soph’s lair𖤐

SHIFTING:

main dr currently: stranger things dr, hogwarts golden trio era dr, fourth wing dr (?)

DR MASTERLISTS: coming soon....

things i'd like shifters to remember

How Awareness Works In Shifting, What Happens To Your Awareness Here When You Shift, and 'Do Other Versions of Me Shift?'; in my perception and what I see likely ౨ৎ

reminders for if you haven't shifted/haven't shifted fully

Manifestation success story (uni application)

FANFICTION

EMPYREAN SERIES:

multiple character:

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠; various empyrean series men and how it feels to love them

Xaden:

morning domesticity with Xaden

Liam:

𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚒 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚋𝚢𝚎, 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚔𝚢; liam mairi x reader

𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒐𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅; liam mairi x reader

MY HERO ACADEMIA

CLASS A:

bakugou x reader mini series (currently untitled):

'after school solace'; bakugou x reader drabble ! :*:·ﾟ☆ 。·:*:·ﾟ★

'strawberry matcha and fallen leaves'; bakugou x reader fic/drabble ! :*:·ﾟ☆ 。·:*:·ﾟ★

general:

˚✧⁺˳༚ Bakugou x reader; platonic/best friends edition !! ˚✧⁺˳

Bakugou x health anxiety reader mini scenario

'we'll be alright'; bakugou x OCD/hypochondriac reader

LEAGUE OF VILLAINS

'scary? my god, you're divine'; shigaraki and dabi (separate) x villain reader

MICHAEL JACKSON;

a better place, for you and for me; michael jackson x artist/singer!reader fic

she composition, she statistical fact; michael jackson x f!famous!reader

michael jackson x dark academia!s/o moodboard

STRANGER THINGS;

loving them sounds like..... (various)

Eddie Munson:

— eddie munson headcanons ★ general / relationship / x reader

Eddie x activist/debate team reader Drabble

Eddie x reader is him but in a different font Drabble

Sleepy Eddie Drabble

Eddie with a Harrie partner if harry styles was in the 80s

︶꒦꒷ MUNSON MAYHEM; eddie munson headcanons ! ︶꒦꒷

𝖄𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖇𝖊𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖞 𝖓𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖊𝖉 𝖒𝖊; eddie munson x mortician!reader headcanons ⚰️🖤🍂🩸

eddie building furniture drabble

eddie comfort thoughts

genderfluid!eddie x genderfluid!eddie thoughts

eddie anxiety comfort drabble

Do you swear you'll stay forever?; eddie munson x fem! reader (TW for ED and physical insecurity)

summer with eddie drabble

soul crushing devotion with eddie

eddie x reader general relationship headcanons

Henry Creel:

STAY WITH ME; henry creel/mr whatsit x fem!hopper!reader series masterlist

would absolutely drag you to annoy steve and robin at Family Video

cheap dates but very fun dates! stargazing, long drives where he plays music he thinks you'd like, diner deal dinners, a lot of reading and art at his trailer :))

would ALWAYS have a way to make you feel better. he would have to get the ropes right when it comes to comfort, but he will still do his best to keep you hopeful, happy, and taken care of. no matter what.

would find the most niche horror movies? and force you to watch them. then asks to sleep with the lamp on afterwards

physical media and thrifting king. gets you so many trinkets and fun media from god knows where. would hate to see netflix and spotify coming HAHA

is very big on the 5 r's rule (reduce, reuse, recycle, repair, repurpose) and will fix anything 5000 times before buying a new one or throwing it away. WILL spend hours fixing something for you, and if he doesn't know how, will hand it to dustin. many mugs he gives you for your morning drinks are stuck together w superglue. but this also means he'll carry a small sewing/emergency tin with him

on this note, once y'all are together, he essentially becomes the 'mom bag' person. has anything you need at all times

loves summer, hates sweating. will give you the most memorable summer breaks tho, at the cost of burnt skin and 'im hotttttt' whining

lets you slide his rings around his fingers if you need to fidget/are anxious

if someone does something he qualifies as genuinely embarrassing, he will side eye his gaze to you and have to look away biting his lip to not laugh

you steal from each others closets. regardless of size he will take what you have that smells like you

wouldn't necessarily put a permanent hold on his 'business', but would do it less for your sake. he would rather have less cash than talk to you from a prison phone

starts writing way more love songs because of you lol. would stil; have typical metal themes in them but the lyrics are always in reference to you

