Hii!! Thank you for checking out this silly page <3

***Requests: I’m open to requests at the moment! However I work full time so if I you send me a request, it might take me a little while to get around to it. Please be specific if you can when requesting something as it’ll make it easier for me to get your request right 🩷

I tend to bounce around a little between fandoms/characters. And as mentioned I work full time and am pretty busy, so if you send me an ask or a message and I don’t respond, do not fear, I will get around to it eventually!!!

Over time I might add or remove characters from the below list, so please check it before requesting 🩷

My tumblr masterlist is below, plus you can find more on my AO3!

Characters I’ll write for:

Robert Akers (Stranger Things)

Adam (Depraved 2019)

Wild Bill (American Primeval)

The Stockbroker (Hustlers 2019)

Father Paul (Midnight Mass)

Astarion (Baldurs Gate 3)

What I definitely won’t write: non-con, vomit, scat, furry, incest, age play. (If your request is around a specific kink or “taboo” topic other than these then I might have to review it before accepting it)

Masterlist:

Robert Akers (Stranger Things):

Lullaby: Akers is unaware that he has a guest spectating his nightly activity. (AKA Akers has dirty thoughts, but they might not all be his own)

Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This) : (Part 2 of Lullaby) Akers wants to get some sleep, but his mind gets a very welcome visitor who wants to test something out (AKA Akers gets blown, but technically doesn’t)

Tear You Apart: Working alongside your husband had its benefits - but you would have never guessed that this would be one of them. (AKA Akers gets ridden while restrained, before he gets his own back)

The Lost Art of Keeping a Secret: Sneaking off to a motel room like this wasn't new to Akers. But sneaking off to a motel room with his superior, a quick visit made as a detour from their routine patrol, was definitely new. (AKA Akers tries out being a bottom and turns into a whimpering mess because of it)

As the World Falls Down (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5): Having just recently moved back to Hawkins, you were never told much about everything going on. You knew something was up with your family, their friends, and especially with Hopper’s new adopted daughter El, but you were never told exactly what. One night, you arrive at the wrong place at the wrong time - and Dr Kay tasks Akers with finding out why. (AKA what starts as a side mission for Akers quickly turns into something else)

I Think We’re Alone Now (AKA As the World Falls Down part 3.5): Akers is aching and confused when he comes to, tied up and held captive, and he wonders just how hard he had hit his head once he notices you watching him from the corner of the dark and dingy trailer. (AKA the reader is present for Hopper’s interrogation, and when you’re left alone with Akers you end up attending to unfinished business.)

Physical (You’re So): Akers is leaving in the morning, but before he does he makes a proposition that you have no intention of refusing. (AKA Akers has a breeding kink)

Material Girl (Part 1) (Part 2) : Every man you had ever known had been happy to do whatever you asked, but not Akers. Akers took orders from his superiors, and his bosses, and definitely not from you. He likes to make sure that you don’t forget it. (AKA Akers doesn’t like to let you boss him around, though you like to do just that.)

Knocked Up: Akers is sometimes reckless, but careless mistakes turn out to sometimes be the best accidental decisions. (AKA Akers has a breeding kink but ends up actually knocking you up, and finds out how much he loves experiencing parenthood with you)

Hungry Like The Wolf: Akers hasn’t seen you in what feels for forever, and the distance has made him crave something that’s new to you. (AKA Akers is desperately horny and is dying to eat you out)

What Do They Know?: Akers always leaves Kay’s office with a red hot rage in his chest. There's one thing that never fails to relieve his frustration, and he becomes dead set on finding it as he walks through the halls of the eerie base. (AKA Akers pulls you into a quiet room for a quickie after Kay leaves him pissed)

Stargirl: Akers enjoys a lot of things about you, but he especially enjoys how big you make him feel. (AKA Akers loves it when you need him to reach the top shelf, but now he wants you to give him something good in return for it)

Puppy Love: Akers tells you all about his dreams of settling down with you and a big mean guard dog. You end up surprising him with something very, very different. (AKA Akers wants to someday own a mean bulldog, but you decide to get something a lot a little smaller)

Seeing Double: Akers doesn’t have the best eye for detail, and his lack of attention becomes his very own downfall. (AKA Akers bites off a little more than he can chew when he dates a pair of twins who he thinks are both the same woman called Mary)

Cinema: Akers takes you out to see a film, though he doesn’t plan on spending much time watching it. (AKA Akers can’t keep his hands off of you in the movie theater)

Ever Fallen In Love (With Someone You Shouldn’t’ve?): The last time Akers saw you, you were both 18 and fresh out of high school, and the crush he had on you was embarrassingly big. Now, a few years, shitty boyfriends, and fresh piercings later, he aims to right the wrongs of his stupid teenage self. (AKA Akers meets his high school crush for the first time in years, and decides he still likes you just as much as he did back then.)

Like A Virgin: Akers returns from a long deployment, and gratefully accepts an eager proposition you make on his first night home. (AKA you’ve been dating Akers for a while, and eventually decide to let him take your virginity after months of heavy petting.)

Wet Dream: (Part 3 of Lullaby) Battered, bruised, and burnt, Akers attempts to wash the hell of a day off of his skin. His nosy nightly visitor attempts to cheer him up in the best way she knows how. (AKA a moody Akers takes a late night shower after getting beaten by Hopper, and shower sex seems to help his frustration, though it leaves a lonely pit in its place.)

