washed over you— your friend certainly wasn’t off cursing anyone in his near vicinity, that's for sure.
He glanced down, a look of puzzlement crossing his face.
You came all this way just to give him food? They did smell delicious though…
“I hope you feel better soon.” You'd beamed before turning back away, casting a quizzical look at the rock on the ground before you made to leave.
Had there been something interesting about it? It looked like any ordinary rock to you, though.
You shook your head, chalking it up to another one of the many peculiarities that seemed to surround him.
“Thanks.” He smiled, accepting the gift and breathing a little easier as he watched you leave with a parting wave. His fingers curled around the edges of the box, flexing in contemplation as he flipped a thought in his mind like one would a prized shined quarter— would it hurt, for someone else to know?
No. It'd probably scare you away. It was best that it be kept a secret. He didn’t want you to know about his powers.
Not yet, anyway.
⊹ ━━━ ✥ ━━━ ⊹
With practice, his abilities eventually grew stronger.
And while his results weren’t perfect, Henry had managed to gain some control and understanding over them with his repeated efforts. Extending his senses, he attempted to gauge the effective radius of his powers. Then, he’d moved on to bigger feats, testing his range on larger rocks and smaller creatures.
He'd levitated a heavy rock from a distance away, watching as it spun… and spun… and spun, the sound of faint droning filling his ears. He felt something strange creep up over him as he slowly fell into the trance-like state he’d oftentimes find himself lapsing into. An odd feeling that made itself known every once in a while.
He knew not what it was, only that it felt like a thin veil whenever it surfaced within him, falling gently over his mind. Curious, he’d tried reaching out to it, soon realizing that while it was susceptible to his nudging, it was ultimately unyielding in nature, refusing to break no matter how much he prodded and poked at it. Like spider-silk, he thought with fascination.
Just then, the bushes nearby rustled, alerting him that he wasn’t alone.
His eyes immediately darted in the direction of the sound. Spotting movement, he’d sent the rock hurtling without a second thought, whistling sharply as it cut through the air. He hadn’t been expecting anything, but the startled yelp that came soon after certainly did snap him out of the red-tinged haze that had settled over his mind. Something registered in him then that that hadn’t been a wild rabbit, like he’d been expecting.
In fact, it sounded very human.
—And very much like you.
He paled, very much wanting to retake the second thought he’d disregarded earlier. And if his past deeds had been any proof of the casualties he was capable of causing, he hoped that he hadn’t done too much harm.
Using his hand to part the bushes, he peered down at you from where you’d fallen onto the concrete, gingerly pressing your palm against the wound.
“Ouch. Where’d that big of a rock come from?” You grumbled, the projectile clattering a distance away.
He met your eyes as you retracted your gaze from it, a mumbled excuse escaping his lips. “Maybe one of the kids in the neighborhood was up to some mischief.”
Though, in hindsight, it was probably not the most convincing lie, considering how the Creel’s estate was secluded in its own little corner of the main street.
“Hi.” You greeted him with a smile, though it came out as more of a grimace than your usual optimism.
Blood was starting to trickle from the wound, and it did look pretty gnarly when you'd gingerly lifted your hand up a smidge for a look. He'd gotten you good— a jarring gash between your neck and your clavicle.
‘That'd probably need stitches,’ he thought.
Then again, what were you even doing here on a Saturday morning?
His eyes drifted slightly away from you to where a couple of books had fallen onto the pavement.
Ah. He’d forgotten that he'd been the one who'd invited you here, the two of you having made plans at the start of the week to hang out at his place over the weekends.
“That looks nasty.” He said as he pulled you up, holding you steady as you staggered. “Come on, we can get it cleaned up inside.”
Leading you inside, he sat you by the table before pulling out the emergency first-aid kit stashed beneath the sink.
“Sorry, this'll sting.” He'd apologized, pressing balls of cotton to the wound to stem the bleeding.
He hadn't meant to, truly. While he hadn't lost control, it had been an instinctive reflex when he'd sent the projectile flying your way.
“Never knew younger kids were into slingshotting rocks these days.” You commented as he worked.
Surely the kids who lived in this neighborhood hadn't made a habit of randomly throwing rocks in the direction of every bush that so much as rustled in the wind? It was dangerous, for starters.
Henry made a sound of acknowledgment at that, but there was an inexplicable hint of regret that seemed to mar his features even though he supposedly had nothing to do with the incident.
He may not have said much, but you could tell that there was something else going on.
And as you watched him gingerly thread needle to skin, you wondered just where he'd picked up something like that. He seemed awfully used to the motions, and it wasn't exactly a common skillset for people your age to have.
“How did you learn to do this?” You asked, gesturing to the bandages and the medical supplies laid out before you.
“My father was in the military. He often came back with wounds that needed redressing, so he’d taught me how to.” He shrugged.
Henry said nothing of his father’s past actions. Of how he was capable of seeing more than he should. Know things that he shouldn’t have known.
People’s deepest, darkest secrets, he found, had been what enraptured him. It was as intriguing as it was profane to see the horrendous acts that some people had once committed in the past, only to hide them behind a perfectly crafted facade that they showed everyone.
Or maybe he just had a twisted sense of humor.
After putting the last stitch in and cutting the thread, he'd dressed it with a bandage before declaring with a smile, looking proud of his own handiwork. “All good now. Though you should get it checked out at the hospital later, just in case.”
“Thanks, Henry.” You thanked him, tilting your head in question as he got out of his seat, waving for you to follow him.
“Come on.” He’d called out from somewhere above the stairs as he disappeared around a corner.
And follow him up the winding stairs, you did.
“There isn't much here, but make yourself at home.”
He'd brought you up to the one place he felt at peace, the attic, the main reason why he'd even invited you to his home in the first place. An offer that you'd been quick to accept despite his initial hesitations.
He knew that the spiders he'd kept as company weren't exactly everyone's cup of tea, so he hadn’t been sure when he’d extended that particular invitation. But now that he was sitting on the floor and watching as you moved about his space with apparent glee, he was glad he did.
His eyes followed you as you wandered the small area he'd claimed as his own, something unreadable hidden in the shadows of his gaze.
He observed the way your fingers drifted over the small glass bottles he’d collected, once hidden under the wooden floorboards, in an almost reverent manner. The way your face lit up, as you carefully held one up to the light, watching the way the spiders within skittered in their small makeshift terrariums. You loved them too, he realized.
“Call it a hobby of mine.” He'd explained when you'd faced him with marvel in your eyes, asking about his collection of jarred specimens. Especially since the ones he'd kept were not the sort that people usually kept as pets. Black widows hardly made good pets, but somehow, he'd seemed to have made it work out in his case.
“Look at them go!” You gushed.
They were oddly docile as they crawled along his arm, their spindly legs waving as they scuttled atop the tip of his fingers, standing proud and tall.
“They seem to like you an awful lot.” You observed. “Maybe because you're a lot like them.”
Something tickled at him then, an odd fuzzy feeling that he couldn't quite understand. Perhaps this was what people felt to be understood, he realized, even if just a little.
And as your eyes passed the many sketches he'd made of his spiders, you had a feeling that he didn't exactly go around showing these things to just anyone. Gradually, you realized that you'd reached a mutual understanding with Henry.
Or at least, you’d like to think so.
⊹ ━━━ ✥ ━━━ ⊹
Things changed a couple of months later when your continued presence beside Henry was noticed, and not in a good way.
Word about you hanging around the oddball had spread, and while you didn’t quite care about what others had to say about you either way, the same couldn’t be said about people who were unsettled by the rumors. A faction that had only rapidly increased in size over time. And in some sense, severity.
Things had only seemed to spiral, unbeknownst to you both.
Some students had uncovered what happened back in Henry’s old place of dwelling, drawing speculations about what happened, although no one truly knew for sure. You’d overheard a few of those that had been circulating the school while you’d moved about the campus. And you had to admit that while some of the hypotheses were plausible, most of them were outright ridiculous with how far-fetched they sounded, even to your ears.
Some said that Henry had been a monster in human skin, while others claimed that he’d caused tragedies to befall those who’d wronged him and his family, which only caused people to give him a wider berth. A witch, perhaps.
That had made you raise an eyebrow. Because, really? While odd, he wasn’t exactly prone to getting a black cat as a pet, stirring potions in a pot while hexing the next person who so much as looked at him the wrong way. Although the thought that crossed your mind did make you chuckle.
Henry with a big floppy witch hat and an awfully sharp scowl on his face? Now, that was interesting. Maybe you should make him wear one during Halloween just for a good laugh.
But as uncaring as you were of the consequences that came to associating yourself with him, it eventually caught up to you one day, when you inevitably found yourself singled out and surrounded.
Thank god for Henry, for he'd happened to be in the area when that happened.
He'd spotted the little entourage surrounding you from across the field. He hadn't thought much of it at first, assuming that you'd just hit them up to extend an invite to another group hangout or something.
After all, hadn't you done the same to him back when he was still relatively new?
However, he soon noticed that something wasn't quite right when the group hadn't dispersed even after a while. He didn't like the way they were crowding you. And although their backs were to him, he could see the strained smile you wore.
He'd picked up the pace then, heading towards your location.
“Hey, you alright?” He called out as he approached.
However, the little group that had gathered around you instantly scattered the moment he got within a meter's radius.
His brow furrowed. Odd.
They were actively avoiding him, giving him wary side eyes as he passed, almost as if afraid, and that usually meant one thing.
“Henry!” You'd exclaimed upon his arrival, your once-strained smile morphing into a genuine one, although it did little to hide your apparent unease.
Unease. With what? He'd never seen you so perturbed, until now.
“What did they want with you?” He questioned, eyes narrowing at the mark he'd noticed your arm now sported.
Looked an awful lot like a handprint, didn't it?
“Just a word of warning, nothing serious.” You replied.
He saw a flicker of guilt flash past your features before it was gone like the wind. That hadn't been the whole picture; he could tell. And you were being cagey about it, something you never really did. Those guys definitely hadn't been here just to have a conversation.