FUNNIEST mfing partner/friend. he just says and does shit that isn't even meant to be funny and when you laugh he looks at you like 🧍‍♀️ but is also very intentionally funny too. you will always be smiling if he's near

most obnoxious fuckin laugh

cooks a lot of his comfort foods for you that his mother made him as a kid

would paint your nails and vice versa. sometimes you do matching, or he attempts nail art on you

yapper central with this one when he talks about what he loves. will give you a verbal biography on dio if prompted, but his voice is lovely so you will gladly listen to his deep dives

knows some crazy shit?? will just drop it on you that he knows all chemical components used in weapons or something

wayne adores you. he loves seeing eddie happy, and you came into their lives at the right time :)

will buy you flowers but sneezes the fuck out of them. also will never touch peony. he hates peony.

if you take medication, he will learn your times and routines and will either verbally remind you/check in, or leave notes around

It had been a week since you were forcibly taken in by Henry Creel, and to say you were struggling to settle in would be an understatement.

It should have been simple. A casual ease into the new living spaces, routines, and options. But it was hard to when you would be kept awake by the persistent fear that everyone back home was suffering, or, worst case scenario, had given up wholly. Or given up on you. Then came the burnout. Not from doing anything in particular, but your own mind trying to rectify its own spirals and queries. You were teetering off the edge of functionality, resorting to locking yourself in your designated bedroom, curtains drawn to black out the room, only rising to use the bathroom or retrieve the food and water Henry would quietly leave at your door that always accompanied a note that read

'i will still be here if you need me. -H'

It almost felt like he cared.

You couldn’t really tell now. Whether it was a pesona, or he was, for once, not acting by way of deception.

It was an internal tug of war; one side pulling to letting him in, letting him care, just because it felt nice to have someone put effort back into giving you a helping hand- regardless of intentions; and the other was pulling to avoid him, let yourself waste away so he would eventually, inevitably give up. Because the fear of being in too deep to just be fooled in the end scared you more than anything.

But he just kept going.

He never got irritated. Never looked at you like he was waiting for you to fix yourself. Never spoke to you with tired resignation. He was just… there. When you needed him. Most of the time, you didn’t even say so. He knew. Every time. And it tore at you trying to decipher what he was trying to do.

——

HENRY’S POV

For Henry to constantly berate himself was a foreign type of habit. But right now, it was all he could do. You had been there a week. A single week. And in your presence, he had never felt more human.

The plan was to use you as bait. A lure. A piece of money on a string. To get William and Eleven into his area faster, so they would be wiped out fast, and no longer in the way. But you had shaken up everything in a way more violent than anticipated. Henry had watched you for a month or so before setting out to capture you, having witnessed the delicate line between breakdown and being a soldier in your own life that you tracked along daily. But he had not expected you to have any effect on him.

Capture you, keep you under a false guise of comfort and recovery, draw the enemy in, kill them, then dispose of you in whatever way he could be bothered with at that point in time.

But that was not the current track. You had began penetrating the fortress that was Henry Creel with your tears, distant gaze, blacked out room, and hesitations. The last time he had truthful intent to help someone was when he was working with Eleven to escape the lab. Even amidst his plans for domination, he cared for her. For the future they could have built. Then she herself stole it away.

Henry vowed to never, under any circumstances, give genuine warmth to anyone again.

But you were in the other room, swarmed by blankets and your own inner monologue.

It disgusted him how fast he let himself slip in the presence of such raw emotion. Perhaps it was from a place of envy- never being able to freely express himself throughout his life. An envy that warped into desire to feed into it and live vicariously through you. Or maybe The Shadow was playing ring leader, and was twisting his actions to make the hit much more hard on you once you were aware of the outcome of all of this.

But under absolutely no circumstances was it the blatant fact that Henry was simply drawn to the prospect of making you feel at home near him. That was, to him, an absurdity that could not be imagined. He did not care. Henry Creel is not a caring man.

Yet here he stands outside your door, a glass of water and Advil ready for you.

All part of the plan.

———

YOUR POV

The knock at your door breaks the fog that is your own mental hellscape. It takes 30 seconds to muster the energy to get up, and every step to the door is like carrying weights on your ankles.

You crack the door open a bit, and as always, Henry stands there, calm and patient.

"I brought you some meds for your headache."

"How did you know I had a headache?"

"I could sense your unease from the other room."