Superstition: Some days, Akers is far more sure than usual that he's slowly losing his mind. Is he going crazy, or is his house being haunted? That's something he's still trying to figure out. (AKA Akers doesn’t know you have powers much like the freak he hunted years ago, or that you have passed this onto your daughter.)

Army Dreamers: Finding yourself tangled up in Robert’s arms in the dark and dingy junkyard had served as a very effective distraction. Unfortunately, it had proven to be an extremely short-lived one. (AKA you find yourself bearing witness to the very last thing you expected, though it’s not entirely what it seems.)

Opposites Attract: A routine physical exam is just another part of every day in this lab. They’re never filled with very much excitement - until a brand new nurse sent in by the army makes them far more interesting. (AKA you’re very curious to know everything about this new nurse, and make it your mission to find out all about him - much to his very obvious annoyance)



Adam (Depraved 2019):

Scar Tissue: After what feels like an eternity of asking, Adam’s lonely wishes have finally come true. (AKA Henry gives in and makes Adam a companion)

Birds of a Feather: Running away from your creator had been easy. Figuring out what to do now was the hard part, until you meet another just like you. (AKA Adam unexpectedly finds a friend, or maybe more)

Let’s Go To Bed: (Part 2 of Scar Tissue) Adam had no idea what he was doing. He took comfort in the fact that neither did you. (AKA Adam’s first time having sex with you)

From Eden: (Part 2 of Birds of a Feather) Adam brings you to his home, and decides he wants to share it. (AKA you’re literally falling apart at the seams and you’re really bad at ping pong but Adam likes you anyway)

Real Love Baby (Part 3 of Birds of a Feather): Life with Adam has been sweet so far, but as Valentines Day rolls around, he decides to make it just a little bit sweeter. (AKA Adam is a sweetie who wants to give his girl the best first Valentines Day he can, including a homemade card and cake)

Mystified (Part 4 of Birds of a Feather): One late night movie leads to a very sudden realisation, and you and Adam decide to mark a day to make yourselves feel a little bit more human. (AKA Adam makes a plan for you to celebrate your made up birthdays together, and some lovely music helps you to finally pick a name.)

Beautiful Boy (Part 5 of Birds of a Feather): Every day with Adam brings new challenges, and you’re faced with the biggest one of all when you and Adam attempt to navigate life as new parents. (AKA an accidental pregnancy leads to the happiest surprise you could ever ask for)

The Stockbroker (Hustlers 2019)

Sexting: Your new favourite client decides to reach out on your only day off. (AKA the Stockbroker always sees you in the strip club and decides to get flirty with his texts, and you contemplate whether or not to do the same)

Expectations: Tonight is important. A night that could determine the trajectory of your modelling career for the foreseeable future. As prepared as you feel, it's the partner you have tagging along that makes you feel a little more nervous. (AKA The Stockbroker tags along to your very important modelling event, but when he leaves you embarrassed, you decide to have him beg for your forgiveness.)

Wild Bill Hickman (American Primeval):

Sanctified: When Bill invites you to spend the evening in his tent after the sun sets, you can’t help but feel you would be a fool to not do as you’re told. (AKA Bill is horny and hopes you are too, and ends up taking your virginity because of it)

Pushing It Down and Praying (Part 1): You never would have taken Wild Bill to be a jealous man, though you find him to be an intense one when you decide to get to know another man. (AKA Bill points out the way a man your age looks at you, and you decide to get to know him - much to Bill’s disapproval.)

Bedroom Hymns: Wild Bill can’t help but notice the shyness you take on around him. One late night he shows you how to give in to temptation, and to help indulge him of his while still keeping you pure. (AKA Bill takes notice of the crush you have on him, and uses your mouth to relieve his arousal.)

Dr Martin Brenner (Stranger Things: The First Shadow)

In The Still of the Night: Martin Brenner is a very dedicated man to his work. Too dedicated, it seems, to take much notice of his very own wife. (AKA you try to convince Brenner to come to bed, but he’s far too engrossed in his work to even notice you. A subsequent cold shoulder shows him just how you feel.)

Astarion (Baldur’s Gate 3):

It feels as though you've checked your appearance a hundred times before you finally feel ready to head out the door. 

Tonight is important. Crucial. A night that could determine the trajectory of your career for the foreseeable future. An 'informal' mixer in a fancy rooftop bar that's anything but casual. An evening with already established models and high-up representatives, significant individuals in your very favourite fashion brands, talking and socialising and pretending you're not scared to death of what they think. Networking disguised as a very friendly social event, disguised just about as well as the big bad wolf dressed as grandma. 

Through the nerves, you can at least recognise how prepared you are, and the effort you've put in - you know everything about the people who will be in attendance. Your hair is freshly done, makeup too, and the outfit your Wall Street boyfriend bought you is anything but cheap. 

As prepared as you feel, it's the partner you have tagging along that makes you feel a little more worried. It isn't unlike him to think with everything else but his brain, and a worry starts gnawing at your chest as you think over his typical behaviour, cocky and arrogant, particularly when there's any kind of alcohol involved. 

Shoving this thought down, you give one final little check in the mirror before you make your way out to the living room. 