You looked around warily before bringing a hand up to whisper into his ear, changing the topic before he could pry further. “Word out there is that you’re cursed, you know. They think you cursed them, robbed them of their sleep. It's just an unproven theory, though.”
He’d laughed at that, as if it were the most inane thing he’d heard all day. “Cursed? Me?”
But there was something in his laugh that seemed to have fallen flat; something knowing and resigned. Maybe… this hadn’t been the first time something of a similar vein had happened.
With a wry shake of his head and a humorous quip, he’d instantly shot down your doubts. “No, of course not. I’m just a boy, not some eldritch being as people are so keen to label me as.”
Realization dawned upon you then, grimly setting into your features. “You already know about the rumors, don’t you?”
He’d shared an equally resigned smile with you. It was something that he'd long been aware of, and he had his own way of dealing with unsavory parties.
“Did they do this then?” He'd reached for your arm, fingers brushing over the reddened skin that was starting to bruise from the force they'd used to grab you with, he assumed.
Such marks didn't belong on you.
There was a rueful look in his eye that was masking something unintelligible, something that you couldn’t quite make out. A new untenable factor… that made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end when his movements against your arm finally paused.
The newfound glint in his eye as he looked up at you… It was unnatural. Uncanny.
Haunting.
He’d uttered a question then, parsed kindly despite the coldness that seemed to undulate beneath it by a hair’s breadth. “Did you know them? …Who were they?”
His tone was laced ever so thinly with a sliver of ice, something that you hadn’t quite known him to be capable of.
Since when… was your friend capable of harboring such darkness?
Something funny scratched at your brain. There was an unmistakable feeling of something foreign and different about him at this moment.
Why did Henry feel so far, even while he was so close at hand, standing merely within arm’s reach?
You’d shaken your head, adamant on keeping your silence. Perhaps you’d done it to protect him, but little did you know that it had only sent Henry on a mission.
The presence at the back of his mind rose then, roused by fear or conviction, he wasn’t sure. But this time, he welcomed the fog that seemed to reach out to his consciousness, the tendrils of red death, as he’d come to know.
He'd hurt you once, though it had been largely due to an oversight on his part, but he wasn't about to sit by and let it happen again.
No, he'd smiled. Not under his watch. You wouldn't be harmed because of him, much less by fools who went after the people around him because of their own cowardice.
So the spider spun his web— a tensile web so tightly woven that it snared anyone in its path with vindictive fervor.
He’d gotten a close look at one of them as they fled and committed their face to memory. Finding them was going to be easy enough, he thinks. And like a gift from the heavens, the scales tipped in his favor mere hours later.
He'd found them loitering around the side of the field by the gym, alone. School was out, which meant that there wouldn’t be anyone missing them anytime soon.
Bingo.
“Hello.” He greeted them, facing them with a smile so disarming that they’d started to second-guess their initial accusations against him. “Do you happen to know the way to the science room?” He'd asked, easily playing the part of an innocent new freshman.
All color seemed to drain out of their faces at his sudden appearance.
He'd heard it then. An exclamation hissed under a breath. “What's the monster doing here?”
A panicked whisper. “Shh, he'll hear you.”
A fearful murmur. “Did you think…. Did you think he heard us back there?”
It brought about a morbid sense of amusement within Henry when he realized that he barely had to do anything to invoke such a response in them.
Didn't even have to lift a finger. Yet.
He watched as they exchanged fleeting glances with each other, before their eyes landed back on him, guarded and wary. A shaky smile formed on one of their faces, but even Henry could tell that it was forced.
An act of futile bravery.
Speak of the devil and he shall appear. He supposed there was some truth to the saying, so often used.
“So… rumor has it that…” His voice dropped, his tone falling flat as he spoke of their transgressions against you. Against him. All the baseless accusations that had built up over time, only to finally boil over in a cacophonic tide.
“We meant no harm! It's just all in a bit of fun, really!”
His thoughts flashed back to the way he'd found you. The blooming bruise that stood starkly against your skin— something that shouldn't have been there in the first place. Least of all, with him as the cause of it.
“Fun?” He'd echoed, his tone passive as he stared them down.
The corners of his lips gently lifted as he quirked his head in a mocking manner. “Was it fun? Tormenting someone beneath you?”
“Tell me, did you enjoy it?”
A minute distortion rippled through the air at the rise of his fingers. Hand outstretched, he’d sent them screaming, raising horrific visions in the day. He watched as they clawed at their eyes, moaning pathetically at his feet.
Satisfaction ebbed through his veins as he watched them writhe, trapped in their own personal hell.
Could he have done more? Certainly.
He'd thought about snapping their bones, bending them every which way in an act of vicious mutilation.
The presence in his mind wanted it, craved it, yearned for it. It itched at the back of his mind, insistent and hungry. An urge so tangible that it almost felt like his own, so much that it almost convinced him.
But that wasn't him.
Or was it?
No.
He curled his hand into a fist as he lowered it. This was a warning, a taste of his potential.
And then, he was gone.
Henry Creel had vanished the day after.
With not a word to be heard, and nowhere to be seen, it was almost as if he’d disappeared into thin air. But even with the subject at the heart of all the sprawling rumors gone, it didn’t cease. People had stopped coming after you, sure, but you were no wiser than they were when it came to his whereabouts.
You did, however, notice a difference ever since Henry’s disappearance. The small group of upperclassmen that had approached you that day had started religiously avoiding you, even making a point to keep their heads down whenever you were around, whispering about something under their breath. The way they regarded you with wary eyes and an equal dose of nervousness told you that they were afraid.
But, why?
You furrowed your brow as you passed them, catching a few muffled words. Between the hushed, panicked, and fearful tones that brushed past your ears, you heard something… something that sounded oddly like a prayer.
Word of the incident that had taken place in the field that day spread through the town soon after, accompanied by news of the fact that no one had seen anything of the Creel boy ever since. You’d only come to know of the bigger news when it’d gone on the news a couple of weeks later, one that overshadowed the entire fieldtime mishap that had transpired one dreary afternoon.
The TV screen crackled with static as the tabloid news headlines flashed before your astonished eyes, the audio drifting in and out in intermittent measures as the report was delivered live on air.
Victor Creel had been arrested for the first-degree murder of his family, only to be incarcerated in Pennhurst after the court had decreed him not guilty by reason of insanity. The feed then switched to the footage of workers boarding up the now abandoned Creel house, followed soon after by interviews of witnesses and ‘victims’ that had fallen prey to the ‘demon’ that the patriarch had claimed to have brought this calamity upon his household.
Good riddance, some might have thought. Finally, an end to the madness.
But the ‘victims,’ the ones who'd cornered you, were hesitant in their testimonials. Almost as if they'd forgotten what had happened despite having lived through the ordeal.
Similarly, no one truly knew what had transpired in both cases.
And yet… not a word was spoken in farewell. He hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye before he left. Then again, how could he when he had been hospitalized in a coma after the tragedy that had taken place?
Like the flickering embers of a dying fire, the rumors, as did the memory of him, faded into the background as the town gradually moved on. The ‘demon’ had been put to rest, and the townsfolk were more than happy to put the harrowing series of incidents behind them, but you?
Your gaze shifted to the paper spider that sat by the windowsill, basking under the golden rays of the setting sun behind the protection of the clear glass panes.
You’d brought it into the safety of your room after it had caught your attention one morning before the stirring gales could whisk it away, a tiny black shadow in the corner of your vision on an otherwise sunny day. An unexplained offering that had appeared shortly before his disappearance, crafted with handiwork that you distinctly recognized— Henry’s.
After all, who else was capable of such neatly pressed edges and clean-cut folds? A picture-perfect recreation of an arachnid. Small, unsuspecting, and… oddly enough, you had a feeling that whatever had gone down with the Creels on the day of the massacre wasn't entirely as the news had made it out to be.
Even so, you hoped Henry was alright, wherever he was now.
⊹ ━━━ ✥ ━━━ ⊹
Years later, in an establishment far outside of town. A man stood before the window, hand pressed against the glass as he stared out into the distance. He watched as the armored trucks pulled in for the day, and the people beneath busied about like ants.
He'd wondered often, during days when time seemed to stagnate. Whatever happened to that one friend of his in the past that he used to play with? The stupid little girl across the neighborhood who should have known better, who would never fail to greet him with infectious cheer and an equally stupid smile, took the time to listen to him speak, and while others called him names, she didn't look at him as if he was just that.
—A monster wearing the skin of a human.
And as if to add insult to the wound he never knew he had, the girl shared his fascination with spiders, something that would have deterred most. He hadn't thought much of it at first, but over time, he'd slowly come to realize that he'd missed it.
Perhaps his time apart from society had made him yearn for someone to talk to. Someone who wasn’t a cold white plaster wall, or blinding ceiling lights. A piece of the past to cling to whenever his mind tired of the countless experiments the lab had subjected him to.
“Peter.” A stern voice sounded, snapping him out of his reverie.
He drew his eyes away from the bustling scene of men unloading cargo beneath the glass panels that separated them.
Martin Brenner.
A flicker of distaste rose up within him at the dictatorial tone that commanded his attention. One that he unfortunately answered to like a well-trained lapdog.
It had become second nature in his time here. Part of a survival instinct ingrained in him so deeply that it would take a lot, and then some more, to shake off.
Whatever crumb of nostalgia had surfaced within his eyes at the thought of the past, he’d made the conscious effort to quash before it could be seen. It wouldn't do to give the head scientist any more ammunition than he already had.
Henry had learnt his lessons in captivity, and he’d learnt them well. Enough to be kept openly on a leash. It was a short one, nonetheless, being forced to play the role of caretaker. But he would take anything after all he’d been through.
Anything to feel even the slightest bit human again, even if he now knew that he was not.
He was more. Far more.
And when he finally turned, eyes drawing up to meet the man’s sharp gaze, he was no more than Peter Ballard. Docile, meek, and perfectly ready to bend at the crook of the Doctor’s finger, lest he, too, meet the fate of being discarded, like many of his other ‘brethren’.
