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#henry creel gif
givehimthemedicine · 3 days
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To my surprise, our new home provided a discovery.
And a newfound sense of purpose.
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danesdehaan · 5 months
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@pscentral event 20: antagonists ↳ vecna | henry creel | 001
you have already lost.
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oscarwildebutwilder · 2 months
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I spent years with One. Right here. In this very room.
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inklore · 2 years
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teach me to be cruel.
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premise: bad girls get rewarded, good girls get nothing.
pairing: peter ballard x (f)reader
word count: 1.20k
warnings: eighteen+ content, porn with plot, dark, fingering, orgasm denial, mentions of murder and blood, peter is a warning himself, slight degradation, undertones of manipulation.
etc: we’ve finally made it here, i’ve finally done it, it was only a matter of time before another devilish blonde man consumed me, this is not shocking lmao.
i do not give anyone permission to translate or repost my work, please be respectful — if you enjoyed please comment or reblog!
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The hard concrete at your back, the blades of your shoulder pressed into it, is cold and seeps through your gown. The heat from your body is radiating off of you like a furnace as if his fingers between your legs were hot pokers that were sparking small flames in your insides until an inferno has started up and you feel like every organ and bone in your body is being melted down to something plabable; like the play-doh the children play with in the rainbow room.
The wire to your morality vacant and lacking a pulse. Sometimes you wondered if there was something wrong with it, that moral part of your brain that everyone has for basic human survival. “Sometimes it gets crossed with another wire, an evil one” Papa had said. Looking at you with about as much interest as he does when he’s ordering the group of you to throw each other across the room, upon your asking of what made someone bad. Cruel.
The answer had done little to make you run off of the beaten path you currently walked along. It hadn’t made that moral wire in your brain go off and rethink this. Rethink meeting him in closets. Rethink using your powers to turn afternoon sneaks into nightly rendezvous between your bed sheets; his hand pressed to your mouth, his deep grunts of “You don’t know how to be quiet do you? Pathetic” in your ear. A smirk on his lips when you looked up at him and gave him those pleading eyes, the ones with tears at your ducts and devotion filled in them like a hornets nest ready to be opened and released onto the world.
It’s where his interests lie with you.
You were a hornets nest he kept kicking until you were nothing but a carcass of something made to be strong, to house something that was supposed to give life. And now all you do is take it away, for him. But wasn’t that your purpose here? To be used for what you have, for what you were. The only difference between him and Papa was that you were in love with him. Devoted.
When you did something bad, made others bleed for fun, on accident, because you went too far, were too powerful; Peter never scolded. Never reprimanded. He filled that whole of shame in you, that morality with something thick and suffocating, something that felt more like home than this sterile hell you were born in.
So why should you feel bad when his fingers are between your legs, or his tongue? Those moral feelings of how wrong it is to let him mold and shape your molten insides that he’s burned into his perfect killing machine to help him with his vision: had no home inside of you.
The wires of power and devotion—lust—wrapping around any good wire you had until it was strangled and all you had left was the bad, the evil that Peter kissed, sucked, and fucked in and out of you.
His fingers inside of you right now is the only kind of good you want, need. His thumb rubbing hard strokes into your clit, forearm resting on the wall beside your head. His scowl is deep, his lips red and raw from how hard he had kissed you—from the teeth you had bit into his bottom lip to silent your moans, so no one would hear through the door as he fucked you with his fingers.
“Here I thought you knew how to listen to directions.” You can trace the annoyance in his voice right back to the girl in the infirmary right now. Body twisted in pain, heart still beating. The weakling he encouraged you to end the suffering of—one of many he’s asked you to take care of for him.
“I did.” You say in puffs, your jaw going slack for half a second when you feel the curl of one of his fingers and it makes your fists ball at your sides, your legs shaking. “She–I–”
His free hand is at the back of your neck squeezing the muscle there, making you look directly at him, a wince of pain replacing your stuttering and getting lost in the mixture of pleasure between your thighs. “She’s still alive. She’s still suffering, even more now that you’ve broken her bones.” The blue of his irises are dark, like a sea you’re drowning in. The casting shadow of his scowl making them appear almost black. “You didn’t listen to directions,” the up tick of the corner of his mouth only makes your stomach sink lower. Leaning his face close to your lips, enough to have your eyes straining to look up at his height, “and now you don’t get to cum.”
The whine you let out is a mix of frustration and anguish at words, and the stretch of him adding a third finger inside of you—something you could take, pleaded for when you couldn’t have the stretch of his cock. But as his fingers press up and move faster, quicker, the squelch of your wetness louder than your ragged gasps from trying to keep quiet. The pressure of his thumb still moving against your clit so good that you know this has nothing to do with your pleasure, this is a punishment.
You didn’t follow orders and now he wants to see if you even know how to; don’t come, don’t come, don’t come.
Peter thinking you were anything less than his devoted disciple was the only thing that could bring you to tears. Not his cruelty, not the bloodshed he’s helped paint your hands with. He was your only weakness, and the only thing that could make you possess any grotesque human condition; love.
And he knows it, brings a smile to his face. Loved using it against you in and out of your bed; teasing you until you were so sickly weak for him to touch you—to fuck you, “you look so beautiful when you have that pathetic look on your face” he’d confess into your ear as he fucked you from behind; “this is the way you were meant to look, covered in their blood, beautiful” he’d declare as he ran his fingers over the dried blood on your tits as he thrusted into you.
He loved your love for him. Just as he loved your power. He could use it. Consume it.
What he didn’t love was good. It only caused disappointment and that’s what you have done. Disappointed him. The girl was still alive and you were being punished for it.
“I’m,” you swallow, whimper. “I’m sorry, please.”
His grin is dark, demented, dead. “Begging only makes it worse.” He presses his lips to your forehead, whispers against it. “Focus. Because if you cum, you won’t for a week.”
“Please,” You can feel your walls throbbing, clenching, swelling around his fingers. That low ache in your belly that feels more like a death sentence right now than it usually does when Peter’s touching you like this.
"You haven't shown me you've earned it. I think you've forgotten our purpose here.” There’s no pity in his eyes as he runs his nose down the bridge of yours, pulling back to grin down at you. “Good girls don’t get to cum.”