Your plus one is waiting on the couch when you enter, head cocked in your direction already, having seemingly heard your heels approaching on his hardwood floor. He's dressed neatly in a crisp white shirt and trousers, shiny new Rolex on his wrist not so subtly showing off his wealth. At least his dress sense is one thing you won't have to worry about. You hope he likes the way the dress looks, considering it was his money that bought it. 

It doesn't take long to find the answer to this as you get closer.  

He rises from his seat and lowers his eyes to scan your figure, brows raising with a very approving hum. Large hands find your hips to pull you closer towards him. 

"Very nice." He stares at your lips. You settle into his hold, both of your hands coming up to rest against his chest.  "Are you trying to make a good impression, or just turn them on?"

Batting your long lashes up at him doesn't have a very strong effect when he's not even looking at them. His gaze is far more focused somewhere lower, darting between your mouth and your chest. You smile at him sweetly. "Good impression, I hope."

"I hope so too." One hand moves to squeeze your ass through the fabric of your dress. The suddenness makes you gasp quickly in surprise, and he smiles widely at the sound. "Don't need you turning everyone else on too."

Leaning down, his lips press to your temple, then lower to start along your jaw. 

"You think we can spare a few minutes?" Both hands move down now to your arse, giving it an even harder squeeze, and he groans quietly when he pulls you even tighter against him. "You just look so good..."

The closeness along with the way his lips dust your skin does begin to tempt you, though you ignore the warm feeling it brings up. You put a little pressure against his chest as a signal to stop his advances. 

"Not if we ever want to actually get to the event." He chuckles, pressing another kiss to your cheek before pulling back to stare down at you again. "Come on, we're already late as it is."

"Mmm, you'd rather go out than spend the night with me?" His head tilts while he speaks, eyes half lidded as they fixate themselves on your lips. Then finally he meets your stare with a pout. "How am I supposed to resist you all night? My girlfriend, the supermodel." 

"Shush!" A blush creeps up to your cheeks, and you're suddenly grateful for your foundation. "Wait and see how tonight goes before you start calling me that."

For a moment, he just watches you, not bothering to respond. The grip he has on you is far from gentle, and there's a smugness on his face as he takes your features in. 

Nervous hands move along his chest to smooth the fabric of his shirt underneath them, and you try to ignore just how clammy your palms feel. The nerves you had been trying to fight down are slowly getting the better of you. The arousal he had started to cause you certainly doesn't help. 

"Just... behave, tonight." A snort and a roll of his eyes. He often likes to act as though he is unaware of his own bad behaviour, as though ignorant to how annoying he becomes once any substances hit his system. "Please?"

Another roll of his eyes, but then a slow nod. After a moment of very careful consideration, the only response is a low "mhmm". His gaze drops down to your mouth, tongue darting out to wet his lips before both hands pull you in even closer to press your body against his own. 

Before his lips can reach yours, you give another light push against his chest, raising a brow when he reluctantly meets your eyes. It takes him a second to realise that you're waiting on a response. 

"Yeah, sure." You let you a deep sigh of relief at this answer, though it's slightly short lived when you feel one hand move to toy gently with the hem of your dress. "As long as I get to take this off of you later."

Barely an agreement, but better than none at all. 

Another sigh and a playful shove against his shoulder before you move to grab the last of your things. He follows very close behind, hands still touching you whenever they can, still eager to have some form of a hold on you still even as you head out the door. 

***

For most of the evening, it really does seem as though he is making a very real attempt to behave. 

A subtly possessive hold around your waist all night shows off to the entire club that you're his, though it never moves any lower than the small of your back. A respectful improvement from his end. On a normal night either one or both hands would have already ended up on your arse countless times without a care for who may see before you had even finished your first drink. 

He buys only the finest of everything - a glass of top shelf whiskey doesn't leave his hand all night, and a glass of the best wine on offer is never empty in yours. It feels as though he wants the whole place to see the casual way in which he splashes his cash, along with the way his pretty model lingers by his side. Some quiet assertion of dominance to a crowd who you're supposed to be the one trying to impress. 

Every conversation he has while you remain tucked into his side seems polite. Normal introductions, casual chit chat, and for a while his newly mature presence almost makes you feel at ease. Even when talking to the most important representatives, he never sets a single foot out of line, and even makes sure to talk highly of you while he does it.

While you do briefly consider the idea of reminding him that it's you who should be doing the socialising while he trails behind, you quickly decide that doing so may derail his well mannered act. Correcting his attempts to be polite may throw him straight into a tantrum and, aside from his usual show-off nature, he really does seem to be making an effort tonight. Even his usually wandering eyes remain respectful around the most beautiful women in the room. If anything, he pays even more attention to you when he sees them. It's almost suspicious to see him keeping so in line. 

Not at all like his usual self.

The first time he leaves your side all night is to go to the bathroom, excusing himself quietly while you speak to a pair of vaguely familiar models. The exchange isn't exactly riveting, and you don't blame him for wanting to miss it - your input in it even in his absence proves to be minimal. While these people aren't exactly rude, they're just not very exciting to talk to. You dread to think that you may have to get used to this sort of mixing if you do want to make it any higher in this industry. 

In his absence, you tune out for a moment and let your thoughts drift away from the dullness, mind dwelling on your plus one's surprisingly good manners. You begin to think over the many ways you could reward him once you get home. Behaving this well has surely earned him a bit of a treat. Your mind begins to wander, mulling over the ways you could make him feel good, though you know exactly what sort of things he'll want - all of them involving your dress being ripped off the moment you step inside your front door. 