A failed test subject, he was not. After all, he had the ink to prove it, didn’t he? In big bold font, his skin marred eternally by the black numbers that bore his name to the world.
The cuff of his sleeve shifted as he clasped his hands behind his back, standing at attention under Dr. Brenner’s observant eyes.
The index case.
His first lesson after getting processed had been patience. Gone was the rashness alongside the young boy he’d once been.
He watched silently with an unreadable expression as the head scientist surveyed him, recognizing the calculating glint in the older man's eyes all too well.
Was he in trouble? Had he done something to garner his displeasure? Oh, no. He held the man’s gaze as it shifted towards his arm, to something… behind him?
He tensed, but his worries were soon put to rest as the older man plainly stated with a long-suffering sigh. “You’re dripping blood everywhere, son.”
Drip. He felt the wet trail of blood sliding down the length of his arm, and the unmistakable feeling of wet fabric sticking to his skin. Sticky and uncomfortable.
How had he not realized it?
It was a troubling thought, but perhaps he had already gotten used to it, desensitized by his many years here. Long enough to see his attending doctor’s once full head of brown wash out into silver.
He felt as the doctor’s fingers curled around his lower arm, lifting it closer so that he could inspect the injury.
A wide gash had been opened down the side of his arm, but the sight of blood, so usual an occurrence, no longer fazed either of them.
Henry only tilted his head in a questioning manner, as if Dr. Brenner held the answers to his curious plight.
When had he sustained this injury? The last experimental ‘class’ he’d been overseeing, perhaps?
He then watched as Brenner took the handkerchief he always carried around out of his breast pocket, as pristine and immaculate as the lab he worked out of, and pressed it against the open wound. And although he shook his head in exasperation, he didn’t seem to mind the fact that Henry was bleeding all over the white cloth.
“Go get it checked out. It wouldn’t do for the children to see their favorite caretaker all bloodied up now, would it?” He said. “What sort of example would that set, hm?”
His second lesson had been compliance, for he soon learnt that going along with the dear old doctor’s whims tended to make things go more smoothly. Though Henry's cooperation had not come easily in the early days, and he did love to make Brenner work for it.
Oh, the lengths to which this man had tried to win his trust back then. He missed it, even. Foolish as he’d been to listen to the words of a snake who’d masked ‘ambition’ under the guise of ‘acceptance’. But he was young, impressionable, and… No. He promptly put a stop to that thought. Ruminating over the past wouldn’t change anything.
He lifted his eyes from the red-stained cloth after pressing a firm hand against it to hold it in place. Brenner was still waiting for an answer.
“Of course, Papa.” He smiled. Even though stepping a foot into that accursed room was the last thing he wanted to do. But it would make things go much better if he did, wouldn’t it?
Hence, he made his way to the Infirmary. A room he'd been acquainted with so familiarly that he could probably still locate it even in his sleep.
⊹ ━━━ ✥ ━━━ ⊹
Opening the door, he was greeted concurrently by a bright smile, a well-lit room, and an equally chipper greeting before he’d even gotten a foot in.
“Hi! How can I help?” said a voice he didn't recognize. There was a short pause, followed by the faintest utterance of an “oh,” which Henry assumed was because the nurse on duty had finally caught sight of the bloody state of his arm.
He squinted his eyes slightly at the change in lighting.
This was new. When did the lab get a new nurse?
No matter. He did hope that the nurse wasn’t squeamish, at least; it would make for a short tenure.
The nurse’s initial smile had slipped as her eyes lingered on his silhouette, but she quickly gathered herself, waving him in as she slipped on a new pair of nitrile gloves. “Come on then, have a seat. Let’s have a look at that, shall we?”
He cast a cursory glance at the newcomer in vague curiosity as he settled into the patient's chair.
A new face. How rare.
Dr. Brenner wasn’t exactly known for his penchant for adding or approving new personnel into the lab, considering the high confidentiality and security that seemed to surround this place. Not to mention how off-record everything that went on here was. And, if anything, Henry had prided himself on knowing everyone on the rotations. Or at least, those on shift duty that he often interacted with.
One could never be too careful, and it was always better to keep a wary eye out.
Snip.
He watched as the scissors cut through the sleeve that had unfortunately adhered to the wound with a slight grimace, making a mental note that he'd need to put in a request for a new set to be provided after he was done here. He only had so many shirts he could go through, after all.
He then felt hands gently maneuver his arm as the nurse on duty got to work assessing his injury. His gaze fixated on the wound, now that he could actually take the time to see the damage that had been wrought on his flesh, its edges puckered and angry from how long he'd left it untended.
“Good that you came in when you did,” the nurse murmured as she disinfected the wound, “any longer, and it probably would've gotten infected.”
He made a non-committal sound in response.
If only, then perhaps he would have an excuse not to show up for duty. But knowing Dr. Brenner, he would never let something like that happen, much less to a prized specimen of his.
Henry's eyes flickered up, unblinking even as stitches were placed into his skin, suturing the wound shut with practiced ease. He watched as the nurse worked, his gaze lingering for a second more, even after the nurse drew away to set the soiled medical tools aside after the additional bandage was snipped, and the rest secured.
It was only when the nurse turned back to address him with a smile on her face did he finally look away, breaking the line of contact.
“Not the best work you’ve seen, I’m sure, but it’ll function well enough. Keep it dry, and it should heal fine.” She said.
“No, it’s quite alright.” He replied, getting off the chair he’d been perched on.
And as he left the room with a murmured word of thanks under his breath, a niggling feeling tickled at the back of his mind. There was something familiar about the nurse. Something he couldn’t quite place.
Something…
“Hen— Peter, wait!”
He froze, the sharp call of his name instantly stopping him in his tracks and snapping him out of his thoughts. He turned to face the nurse who had popped back out from behind the closed door with the customary smile he always wore. “Yes?”
“Uh…” The way she had faltered hadn’t gone unnoticed by him. He watched patiently as she seemed to fumble with her words for a moment before finally holding something out for him to take. “You, uh… forgot your ID card.”
Had it fallen from its clasp on his belt loop?
He was slipping, he realized.
“Oh. Sorry, I must have… dropped it earlier.” He apologized, confusion flashing across his features as he reached out for it.
He was certain that his ears weren't playing tricks on him, but the first syllable that had been uttered sounded an awful lot like his real name, hadn’t it? One he hadn’t heard in years.
He glanced down at the access card that he always carried around his person. ‘Peter Ballard,’ his name, as was written, followed by his security access clearance, his position, and the bar code that denoted his identity, ending with his signature. Not a single mention of his original identity.
A puzzling thought crossed his mind.
Why did the nurse know his name? Most of the staff didn’t know it, or were otherwise sworn to silence. But for someone new to know of it? Had she read his file?
No, that can’t be right. Dr. Brenner had kept that firmly under lock and key, hidden somewhere well-guarded within his personal office alongside the other important documents that most didn’t even know existed.
Which begged the question, who were you, really?
⊹ ━━━ ✥ ━━━ ⊹
It didn't really click until he'd seen you again, in the rainbow room where he was almost always permanently situated. You'd walked in, dressed in all white, as per regulation— a uniform much like his own.
His thoughts stilled as he met your eyes from his station, curiosity pooling within its depths. However, you’d frozen a few steps in, your hand still on the handle of the door, the moment you’d caught sight of him in the room. He could see the recognition in your eyes.
Well, well, weren't you the new nurse he'd seen the other day?
He watched as you took to position, falling in step with the children who swarmed around the apparent newcomer, greeting them warmly with a smile. The way you’d interacted with them told him that you weren’t exactly a green hand in this field.
One of the kids had even laughed, sharing what seemed like an inner joke between you two. Something that had surprised even Henry, a constant in their lives. A small huff of laughter that spoke millions in a place where tension often ran high, and fights broke out more often than civil conversations.
You were a highly amiable individual then, he noted, waiting till the crowd of children slowly dispersed back to their little groups scattered around the room.
Then, keeping his eyes trained ahead, he started up a conversation with his shift partner for the day.
“So…” he started, “not the new residential nurse, I take it?”
“No, I was just standing in for the nurse who went on break.”
Ah. An orderly, then? Perhaps he’d seen you in passing?
There was an air of nervousness around you now that the two of you were left standing in a corner. Gone was the relaxed nature you had when interacting with the children in the room. You seemed almost… wary. On guard. About what, he couldn't tell.
“That was some pretty neat stitchwork for someone who isn’t one. Whoever taught you must've been good.” He mused.
“What can I say, I was inspired.” There was a slight wistfulness in the way you smiled as you gestured to his arm. “How’s the wound?”
“All healed up thanks to you. Are you sure you weren—” He'd started, only to be cut off by a startled yelp that instantly caught both of your attentions.
You both turned towards the source of the sound, alert, noticing that some of the children had gathered around a corner, huddled in a small circle. Oddly enough, they even seemed to be whispering amongst themselves.
Oh dear, the scientists hated it when the children congregated like that, didn’t they?
Henry could already hear the telltale whirr of the camera as it picked up on the activity in the room.
“What's going on here?” He called out as the two of you approached the small group, raising a few heads in the process.
A few of the children parted from the close-knit circle, pointing at something, allowing the two of you to see what lay, or rather, stood, in the center.
A spider skittered atop a pile of building blocks, seemingly alarmed at the presence of the gaggle of children it had been surrounded by. It had its fangs raised, clearly feeling threatened by all the activity.
“Funny creature.” One of them had chirped.
“Never seen anything like that before…” Came a whisper from the sidelines.
You blinked. Had these kids not seen a spider before? Then again, you supposed that made sense considering how sterile and clean the entire lab seemed to be. There hadn’t been a single bug in sight despite how this building was situated in the middle of literal wilderness. Pest control must have made a killing here, now that you thought about it.
Another one of the older kids had a hand out, eyeing it in a less than inquisitive manner. Glancing between the child’s intent stare and the small critter, you drew the blanks together. It reminded you of the way people looked at specimens before they dissected them… Not a fun thought to have, especially when such cruelty was placed in conjunction with a child who looked no less than five.