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kaylawritesfics · 2 years
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Could we get a Peter Ballard x fem!reader fanfic where they fall asleep cuddling in her bed and Peter accidentally forgets to go back to his own room so they get found out by Brenner? With Peter being all protective and ‘don’t touch her’ over the reader and like trying to take all the blame and hiding her behind him to try and keep her safe? Fluffy ending please. Sorry I know it’s pretty detailed lol
71. “You can’t take her, please! I’ll do anything, I swear!”
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summary: after he spends the night in your room, your secret relationship with peter is discovered.
pairing: peter ballard x fem!reader
warnings: mentions of violence, slight torture?
note: this is a little long i will add a read more tag to it tomorrow !!
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You woke to the soft sounds of Peter’s delicate breathing. His messy, blonde hair was sprawled across your pillows and his head was tucked into the crook of your neck. His arms were wrapped loosely around your waist and below the white blanket that was covering the two of you, your legs were intertwined, creating a mess of limbs.
You slowly turned your body to face him, dragging a single finger down the bridge of his nose and across his lips. His face was illuminated only by the small stream of light coming in through the blinds of your window. You studied the details of his face; the way his lips were a little chapped, the way his long eyelashes fell gently onto his cheeks, and the redness of his nose, which indicated the winter weather could be felt even from inside the lab. A small smile made its way onto his face, giving away his awakening. “You’re staring,” he whispered, his eyes still closed as his arms tightened around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him. “You’re so beautiful, Peter,” you whispered back, continuing to draw little shapes across his face with your index finger. His nose scrunched as you found a ticklish point near the base of his ear.
Quick, constant footsteps throughout the hallway outside you room alerted both of you to the time. It was well past the time Peter would usually sneak away back to his own room. A pit of anxiety began to grow in your stomach as Peter’s eyes fluttered open and he held a finger to his lips, signaling you to remain quiet. He calmly placed a soothing kiss to the crown of your head, untangling himself from you and standing up. He had fallen asleep in his work clothes, which were now wrinkled and he looked quite disheveled. Doing his best to make himself seem more presentable, he placed an ear against your door, listening intently for any sign of approaching footsteps. When he concluded that it was safe, he cracked the door open, peering out. Before exiting, he sent you a grin and a promise to see you later.
The rainbow room was your favorite in the entire building. The children were allowed to play and explore using their talents and you were allowed more time with Peter, who often patrolled the room with you. You noticed that he looked far more presentable than he did that morning, his hair was neatly fixed and he had changed his clothes, opting for an outfit with less wrinkles. To preserve the secrecy of your relationship, the two of you chose not to interact very much in front of the children, however, the lingering glances spoke enough for the both of you. From his place next to 011, Peter caught your stare, sending you a barely noticeable wave and a tight smile.
The sound of a door opening caught the attention of everyone in the room. Dr. Brenner entered the room, eyeing each of the children before his eyes finally landed on you. “Miss Y/L/N and Mr Ballard, I need to see both of you in my office,” the tone of his voice frightened you and you sent a worried glance towards Peter, who kept his eyes on Brenner. The two of you followed Dr. Brenner out of the rainbow room and down the scarily white hallways of the lab.
Brenner’s office was a place you had visited very rarely. The walls were white and decorated only by various awards he’d won over the years. Everything seemed to have a specific place and was organized neatly. Two guards stood menacingly on either side of the room and you gulped as you suspected what this was about. Brenner took a seat behind his desk, motioning for you and Peter to take the two chairs across from him. “I suspect the two of you know what this is about,” Brenner leaned forehead, intertwining his fingers on top of his desk. “Perhaps you should blame Mr. Ballard’s blatant ignorance and disregard for security cameras,” Brenner’s dark eyes fell on you as he spoke, his tone becoming more hostile as he continued. When neither you not Peter responded, Brenner motioned the guards forward. “Take them to the electric shock room,” he demanded, standing and casually stretching his limbs.
Peter’s chair created a loud screeching noise that captured the attention of the room as he abruptly stood up. He struggled against the guard’s grip, thrashing about as he tried to free himself. The other guard quickly grabbed you by the arms, dragging you slightly. “Don’t touch her!” Peter’s unusually gruff voice rang through the air as he tried to reach for you. “It was my fault! Please, she didn’t do anything!” He begged, tears filling his waterline as he attempted once more to free himself. “You can’t take her, please! I’ll do anything, I swear!” Brenner seemed to perk up at Peter’s words and emotions, holding up a hand to stop the guard from dragging you from the room. “If Mr. Ballard wants to take the blame for this, we’ll let him. Escort Miss Y/L/N to her room and take Mr. Ballard to the electric shock room.” Peter’s eyes never left yours as he was violently dragged from the room and down the hall.
You didn’t see Peter for the rest of the day, choosing to lock yourself into your room and hide in your bed instead. As night fell, your room became too dark to see, however, as your door knob rattled and turned, a bright light filled the room from the hall. You peaked up over your blanket, watching as Peter made his way slowly into your room, softly closing the door behind him. A groan escaped his lips as he sat down on your bed, pain evident on his face. “Peter?” You mumbled, crawling over to him and wrapping your arms around his back, resting your head on his back. “Hi, darling,” he greeted, visibly relaxing at your touch. You gently pulled him down to lay beside you, your hand finding his hair. “Why’d you take the blame?” You inquired, running a hand through soft, blonde locks. He smiled wryly, closing his eyes at the feeling of your hands tugging through his hair.
“I’d do anything to keep you safe.”
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cosimads · 2 years
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JAMIE CAMPBELL BOWER in Stranger Things (2016-) and his baby boy. baby → evil transformation
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cuethemulti · 10 months
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WE GOT THE LINDA HAMILTON FROM TERMINATOR?
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WE FUCKIN WON
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plutoswritingplanet · 2 years
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White Rabbit (Peter Ballard x Female!Reader)
PART 2
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a/n: how close can i get to writing monsterfricking before being called a monsterfricker?
Warnings: NON-CON (nothing too explicit, but still, be warned, be safe), bathroom-donging (once again), extensive use of a 80′s rock song as a plot device
Summary: Vecna’s Curse finally comes to take what’s his. Only thing is, he doesn’t look like the monster your friends described. 
