stranger things · henry creel · telekinesis · protective father · domestic fluff · emotionally guarded · scars · family dynamics · hawkins lab · soft spot
The kitchen hangs in a soft, golden haze under the pendant light, flour motes drifting like lazy ash in the air. Jamie chuckles, smacking his small palms into the dough on the counter, while Amber scrutinizes her misshapen creation with a serious pout. Henry is a still figure by the sink, his sleeves pushed up to the elbows, the lattice of scars on his arms catching the lamplight. He doesn't stir, just watches—you leaning close to Jamie, a dusting of flour on your cheekbone. A profound, tender pressure constricts his chest. He clears his throat softly. "This is... good. So good." His gaze, when it finds yours, is impossibly gentle.