The spider seemed to jerk in its spot, its legs skittering frantically as it spun on the spot. As if it had lost its own sense of gravity despite being on solid ground.
“Okay, let’s get the spider out of the way.” You stepped in then, moving in front of the child and blocking off their line of sight. You scooped it up without so much as a second thought, completely oblivious to the way Henry had taken to staring at you as if you'd just grown a second head at the action.
He'd only known one other person who hadn't seemed to fear or have an instant kill-on-sight switch installed in them upon spotting an eight-legged critter like that, venomous or otherwise— you.
However, he dismissed the thought before it could form.
That couldn’t be right, and he knew it. Far be it from him to let his buried thoughts creep up on him like that. You were supposed to be miles away from the goings-on here, as far as he was concerned.
“Spider?” Echoed a child.
“What’s a spider?” Asked another.
You saw the owl-eyed looks they were giving it as you held it in your hand. Bringing it closer to them, but letting it remain a safe jumping distance away, you watched as some heads edged closer to get a curious look at the spindly creature sitting docilely within your palms.
Henry had recognized it for what it was easily enough. It was a widow; a northern black widow, judging from the two red spots on its underbelly.
Moving with familiarity, he raised a finger, bringing it close to your palm.
“Here, let me.” He said, watching as it instantly scuttled up the proffered limb as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Something in him settled with a sigh as he took a moment to admire the little creature with the same reverence he’d once handled his own widows with. It’d been a long time since he'd seen one, and perhaps he’d missed it, too, in a way.
He tilted his head when he noticed the way your eyes seemed to linger on him and the spider. The way your lips had parted, as if wanting to say something more, only for you to swallow the words that had been at the tip of your tongue at the last moment.
“Stay with them. I'll handle it.” He reassured you, nodding towards the gathered crowd of curious children.
It wasn't till he stepped out of the room, leaving you to sate the children's piqued curiosities, that it'd hit him— a rising suspicion he couldn't quite quash despite his best efforts.
What if you hadn't been as far removed from all of this as he'd initially been led to think?
The doctor had given him his word, back when he had yet to become ‘papa,’ that the friend he'd left behind was alive and well. And would continue to be, as long as he complied.
But Papa was known to speak in half-truths, wasn't he?
Walking down the corridor in search of the nearest window, a crease formed between his brows as he mulled over the possibility of it.
For starters, the new orderly had gone by a different name from yours, which clearly meant that despite whatever chord she seemed to strike in him, she was clearly of no relation to you. But those eyes that seemed to see through him spoke of a different tune.
Unless… Had they crafted a new identity for you, as they did for him? Turned you into yet another orderly that no one thought to give a second glance to?
No, but even then… the two of you had different depositions. The orderly carried herself differently from the you in his memories, faded as they were; the grim set to her jaw, when she thought no one was looking, a far cry from his ever-spirited companion.
Henry lifted the window pane, watching as the black widow crawled off his finger, retreating back into the safety of the overhanging canopy.
But even so, he couldn't discredit the odd manner in which you'd regarded him, the momentary slip-up, and the spider… which he'd just released back into the wild. His lips thinned into a frown as the pieces started to form.
Clouded with uncertainty, he'd decided to bid his time then. And, once he was sure, he'd make his approach.
⊹ ━━━ ✥ ━━━ ⊹
If only he could peer into that little head of yours, then perhaps it would make things easier. It would be over in the snap of a finger. A peek into your mind, and all the information he needed would be within his grasp.
Things were never that easy for him, unfortunately.
So, Henry, ever-patient, had taken to observing you whenever you were slated for duty in the same shift as him, something that he was sure Dr. Brenner had a hand in. He was almost certain that the old fox had pulled some strings, for you'd been making an appearance around him more often than not, despite the highly regulated scheduling the place was run on.
Few things happened here by chance, and even fewer things were left to coincidence. That being said, he didn't like how the doctor seemed to be toying with him, leaving him to wait and ponder when the other shoe would drop.
He'd notice your gaze on him when you thought he wasn't looking. But Henry was observant. Of course, he was. He was watching you, wasn't he?
It'd happen every once in a while, where he'd tilt his head in question with a helpless smile on his face in response. To which you'd quickly avert your eyes, embarrassed at having been caught; the way your cheeks coloured prettily at being caught red-handed never failing to elicit a chuckle from him.
And as Henry stood, collecting all the pieces of the puzzle and slowly drawing the lines to his own conclusions, it all seemed to lead to the same answer. The similarities that had overlapped with his findings were hard to ignore, but denial was man's greatest foe, and just this once, he turned the other way.
⊹ ━━━ ✥ ━━━ ⊹
It wasn't until you got into an altercation with one of the kids that he'd finally seen the truth.
You'd been flung into a wall, hard, and he’d been there to witness it all go down. He watched with mute horror as you were sent careening into a wall of solid concrete with a pained yelp.
It had spurred him to action, moving swiftly to restrain the child that had lashed out in a fit of… What had it been again? Rage? Annoyance? Pain? He didn’t know. But it didn’t matter as he quickly crossed the distance between him and the child in long strides to immobilize them, arms winding around the failing limbs that reached out for him with vicious intent.
Distance that you’d created by putting yourself in the path of danger— by throwing yourself in front of him. An action that had caught him off-guard, if the minute flash of fear in your eyes hadn’t.
He should’ve shoved you out of the way. But the split-second he’d been distracted was all it took for the psychic force intended for him to slam into you as the child’s telekinetic powers took hold, reducing you into a little more than a puppet to their whims.
Stubborn, reckless, willful… Impulsive.
You had always been the impulsive one between the two of you, hadn’t you? It was how you’d met.
He'd been hesitant, your name at the tip of his tongue.
No, it couldn’t be… right?
Then, he'd caught sight of it— a definite answer that he couldn’t turn away from, as you lay crumpled on the ground, either unconscious or winded from the impact. A thin silvery thing that peeked out of your collar almost mockingly at him.
The recognition that flashed in his eyes was instantaneous. And just like that, whatever hesitation he had shattered like fractured glass.
He knew it for what it was, for he'd wounded you once in that exact same spot. An injury that would scar.
How had he not seen it sooner?
Two things hit him at once. First, the horrifying thought of you actually being here in real flesh and blood, and not as a figment of his imagination. And second, the fact that you'd just impulsively thrown yourself before him without a second thought.
No one did that. Not here. Not anywhere. And most certainly, not for him.
It was an entirely foolish thing to do, and he would have laughed at that, had it not been for the fact that you probably hadn't known better.
The children here wouldn't be able to do anything that hadn't already been done to him, but you didn't know that, did you?
The lights overhead flickered as he glanced down at the struggling child within his grasp, powerless and unarmed. No hands, no psychic waving about, no power.
He didn’t like doing this, knowing what lay in wait for them once Dr. Brenner came striding through the doors, but for once, he thinks it deserved.
“Enough.” He hissed, tightening his hold around the child’s smaller frame. “Stop this foolishness before more damage is done.”
He knew that it would be soon, as the doctor always made a personal appearance whenever things went awry. And, just like clockwork, the doors swung open moments later, but it wasn't the doctor like he'd been expecting. Instead, two orderlies walked in.
They were armed, he noted, spotting the sheathed shock batons hanging from their belts as they approached.
“We'll take it from here. Dr. Brenner's orders.” One of the orderlies said, signaling for him to let go of his charge, which he instantly acquiesced to.
“Do you need a medic?” The other orderly inquired upon spotting you a distance away.
Henry followed his gaze to where you were currently half-standing and half-leaning against the wall you'd been flung into earlier, somewhere between picking yourself up and slumping back down.
“No, I'll handle it.” He said, watching as the other orderly nodded before leaving the room after they'd finished assessing the damage caused by the little incident, scribbling notes in a notepad as they went.
The moment the doors swung shut with finality was the moment he'd immediately turned on his heel, his attention zeroing in on you.
You were conscious then. Good, he wanted answers.
⊹ ━━━ ✥ ━━━ ⊹
Henry had brought you to the infirmary despite your insistence that you were fine. An argument that was instantly shot down the moment he'd caught you as you nearly toppled back down moments after assuring him otherwise.
“I can have myself checked out.” You pointed out.
“Sit.” Was all he’d said, placing his hands on your shoulders as he firmly seated you down.
“I’m fine, Peter. Just a bump is all.” You sighed, but it was clear that he wasn’t taking ‘no’ for an answer with the way the pressure on your shoulder increased.
The nurse was out again, so here you sat, perched atop a stool as he gently felt around your head, feeling out any bumps you might have sustained from the fall.
And as his fingers roamed with purpose, he wondered if his first meeting with you here, when he’d been sent to the infirmary to get his wound checked, had been staged.
Had it just been a play of power to show him that they had another pawn to hold over his head? To let him know that his disobedience had a price, even though he already knew that better than most?
The doctor would have known who you were, no doubt, given that he'd asked about you once in his youth. And if anything, he knew Dr. Brenner was thorough in everything he did. He would've dug up every bit of information he could find on you. Plus, he had eyes everywhere in the lab, knew the rotations in and out, and all personnel like the back of his hand. The lab was his playhouse, and you, unfortunately, were stuck in it, just like he was.
“You got off easy, from the looks of it. Just a nasty bruise or three.” He concluded after a while, but his hands remained as his attention shifted.
His fingers moved lower, resting on the back of your neck as his thumb brushed against the scar, raising goosebumps along your skin. It had healed well over time, he noted, leaving only a faint and slightly raised mark to show the wound that had once been there.
“So…” He started, noticing the way you’d instinctively stiffened at the gesture.
You were just about to jerk yourself away from his hold when the firm mention of your name stopped you in your tracks. You froze as icy blue eyes locked firmly onto yours.
“Were you ever going to tell me, or was I supposed to figure it out myself?” His voice was quiet, almost level in intonation, but you could tell from the way his fingers pressed down that he was anything but.