Edit: Y'all are actually insane for giving this fic so many notes. There will be part two, most certainly, after the finale comes out. I will tag everyone in notes and in my askbox. With peace and love, what the fuck
There is a clock, ticking inside your head. It's sound filling every crevice of your brain, seeping into every fiber of your being, rattling every bone in your body until you're unable to move. You know what it means, you've seen what comes after it. The mutilated corpses of a cheerleader and that press kid are burned into your consciousness. Then, Max, floating above the graveyard, her blue eyes rolled grotesquely into the back of her head.
You haven't told anyone, as the team runs around Hawkins, looking for any clues that could help them stop Vecna's Curse.
Speaking of which, you are yet to see the abomination causing your imminent demise. It terrifies you to your very core, but under that overbearing feeling, there is another one. Curiosity. Danger feels heavy on your shoulders, and you love it, the thrill it gives you. Besides, shall things go south, you have a recorder by your side, "White Rabbit" by Jefferson's Airplane recorded on a small cassette, ready for trouble. "You can do this", is a mantra you've been telling yourself for hours now, you can survive.
The Wheeler house is lively with worried chatter, parents lamenting over their kids, in trouble again, and with the Hawkins Police nonetheless. You're sitting in the living room, head hanging low, fingers pulling at the hem of your shirt, which is currently covered in stains of various origin. Moss, mud, some blood, although you don't know where it came from. All the fault will undoubtedly fall on your shoulders. Being the only adult on scene, the only one getting caught. You curse under your breath, thinking of your friends, old and new, currently stuck in the Upside Down. Leaving you to handle everything else on the surface.
It has been a hassle, the interrogation. You got put into a stuffy room with Officer Calahan, who was strangely excited at the prospect of potentially locking up a bunch of kids, for whatever reason. It won't happen, obviously, but you're not here to break his bubble. He asks you questions with an aura of sarcastic authority, giving you patronizing nods, whenever you answer. You want to punch him, not only because your friends are currently in mortal danger, and you could do so much more to help them, if he'd just let you out. There is also the sound of a ticking clock, coming from behind his back, and the suspense drives you insane.
And a spider. Fat and dangerous, it traverses the expanse of the man's shoulder, but when you blink, it's gone.
- Can I use the bathroom? - you ask, voice barely containing all the emotions you were feeling.
The Officer looks at you, startled, as you had just interrupted another one of the monologues. He blinks, as you turn your head, and blinks again, processing your words.
- Yeah - he sounds dumbfounded.
Before the man can say anything more, you bolt out of the room, to the corridor basked in warm light of the ornate chandelier. The ticking is louder here, seemingly just a smidge away from your ear, and slowly, as if not to startle the hallucination, you turn your head left. There, on a cream wall, where normally a lovely family photo of the Wheeler's would hang, you find a round face of a grandfather's clock, staring back at you. One hand comes to life, lazily sliding from one minute to the other, a rusty clank of the mechanism filling your ears. There is a sinking feeling in your stomach, as you force your eyes away from the clock.
The world spins around you, as you fall through the bathroom door, closing it behind you. Your hands shake, as you reach for the recorder, fingers fumbling around the headphones you hastily pull over your ears. One click later, and a familiar base enters your brain, the sound of the clock barely recognizable beneath the drums.
- One pill makes you larger - you mutter under your breath, leaning heavily on the sink.
You try to control your breathing, focus on the steady rise and fall of your chest, still muttering the lyrics, like a prayer. The feeling persists, however, and you begin to sway in your place. The mirror shows your disheveled reflection in an almost mocking manner. Hair is sticking to your sweaty face, there are tears framing your eyes, and you're ghastly pale, worryingly so. Unable to focus, you close your eyes, shutting your eyelids tight. trying to block out everything but the music. Specks of light dance beneath your eyelids, and you try to follow their irregular paths, anything to bring you back.
Yet, that ticking sound is persistent, almost impatient. Waiting for the song to end. And with a click of finality, it does. Your heart jumps to your chest, as silence finally engulfs you. Your right hand flies to the Cassette player, fingers immediately finding the rewind button. Your eyes stay shut, as you listen to the whirling of the tape. And the ticking, always the ticking. Finally, it stops. A breath of relief shakes you.
- Don't play it again.
Your eyes fly open, as you give a startled gasp. The bathroom is empty, only your wracked figure reflected in the mirror. But something is wrong, you can feel it at the base of your neck, where the hairs stand up on guard. It doesn't feel like the Upside Down, doesn't look like it too, and yet, you can't shake the ever present sensation of indescribable dread.
Slowly, your fingers skim the play button, the plastic ridges dig into your skin, as you press down.
Then, something catches your hand. Delicately, like it's holding a flower.
You nearly scream, thrashing in the bathroom, turning harshly towards the shower, nails digging into the porcelain edge of the sink. Empty. Nothing.
Your heart stammers out of your chest, blood rushing through your ears in a suffocating display of panic. And the clock keeps ticking.
You're terrified now, properly. Screw all feelings of curiosity from earlier, you're pretty sure you can live without knowing. And so, even more feverishly, you fumble with the recorder, finally hitting the play button so hard, you nearly break your finger. The drums start again, and as the base joins it, you fall to your knees onto the floor, breathing heavily with relief.
- God - you sigh - Why me?
- Why you, indeed...
His voice is barely audible through the music, but you still feel it crushing through your skull. Your body freezes, as you glance up from the floor. There, just centimeters from you, stands a pair of white shoes. At least you think they're white, as the image keeps flickering in and out of existence, like a glitch on a homemade videotape. Your eyes drag up, over slender legs clad in white pants, white shirt tucked into them. Then, you finally see him. An angelic face looking at you from above. Beautiful, blue eyes, sharp features and lovely lips, all surrounded by a halo of blonde waves. An angel, truly.
You blink, and his image shifts out of existence just for a second.