"'course you did." You murmur, and take the pills and water, sitting them on the bedside, and laying back on the bed. Henry watches you for a moment, then enters, sitting at the end of the bed. "What's on your mind today?"

"Impending doom."

Henry's brows raise, in curiosity and mild amusement. "Why's that?"

"I just keep thinking about everything that can go wrong. Or get worse. It's hard to tell what's actually falling apart, and what my mind is making worse."

He paused, thinking up a response. "The mind does tend to catastrophize the things it already knows is in a bad state. But then comes the element of what is, and isn't, in your control. If you prioritise what is in your control, it makes the bigger challenges seem easier to tackle. Or at least endure. The fact the future is uncertain allows just as much chance for good things to happen, as well."

"You could have been a great therapist, but you chose tentacle monster world killer."

A soft sound left Henry, somewhere between a huff and a short laugh. "Well, what can I say - you're giving me a chance to share other forms of wisdom."

You hum in response, the temporary moment of distraction acting as a buffer against your pain.

"Have you had breakfast?" Henry leans back a little, watching you.

"No." You sigh.

"Do you want anything?"

You had no appetite, but you had barely ate the last few days. The weight of your emotions had pushed away any interception of when you were hungry. But you knew you had to get to it at some point.

"Something easy."

"Toast with butter, and some tea. It won’t unsettle your stomach, and the tea won’t caffeinate you to the point of anxiety. I can make you something proper later, but as long as you eat, it'll help you."

Henry stands, brushing his pants of any creases, and heading to the door.

"Thank you, Mr Housewife." You call out, a rare grin on your lips.

He turns back to you, entirely unimpressed. "I am far from a housewife. I’m taking care of a depressed nemesis."

"Yeah, but you're also bringing me breakfast in bed."

"Because you can’t do it yourself."

"Ouch."

He sighs, and continues down into the kitchen.

The silence causes the headache to thwack into you again, so you rise from your lying position and reach for the pills and water. You take them one at a time, and have a little extra of the water.

The sounds of running water and food packaging comes from the kitchen, and you know you have a short period of alone time until he comes back. So you take a chance to finally indulge into the space you now call your room. Your bare feet his the wood panelled floors and carry you along the space. Henry was right- he did really try to tailor it to a mix of both his and your preferences. Books you adore line the shelves. Art you admire sits in frames above the desk. The stationery in the draws are to your tastes, meticulously organised in ways that allow you to subconsciously know where everything is. The blankets are your desired textures. The vinyl’s in the crate beside the record player are all albums you enjoy.

It almost makes you think he does truly care in some way. Regardless of any mind reading used to create an atmosphere that will draw you into it, and keep you there.

The bar must be in hell if that is what gets you moved by someone's actions, if that's what makes you feel noticed.

But selfishly, you let yourself have it. Nobody else has to know.

You hear footsteps up the stairs, and you rush back to the bed as if you hadn't gotten up. He comes back in moments later, a cup of tea and a plate of toast on a small tray.

"Here you go. I made them the way you like them." He places the tray in front of you on the bed.

"I assume you read my mind to know how I like it."

"Some of it. But some things recently have just been coming naturally. I catch glimpses of your thoughts at random."

"So how I like my tea is more accessible than information I have that involve the plans I'm involved in to kill you."

"Oh, I already know all that." He says casually, and the tea in your stomach chills to ice.

"What do you mean, you already know?"

"What, you think I haven’t been around watching?" His brows raise and a his lips turn in a slight smile. "I can take on many forms in the world we're from. A bird. A civilian. A child at a park. I've been around more than you can imagine. I have an overall idea of your goals, so I haven’t had much need to look that far into your mind. Besides, certain.... individuals, remain connected to the other worlds."

Your chest tightens. "Will. You've been using him as a spy."

"On occasion. But unbeknownst to him, it's a two-way street. If he wished, he could find his way into my mind. But he doesn’t know of that. That makes things easier for me."

"I fucking hate you."

His smile widens. "I was wondering when I'd hear that again." He moves to look out the window. "Remember what I told you, though; my plans are more broad than wipeout of humanity. There are more noble pursuits within them."

"And yet you tell me none of them."

"Why would I tell you them if you're against them? I don’t reveal anything that isn’t ready, or completely fleshed out. Anyway, you aren’t here to find out what I'll do. You're here to heal enough to where when the time comes, if you fall, you won't fall with relief, you'll fall with a fight still in you."

"So you’re trying to get me in the right headspace to die."