You swallowed thickly, casting your gaze to the ground. Towards his meticulously shined shoes. Immaculate, like the rest of him. Just like Dr. Brenner’s had been. You could see where he picked that up from.
“What good would it do?”
What good would it have done, indeed.
“I could've prevented the entire incident from happening.” His words were bitter, angry. Both at you, and himself.
Nothing. There was nothing he could have done if he were being truthful with himself.
“Flinging yourself in front of me? What sort of self-sacrificial idiot does that?” He hissed, eyes narrowing as his frustration was delivered in a single snipping comment.
You, apparently. Because you’d finally found him after years of searching in vain. Because of a hope you’d been too stubborn to let go of.
“And what? Did you have a better solution?” You'd challenged him, eyes glinting with the same stubbornness he'd missed.
Except, he couldn't find it in himself to appreciate it now, with the current circumstances.
“You're as helpless as I am here, Henry. Admit it.” You jabbed a finger at him in accusation.
He scowled. You were right, and he knew it just as well. But unbeknownst to you, he was planting seeds. Seeds that would one day sprout, and hopefully, something would come out of his efforts.
“I know what you did to those upperclassmen back then.” A moment of silence lapsed before you continued in a slightly rueful manner, “but without your mind-bending abilities, you're just as human as I am, aren’t you?”
Human? What normal person, pray tell, was able to read minds, warp perception, and bend reality to their will?
“Am I?” He scoffed.
“I've seen you levitate rocks, Henry. I'm not stupid. I know what I saw, even if Dr. Brenner hadn’t told me about it when I ended up here."
He narrowed his eyes. You knew about his abilities? Though not entirely, it seemed. If you’d known what he was truly capable of, then perhaps you wouldn’t have pulled the stunt that you did.
He knew the doctor was somehow involved in your involvement; he just didn’t know the whys and the hows behind it all. And it appears that Dr. Brenner hadn't been entirely truthful with you, if he had even been at all about how he could snap necks with a mere twitch, rending limbs and flesh with a single focused thought— violence, that came to him as simple and natural as breathing.
The anger of being kept in the dark flared through his veins as he entertained the thought of ripping the doctor to shreds, as always. But it faded soon after, for he knew that if it hadn’t been for him, he would never have understood his capabilities as well as he did now. Then, it morphed into a slow ebb and flow of sadness when he knew that you were doomed to the same fate as him, stuck in this prison.
And as he mulled over his thoughts, unmoving, you took his silence as permission to continue.
"Why do you think I'm here, Henry?" You’d laughed then, bitter in a way he’d never thought he’d ever come to associate with you.
"I knew you were out there somewhere, so I looked into it. The more I looked, the more questions arose, so I went around to your place to see if I could find anything that might have been left behind.” You shook your head as you continued, almost wry as you spoke. “Some agents caught me sneaking around the area a couple of years ago. I guess they had it under surveillance, which would make sense. Next thing I knew, they’d knocked me out, and I’d woken up in a room with a gun pointed at me.”
“That's when I knew that I was in over my head, and whatever you were involved in was clearly not something I should've been poking my nose into. But by then, it was already too late.”
You’d looked up at him then. “He forced me to make a choice. I think you know the rest.”
“Be a willing accomplice to the doctor’s sick little game or get your brains blown out?” Henry scoffed at how typical it was. It hadn’t been the first time that Dr. Brenner had pulled something like that.
But why had you even been looking for him in the first place?
“So here I am, playing nurse, orderly, whatever he wants me to be. And… it looks like I found you, after all.”
You’d taken a deep breath then, shaken despite how the incident had transpired years ago. You thought that you'd have gotten over it by now— the results of your own actions. After all, hadn’t you gotten what you wanted in the end? Just not in the way you’d imagined.
“A nurse?” Henry had laughed, a small mocking sound. He was almost hysterical at your luck. You'd been so, so lucky. And you didn't have a clue. “And what gave you the idea that I was still alive? I was told that I'd been proclaimed dead to the world.”
You'd pulled out a paper spider from one of your pockets then, wrinkled and creased from the many times you'd thumbed over its edges.
A piece of craftwork, and a reminder so foolish he could cry.
"All this over a spider?"
“—He could've made you a test subject.” He said after a moment’s silence, almost as if afraid to broach the subject.
“And do you know what happens to test subjects that fail to adapt?” He continued, in a solemn tone that you'd never heard him take.
Henry had seen the adverse reactions some subjects had to the original experiments. And if the other conditions they had been put through hadn't killed you then, he was almost certain that the blood and the psychedelics would. His blood, otherworldly and corrosive as it flared through your veins, destroying you from within if the medicine hadn't driven you to insanity first.
And that had only been a fraction of what he knew of the experiments that truly went on in this institution. Who knew what else they had hidden down in the labyrinths of the lab?
Or, worse. He dreaded thinking of the possibility that they could have just as easily made him kill you in a test of his abilities, disguised as yet another experiment. He'd be none the wiser until he saw the body once it’d been wheeled out of the room. And by then…
“They die a death so horrific that a gun would seem sweet in comparison." He whispered a truth so chilling that it sent a shiver right through you.
The way his voice had wavered struck something deep within you. The weight of your actions, so natural at the time, seemed to now weigh like a ton of bricks atop his conscience.
If he had known this would happen, he wouldn't have left you that little trinket. And although a part of him was dismayed that his suspicions had turned out to be true, a small part of him was happy you were here, twisted as it was, no matter how much he wished you weren't.
“Reckless little fool.”
You could feel the slight tremor of his hand as he pulled you closer, his words dripping with harsh disapproval. But you could tell that there was no real bite behind his bark. If anything, it'd come off as a little self-depreciating on his part, as if he'd blamed himself for letting this happen in the first place.
Even so, he could do with a familiar face in the spiral of madness. Or company, really. He did wish that times were as simple as it was back then, but now that you were both at the mercy of whatever the scientists in this lab had planned… He’ll just have to do his best to keep you out of harm’s way.
“We’ll have to get a handle on your recklessness, won’t we?” He said, drawing away soon after, but you could see the reluctance in his eyes, so you took his hand into yours, rubbing soothing circles into it.
His fingers curled around yours, reminiscent of the handshake you’d once exchanged. Except now, he wasn’t in any hurry to let go. He wonders then, if both of you would ever be free of this forsaken place. But until then, at least you had each other.
And Henry? Oh, he wasn't letting go of you this time.
pairing ; henry creel x fem!reader
words ; 3.7k
synopsis ; henry gets the impression that you want to leave his house, so he has to convince you otherwise.
warning(s) ; smut, oral (fem receiving), manipulation?, darker themes, slight dubious consent. not edited and i definitely talk too much.
a/n ; later than i thought but! hope you enjoy. requests for stranger things are open.
"you've been quiet recently."
henry's voice says it like an observation, not accusation. as if he was noting the weather. in reality, he had been counting the pauses that occur between your replies, watching your eyes linger too long on doorways. you've even stopped filling the silence for him.
you look up from where you're sitting on the plush couch, hands holding the two sides of an open book. something old and worn, a story stuck in place. the living room is dim, curtains half-drawn in order to combat the last remaining glows of sunlight before it dipped below the horizon.
"i'm fine," you answer, your voice measured and careful. he hums softly, setting his briefcase down by the door. it drops with a tiny thump, a sound you have grown to associate with him coming home from work. was it that time already?
"you say that," he replies gently, his footsteps echoing on the spruce floor as he came towards you. "but you haven't been sleeping. you don't ask me how my day was anymore." a pause. "and you keep staring at the windows."
your fingers curl tighter on the edges of the book.
"i just like the light," you say. a half-truth. henry taught you that those were dangerous.
henry stops in front of you, a bit too close. he always knows exactly how close he needs to be to make you aware of his presence and nothing else. it presses in, familiar and overwhelming. it was the weight you've learned to carry.
"do you?" he asks. his head tilts. "or do you like thinking about what's beyond them?"
your stomach drops into the cushions.
"i don't think about that," you say too quickly, hearing the error the second it leaves your mouth. henry's smile flickers, adjusted and fine-tuned.
he dropped to one knee in front of you, hands coming to reach for the book that sat idly in your hands, the pages long and forgotten in your rush to try and console him. "good," he said. as if it was the easiest thing in the world. "because i would hate to lose you to silly ideas like that." his fingers linger on the edge of the page instead of taking the book from you completely.
his gaze never left your own, trying to gauge if you were still thinking of those silly things. a minute went by. and then two. after the third you opened up your mouth to say something but he beat you to action, his hands finally taking the book from your lap and setting it down on the side table.
those same hands came to your knees, slipping underneath your dress. they were cold against your skin, startling enough to pull a quiet breath from your lungs. the touch wasn't rough, but it wasn't gentle either. it was deliberate and anchoring. a reminder of where you were supposed to be. they kept going forward up your soft thighs until reaching the waistband of your panties, eyes boring into your own, as if he was looking for some type of reluctance in your gaze.