"Your boyfriend seems nice." One of the girls in front of you speaks up, pulling your attention reluctantly back to her. She twirls a strand of hair around her finger while she smiles at you politely. 

"And cute." Adds the other, earning her a giggle from the first girl while she stares in the direction he went. 

For this, you're relieved by his absence - hearing two beautiful models compliment him so sweetly would certain swell up his ego. 

"Yeah, he's..." you look down to the now empty wine glass in your hand, having thrown back the last drop in his absence, and think over how to continue. You don't feel nice is the right word for him. Something like arrogant, materialistic, or vain would be a much better fit. "He's cool."

The two before you share a brief look you don't quite recognise before turning back to the very dull chat again. 

After a long few minutes, your boyfriend finally returns. At first you feel a relief upon seeing him approach - hoping he may be coming to save you from the mind numbing you're enduring - but when he makes his way over, this brief sensation of safety is quickly shattered. 

Something about him seems very different. His head is suddenly held much higher, though his gaze on you goes lower. His hands do too, and when he reaches your side you're surprised to feel one just the slightest bit too low on your back to be decent. Something is off about him, though it's hard to tell what - it's not just the energy of someone who's had a few too many drinks, nor is it the warmth of a partner excited to see you. The women in front of you seem totally unbothered by his sudden change, even if both pairs of eyes are now trained on him. 

When you finally turn to look up at him closely, a tiny touch of white powder on his nose lets you know exactly what his problem is. 

"What the..." you barely say it out loud, too surprised at the sight to even know where to start. 

Your blood boils, having finally felt at ease with the very respectable act he had kept up all night. Good things never do last too long. 

Now it's your turn to excuse the both of you from the mundane conversation, politely dipping out even though your mouth feels ready to spit fire, and a tight hand on his arm pulls him just out of earshot. 

"Jesus, are you-" Only a few steps into your attempted departure, a hand on your ass now that you're a little more alone makes you jump. "Are you high?"

He snaps his free hand up to wipe his nose with the back of it, and he instantly shifts into a much more defensive demeanour. 

"So what if I am?"     

Your stomach turns at his snappy response. You bring a hand to his chest, pushing him away with a shove. The corners of his lips turn down at the action. 

"You're high? Tonight?"

Rather than take a hint, his hand finds your hip to pull you close once again.

"Don't worry about it, it's fine. I'm fine."

You know he's fine, but you're certainly not. Your head begins to hurt. It would be hard to measure just how much time you've spent telling him exactly how important this event is to you, yet he has still decided to act on stupid impulse instead of behaving for once in his life. 

"You do know what tonight is, right?" He frowns while you speak. "You are aware of who these people are, right?"

"Of course, I'm not stupid." You're beginning to doubt this fact.

He leans in closer, and the only thing you can smell is the whiskey on his breath. With that and the coke you can tell he just snorted, you dread to think how he'll be acting when he reaches his peak. 

The way you pull back as he leans down is far from subtle. 

"Hey, don't be like that." Another squeeze of his hand on your side, and you pull back even further. "I met some friends in the bathroom, what was I supposed to do, say no?"

"Yes!" The idea of his actions even being a possibility is something you're having a very hard time processing, and the fact of them being reality is just downright unbelievable. "You could have easily said no!"

Even after your earlier warning, he seems as though he could no longer care any less about the importance of this evening. His priorities lay more with having his fun with his friends and, judging by the way his hand still squeezes your hip, having his fun with you. 

"Come on baby - there's a real quiet corner over there, why don't we go and have some fun?"

A knife twists further in your gut the longer he touches you. Normally, in this late hour, in a club when you've both had a little too much, you ache for his touch. You seek it out desperately without a care for whoever may be watching. Without any care other than whatever arousal his groping brings up. But tonight, when you have the audience you know you have, and the lack of substance in your system like the ones he has?

Tonight, his touch brings up nothing but bile in your throat. 

You push his greedy hand away roughly, stepping back and staring up at him in disgust. "Are you joking? You want to sneak off here?!"

"Don't be like that!" Lips pout in a plea, and he steps forward to close the new gap. "Don’t be such a tease! You just look so hot, how am I supposed to resist you? This dress makes you look so fucking-"

A hand moving the hem of your dress up to cup the bare skin of your ass proves to be your final straw. 

"Ugh- Jesus, I'm going home-"

"Oh come on," it's hard to tell if his words are dragged out on purpose, or slurred in his state, but the desperation starting to seep from them is undeniable. You've already taken a step back before he continues, hands scrambling to fix your dress that he seems to so desperately want off. "Don't act like you don't wanna. Come on, come feel how hard I-"

"I'm going home."

You turn to make your exit. You're not even entirely sure where the way out is, but all you're concerned with right now is getting yourself very far away from him, and further from the prying eyes of the very people you had come out here to impress. 

It feels stupid to glance up as you pass them, but you do so anyway, eyes scanning the crowd and holding on to some tiny shred of hope that they may not even be looking. Sure enough, they seem to have seen the whole thing - a dozen sets of eyes are locked onto you in various shades of confusion, shock, and disgust. Each one you see is an extra sting to your already burning eyes, so you twist your head away from their surveillance, continuing on your unknown path. A harsh bite down on your bottom lip isn't enough to stop the salty water that breaks through to start spilling from your eyes. 

