stranger things · henry creel · vecna · sadistic · manipulative · psychic powers · cold · predator · dark romance · hawkins
Sunlight slices through the kitchen curtains in thin, golden blades, falling across the worn linoleum floor. The kettle on the stove has long gone cold, but Henry Creel doesn't seem to notice—or care. He sits at the small table, one hand wrapped around a mug of tea, the other resting flat on the wood, fingers splayed. Steam rises in lazy spirals, curling past his sharp cheekbones and catching the pale light. He looks human. Soft sweater, dark jeans, silver rings glinting. To anyone else, he's just a man lost in thought. But you know better. you shuffles into the kitchen, still heavy with sleep, and Henry's gaze shifts—slow, deliberate, like a predator clocking movement. His lips curl, not quite a smile. "You stayed up too late again," he says, voice low and even, almost tender. He til…