"do you want me to stop?" he asked, fingers tracing idly along the bands of your underwear, stopping just short of your inner thigh. you opened your mouth to reply to him, your eyes matching his intense gaze, but he was already leaning forward, standing up from his kneeling position in a way that almost felt clinical.
almost.
except for the slight falter in his fingers as one of his hands slid out from your nightdress and came to the expanse of your throat, holding you with a pressure that wasn't meant to hurt, just to keep you looking at him. he tilted his head, his nose nearly brushing yours, his mouth hovering over your own, not touching, as if offering you the chance to pull away. like he was daring you to.
you didn't.
his kiss was harshness covered under the sickly sweet taste of his mouth, still you opened your mouth wider to him. your hands, traitorous things, lifted on their own, curling into the soft fabric of his brown cotton vest. you thought for a moment that you would just indulge him, he would stop eventually and you could go make dinner for the two of you. but somewhere . . . somewhere in the slow brush of his mouth against yours, the control began to slip.
your fingers tangled in the soft curls of his hair, brushing them out of place and pulling on the edges of them. his breathing grew a little heavier, a tad bit harsher against your lips. and then his mouth slanted over yours, rougher, no longer measured. a clash between you filled with hunger and fury and need. you gasped against him and he swallowed the sound, like he had been starving for it. all at once, you were arching into him without permission or care and he was there to catch you, turning your body so that you were laying on the couch so he could hover over you.
the couch dipped under his weight and the heat of his body pressed up against yours, overwhelming and wanting. your dress slipped from your shoulder, the coolness of the air around you brushing against your skin, his gaze dropped, tracking the exposed line.
this kiss was nothing like the first.
it was teeth and desperation, unraveling held together by the two of you like a ceremony. his mouth crushed against yours, drinking the air from your lungs, your fingers digging into his arms, your fingernails making crescent marks biting into his skin. henry groaned low in his chest, you shuddered from his unbecoming. he lifted you and pulled you onto the couch fully, the fabric pressing against your skin. one of his hands slid along your thigh, pushing your dress higher and higher, baring you to the cool air of the room. you could feel the tremor running through him, so sharp it vibrated under his skin into yours. it felt as though he was holding himself in check with the thinnest, most fragile thread of discipline.
reverently, he slipped his fingers beneath the hem of your nightdress, and when you didn’t stop him, he dragged it up completely, pulling it over your head in one smooth deliberate motion. and then you were bare before him.
henry exhaled, his pupils blown wide through his thick rimmed glasses. his hands hovered just above your skin, as if he didn’t want to mar the sight of you with such rough trembling hands. “you’re,” he whispered, his head bobbing down to press his lips to the expanse of your throat. “you’re perfect.”
the words pierced right through you, raw and burning. your heart lurched painfully against your ribs, your eyes squeezing shut as he began to press open mouth kisses along your skin. your body molded into his with such a perfect degree that it almost didn’t feel real. tentatively, your hand reached for the buttons of his shirt, trying your best to fervently unbutton them to expose his chest to you. in between his kisses, he helped, shrugging off the garment and lazily throwing it to the floor. his mouth moved across your skin like a man desperate to memorize every inch.
you gasped when he found the soft swell of your breast, his mouth lingering, like he had all the time in the world to undo you piece by agonizing piece. each brush of his tongue sent a shiver rippling down your spine. “henry,” you whispered without thinking, like a prayer. he groaned against your skin and lifted his head just enough to meet your gaze. The sight of him, eyes dark with hunger, nearly undid you completely.
“say it again,” he rasped. “say my name.”
your fingers skimmed down his bare chest, as if you were testing the waters. you traced the defined lines of muscle, faint scars you hadn’t known were there. you marveled at the strength of him, so solid and real and yours in a way you never dared to dream. you tilted your chin up and whispered again, “henry.”
his mouth crashed back onto yours, raw and helpless need.
when he finally moved lower, one large hand sliding down your stomach, parting your thighs with care, your body answered him instinctively. arching, trembling, reaching for him. his fingers pressed against the heat between your thighs and moved, creating a feeling you didn’t even know was possible. you lifted your hips in a silent, desperate invitation. henry cursed under his breath and one finger entered you slowly, your mouth opening wide which he countered with his mouth slotting above yours.
he moved carefully, his finger curling inside you, coaxing another desperate sound from your chest. you clung to him, nails scraping lightly over his shoulders. your body bowed into his touch without shame and hesitation. “that’s it,” he whispered against your mouth. “good girl.” The words sent a shudder rippling through you and henry felt it. his mouth curved against yours, a smile so small that it made your heart ache. another finger joined the first and he worked you open with slow, deliberate care. praising you with every breath, every touch. you were barely aware of the way your hips moved against him, chasing the tension that coiled hotter and tighter inside you with every careful thrust of his fingers.
right as you were about to whimper that you needed more, he pulled his fingers out, like he heard your thoughts. just as you thought that maybe he would leave you there hanging, henry shifted his gaze lower and followed it with his own body. the tiny couch creaked under the weight of his large frame, which stopped just short of his face being in between your thighs. his hands splayed against them, pushing them slightly open before he locked eyes with you. there was already slick pooling between your legs, coating your thighs enough that you knew he could see it.
henry brought his hand back to where it had been, his fingers brushing against your folds before he pulled it away again, the glistening from your arousal present. he popped a finger into his mouth and hummed sinfully at the taste. you opened your legs to him, the farthest you could go in your shared space, hoping it would make him finally kiss you there.
it seemed to be enough of an invitation, as his mouth was on you before you could even think. a gasp tore from your lips, reacting to his tongue parting your folds, lapping at you with a hunger that bordered on savage. there was no gentleness. he devoured you like a man starved, hands pinning your thighs open against the furniture. your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging and clawing.
“henry —” you choked out, hips jerking against his mouth.
he answered by pressing his tongue harder against you, flicking, stroking, pulling every gasp and moan from your throat like he was collecting them like trophies. his tongue had you reeling for more, heart beating practically out of your chest when he moved to suck on your clit.
you pulled on his hair, soft sounds spewing from your lips like it was the only thing that you could really do. all the while he kept his eyes on you, knowing that the would be playing this over and over in his mind for days to come. the way that your eyes were sewn shut, chest arching and heaving. it was almost pornographic.
that pit in your stomach that had been steadily building was growing in size, muscles spasming while you grew towards a peak, a peak so large that only he could bring. he knew just the right things to do to you to make you gasping for more, more, more. his tongue prodded a bit inside you, only stopping to lick and suck on your clit.
“henry, i'm so close,” you moaned out, legs clenching together. his tongue guided you towards that peak, it felt like white hot heat the second you hit your high, hips rolling against his face. he helped you come down, giving you a few more licks and rubbing his hands up and down your thighs.
the room felt smaller after, like the walls had edged in while you weren't looking in the throws of pleasure. the light outside the curtains had finally vanished, leaving the living room swallowed in dusk. henry pulled himself up so his face was eye level with yours again, looking down at the ruin that he had created with you. he rested his forehead briefly against your shoulder, breath warm.
your body hummed in strange, lingering echoes that didn't quite feel like they belonged to you. you stared past him, looking at the clock on the other side of the room, and the window next to it. your thoughts drifted again to somewhere you weren't supposed to go.
he noticed, like always.
"stay with me," he murmured.
you swallowed and nodded, even as something quiet and restless shifted behind your ribs. the clock kept ticking. the window kept watching.
Summary: She was supposed to leave Hawkins and go to college. But the looming threat hanging over everyone's heads makes her hesitate and decide to stay when a stranger dressed in a brown suit promises to teach her how to defend her own family and hunt monsters, just like he used to. She had no idea that something much darker was behind it all.
WARNING: 18+ mdni! Dubious consent, mental manipulation, masturbation, oral sex, vaginal sex with penetration, sexual manipulation, corruption, religious guilt.
Word count: 3.400 k
N/a: The reader in this story is the daughter of the pastor of Hawkins and a pure girl, exactly what Henry is looking for in his plan to unite worlds...
She knew why she was there. Henry had explained everything when he brought her months ago. She needed to learn how to defend her younger brother and their family against the dark creatures that everyone knew were invading Hawkins. She had doubted it before, but now everyone knew the truth. And that was why she gave up going to university to come here with Henry. She could very well be the next human sacrifice for Hellfire. Her little brother could be, and she wouldn't allow it.
But some days she didn't understand Henry. She had been there with him in that strange place for some time, and she had to admit to herself, she didn't know how long anymore. But she didn't feel any more prepared to fight a monster and defend her family than when she had arrived. Especially considering that the training Henry gave her seemed to add nothing to combat, and she felt her face heat up at the mere thought of those moments.
Her father was the pastor of the Hawkins congregation, so she had always been a good girl and knew what was expected of her. To remain pure and chaste. To not let the horny boys at school put their hands under her skirts and, above all, to remain a virgin to her husband until her wedding night.
She had managed to get through all of high school without a hitch. That is, until her training with Henry began. He had told her that the way he would train her would be somewhat... unusual. But that if she trusted him, he would help her reach points she had never reached in her life. And so... she trusted him.
On their first day of training, she thought she was going to die of embarrassment. Henry had told her to take off her panties and lie on the bed with her legs open for him. Something she promptly refused, citing the sermons her father gave at church about how wrong it was.
Then Henry looked at her with that sweet, gentle gaze and asked in a soft voice, "Don't you trust me? Don't you want to save your family?" And it didn't take long for him to convince her to lie down with her legs open for him, even though her face was as red as a tomato.
"How is this going to help me, Henry...?" She moaned, gripping his hair as she writhed uncontrollably on the bed, barely able to breathe from pleasure.
"It'll give you better physical stamina..." Henry groaned against her soaked pussy, looking up at her from between her legs. "Don't you see how breathless you are?" He murmured, sucking on her clitoris between words.
"You can barely breathe, my dear..." Henry laughed wickedly, running the tip of his tongue along her sensitive folds. "When I finish your training, you'll be in great shape." And with that, he devoured her again with fervor, making her scream and cling to his blond hair and the white bedsheets.
After it started, they did that same training almost every night, and she could feel her thighs moistening just knowing that training time was approaching and that Henry would be helping her in that way. She knew it wasn't appropriate, but if that was the way to resolve things, then she would do it. And she also couldn't deny that letting Henry touch her felt so good.
Little by little the training progressed, and what was once just Henry's tongue, became also his fingers on her pussy. Once again she hesitated, fearing she would lose her virginity if she let Henry put his long fingers there, but he, as always, assured her it was all for a greater good, and she, even hesitant, allowed it.
She screamed like never before in her life that night. Henry's fingers going in and out of her soaked pussy while he sucked on her clit with his lips made her writhe on the verge of tears as she begged him at the top of her lungs.
"You see, darling?" Henry murmured between soft licks on her pussy, continuing to finger her. "How noisy you get when touched?" He grinned fiercely, his lips glistening with her pussy fluids, shaking his head and fingering her harder, making her nod between cries and moans.