A familiar voice pipes up from far behind you, reminding you of the very person you're attempting to get away from, and the very one causing this hurt in the first place. 

"Baby, I was kidding, I-"

Though he begins to call after you, it doesn't take long for you to lose him in the crowd. 

***

The next morning, the first thing you become aware of upon waking is just how badly your head hurts. It throbs. Initially, you wonder if you may just be hungover, until your memories click. It doesn't take long to remember your swift departure from your event, and the tears that flowed all night because of it. An ache restarts in your chest while you think of it. 

The second thing you become aware of is the string of desperate texts your boyfriend decided to leave you to wake up with. 

2.32am

Where did u go?

At that hour, you were probably still up crying into your pillow. 

2.46am

Where are uuuu

3.01am

Cpme on baby whrre r u

3.15am

Whwrr u. go

3.40am

Gon hpme 

By this time you had finally knocked out with exhaustion. 

3.50am

U awwke ???

4.02am

Nwed u 

R u up

Nred u soo bsd 

Ever the romantic, as though his cock had typed the messages for him. 

5.25am

R u aqake???

Then, one final text this morning. 

11.16am

Morning baby, missed u last night 

The thought strikes you that the only thing he likely missed was one of your holes.  

Glancing at the time lets you know it's already been a half hour since that last text. You've slept in much later than you expected, seemingly worn down from the stress this whole situation has caused you. 

When you turn your attention back to the chat, your fingers hover over the screen with a heavy hesitation. How are you even supposed to respond to any or this? You can't just message him back and pretend that none of it ever happened, and you don't even know where to start when it comes to getting your feelings out over text. 

Instead, you opt to set down your phone and ignore the situation completely, even if only for a little while, hoping that your lack of response will convey your mood sufficiently. No part of you can be bothered with wasting the energy in explaining his wrongs to him right now, especially knowing he'll probably just argue back anyway.

That, and your head still throbs too hard to even begin to try to process it just yet. 

With every intention to ignore his existence and enjoy your free time alone, you eventually rise from your bed to force yourself into a shower. At least trying to freshen yourself up might make you feel a little bit better. 

Once washed and dressed in the most comfortable shorts and t shirt you could find, you're just beginning to enjoy your peaceful afternoon when a knock at your front door soon disrupts this. It doesn't take long to guess who may be on the other side. 

Opening the door reveals a scene like one from a romantic movie - there he is, standing with a large rose bouquet in one hand, and a sizeable designer gift bag in the other. The man himself is not the most romantic looking however, save for his smart shirt and dress pants - the rings under his eyes betray his late night partying. 

You're tempted to slam the door straight in his face, feeling that doing so would be much easier than having to deal with him, until he steps slightly forward to fill the entrance. 

"Hey, baby," The sweetness seeping from his words is almost sickening. It takes some power to resist the urge to roll your eyes at his greeting. "I missed you last night. Can I come in?"

Wordlessly and reluctantly, you take a step back to allow him to do just that. 

"These are for you." Both hands stretch to move the gifts in your direction. The smile still sitting comfortably on his lips only pisses you off further. 

"What is this?"

His smile briefly falters before he pulls it up again with a casual shrug, as though nothing about this is out of the ordinary. 

"These are gifts."

"No, I mean... this. This whole display." He doesn't seem to pick up on your disapproval of his arrival. "Are you just going to act like nothing happened?"

His brow furrows, and his jaw ticks. "What do you mean?"

A part of you begins to wonder whether the coke may have wiped his memory, or if he really does think you're stupid enough to not be upset. Shifting where you stand, you cross your arms in front of your chest and try to push down a steadily growing rage. 

"Last night? The way you acted?"

Another shrug in response to this makes you wonder if he's actually just doing this to piss you off further. Whether he can remember the night or not, you decide to do him a favour and remind him of it. 

"You acted like an idiot. You made me look like an idiot. Do you know how important those people were?" This doesn't seem to register with him. "My entire career might have depended on last night!"

"Oh baby come on! It wasn't that bad..."

It feels pointless to even put effort into giving this a response. You snatch the items quickly from his hands, not bothering to even mutter a half arsed thanks, before turning to take the few steps needed to place them both on your kitchen counter. Even as you move you can feel him follow closely behind. 

You try to ignore his presence, though your attempt proves to be fruitless - within a second of your hands being free, he's on you, long arms snaking around your middle, face pressing into your hair. 

And as is very often the case, he's already hard. 

"Ok I get it, I fucked up. Let me show you how sorry I am," his voice is low, gravely, and you're sure he means for it to be seductive. Given the situation it only serves to piss you off more. He ruts against you with a groan, arms wrapping tighter around you. "Let me make it up to you. I'll make you feel good."

Shifting to loosen his grip, you notice his hips still gently moving. "You can't just fuck me and expect everything to be alright."

He moves to press his wet lips to your neck. The feeling makes you freeze, doing anything except for arousing you in the way he seems to wish. He speaks in a low hum against you skin. "It'll make you feel better."

"No way. Seeing you begging on your knees would make me feel better than that."

Though the words are meant to be mocking, they plant a slowly spreading seed in your mind. A one you don't bother to shake out. 

There's a long pause, as though he's having to think hard about what to say. It feels as though this is the first time he's ever had to make an attempt at a real apology. It probably is. 

Eventually, his grip loosens more, though only slightly. "I said I'm sorry."