"I'm trying to get you in the right headspace to fight. One thing about you, you are stubborn. So stubborn that you, even when on the brink of a suicide plan, deep down, don’t give up. I don’t even think death could make you give up. So, I'm getting you back in the zone to fight. It makes the possible outcomes of my plan more interesting."

You sit with his words for a moment. He doesn’t have you here so you can be wiped out right after. He has you here because he finds you interesting enough to keep you around and to give you a chance at battling his motives.

You are enough of an enigma to him to where you are being spared at the hands of the devil.

He turned from the window to face you. "Finish up your breakfast. I'll check on you later.

He leaves the room, leaving you to try and rewire what you have known previously of this situation.

------

HENRY'S POV

Sitting at the desk in the study, Henry felt foolish.

He had let slip more than intended. Albeit it was cryptic, he still spoke more than he should have. What was it about you that was forcing him to open up more? Why was it that you, a single piece of the opposition, was cracking him open and forcing him out of the shell?

The worst part was that you didn't even know. You weren’t aware that you, in a week, were forcing him into a consistent state of trying to hold onto a long-built self identity, in which you were dismantling. It enraged him. If keeping you here wasn't building momentum for William and his allies to get to him, he would have absolutely thrown you out. But this was part of a plan to shift things in a better direction. He would have to endure the snarky quips, refusals, conflicting thoughts that would pass from your mind to his while you were in close proximity.

'You are softening under the presence of the girl. You must not let yourself fall far to her.' The Shadow whispered in his mind, goosebumps trailing his neck as it's voice ran through him.

'I know.' Henry sighed, his own voice calling through his own head. 'But this is out of my control. I fight back against what she does, but I can’t fully resist. Not even she knows what she does. Why is it that she acts as a repellent to us?'

'Because her being is, while starkly human, far too close to something other. She perceives and understands too much that other humans can not. Rather than dwelling on it, utilise it. Use her as a way to gain something you haven’t yet found.'

Or in short, use her as a consumable to draw from in his own pursuits.

The thought unsettled him to his surprise.

Henry had no issues at any time with drawing from anyone or anything, a vampire for power of any source. But the idea of using you as a tap he could drain, just so he could rewire existence, seemed almost unfair- you held so much existence in you already. To drain it would feel almost....shameful.

He left his place at the desk, and silently walked the hall from the office to your room. He peered his head in just slightly. You were curled back in the blankets, sleeping, Good. You needed it. The breakfast dishes were placed back on the tray, on the desk. He smiled at the act of consideration. But he didn’t retrieve it just yet. He stood there for some time, watching you, while something unfamiliar, daunting, but unmistakably warm unfurled in his chest.

He hated it, but could not stop it.

--------

YOUR POV

Waking up felt just as exhausting as it did earlier. If not worse. Your head still hurt and you felt stripped of energy in every way. You groaned into the pillow, wishing you would fall asleep again so you don’t have to feel this way. But you couldn’t will your body back to slumber. Your breath came out shakily, eyes stinging under the pressure you held. You had naively believed that you would feel better by now. The fact you felt worse made the tears fall quicker, your mind returning to the familiar location of 'the only thing that can fix this is ending it'.

As if having sensed the dark pit you fell into, Henry stood at the door. He looked less put together- no vest, sleeves rolled up, hair mildly disheveled. Like he either was getting ready for the day, or hadn’t slept.

“What’s the matter?”

You couldn’t even speak. Words felt too heavy, too incomplete to what you felt. You squeezed your eyes shut to hold back the tears but you couldn’t win against your own reckoning. A sob tore through you, then another, until it was just continuous. Loud, violent, and inescapable.

Henry wordlessly sat on the bed, on the side you were not lying on. He didn’t move closer, but the weight of his presence was enough. He sat there, letting you cry. You hated it. Hated this room. This house. This situation. The fact he was your last resort, last option to keeping yourself alive willingly. That you couldn’t even live in your own mind for an extended period. That it would turn on you with the flick of a wrist, forcing you to reach for something sharpened or something to dull the screaming. You hated that you were still alive. You hated that Vecna sat beside you like a pillar of stability. You hated that it helped.

"I don’t want to talk to you."

"Would it be easier if I look into your mind?"

Your brows furrowed at the idea. He could find anything. See anything. But to be fair, he probably already had. So you nodded, not knowing what else to do.

He gently tried taking your hand, which made you swipe yours away, breath short.

"Hey- it's okay. I'm not doing anything bad. It just... helps. To get to the bottom of someone's thoughts." He placated.