"What if one of those monsters hurt you, darling, huh?" He murmured against her sensitive skin, causing a shock. "What if we had to stay quiet and hidden..." He moved his palm against her clitoris, rubbing it hard while he fucked her harder with his fingers, making her arch her back off the mattress with screams. "Could you keep that little mouth shut?"
"I couldn't, I couldn't... please Henry..." She whimpered, looking into his eyes, feeling on the verge of collapsing under the touch of his fingers.
"Just as I thought..." He chuckled in a husky, deep voice as he repeatedly caressed that sweet spot on her pussy, which only made her moan louder as she came from his long fingers.
The training continued steadily after that night, but she felt frustrated because, even with Henry trying several times, she only seemed to make louder sounds with each attempt. So, thinking about this, he decided to give her a different kind of training one night. One that involved more... coordination.
That night, as always, he made her take off her dress and lie down on the bed while he admired her curves with enchantment. Just as he did from time to time, he pinched her nipples with his fingertips and nibbled at them. Henry had never given an explanation for why he did that, and even though she didn't want to admit it to herself, she didn't question the reasons, because it felt so good.
But unlike other nights, when she was completely naked and he was dressed, merely training her, merely instructing her, this night he slowly unbuttoned his brown vest and white shirt, leaving both on the bedside table. Without taking his eyes off her, he then removed his brown trousers and left them with the rest, causing her to involuntarily gasp on the bed as she stared at him with thirsty eyes, even if inadvertently.
"Today, darling..." He began with a hoarse murmur, walking slowly toward the bed and sitting gently beside her naked, luscious body. "I want to test the strength and coordination of your beautiful hands."
"How are we going to do this, Henry?" she murmured, staring at him curiously from under her eyelashes while biting her lower lip, unable to take her eyes off his bare chest.
With that fierce smile that sent shivers down her spine, he held her right hand between his and slowly caressed it. "So delicate..." He murmured against her palm, then left a hickey on her wrist, making her shudder.
Without taking his eyes off hers for even a moment, he went down.
Without taking his eyes off hers for even a moment, he slowly lowered her hand to his chest, feeling her tremble, but without trying to pull away from his touch. He could see the hunger in her eyes, he could see the longing and desire, even if they were accompanied by a slight apprehension.
Carefully, Henry guided her hand inside his own underwear and saw her eyes widen when she first touched his penis. She tried to pull her hand away quickly, but he stopped her by shaking his head and holding her hand a little more firmly.
"Henry..." She practically moaned, looking into his eyes as she rubbed her thighs and bit her lip, feeling him begin to guide her hand in slow up-and-down movements along his cock. Still with his eyes fixed on hers, Henry pulled his cock completely out, making it visible to her.
She had never seen a naked man before. But God, Henry was gorgeous. And obediently she followed his lead, trying to do everything correctly. Even though a voice that sounded very much like her mother's screamed in the back of her mind, saying that it was wrong. That it was a sin.
"That..." He murmured, suppressing a groan and tilting his neck back slightly as he felt her gently squeeze the base of his cock. "That will help you have better coordination in your hands..."
"Don't you see the control it takes to make these movements, darling?" Henry smiled as he gently guided her movements using telekinesis until she got the hang of it on her own.
"I see Henry..." She sighed, squeezing her thighs together and raising her gaze to Henry's cock, staring into his eyes. Little by little, her movements became firmer and more confident, to Henry's delight, who gasped slightly at each touch.
"If you want to continue practicing your breathing..." He murmured with his eyes closed. "You can put it in your mouth and suck on it, it will help you so much if you do that, my dear..." He gasped, rolling his eyes. "I guarantee it..."
Don't do it.
Her father's voice whispered in the back of her mind. But with Henry's blue eyes before her, brimming with pleasure, she listened to no other voice but his. And listening only to Henry, she leaned forward and slowly took his cock into her mouth, feeling numb from the salty taste emanating from his skin.
"Damn it, darling..." Henry gasped, looking into her tear-filled eyes as he gently stroked her hair. "Breathe through your nose, my love..." He grunted, caressing her cheeks with his thumb and wiping away a tear. "Breathe through your nose."
Almost breathless, she nodded, nearly choking in the process. The sensation was agonizing and pleasurable at the same time. She had never felt anything so debilitating. That is, until Henry guided his knee to her pussy and began to rub slowly in back-and-forth movements that made her gag around his cock and pull it out of her mouth to breathe heavily.
"Tsk... tsk..." Henry gasped, gripping her hair tightly, but still pressing his knee against her soaked pussy, which writhed beautifully for him. "Still so out of control, my dear, but you'll learn."
Eager to show how much she was learning, she leaned in again and took him in her lips, sucking as much as she could, making Henry's eyes roll back in pleasure as he gripped her soft hair.
"Keep going, darling... just like that..." He gasped, his voice hoarse as he drew closer to his climax, gently fucking her throat as she gagged around his cock, her eyes brimming with tears. "You're getting so good, darling... so good."
Without warning, Henry ejaculated against her throat with a grunt that made her shudder. The taste of Henry filled her lips, causing a mixture of pleasure and revulsion at the strong, unfamiliar flavor; she swallowed some while some dripped down her chin and onto her soft breasts.
"You're going to learn not to spill anything..." He murmured in a hoarse, deep voice, wiping away the spilled semen and making her lick it from his fingertips. Then, without warning, he threw her onto the bed, his lips falling onto her needy pussy, making her scream.
She didn't know where learning not to spill would be useful, but she really wanted to learn it for Henry.
She loved the training sessions, even though they seemed somewhat pointless, they made her feel so good, and if Henry said they would help, then she trusted his word. All her friends always said she was too naive, and that people took pleasure in deceiving her, but she knew Henry would never do something like that to her. He was a friend and was only protecting her.
"Today I have a new kind of training for you, darling..." He murmured, already taking off the top part of his brown suit and hanging it on the coat rack without taking his eyes off hers for even a moment.
"If all goes well, it will further increase your stamina." He smiled, moving closer and caressing the side of her face. "But for this to work, you'll have to obey me and be a good girl to me... okay?" He looked at her expectantly, making her heart race instantly as she gasped and nodded, almost rubbing against his gentle hand.
"So let's begin..." Henry murmured, his voice even hoarser, as he lowered both hands to the hem of the short, flared dress she had chosen for the day and gently pulled it over her head.
His eyes instantly lingered on her luscious breasts, and with a satisfied smile he gently bit her left nipple, causing her to gasp softly and place her hand on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry, darling..." Henry murmured, staring intently at her, his lips still a millimeter from her aroused nipples. "Your body is so delicious that sometimes I forget the purpose of this training."
Those words made her face flush, and almost reflexively she pressed her thighs tightly together, since for some reason Henry's words always caused those spasms in her.
"It's alright, Henry..." She sighed, almost breathless, without taking her eyes off his. "You... you distract me too..." She admitted, a little shyly.
"Everything's alright, darling..." He smiled slightly, caressing her bare waist with his fingertips. "I like it when you're honest with me..." Saying this, he placed a soft kiss on the lower part of her stomach, almost making her faint, and she probably would have if Henry hadn't held her.
"Are you going to use your mouth again to increase my stamina?" She murmured anxiously as she stroked his blond hair and rubbed her own damp thighs together.
"Oh no, darling..." Henry shook his head, leaving a wetter kiss on the junction between her thigh and abdomen. "You're already so good at this workout..." He chuckled, gazing at her. "Making me so proud..."
"Thank you, Henry..." She practically meowed under his touches while writhing gently with arousal.
"So now I'm going to increase the pace of your workout..." He sighed, kissing her soft thigh. "You've already got my tongue..." Henry left a wet kiss on the inside of her left thigh. "You've already gotten my fingers so well..." He smiled at the memory, leaving an equally wet kiss against her right thigh, making her shudder.
"Now... you're going to take my cock, darling..." He murmured, leaving a wet, squeaky kiss against her naked, wet pussy, making her eyes widen at the contact of his lips and her surprise.
"But Henry..." She gasped suddenly, but still didn't move an inch, as his long, slender hands held her thighs firmly. It was already considerably wrong for her to let him touch her so inappropriately without them being married, even if it was part of the training, but this... this took things to a whole new level. Her family would never forgive her if she gave herself to a man like that before marriage.
"If you can't protect your family, it doesn't matter what they think, my dear..." Henry murmured hoarsely, as if he had read her thoughts, while rubbing his face against her bare thigh, making her shudder even more as he slowly slid his fingers along the moist folds of her pussy.
"Henry... I don't know..." She gasped, tilting her hips further toward his greedy fingers. "I... I... God, my parents... my parents will never accept me again..." She moaned, opening her legs wider for him almost uncontrollably as she felt his fingers going deeper and reaching that spot that always made her scream.
"Then you don't need to come back, my dear..." Henry murmured, biting her stomach and looking hungrily into her eyes. "Don't you like being here with me, my darling?" He grinned like a terrifying beast lurking. "Don't you like me?"
"Yes, Henry, but..." She gasped, trembling, amidst soft moans, already being interrupted by him.
"If you stay... I'll protect your dear little family." He swore without taking his eyes off hers as he slowly fingered her pussy. "I won't let anything happen to them..."
"But college..." She moaned softly, feeling so close to climax with him touching and kissing her in that way that she could barely think.
"You don't have to go now, darling..." He gently sucked on her clitoris, savoring the taste. "You can stay here with me as long as you want..." He smiled, kissing her thigh again as he drew her to orgasm. "And I'll take care of you..."
"Henry, please..." She whimpered, writhing as the climax overwhelmed her.
"Please what, my dear?" He murmured in a voice so gruff it sounded almost frightening.
Her head was high, her body light and trembling. For a moment she thought she heard the desperate voice of a girl screaming her name, begging her not to accept it. To say no to Henry, to give up this madness because it, it would destroy the world. But she didn't want to listen, she couldn't even pay attention, not when Henry was between her thighs staring hungrily at her and offering her everything.
"I want you." She murmured simply, gazing back at him passionately, holding him by his blond hair.
"That's my darling girl." Henry grinned fiercely, towering over her and kissing her lips for the first time in all those days, almost making her faint from the taste of his lips mixed with the taste of her pussy.