- Who are you? - your voice sounds foreign in your ears, barely recognizable over the music
The man smiles a gentle smile, before kneeling down in front of you. His hands slowly creep towards yours, cradling them in a hold that is so warm and comforting, you want to melt into it without question. His eyes are so incredibly blue, it takes your breath away. And yet, despite the whirlwind of emotions, you can't stop staring into them. The man lifts your joined hands towards his lips. There isn't even a ghost of a breath, fanning your knuckles, as he places a kiss onto the bone. His image shifts again, violently, and a new feeling of slow dread creeps up your spine.
Then, a shadow passes through him, the kind facade falling into something much darker, much more sinister.
- I'm your worst nightmare - he smiles, teeth on full display, sharp and pointy.
You try to free your hands with a  yank, but he holds them close with little to no force, eyes leaving your face in favor of studying the way veins move beneath your skin.
- I have many names - he says, his voice is calm and melodic - Henry - his lips brush the outside of your left wrist - Peter - a swift kiss is placed onto the tips of your finger - One...
He lingers for a bit at the juncture between your thumb and your pointer, and you still feel no breath coming from him.
- Although, the name your friends have given me has a nice ring to it - he looks up, capturing you again with those blue eyes of his.
- Vecna - your voice comes out as a mere whisper, one you can't even hear amongst the song, slowly, but without stopping, coming to an end.
Suddenly, the man stands up, and you feel yourself being pulled up to your feet as well. It's not gentle at all, and you nearly trip, before finding your balance. Faster than you can comprehend, the man turns you around, so you're facing the mirror. You can see him fully now. He's almost a head taller than you, slender and elegant. Not at all the monster you have imagined, not the one Max told you about. He peers at your reflection, towering over you in his clean, white clothes.
- My name means very little to me now - he says again, hand coming up to tuck your hair behind, exposing your neck to him - I am very particular about the names of my victims, however - another smile has you shaking, as his wondering hands press slightly on your pulse.
You can't move, your legs feel heavy, like someone tied them down with rocks. Your heart is beating so fast, you can feel it in your throat, where his fingers drum delicately over your skin, to the beat of the song still keeping you alive.
- Chrissy - he hisses into your hair - Sounds sweet like candy, and in a way, that's how she tasted.
A shiver wrecks your body, as images of the Cheerleader's body flood your mind. Her eyes, sucked into her skull, her limbs in disarray.
- Fred - you can feel his hands on the insides of your arms, fingers dragging over your veins - Intelligent, although slightly tart, like unripe apples.
Your head starts to spin, breaths escaping you in quick puffs. They found Fred in the middle of the road, alone, abandoned, mutilated.
- Patrick - he dips his head into the crook of your shoulder, nose sliding up, towards your ear - Stern, but full of life, reminded me of walnuts.
"When logic and proportion, have fallen sloppy dead" the singer wails, and you know, your time is coming to an end. A small whimper escapes you, as slender arms encircle your frame, pushing your back into his body.
- Max - there is a spark of rage at the mention of your friends name, one, he catches in your reflection with a raised eyebrow - Strong, youthful, like mint. When I heard your name amongst thousands, I knew, you'd taste wonderful.
Your entire body starts to writhe, as the man gives your neck a long lick of his tongue, starting from your shoulder, up to the back of your ear.
- Oooh - he laughs to himself, as you watch him in the mirror, still unable to move - There is some kick to you, I can tell. Like hot peppers.
He dives down again, placing open-mouthed kisses to your feverish skin, teeth just barely scraping your pulse point.
- A name like this should be savored. This guilt you feel should be savored.
"Feed your head" the woman sings, the song swelling in your ears, so close to the end, you start to shake. As if on cue, the man slowly reaches up, his fingers tangling themselves into your hair, as he pushes them under your headphones. It takes one move, for the plastic to fall from your head, clattering to the ground.
Your eyes meet in the mirror as sudden silence engulfs the both of you. There is a victorious smirk playing around on his lips, as his right hands starts to twirl your hair around his finger. He rubs the strands, like he's sampling a fabric, bafore bringing them closer to his nose, and taking a long whiff of air.
- ...Or maybe cinnamon - me sighs, eyebrows scrunching together.
- Are you going to kill me now?
Again, images of broken bones and mutilated corpses fill your mind, you can almost imagine the wet cracking.
The man laughs, stepping away from your trembling body for just an inch, the loss of his body behind you makes you sway in place. There's this weird flickering glitch running over his figure, intensifying for a moment. He takes a long breath, you can see muscles work under any visible sliver of skin, and as he relaxes again, his form stabilizes.
That is when you realize, what you're looking at isn't real. He isn't real. This angelic, terrifying boy is just an illusion, a hallucination, meant to lull you into a false sense of security. And it almost works. Almost, because as you focus more on his eyes, they seem to become less blue, and more milky and veiny. More like a monster.
- Guilt is a fickle thing - his voice is lower, more raspy than before.
His head dips down behind you, and he plants a wet kiss to the base of you neck, teeth scraping against your skin in a way, that wrenches a whine out of your lips.
Your stomach churns with a feeling sitting too close to arousal, as his large hands begin to explore your body further.
- It never leaves, not truly. And you have so much of it. - a hand digs itself into your hip, then slides up, leasing the edge of your shirt.
- Stop.
He doesn't, fingers creeping under the fabric, squeezing the soft tissue there.
- You're supposed to protect your brother, but he keeps getting hurt on your watch. How many bones does he have to break? How many times have you failed him?
Tears spring to life in the corners of your eyes, as you try to turn away from your reflection. He's faster though, and grabs your chin, forcing you to look back to the mirror. Then, he cranes your chin to the side, forcefully, so that your face is closer to him.
- Those kids you've taken under your wing, I will devour them all, and you'll watch - he seems unmoved by your sobs, whispering the words into your wet cheek - Your father, poor father, never had the chance of seeing how much of a disappointment you really are.
His lips are soft as he kisses your tears away, tasting the saltiness with a grin. Like a chef, proud of his most delicious meal.
- I see it all, sweetness - the hand digging into your stomach climbs up, over your ribs, stopping just short of the underside of your breast.
- Please... - a choked sob escapes you, as your body tries to free itself from his iron hold.
- Shhh - he shushes you, you can't feel his breath on your lips, when he gives you a chaste kiss.
For that matter, you can't feel anything, that would suggest you're being held by a living being. There is no rise and fall to his chest, no smell, no heartbeat.