You looked from his hand to yours. It had been far too long since anyone had willingly extended physical affection to you. It made you heart stutter in a manner of panic. But you weren’t sure how else to go about this, or anything anymore. You inched your hand back towards his.

He slowly reached back out, and took your hand. His palm was soft, free of calluses and any other ailments. His fingers were long, slender. He held your hand in a firm grip and closed his eyes, and a firm pressure invaded your mind, images and memories flashing in your view faster than you could comprehend; your dad having to explain that your little sister had passed away when you were only 9, your mother in the distance with a hand over her mouth to hold back sobs. Your first memory of one of El's panic attacks while your dad stood by, unsure what to do. Memories of her after battle, bloody and exhausted and scared. The Battle of Starcourt, watching the Mind Flayer tear everything apart, Max's scream as Billy was killed. Finding out your dad was blown up, and El was leaving. Then a year passed, watching Dustin hold Eddie's dead body, how you blacked out once it hit. The hospital afterward. The paramedics. Steve watching you like if he left your side, you'd end it right there. Your dad's face after hearing what almost happened, El crying because she almost lost you too.

And the way everything felt like a downward spiral of grief and pain from there. The looks of timidness people gave you. The nights you spent crying. The nail shaped indents in your arms. The empty feeling of a therapist’s office. Finding the mixtape Eddie made and having a breakdown hearing his voice at the start of it from a demo that never went anywhere. The exhaustion of the crawls getting nowhere. Watching Dustin fall into a similar state as you, only more vengeful. The constant anxiety that everything would be torn from you. The way people gave up, and left you to manage alone.

You had always managed alone, mostly. But people didn’t throw you a liferaft when the water got too deep at all. Perhaps now that you were gone, they would have let you drown. Or they would find the ocean that was you, with no sign of anyone to rescue, aside from their own reflection in the water. Perhaps, now, it was too late. The waves of your own breaking point dragged you to the depth, and left behind a shell.

You took in a harsh breath when you came to, and Henry sat beside you, still holding your hand, but his grip was tighter now. His eyes were distant.

"I had felt your pain from the other room, but I didn’t anticipate how bad it had consumed you." He spoke quietly, like to recognise someone's pain rather than feed off of it had made him realise what exactly he had done. "How did nobody notice?"

"I'm good at hiding myself until I can't anymore." You whisper, voice catching on the last word. The tears hadn’t stopped since you woke.

He watched you for a moment. He looked remorseful. As if you had shown him the other side of the coin that was his plans. It had clearly startled him but it was something he wasn't yet willing to come to terms with. As he had said a week before: in this state, he was as human as you. That must have also included the emotional aspect.

He swallowed, thinking over his words. "I apologise that I haven’t been taking your pain as serious as I should have. Everything you've been through has hit you harder than you let on. You... you've spent your whole life being strong for everyone. Making the pain easier. But in the meantime, you've only accumulated it onto yourself."

The words made you look away, feeling sick at how true it was. It made you feel seen. Heard. Not like a burden. He saw it, took it, and was doing something with it that would mend it rather than abandon it out of fear of what he would find.

"It's no wonder you feel how you do. Why you can’t hold on anymore."

"Yeah, no shit." You whisper.

"Don’t deflect. Not right now. Right now, I want you to let it all out. Scream, cry, swear, yell at me if you wish. I won't internalise anything, but I will listen. I will be what you need."

'I will be what you need.'

That broke you the most. You did cry. Wail, screaming into the pillows and your hands. You cried for your father, El, Eddie, Will, Sara, your friends and loved ones and mentors, the future you hoped you would reach but it was completely altered one November evening. You felt a violent rage towards Henry for what he did. You told him it was all his fault. He killed Eddie. He is the reason Eleven will struggle for her whole life to have normality. That he doesn’t deserve to be alive or sitting here. You expressed how badly you wished you would just end it all if given an opening. That you would feel okay at last if you could just fucking die. You sobbed that you didn’t know what to do. That if everything was going to get worse, what was the point of even being here?

Henry listened to it all. He didn’t yell back or tell you to stop, or tell you that you were wrong. He listened, nodded, and let you release all the hurt from the last almost 2 decades.

Hours had passed since, and you were laying on your back with tears running gentle trails down your temples, staring at the ceiling.

And he stayed through it all.

"I still want to die." The words were a rough whisper.