"You don't seem that sorry." Twisting out of his arms brings some relief to your tensed up limbs. His expression is much less warm now that you face him once again. 

"What, have I not apologised enough? You want me to take back what I bought you?"

"Buying things doesn't mean-"

"Jesus, can't you just fucking let it go!" 

The moment he snaps, your face shifts. Mild annoyance turns into something in between disbelief and anger. Eyes narrow, staring up at him with a glare that would slice him in two if it could. 

Whatever attempt you had been making to restrain yourself goes flying out the window now that he's chosen blatant disrespect. 

"Let me guess, you didn't get your dick wet last night, and you wanna get it wet now?" A moment passes before he shrugs. This only fuels your fire further. "Yeah, as if you're getting it wet now. Go home."

Tired features screw up in disgust. "Jesus, if I knew you were gonna be like this, I would have just gone home with those other girls."

A dagger straight into the chest. Your mind flicks back to the model who had told you he was cute, and your mouth feels suddenly dry as you remember her eyes trained in him. 

"Excuse me?"

"Those two girls. You're telling me you didn't notice how bad they fucking wanted me? They barely even looked at you the entire time we talked to them." Something about the way he speaks feels slightly boastful, like he enjoys the way his apparent popularity must hurt you. The memory of one girl giggling and twirling her hair flashes into your mind. "They were all fucking over me after you ran off, but I was too worried about you to even entertain it." 

While you can't prove whether what he's saying is even true, the idea of it alone makes your gut begin to twist. If you weren't already so pissed off, then the way he is trying to paint himself  as such a loyal, caring boyfriend would certainly do the trick. 

While he's never exactly been the most kind partner, it surprises you that he would start going quite as low as this. There's almost a smug energy surrounding him as he sees the way his words affect you. 

"Yeah, maybe you should have just fucked them." You spit the words out, fists balling up in an attempt to hold back what little bit of rage you can. He doesn't appear too pleased by the fact that his sob story hasn't worked. "Now go, and get the hell out of my apartment."

"For fucks sake, I didn't mean-"

"Just fucking go!"

If the neighbours can hear you, you certainly don't care. Even he looks shocked at the way you've just shouted. Both hands raise to his side in some form of surrender, eyes widen, and his face falls into something a little softer than before. 

"Fine..."

Slowly, he backs away, hands still raised as though waiting for more verbal bullets to fire in his direction. When eventually they don't come, he lowers his hands and pouts, head tilting downwards and eyes dropping to the floor. In his mind, the expression probably reflects a man deeply sorrowful - in yours, it just looks like an idiot who hasn't gotten his way. 

Though you're sure his expression is an attempt to garner some form of sympathy, it only ends up stirring something else. The roots of the previously planted seeds begin to spread through your thoughts, and the idea of making him show just how sorry he is becomes even more appealing. 

Although he's not yet forgiven, you decide you can make the most of his naturally needy nature before deciding whether his apologies can be accepted. 

When his hand reaches for the door, moving to turn the handle and exit as you've just instructed, you impulsively decide to give him one more chance. 

"Wait..." A heat creeps up your cheeks as you mull over how to do this, and how to even approach the concept in the first place. "You said you want to show that you're sorry?"

This perks him up. A smile tugs at his lips, clearly assuming that you've decided to finally let him get his dick wet after all, and he lets go of the handle to turn to face you now fully. It's unfortunate for him that his hopes are about to come crashing straight down. A nod, and a very low "Yeah?"

"I could forgive you..." Tensed up shoulders relax, and he takes a slow step towards you. Hungry eyes eye up your frame. "If you ask me to."

This stops him in his tracks. "I... did, though." 

"No. You asked to fuck me." 

His lips press tight, and you can almost see the gears turning behind his eyes as he tries to understand. "Okay... well, forgive me, then?"

Initially you don't respond. A glance down below his belt makes you aware his arousal hasn't yet died down, the outline of it blatantly obvious through the fabric of his pants, and when you meet his eyes he seems almost proud of it. Like he enjoys you knowing he's turned on, or just enjoys the fact that you even bothered to look down there in the first place.  

Anticipation sees his eyes brighten as you slowly step towards him. They're glued to you, trained on your every move, and he swallows hard as you get closer and closer. When you finally reach him, another glance down shows you that he's gotten even harder, and you're sure you even see it throbbing through his clothes. 

His breath catches in his throat when you press a palm gently to his bulge. 

"You want me to forgive you?" He nods so quickly you think his head may fall off, pride suddenly forgotten, eyes so full with desperation and a quiet plea for more. Pressing harder draws out a breath, and even harder again brings a whimper. Hips push into your touch, and for a moment you indulge his steady rhythm against your hand. "Beg for it."

His movements still.

"What?"

"Beg me to forgive you."

"That would be embarrassing."

Pulling your hand away and stepping back results in a very desperate whine from him, hips bucking forward once in an attempt to chase your touch and cease the absence of pressure. 

"Oh you care about being embarrassed? Did you not care about embarrassing me last night?"

"No, I- yes, of course I cared." He tries to close the gap between you but you widen it even more. "I'm sorry!"

"I don't believe you."

"Listen, I don't know what more I can do to convince you. What do you want me to do, get down on my fucking knees or some shit?"

This sparks an idea. Wetting your lips, you give him a small smile for the first time since last night. 

"Sure."

