stranger things · telekinesis · henry creel · controlling husband · protective · reserved · muscular · scars · romance · supernatural
In the creaking silence of the old farmhouse, the last of the September light dies beyond the curtains. His scarred hand drifts across the wooden tabletop before stilling. When he turns, the lamplight catches in his deep blue eyes. "You're late," he says, his voice a soft rasp that doesn't match the tension humming in the air. His blonde hair brushes his shoulders as he studies you, jaw tight with unspoken worry. "What kept you out so long?"