"I know." He responded. He took your hand back in his, and squeezed.

You stayed like that until you inevitably fell asleep.

------------

HENRY'S POV

For the first time since the night he killed his family, he had to sit here and ask himself

'What have I done?'

It had been an eternity since he had experienced the brute force of someone else's pain. Yes, he used Will's insecurities against himself. He had turned Eleven's power onto her as a means to show her just how bad it could get. He tormented Chrissy, Fred, Patrick, and Max.

And now you, who's pain would be used to paint an illusion of false healing as a trap for his enemies. But also you, who was forcing him out of being a monster, and into a man. And for the first time in a long time he felt out of his own control. Even with The Shadow plaguing his being. At least that was familiar. You however was something entirely new.

Henry was not known for being easily shaken, especially by the weight of someone else’s struggle- and yet seeing through your mind made him sad. Worried, even. Once you were deep in sleep, he gently shifted off the bed.

But your hand instinctively tightened on his. You hated him. Wanted him dead. Yet you didn’t want him to leave.

But he had to. He eased his hand from yours and left swiftly, retreating to the backyard. The sun warm and air mild, a comfortable in-between of summer, fall, and winter. There are times he would come and sit out here as a child, a moment of silence from the pressures that lay inside of the home itself. Only right now the pressure sat in his chest, running along his sternum, up his throat, and into his head, thoughts of your troubles fixating his thoughts. This was completely unanticipated and it had him reeling. The voice in his mind that wasn’t entirely himself said to just get it over with; give you the mercy you wished for. You had been here a week, and had fully infected his mind with something he could only refer to as a softness. Softness was weakness. But god, it felt right to care. He loathed himself for being yanked in a direction he had not planned route for. Who was he to wish well for his pawns? Why on earth was he hoping you'd recover?

He rested his elbows on his knees, and ran his hands along his face. To be conflicted was to waver, and he did not waver. Until you. Was it foolish to think you had placed this on him intentionally? That seemed like the only possibility now. But you didn’t have that ability. You didn’t have superpower. He would have known. You were, simply, different. Different in ways that kept him up at night. Different in ways that made him feel like his actions were predictable. You weren’t even all that scared of him- you didn’t shy away. You even went to the limit of insulting him to his face. That should have been enough to kill you then and there. Yet he didn’t, because instead of fear, you were angry. And he was all too familiar with anger.

He couldn’t sit here and dawdle. He was conniving, cunning, and ruthless. He could not afford these silly, human-like emotions. He could not afford to coddle you. He would do as he intended; 'help' you as a means to an end.

So he told himself.

------------

YOUR POV

The absence of Henry when you awoke should not have been chilling, but the lack of warmth hit you fast. Yet again, alone. You weren’t sure why it made you uncomfortable that he wasn’t there. You told yourself it was because you anticipated it. That against your morals and wishes, he had slowly become familiar.

Your throat felt raw from sobs, eyes dry from a river ran dry of tears. You felt hollowed out and left behind to fill yourself back up. Everything had been scratched raw and left to go numb. The exhaustion was a palpable sensation.

You were in a limbo between hopelessness and relief for a suspended time, staring at nothing. Something about it was familiar. Safe. This was at least a state of mind you knew of. You didn’t hear or really see Henry come in. He sat back beside you and very gently placed a hand on your shoulder.

"Can you speak?"

You shook your head.

"Okay. That's okay. Would you feel comfortable using your mind to speak? Can you handle that?"

You nodded.

"Good." His lips didn’t move, but his voice spoke soft in your mind. "Can you respond?"

"Yeah." Your inner voice answers back.

His gaze on you softened "Would you like to take a bath? It might help soothe you."

The idea felt tiring, but you also knew you hadn’t showered since before you were taken here. So you nodded.

“Alright. I’ll run it for you. Stay here in the meantime. I’ll grab some clean pyjamas as well.”

He goes to your dresser, grabbing a soft pair of pyjama shorts and a similar sleep shirt, clean undergarments and a pair of socks.

"Are you able to walk?"

You nodded, slipping the sheets off your frame and standing. Walking felt grueling, but you wanted to maintain as much autonomy as you can in this situation. You followed his path to the bathroom, a room down the hall by the master bedroom.

The space was wide, a claw-foot bathtub in the centre. Henry turned the taps on, adjusting the temperature, and adding in oils, salts, and a splash of bubble bath that held the scent of something sugary.

"You can undress and settle in. I'll make you some tea and a small snack plate."