His form starts to flicker yet again, and suddenly, you feel something definitely not human sliding and swirling behind you. A constantly moving mass holds you in place and instinctively, you screw your eyes shut. You don't want to know how he looks like in reality, mind focusing back on the angelic man from before. Now, you can feel him breath, a low rumble starts in his gut everytime he inhales, like a beast ready to pounce.
- It takes - the voice coming from behind you is gruff and monstrous - A considerable amount of strength to keep this image in place.
Slowly, with every word, the man's voice comes back to the normal, melodic tone. The shifting mass on your back seizes its movements, and slowly, you allow yourself to crack an eye open.
Blue eyes, sharp cheekbones and a halo of blonde hair stare back at you in the mirror's reflection. He gives out a small chuckle, shakes his head slightly, and bends down to take another long sniff of your hair.
- There's no need for you to see my real form - he mutters into the crown of your head - After all, it's not your fear I'm after.
His hands move with unexpected speed, as the both slide upwards, under your shirt, to cup roughly at your breasts. The sound you give out is pathetic at best, as this sliver of friction sets your whole body ablaze.
- It's your guilt - he forces out through his teeth, giving your breasts another sharp squeeze.
Before you have the time to actually understand the implications behind his words, you body is being pressed forwards. The ceramic edge of the sing digs painfully into the meat of your thighs, but the feeling is swallowed completely by a slender hand worming it's way into your pants.
Your entire body rocks back and forth, as the man, Peter, Vecna, plunges two long digits into you without warning.
You feel a raw whine climb out of your throat, as you clench around his fingers, hands flailing at your sides, looking for any sort of purchase. He lets you lean on him completely, one hand massaging your breast, before abandoning it in favor of gripping your pulse.
He works you steadily and greedily, pulling sounds out of you, you'd have never imagined were possible. It feels sick, your stomach tightens into a growing coil, as the rythmic pumping shakes you to your bones.
- I...please - your words come out slurred, as your vision swims around your head.
He chuckles, seemingly unaffected, and presses his thumb down on your pulsing bundle of nerves. The sudden jolt of pleasure wrenches a scream out of you, one, he swallows, forcefully craning his neck, and pressing his lips to yours.
The kiss hurts, plain and simple. His lips, despite being pillowy soft, bite into yours with force you've never experienced in your life. Then, teeth appear, raking abused flesh, tongue forcing it's way into your mouth. It's too much, the whole thing starts to feel less like a nightmare, and more like an execution.
Your lungs scream for more oxygen, the tightening in your stomach accompanied by the sharp pain in your chest. And just when you truly think, this is how you are going to die, something entirely unexpected happens.
"One pill makes you larger and one pill makes you small"
The song enters your brain like a dose of adrenaline, waking you from your stupor. Immediately, the hand toying with your insides, retracts, leaving you unfulfilled and disappointed. The emptiness carries, as his mouth detach from yours. You can't open your eyes, you refuse to do so, too overwhelmed to see.
- Remember this - the man says into your ear, his words slowly being drowned out by music - Remember this feeling, when I come for you again.
With that, you're being released, your limp body falling down onto the floor, where you're met with gentle hands of your friends cradling you.
- Jesus, we though you were a goner! - Lucas nearly screams in your face, as you try your best to focus on the kid's features.
- Yeah! You were flying under the ceiling - Dustin shoves a finger up, and your glazed eyes follow, looking at an unidentified spot above your head.
- Why didn't you tell us? - Max is gripping your shoulders so hard, you're sure it will leave a mark.
The kids, your kids, look at you with terrified faces, as you try to stand up, bones heavy, muscles trembling with unresolved tension.
- Didn't want to worry you guys...
It's a weak excuse, and right now you're not even sure if it's true. Dustin mutters something about you being an adult idiot, and in your heart you can't disagree with him.
- Just - Max slowly let's go of your arm - Keep the headphones on.
With that, the gang makes their way out of the bathroom, you following right after them. The coil in your stomach dies down, and with it, new, overbearing feeling arises in your chest.
Guilt. Crushing guilt of wanting something so wrong you can never recover from it.
And beneath the familiar drums, and the voice, and the guitar, you hear a gentle sound of a ticking clock.
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bebx · 9 months
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Which Stranger Things characters have this dynamic?
(Sound on, poll below)
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kizzys · 2 years
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Stranger Things 4: Santa Clarita Diet edition
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lavhoes · 2 years
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STRANGER THINGS SMUT RECS
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none of these works are mine, credit to the writers.
note, writers if you don’t want your work on here please message me and I will take it off!
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𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐎𝐍
love on you by @sinclaiirs
steve jerks off to a photo of you by @sinclaiirs
movie night, ft billy by @evergreencowboy
take your sit by @strawberrysodaslut
touch me, pt3 by @poeticandors
lovergirl by @deepett
angel eyes by @deepett
reader squirts for the first time by @constillatedchaos
pancakes for two by @the-archxr
I'll be the judge, ft robin by @luvfae
wet dreams by @sinclaiirs
like a pornstar by @sharpsapphic666
stop the world (i wanna get off with you) by @pixiehollands
as you dreamt it would be by @luvfae
like a perv, ft eddie by @fanofmanystuff
just like in the movies by @the-archxr
give it a try by @makeadealwithdean
𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐍
reader x injured!eddie munson by @jamespotters-realwife
hot and bothered by @bunnyhoney111
selfish!eddie by @evergreeneddie
desperate eddie by @evergreeneddie
study sesh by @bumblingbribee
finding out eddie has a mommy kink by @subbypeterparker
voyeurism, ft steve by @hxneybimbo
missed you by @munsonussy
the devil wears eyeliner by @sinnerlillith
pink is metal by @sinnerlillith
fountain by @eddiemunsonswhxre
distracting by @notrattus
I look at you and my blood runs hot by @letterstotheflre
nuisance by @eddiemunsonswhxre
symphony by @garden-of-eddie
under the bleachers by @latenightsimping
birthday girl, ft steve by @eratolasting
she’s the devil in disguise by @letterstotheflre
𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒
reaction to calling them daddy in bed by @hellfirexclub
making out with jonathan/steve by @pnkstarss
take in by @mollyville (jonathan byers)
what happens in the dark room by @reidsrevenge (jonathan byers)
stays in the dark room by @reidsrevenge (jonathan byers)
perv jonathan x cheerleader bsf by @pnkstarss (jonathan byers)
take you like a drug (jonathan byers, m reader, ao3)
goad by @hoosurdaddy (jancy x reader)
the upside by @honeybadgerwritings (henry creel)
taken care of by @droopycoquette (henry creel)
good girl by @666eddie (billy hargrove)
object of my desire by @skyebounded (robin buckley)
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part two
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oscarwildebutwilder · 1 month
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JAMIE CAMPBELL BOWER as HENRY CREEL | Stranger Things S4E7 "The Massacre at Hawkins Lab"
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endiness · 2 years
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ONE Stranger Things 4.07 "The Massacre at Hawkins Lab"
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nicostiel · 2 years
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#married couple ♡
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jamilelucato · 2 years
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What about vecna with a female reader who’s the queen to his king?