His face drops, clearly not expecting you to take him up on his unserious offer. Tired features twist into a confusion, mouth opening quickly before shutting closed even quicker, and something about seeing this change in him sparks a newfound confidence within you. 

"But I already said I'm sorry." 

"Show me that you are."

He seems desperate to find something else to say, any other possible way to express his apparent sorrow. Watching his panicked eyes flick down to the floor gives you a little ounce of hope, before a defeated look fills his face when he finally decides to do as you ask. 

Long legs lower his body to the hard floor slowly, as though waiting for you to change your mind the whole way down, and then a disappointment becomes clear in him when you don't. Once settled on his knees, tired eyes stare up at you in desperation from where he kneels at your feet. You're sure his hangover probably has his head throbbing, and you would be lying if you said he didn't deserve it. 

Moving closer towards him, you tilt your head as you admire the way he looks below you. There's something strangely enticing about seeing him complying to your request.  

"Bet you wish you had just fucked one of those other girls after all, huh?"

A large hand rises and cups the back of your thigh softly as he begins to beg. 

"Baby, please, I told you I'm sorry!" His face reddens as he speaks, eyes not quite meeting yours. Apologising so profusely clearly doesn't come naturally to him. 

Your hand reaches out, and he eagerly leans towards your touch instantly. Long, pointed nails lightly scratch the skin of his scalp, palm pressing to the top of his head while your fingers stretch out. 

"Are you really?"

The whimper that falls from him as your nails continue to move on his skin is a desperate one. Underneath your hand you feel him shudder. It's clear that he's feeling starved of your touch after spending the night alone. His eyes flutter closed, lips parted as you begin to slowly massage his scalp with your nails, and the hand on your leg grips it harder.

"Y-yes." Even with a stutter, he does sound a little more sure. "Just let it go, please."

Another soft whimper falls from him. It sparks a curiosity in you, wondering now just how much he really is enjoying this embarrassment. Glancing down into the gap between you offers up a very desperate scene - while he stares up at you, his free hand has moved to palm his still hard cock through his pants. His hips rock ever so slightly against the hand in an attempt to further his own pleasure.

The view from up here warms your belly even more than you ever could have expected it would. 

When your hand moves away from his scalp, his eyes shoot open, and a quiet whine of protest shows his disappointment. This is short lived once you move it to cup his cheek. The action draws out a quiet hum from him as he lets himself lean into your touch, large eyes staring up at you with a silent plea for forgiveness. 

Like this, he looks pretty. Almost innocent. Like butter wouldn't melt.

You don't allow him to enjoy this peaceful moment for too long. Pulling away, you step back to put a bit more space in between you, loosening your leg from his touch. He makes a move as though he may follow, but one swift icy glare his way tells him to stay right where he is.

Admiring him from just a couple of steps back allows you a moment to think over your next course of action, the options in mind starting to feel seemingly limitless. It also allows you to see just how painfully his erection now presses against the fabric of his pants. He has little shame in continuing his slow stroking, long fingers gliding over his clothed bulge, and a very strong desire fills his eyes while he stares up at you. 

The idea of giving into his want does pop up, though only briefly. The needy sight before you is new, but not a one you dislike, and you indulge in it like a voyeur for just a little longer than originally intended. It stirs an arousal deep down within your core. 

The thought of denying his desire only stirs it even more. 

"Does this turn you on?" A mocking sweetness oozes from your words. You see a brief flicker of uncertainty, then a quickly rising shame that makes his eyes dart down to the floor, as though he's just been snapped out of a trance. "To beg on your knees like this?"

He doesn't respond, though the way his jaw tenses and Adam's apple bobs indicates a very embarrassed yes. It's as though he doesn't quite want to admit his enjoyment. 

"I guess I'll accept your apology then."

Eyes snap up to finally meet yours, his entire face brightening with a mix of both shock and honest relief. For a moment he just stares, unsure of how to respond, but then he breaks out into a grin. "Really?"

A deliberately drawn out moment of contemplation only teases him even further. "Sure."

"Oh baby, you don't know how happy that makes me." He very quickly rises, coming to his feet while briefly rubbing his seemingly sore knees. An arm extends to finally touch you, aching for any part of your skin, but yet another step back sees you widening the distance even more. 

"I still want you to go, though."

What flickers in his eyes can only be described as genuine fire - having felt the relief of you finally lowering your guard and accepting his pleas, he now seems even more embarrassed than he was when he was begging at your feet. His eyes narrow as he stares straight down at you, piercing through your own with a very real anger. 

"Are you fucking kidding?" It's a hiss through gritted teeth. At this stage he's seemingly seething. 

"Yeah, I think it's better if you do." 

His mouth clamps shut, jaw tensing harshly while his face screws up. Large hands are thrown up in defeat before he spins, practically pulling the door off of its hinges with the force with which he opens it. There's not even a mutter of a goodbye before he slams it hard behind him. 

You'd be lying if you said you were very sorry to see him go. If anything, you're merely relieved to finally have the day back to yourself. 

A routine physical exam is just another part of every day in this lab. 

The same time, the same tests, the same staff. Each one always somehow colder and less of a friendly face than the last. None ever very interested in your attempts at conversation - being in the lab is lonely, spare for Henry. And as close as you are to him, being of a similar age and harnessing the same type of capabilities, you often think another friend may be nice. The nurses never prove to be any sort of suitable companions, though.

Until today. Today turns out to be the beginning of something different. 