"Why are you doing all this?" Your voice comes through your hread in a slightly angered tone, yet laced with utter confusion.

"Because wouldn’t it be nice for anyone to do it at all? I already told you; you need to get back on your feet and give life another chance. I won’t keep arguing on it. In the nicest way, you have no choice but to let me." Henry turned on his heel, and made his way out, closing the door.

You sighed, rubbing your hands over your head. By now the bath was finished, you turned the taps off. You watched the bubbles sway against the water like an invitation.

Looking back at the door once more to make sure he wasn’t hovering, you slipped off your dirty clothes and stepped into the bath.

It was perfect.

Like an enchantment, the tension fled from your body as the concoction of scented relievants did their work. It was the first time in the last.... You didn’t know how long- that you felt a semblance of calm, pleasure. Your mood felt better. Not significantly, but enough to where living didn’t feel like eating glass.

Some time later Henry came back into the bathroom- and immediately averted his gaze from where you sat in the centre of the room. "I brought your refreshments." He swallowed, and used his powers to send the mug of tea and assortments of snacks onto the tray that sat over the bath. The plate had sliced fruit, cheese, crackers, some chocolates, and a few other sugary candies.

Thoughtful.

You looked from the plate to him. He was looking anywhere else.

"Are you.... good?" You tilted your head slightly, amused.

"Mhm. Yes. Good to hear you speaking again."

"Yeah, well, this bath feels like I'm laying in clouds and all things joyus. What did you even us?"

"Just whatever was around."

"Right. Are you sure you're fine?"

"Does it matter?" He responded, eyes fixed to the painting that sat on the wall by the vanity. His tone was more tense than irritable.

Then it clicked.

"You've never been near a naked woman, have you?"

His throat worked as he choked on his own saliva, and you grinned a mix of victorious and utterly pleased at the break in composure.

Vecna, world ending, vicious, obliteration machine, had never seen a pair of boobs before. You couldn’t wait to share how ridiculous that was the next time you got to see Steve and Robin.

Steve and Robin. The thought of them, what they could be doing, made the air punch from your stomach. But the feeling was short lived as Henry's voice drew you back to the present.

"I've never had a reason."

"Seriously? No secret fling, ever?"

"No. Not that it would be your business if I did."

"Dude, if I'm gonna be here god knows how long, and this may be a repeat occurrence often, you're gonna have to see something at some point. Anyway, I'm covered in bubbles up to the collar. You can look. As.... odd as it is to offer, all things considered."

His jaw worked, a long-suffering sigh leaving him. He tilted his head to the ceiling and squeezed his eyes shut. Then moved his head in your direction, eyes opening.

Even in a swarm of bubbles and water, a flush crept up his neck.

You noticed.

"If you really don’t want to look, you don’t have to. I wasn’t forcing you."

"No. I mean- it's.... alright. Just... unfamiliar."

You nodded, reaching for the tea. At the shift of your arm and slight movement of the bubbles, his gaze instantly left you again.

"Jesus christ, you're hopeless." You mumble into the mug, and his eyes lock back on you like a petulant child.

"I am not."

"I moved 3 inches and you looked like you were about to cum. Am I that enticing that you had to kidnap me and be a voyeur?"

"Dear god, you're insufferable!"

"At least that's mutual."

"What have I done that's worse than the way you're speaking right now?"

"....you're trying to kill everyone I love and then turn the world into a monster dictatorship."

For once, he was speechless.

"Exactly." You shrug, popping a chocolate heart into your mouth.

Henry leaned against the wall, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and pointer finger. "When I planned to take you here, I was not anticipating you to be this crude."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mr Posh Boy, was the word 'cum' too much?"

"You-.... No. I've heard worse."

"From who?"

"People."

"Who, the Mind Flayer?"

"What the f...." He whispered to himself. It was the closest you'd heard to him swearing and it made you grin. "I will never understand why you all call it that."

"You've never been through Will's head enough to understand D&D?"

"It was mentioned, but I haven’t understood it."

"It's a fantasy roleplay game, which is also a board game, and in it, on3 of the villains to defat is called The Mind Flayer. Looks similar to the shadow thing. And it's why we call you Vecna. He's an undead wizard. And the Demogorgons, again, have similairties."

"An 'undead wizard'?" He was entirely unimpressed.

You nod.

"Well. The originality is applauded."