Fluff plz
show: Stranger Things (SPOILERS FOR SEASON 4)
pairing: f!reader x peter ballard/henry/vecna/001
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summary: Steve Harrington's sister decides she needs to visit the Upside Down one more time.
a/n: hi! hope you like it! I know it's not much fluffy but I tried my best :) @stygianoir
*** there are some mentions of depression and k#lling oneself so heads up guys
“I don’t like this plan, sis,” said Steve, shaking his head.
She stared at him, with a kind smile. He was her favourite brother, or, in her case, her only brother. But it didn’t matter. [y/n] could have had twenty brothers and she’d still say Steve was her favourite. They were like that.
“Well, we don’t have a better one, do we?” she said, sighing.
After becoming friends with Nancy’s brother’s friend group, Steve Harrington didn’t have much choice but to do everything in his power to protect those children. That, unfortunately, meant one terrible night where his sister followed him to figure out what was happening with her older brother only to get sucked into the Upside Down with Will Byers. 
While the young boy got sick and had to be hospitalized, she, on the other hand, was completely fine. [y/n] Harrington had nightmares every night, and she’d wake in a cold sweat, but so would all of them. The whole gang was having trouble sleeping after that first experience with the other side.
But, deep down, [y/n] knew something was wrong. Something had changed, not just in her mind, but in her very core. That wasn’t enough to alarm anyone, so she kept it quiet. [y/n] tried to live her life like it was before she met Eleven and befriended a bunch of twelve-year-olds.
One day, then, it was as if nothing had been fixed — the Upside Down invaded their lives all over again and [y/n] had to jump into action to protect not only herself and her brother but also the children she learned to love. However, this time, she had an advantage not foreseen: [y/n] had powers.
Not as big and awesome as Eleven’s — no, definitely not deadly like hers — but they were powers nonetheless. [y/n] could lift some things (small and almost weightless things) in the air with just her mind. And when she wanted something, to influence someone, she could do it. The whole gang was shocked when she commended a Russian to stop in his tracks and leave them be. Yeah, it had been just one of the Russians but it was a big thing in the eyes of Max, the redheaded girl that saw [y/n] with good eyes.
So, it was no surprise that when there was a big chance another demon from the Upside Down was at Hawkins again, [y/n] was in the middle of the action, as an active member of the party.
“You were there Stee, you saw when Max got in a trance,” she said, trying to convince her brother with words and not her powers. It was true she hadn't been practising much — she didn’t like it — but she knew it could slip on, like a switch, without her even noticing it. “That girl is in danger and we’re just gonna let that happen?”
“I know you wanna help Max, I do too, but this is not the way!” Steve was raising his voice at her, but only because he loved her so very much and he could not manage to lose her. “You’re not going to the Upside Down. Not again!”
“Steve, this might be our only shot,” said Nancy, opining in. She had become a dear friend to you, and, in those moments where Steve was hotheaded, Nancy would always be at your side. 
“She’s not as powerful as El, Nancy!” exclaimed Steve. “She might have some abilities, which are cool, but they aren’t enough! We’ll be delivering her directly to the Vecna thing. Robin, say something!”
Robin, surprised with being called out, stared from Steve to [y/n] and gulped. “Maybe it’s better… it’s better if she goes, Steve.”
Steve stared at his best friend with disbelief.
“Steve,” [y/n] placed a hand on her brother’s shoulder. “Don’t make me use my powers on you.”
“You can’t,” he looked at her, but she didn’t budge. She raised an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t.”
“Brother, you know I’m our only chance right now. Eleven lost her powers, but I didn’t. They might seem small, but they’re all we’ve got. Let me fight Vecna, Stee.”
He closed his eyes tight, placing his hand over hers.
“I know you’re our best weapon at the time, but… but, [y/n], you’ll be getting inside his territory. Don’t you think Vecna will be secure there?” Steve asked, giving in on her request, but at the same time acting very much worried.
Robin watched the exchange with pity in her eyes.
“It will be worse if we wait for Vecna to get here. He’ll be stronger,” she said.
“Besides, [y/n]’s powers are more of the psychic kind if you think about it. She has a fair chance against the monster that attacks the minds of others,” said Nancy, looking at Steve.
“So,” said Dustin, walking in and noticing the whole emotional scene displayed, “do we have a decision?”
They all looked at Steve Harrington, the brother with everything to lose.
“We do.”
~~
Dustin had discovered that the only possible place for the portal to be at was the lake, and so that was where they dropped you off. Wearing her clothes still, [y/n] jumped in and swam to the deep bottom, looking for the “secret passage”. And as the boy had stated, there it was.
It was disgusting and gross, but [y/n] Harrington knew she had to do what was needed, what was best for everyone in Hawkins. She closed her eyes and worked her legs, throwing herself in.
After a second of full darkness, [y/n] managed to see light. She had been to the Upside Down before, but this time, it was different. It didn’t look like it at all. First, because there was light, quite a big deal of it if compared to the traumatic time [y/n] passed down here.
But it wasn’t just the light itself. The inverted Hawkins was just like the normal one. No mystic fog or weird gross things on the ground. This time, the Upside Down was a complete and faithful copy of the city [y/n] grew at.
Something was wrong, she thought while getting up.