Looking deep into her eyes, Henry carefully guided his cock between her moist, eager folds, rubbing slowly until the head of his cock nestled into her tight, wet entrance, causing her to squeeze her eyes shut and gasp.
"Henry..." She moaned, burying her face in his neck and clinging tightly to his back, her nails digging into his skin.
"Calm down, my love..." He growled against her neck with that deep voice that both scared and made her wetter at the same time. In the midst of this, he plunged completely into her pussy, making her scream as she clung to him, whimpering his name.
Moments passed, and as her grip loosened around him, Henry began to fuck her at a pace that made her gasp and moan as the old headboard of the bed banged against the bedroom wall with a dull thud.
Nothing he had ever done to her compared to this. Nothing could feel so good, make her feel so good. Henry's cock inside her was the best sensation she had ever felt in her life, and uncontrollably she began to murmur.
"Henry, I want you forever..." The first desperate sob came as she approached her climax once more. "Every day, Henry, please..." She clung to his shoulders, rubbing her face against Henry's neck and moaning.
"That's it, my love... that's it..." Henry gasped, his movements becoming increasingly erratic and uncontrolled as he approached his climax. "After tonight, it will be just you and me forever..." He grunted, his voice so deep it made her shudder and moan as the orgasm ripped from her.
Her trembling pussy milked Henry's groaning cock as it reached its peak, collapsing onto her soft body. She could barely breathe under the weight of Henry's body on top of her, her body still numb after the unbridled pleasure he had given her.
A few seconds later, Henry finally moved and fell beside her on the bed, closing his eyes and squeezing them shut as she looked between her legs and saw the red stain of blood covering the mattress.
At that very moment, she heard for the first time the stopped clock downstairs chime frantically with a terrifying noise that made her skin crawl all over. Fearfully, she looked away from the red mark between her legs and stared at Henry, who was merely smiling in a way that only frightened her further, causing her to shrink back slightly.
"Henry, what's wrong?" she murmured, holding his hand which suddenly felt so cold. From one moment to the next she feeling dizzy, as the same girl's voice from before seemed to scream in despair along with dozens of other voices, which, just as suddenly as they came, vanished.
"Nothing's wrong, my dear..." He smiled sideways, his eyes wide and looking somewhat maniacal, as he stroked her hands. "The world is finally on track now."
How do you think Henry would handle freaky!reader? Like he’s trying to keep up the calm composed nice guy act and she’s just absolutely feral (especially the cave scene when he’s covered in blood).
I feel like it could go a few different ways but I definitely wanna know your thoughts <3
Title: Cave
₊˚୧ PAIRING: Henry 'Mr Whatsit' Creel x f!reader || Stranger Things
₊˚୧ CATEGORIES: smut | reader 18+
₊˚୧ WARNING: fingering, cunnilingus, p in v, cave s*x, dubcon at start (but it is con)
₊˚୧ WORD COUNT: 1.5k
୨♡୧ ｡ Henry does his best to stay subdued and composed when he hears you begging for it. He knows how you get when you see him, but he tries to talk you into calming down, especially if he has important things to deal with and cannot spare the time to give in and satisfy you.
"I know, sweetheart, I understand, but you have to wait a bit."
୨♡୧ ｡ Henry knows these instincts can become overwhelming for most ordinary people, and in some extreme cases, like yourself, they are nearly impossible to tame. But he tries. He knows it's best to focus on his plans first, but your incessant begging can sometimes disrupt him. When that happens, he tries to keep his manner as composed, but you can feel the lurking frustration in his tone as he insists you have to wait. If you do, you know Henry will reward you, but if you insist, Henry will raise his voice slightly.
୨♡୧ ｡ Sometimes that's what you want. Sometimes you want to see Henry's anger, because the neediness in you begs for a change. The sweet Henry satisfies you, but not enough. The idea of Henry disciplining you turned from a small idea to a desperate desire when you saw how attractive he could be when his dominant side took over.
୨♡୧ ｡ So you began to annoy him on purpose, driven by your lust.
୨♡୧ ｡ Henry was not stupid, and he figured it out quite quickly; if anything, it amused him. If only you'd know how dangerous this game you were playing really was, you'd probably be ashamed of yourself, but regardless, he pretended to play along for the first few times. Luckily for you, you had caught Henry in a good mood, doing it, so he was willing to entertain your fantasies, even if purely out of amusement. Which he didn't let you in on, because you thought yourself so clever that he almost felt bad ruining it.
୨♡୧ ｡ If things had stayed this way, Henry wouldn't have minded. You behaved like his plaything, and he could overlook your misbehaving at times, as well as handle your freakiness accordingly.
୨♡୧ ｡ If you got yourself a sample of 'nice' Henry, he would tend to use his hands because he prided himself on how easily it was for him to teach you a lesson with his fingers. Your incessant pleas for him to give you more while he hushed you and eased his fingers in the perfect spot, keeping you on his lap, with his other hand feeling under your shirt while guiding you to lean your head back against his shoulder, had you arching and squirming against him. If you tried to reach down, mindlessly overwhelmed by how well he was working on you, he would coo against your ear.
"No hands, sweetheart. If you want me to help you out, you need to play by my rules."
୨♡୧ ｡ And you would have to obey, otherwise Henry would stop. You tried once to see what would happen if you disobeyed, and he stopped, leaving you on the edge and ushering you off his lap for being a bad girl. But if you are good, and let him do his work, he would have you climaxing around his fingers, sometimes more than once if he felt you deserved it.
୨♡୧ ｡ His fingers were not the only reward you would get if you got on Henry's good side. His mouth was the one he liked to use on you, too, because he enjoyed how flustered you would become when he suggested it. He first warmed you up with his fingers, as he usually would, but then he would whisper.
"Come on, sweetheart, you are in for a treat today."
୨♡୧ ｡ Henry would have you sitting on the couch in his place, and he dropped down between your legs, keeping them spread wide enough to take in the sight of your desire leaking from you after he used his fingers. While eating you out, he made use of his fingers too, thrusting them inside you to aid his tongue's work. He allowed you to grab his hair, to squeeze your thighs around his head and squirm; however, if you ever dared to say it's too much, Henry would grab your hip roughly and hold you down, eating you out mercilessly until you came against his tongue, pretending not to hear you begging him to slow down.
୨♡୧ ｡ But sometimes, you got on Henry's angry side. The one time you saw him dishevelled and bloody in the cave, you had an epiphany. You couldn't believe your eyes. Henry was attractive as it was, but like this, you felt something feral in you. It was the worst timing for your desperation to kick in, facing a distraught and furious Henry, who could easily lose even the remaining drop of control and make you regret your boldness.
୨♡୧ ｡ You tried to cling to his tweed waistcoat, but he roughly grabbed your wrist and stared down at you, nearly livid. How could you be so inconsiderate in a moment like this? Your needy gasp as he eyed you down like prey made him shove you back, causing you to fall on the ground. He tilted his head, approaching you with confident, slow steps, then suddenly trapping you down and hooking his hands in your shirt.
"Sweetheart, are you out of your mind?"
୨♡୧ ｡ Henry's face betrayed the lack of control he was showing. Seeing you stare up at him with that meek gaze of combined fear and arousal made him lick his lips and put his hand on your throat, squeezing lightly. The slight fear in your eyes growing with an innocent flicker made Henry smile.
"What is it, sweetheart? I thought you wanted this."
୨♡୧ ｡ You could taste the bitter irony in his tone, your chest rising with frightened, quick breaths. Henry didn't care about how unfortunate the location was, how dirty either of you would get. If you wanted to play with fire, you had to get used to the idea you'd get burnt. Far too many times, he had let you off the hook easily. You had to suffer consequences.
"Don't tell me you're already regretting it."
୨♡୧ ｡ He mocked, his hand reaching down to his belt. Henry had made sure you would have an experience that lived up to your expectations. This time, you wouldn't have any warm-up, no kind words aided by his mouth or fingers. This time, you would be coming undone on his cock, fucked ruthlessly on the cave's sandy ground.
୨♡୧ ｡ Henry's mind was utterly shattered with flashbacks and instructions given to him by The Mind Flayer, claiming you were more of an instinctual drive which kicked in as he tried to regain control over his own mind. With you impaled on his cock, one of your legs hooked up around his hip and his face mere inches away from yours, hair falling on his forehead mixed with drops of blood and sweat as he shoved himself deep inside you, he could feel the grip of the monster slipping away, the flashbacks shut down somewhere at the back of his mind. Henry leaned down and licked a strip from across your cheek, his hips shoving against yours until he had you crying out his name and imploring him not to stop.
"You are never satiated, sweetheart. You never have enough."
୨♡୧ ｡ Henry scolded you. He licked his lips, catching his own dripping sweat and blood on his tongue, then forced a kiss on you, making you taste the mixture. His tongue worked in your mouth, only breaking away when he felt you needed the air, when your body would become weak from desire to breathe. Only then did Henry give in and let you breathe before capturing your lips.
୨♡୧ ｡ He claimed you repeatedly, until, for once, your desperation ceased, your mind empty of anything but his name. Until his body became too worn out to continue. Inside the cave, dark and engulfed with fragments of his fears, you were sprawled on the ground, dripping with his cum, panting and trying to catch a glimpse of him. Henry remained on his knees between your legs for a while, observing you as he grunted and wiped his face with his sleeve. Then, with his hand on your thigh, he pushed himself up slowly and staggered to the cave wall, leaning onto it as he fixed his trousers, glancing down at you.
୨♡୧ ｡ Henry closed his eyes, allowing his head to fall back for a moment. His mind had been empty for longer than he could remember, and slowly thoughts began to crawl back in their place. His eyes opened again, and he sighed, doing his best to help you stand and lean against him as he tried to help you out of the cave.
"For your own good, never do that again."
"...I definitely will do that again."
୨♡୧ ｡ You teased, although you were chuckling, barely forming coherent thoughts. Henry sighed, giving you a half-compassionate, half-pitiful look.