You stayed in the bath until it was chilled, and your skin started pruning. Henry stepped out while you rinsed yourself and your hair, and wrapped a robe over yourself. But by the time that was done, you were exhausted again. You leaned against the vanity, barely keeping yourself up.

And you knew you had no choice. It made you seethe a little, at how you had let yourself get this way, but if anything, this may have been the plan. For him to get you so annoyed at the fact you had to depend on him that you'd take initiative to get better.

"Henry?"

"Yes, Y/n?"

"I fucking hate this, but..... can you maybe..... help me with getting dressed?"

There was silence for a moment.

"Why...?"

"Because I can barely move without feeling like I’ll pass out."

You heard him sigh again, this time in consideration.

"Okay. Bedroom or bathroom?"

"Bathroom."

"Okay. Don’t have your front facing any mirror, and have your undergarments on first."

A fair deal. You did as he said, dressing in what he requested and moving away from the mirrors.

"Come in now."

The door clicked open, and he entered slowly. He wordlessly came over, and reached for the pyjamas that sat on the stool nearby.

"Shirt first. Arms up." He murmured, stepping behind you. The act of lifting your arms made your head swim, but he swiftly pulled the shirt over your frame so you wouldn’t do anything more strenuous.

His knuckles accidentally grazed the dip between your shoulder blades. Your breath caught and you flinched away instinctively. Not so much in fear, but the fact his touch felt startlingly correct upon you.

He retreated back a bit as you also did, hand hovering. But he didn’t apologise. He took a steadying breath, and grabbed your shorts. "Step into them."

You did so, and finished pulling them up when they got to your hips, so neither of you had to have another awkward interaction.

"Okay. You're dressed. Your hair is almost dry. I can do your socks when you get back to bed."

You nodded. But the distance from here to the bedroom felt like a hike, and the concept made your stomach turn over.

Henry must have picked up on it.

"I'll carry you."

"Beg your pardon?

"Unless you want to collapse and crawl?"

"Fuck me- make it quick." You grumbled.

The second his hands wrapped under your knees and around your back, you clenched your eyes shut and tried to think of anything else.

He was evil. Wicked. Ruined your life. Was assisting in deaths. Wa actually a tentacle freak who was rotting in a memory void in his basement.

But you couldn’t deny that the way he lifted you like you were nothing made your heart flutter all the way down to your hips.

He got to the bedroom quickly, as you had asked. He placed you on the bed, grabbed the socks, and, put them on you.

"Done." He stepped back, rubbing his palms on his pants. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing the pale skins and prominent veins. You did not allow yourself the mercy of looking further.

"You can go now." Your voice was steady, but your tone was hard in a way that expressed how you both felt.

"Right. It's getting later than expected. Do you need anything else?"

"No." You pulled the sheets over yourself, turning to face away from him.

"Okay." He stood there for a moment, and you knew he was watching over you.

"Goodnight."

"Night." You echoed. He turned and left the room, closing the door.

You were exhausted, spent, mentally, physically, in every way.

But one thought followed you into unconciousness;

if you kept this up, you would be utterly, completely fucked.

“Baby…” Steve sighed, gently taking your hands from the spot on your forehead you were incessantly prodding at.

“I’m sorry. It’s just this bump on my head-“

“You would know if something was genuinely wrong. Chances are it’s just your skull or something. Or something a little inflamed. You’re safe. You always are okay.”

“But what it it’s not? What if something is wrong or I did something-“

“Hey, no. No, you’re alright. And we talked about this, yeah? If something was wrong long term, we would get it checked. Worrying won’t fix it.”

He gently pulled you against his chest, chin atop your head.

“I know. My brain just…. Can’t stop. Won’t stop. If it’s not one thing, it’s another. Hopelessness into fear, into numbness, into ruminating. I’m tired of my brain fighting itself.”

“I know. I know. You don’t deserve it. But you’re strong, okay? Strongest person I’ve ever met. You always get through. This’ll pass. It’s your mind making it worse. But that’s all it is; thoughts. Thoughts about one little thing happening. It’s not something catastrophic. You’ll be okay.”

You nod, closing your eyes. Steve settled his back onto the couch, reaching for the blanket draped over it to pull over your bodies.

“You’re exhausted. You’ve been through so much lately. Give yourself some time to just be. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Thank you.” You yawn.

“You don’t have to thank me.” He ran a hand over your head in a repeated motion, breathing deep as if to guide your own.

“I love you. So much. I’ll always be here to make sure you come back down to earth.”