“It’s different, isn’t it?”
[y/n] froze. Where was the voice coming from? Was it Vecna’s?
“It’s distinct from your last time here.”
“Who said that?” she shouted to the atmosphere.
She went on, walking, but it didn’t feel like escaping, because there wasn’t anything visible to escape from. It all was quiet and clean. She felt like she saw someone, maybe lurking behind a tree, but she checked and the woods seemed empty. “Who are you?” she asked again, taking just one step towards where her heart guided.
“Ouch, [y/n]. You don’t remember me?”
She was confused. The voice did seem familiar, but how could it? It was Max who was constantly hearing Vecna, not her — even though you prayed for God to swap places with the poor girl. It seemed like the voice belonged to a man, certainly young, but older than Steve and older than her (who, to everyone’s disbelief, was older than her brother).
“Who are you?”
“I see you went out of your way to forget me,” the voice said and it felt like it was closer to her, even though she could not see anything outside from the clean version of the Upside Down. “That’s not a problem here, however. You’ll soon remember.”
“Remember what?” she asked, but her question echoed, remaining answerless. Until darkness swallowed her whole.
~~
Not too long ago, her parents had rented a house for their stay on the California beach but, unfortunately, the trip was a failure, because not one of their five-day-stay had the sun come out and the temperature was so low, [y/n] and Steve had to cosy up together to feel some warmness, as they had not brought enough cold-weather clothes in their luggage.
That was a terrible trip and [y/n] vowed to never leave the house without some (any) warm clothes with her.
But how could she have guessed that just by taking the trash out she’d be tossed in the Upside Down? 
Of course, when it happened, there wasn’t a name for the place or someone to talk to about naming it. Back on her Upside Down stay, she didn’t even know Will was down there with her. She knew he went missing, poor kid. But there was all he was to her — a missing kid from her town.
She had graduated high school one year before that fateful event, and she was only still in Hawkins because her parents had no money to afford the universities she had been accepted in. No, it definitely was not a great period for [y/n] Harrington, but sure she did not expect it could get worse — worse even than the trip to California.
No one knew much about her time in that dark, cold place. Steve knew enough to comprehend his sister was not well, but he never asked much and [y/n] never tried telling. What would she tell her little brother? That she felt hopeless and wanted to die every second she spent in that particular hell? That she tried to kill herself, but even then her bad luck kept her alive? That down there she reflected upon her whole life and she felt like she only had herself to blame for everything?
Besides, it wasn’t like coming back home had healed her wounds. [y/n] woke up every day with cold sweat, and no amount of shower and scrubbing could make her feel clean again.
Oh, the Upside Down was like really bad karma. And she didn’t even feel like she deserved it.
So, like any insane person, she repressed it. Never mentioned it. Yeah, she got some cool powers out of it, but they were useless to the countless creatures she had seen in that place. Moreover, once she was back at Hawkins, five little kids seemed to cling to her — including Will — and, with her brother, they became “the babysitters”. 
[y/n] wished she could close her eyes and suppress it again, but — she then was undoubtedly sure it was Vecna — the memory started replaying right before her eyes. It wasn’t like watching it, though, it was more of a first-person experience, and she was again in her shoes, again an eighteen-year-old scared to death.
Her memory started right when she decided she’d only be free of the Upside Down if she “ended” herself. The disgusting place was very much dark, and there were what she believed to be animals flying all around. Some grotesque and demonic version of pterosaurs that wanted her dead. 
Except, they didn’t. Not that day as it seemed.
Not one of them flew in her direction, and not even the creepers crawled her way. [y/n] Harrington was walking around post-apocalyptic Hawkins as if she was God herself.
But that wasn’t enough to convince herself she should be alive. Oh, no. She planned on camping outside. Maybe the monsters weren’t attacking because it was some sort of day for them, so she’d wait for their night hours of hunting. She was so dirty that she didn’t even bother to sit on the ground.
Until she saw someone.
It was a tall boy, perhaps a man, she couldn’t see from far away. Her new version of reliving her memories was completely confused. She didn’t remember that. To her twenty-one-year-old self, that day in the Upside Down in 1983, she tried to kill herself, but she failed, and, later on, she looked for a new house to take place until she found Will and the people that came to rescue the two of them.
But that opportunity to be almost nineteen again was showing her new things.
“You’ll soon remember,” Vecna’s voice echoed in her mind.
The young man was now very close to her and she noticed he was not as young as she thought. He was pretty, or at least, as pretty as you could be in the Upside Down, but he was very much possibly older than twenty-five.
“Hey!” she shouted, her heart of the memory racing. Had she met someone down there, someone other than Will?
The man stopped his walk and looked around, meeting her eyes.
“Hey!” she shouted again, running towards him. How bad could this stranger be compared to the monsters of goop? “Hi, there!”
“Hello,” he said, careful. As if he needed to be afraid of her. As if they were not where no human was supposed to be.
“Oh, my! You have no idea how glad I am to see another human being,” [y/n] said, placing her hands on her knees because running in a place low on oxygen was not very good. “My name’s [y/n] Harrington. What’s yours?”
But he didn’t answer immediately. He studied her, looking her up and down. [y/n] was confused — was the man not relieved to see another person?
Maybe he was sad she was not the rescue.
“My name’s Henry,” he said, simply.
“Henry. Ok. How long have you been down here?” she asked, patiently. Maybe he had been so long away from civilization that he lost his ways, she thought. 
“A while,” he replied. [y/n] bit her lip, unsure of what to say. It was hard talking to someone that didn’t want to talk. “Don’t you have shelter?”
“It was destroyed,” she said, for she knew saying she was trying to kill herself was not a very “hopeful” thing to say.
He looked around, but her house was too far away for him to identify it anyway. If he lived in Hawkins, he might have been able to recognize the Harrington house.
“You should find a new refuge then. There’s a house down this street…”
“Yours?” she asked, curious.
He hesitated. “Yes,” he pointed but she couldn’t see anything with the fog. “You can take place there.”
“With you?”
He stared at her and for a second his blue eyes scared her.
“Sure.”
He started walking and she followed him, but it all seemed weird, in the memory and for the twenty-two-year-old reliving it.
“Do you have any idea what’s going on?”
