doyiina
She wasn't supposed to exist.
Not in Hawkins. Not in his house.
Introduced as Henry Creel's quiet, capable wife, she becomes the calm eye of the storm inside the old Creel home, dusting shelves that still remember screams, smoothing lace curtains, fixing what time and trauma tried to rot. She helps Henry with the house the way she helps him with everything else: gently, patiently, as if she alone knows how fragile he truly is.
When Holly runs through the halls laughing, when the kids gather in the living room with muddy shoes and nervous glances, she is warmth incarnate, tea on the stove, soft smiles, a presence that makes the house feel almost normal.
But when the doors close...
When it's just her and Henry...
He changes.
His voice drops. His looks linger. His hands hover too close without ever crossing a line, not because he can't, but because he wants to make her wait. Henry Creel is flirty in a way that feels dangerous, sensual in a way that feels intentional, and devastatingly attentive. Every word is chosen. Every glance burns. Every quiet moment feels like a secret no one else would survive knowing.
She is the only one who sees the man beneath the monster.
And he knows it.
Some houses are haunted by ghosts.
This one is haunted by desire, devotion, and a love sharp enough to cut the world open.