Her question lingered for he did not answer.
“Like, why are we here? What is here? Is this the future?” she gabbled, as she always did when nervous. “Are we dead?”
“We’re not dead,” he said, emotionless. “We’re just here.”
“Here where?”
He didn’t answer. She supposed he didn’t have a name for it either.
“Have you seen a way out?”
He slowed his walk just to stare back at her. He didn’t say anything again, and she knew he didn’t have to — if there was a way out, did she think he’d still be there?
They kept walking until she saw a house, an enormous house, by the way, something out of an old times movie. She thought about complementing it, but she felt like it wouldn’t be right since it wasn’t the real house.
She let him get in first, as the place belonged to him.
“Come on in,” he said, making room for her to pass through the beautiful front door. 
Inside, the house felt even fancier, because it looked untouched by those demons that were tormenting hers all the time. Yes, it looked dark — as everything in the Upside Down did — but it wasn’t actually all that cold.
“It’s safer here,” he said, noticing she was staring. “I don’t know why.”
It felt like he knew why, was what older [y/n] thought, but [y/n] from the memory was too distracted looking around.
She stared back at the blond man with blue eyes.
“Thank you.”
~~
She woke up, or at least it felt like waking up, in the new version of the Upside Down, the version Vecna was holding up just for her.
“Do you remember now?” the voice echoed.
“Who’s Henry?” she asked back at the voice. “Did he die?”
“I suppose he did now,” the voice said, in a condescending tone. “So, I ask again, do you remember?”
“No?” she said, but she wasn’t confident. “Are you playing with my memories?”
“Brave of you to make direct questions to the Upside Down monster.”
The monster was right to point that out, but [y/n] was not one to stay silent and die wondering. Besides, his answer awoke something in her brain.
“You talk.”
“Sure you had noticed before,” said the voice.
“Yes, but you don’t talk. Upside Down monsters don’t talk.”
“I’m no ordinary monster,” was his reply and even though she could not see him, [y/n] thought of how ironic because it felt like she was staring deep down at his blue eyes.
“No,” she said, agreeing. “You’re Henry.”
Suddenly, there was no more need for tricks of the mind. No need to relive memories because they all came back — the nights at Henry’s house and the days hunting with him for food (well, going to the supermarket, but they had to fight some monsters on the way). Abruptly, it was like she never forgot, like she went early to bed just to dream with him, because then, the Upside Down wasn’t so bad.
[y/n] remembered it all, just by hearing his name on her lips. Because once they were like that. They were connected.
He was the one that gave her her powers. She used her powers so many times since she left Upside Down but not even once did she think of him when doing so. She felt bad for forgetting him.
“Did I… did I forget you alone?” she asked, referring to if he did something to her so she wouldn’t remember.
“I… when I knew you’d had to go up, I might have influenced your mind. But the rest, the full mind block, that was you,” he replied.
“Show yourself,” she said, almost crying. “Please.”
He couldn’t deny her requests when she said “please”.
Even though she feared his looks would scare her, he did it anyway. When they met, they already looked like a monster, but he used his powers to shift back to his looks from when in the lab. However, now, he was using a lot of his power to access Hawkins, the real one, and also using it to shape the Upside Down to a cleaner look, as he had memorized she felt disgusted to be there in 1983.
“Henry,” she said, tenderly, raising her left hand but too scared to touch him.
He closed his eyes, afraid that the only part that remained human of him would be too scared in a body like that, but she wasn’t afraid of his looks. She was afraid for him, afraid for what he had become.
“You told me you didn’t look as you showed,” [y/n] said, referencing their talks in the past. “But I didn’t know…”
“That I looked ugly?”
“No, that’s not it,” she said. “I didn’t know you were damaged.”
He opened his eyes, slowly, and she was glad to see the beautiful blue again.
“Does it hurt?” she asked.
He swallowed hard, scared of her proximity. They hadn’t been that close in three years; besides, he didn’t look a monster when they did.
Her left hand found its way to his face.
“It doesn’t,” he finally answered.
“Even though I didn’t remember you, I missed you,” [y/n] said, in a whisper.
His face leaned in her palm.
“I missed you every time I remembered of your existence,” he said, softly as well.
“Did that happen a lot?” she asked, smirking playfully for she did not like to keep it serious.
“It happens all the time.”
She gulped, nervous. How could he say those things? It made her feel like Belle falling for the Beast. She had forgotten all the bad things he was doing, the hunting of her people. It was just him and her across space-time.
He had his eyes close to feeling better her touch, both her palms placed on his cheeks, and she was focused on the feeling when she looked around and found the beautiful Upside Down in ruins. It was coming back to its real way — goop and gross, with darkness in every corner. The dark blue sky welcomed her like an old friend.
Suddenly, the feel on her palm shifted. It wasn’t hard and marked, but soft, like velvet. [y/n] looked back at Vecna — at Henry — only to find him as himself, the one she knew, the one she hugged on cold nights.
They had been friends in 1983, even though it was a kind of unspoken deal. She knew she was messing with the devil then and she knew she was falling for the devil now.
“Henry,” she whispered like she was saying she was home.
He did not move forward, even when he desperately wanted to. She was fighting on her tiptoes to get closer, and only when he felt her almost slipping, did he put a hand on her chin.
“Careful,” he whispered.
“Kiss me,” [y/n] asked, for that was all she wanted. She missed him. She needed him.
“[y/n], I…” but his sentence was not finished, because she didn’t let him. She jumped to his touch, reaching for his lips, and he could do nothing but give in. “You can’t use your powers on me, little Wendy.”
She smiled in the kiss, for he had used the nicknames they picked once he told her, in 1983, that the Upside Down was kind of his kingdom. She had called him Peter Pan, which made him laugh because, for a period, that was his false alias.
And he wasn’t wrong, she had whispered in his mind, like a siren, using her powers. It was how it worked: in a close of eyes, she could get into the victim’s mind and whisper what she desired to happen. It often worked, but they were some strong-mind people that didn’t let her whispers get to them.
She had tried whispering to him before jumping on his chest for a kiss.
“Hi, Peter,” she said when his lips let go of hers, and they both smiled at their silliness.
“Welcome back to your Neverland.”
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