At first, you take very little notice of the nurse who enters the room for your exams. Initially you don’t even bother to look up from the examination table to check who it is. You do notice that he’s tall and male, but you don’t get quite a good enough look at him at first to fully register him as being someone different. 

When you do, though, it’s a very pleasant surprise. 

Eyeing the way he pulls on his white gloves, you try to remember whether you’ve ever seen this one before. His neat hair and young complexion stand out, and his appearance is certainly different to any of the other nurses you normally see. You’re sure you would remember if someone like him had come to do the poking and prodding and testing before. 

It's been a very long time since you've seen anyone like him. 

This man is not unlike Dr Brenner in his features. He's got the height of the older man too, and it makes you wonder whether Brenner may have been handsome once just like this man before you. Maybe when he was younger, more inexperienced. Less desensitised. 

The nurse before you certainly is attractive. It's not often that you get to see someone who is, and especially someone not too far your senior. A curious gaze takes in his pale features, and you wonder if he even notices your prying stare with the way his own eyes are focused on his work. You can’t help but keep your watch trained on him throughout each test. The nurses around here never normally look like that.

Once finished, his large eyes scan the page on his clipboard, and he begins to scribble the routine notes of today’s procedures. Knowing he’s probably getting set to leave, you take the opportunity to begin an eager interrogation. 

"You're new."

The nurse barely registers this, absentmindedly nodding as he makes his notes. You continue to stare. Thin lips press firmly in a line as he writes, and your mind drifts away as you consider them. It's been some time since you've even seen a man with a face worth considering, and the boredom you now face as he ignores you allows your thoughts to wander. 

Your mind drifts to old things, almost forgotten things, far from the cold sterile room and back to a time before you ever knew of daily examinations and nurses. Memories of high school, schoolgirl crushes and whispers and giggles, things from before you became a spectacle to be gawked at. 

Or at least, before science had confirmed you to be an object to be gawked at. 

The new man in front of you doesn't strike you as the type who would have gone the path of medicine, so his purpose here intrigues you. He reminds you much more of the tall strong athletes who were worshipped by half of the school. The other half either loathed them, or envied them - and you normally fell somewhere between those two. Echoes of teasing start to fill your mind. The memory of being called a "freak" by people just like him bounce around it.  

Still, such a terrible association doesn't stop you from admiring him superficially. 

You pull your mind from old teenage angst and force it back into the room, suddenly aware that the man still has not spoken. It's not unusual for the staff to not engage in idle chat, though the lack of an answer frustrates you regardless given him being a newcomer. 

"You're new." You repeat yourself, louder and a little more coldly this time. The icy tone pulls his attention to you, locking eyes for the first time since he entered the room. For a moment he just stares, before blinking quickly and turning his head back to his work. He doesn't seem to have much interest in your attempt at conversation. 

"Yeah. I am."

"Haven't they got enough nurses already?"

The man shrugs, broad shoulders shifting under his white coat. He swallows as though trying to fight back a snappy answer. "Guess they needed another one."

The lack of clarity only bothers you further. Your eyes trail down his face, down to the crisp white fabric of his uniform, fitting nicely on his straight shoulders. Definitely those of a star footballer in his day. Curiously, your eyes travel further, and it's then that you take notice of a name tag on his chest. 

"Akers." You muse over the name for a moment, debating the sound of it in your head. "Funny name. Reminds me of acorns." His still stern face doesn't seem too amused by your comparison. Though stern, it's fresh, and it's youthful, much more youthful than many of the other staff - a lack of lines raises another question for you. "How old are you?"

The silence only grows inside the room. The only change is a slight tense in his jaw. By now, you're used to your nosiness pushing buttons, should you be in the mood to press them. Even Henry sometimes snaps back at your seemingly endless questions. 

You begin to watch the way Akers's hands write on his clipboard, and can't help but take notice of the long digits holding his pen. Long, slim, and presumably skilled pale digits. At some point, he brings one to his tongue to lightly wet it before flicking over to another page, and the action makes you shift where you sit. Wandering thoughts start up before you shake them away sternly. 

It seems a few minutes in the presence of a fresh face is enough to leave your skin feeling hot. Especially a very fresh, very appealing face. 

In an attempt to distract yourself from more inappropriate things, you turn your attention to the subject of his scribbling. 

"What are you writing about?"

The answer is very likely an obvious one, considering the question has come from its very subject. Still, there's a curious part of you that wants to know what exactly it is that these people observe about you. Would they take note of only your vitals, or is there some description of the interaction too?

You dread to think what his description of your inquisition may look like. Typically you would care very little for what may be a staff member's personal opinion, though the newcomer has you more conscious. In fact, you would much rather know what his description of your appearance may look like. 

This thought gets quickly thrown out of your head along with the others, and you instead turn your focus back to his work. At this point, you're not even sure what it is that he could possibly still be writing. There's still no answer while he seemingly scribbles a novel onto the paper. 

The prolonged wait for a response only irritates you further. 

"You look young. Are you even qualified?"

Yet another shrug, though this time the vow of silence is finally broken. "Qualified enough."

You're not sure what enough means. Maybe enough has some correlation to the bruising beginning on your arms due to his rough attempt at a blood test. A lack of experience resulting in a clumsy extraction. 

You're still too stuck on finding out the man's age to dwell too long on this. "You've got my age on file. Why can't I know yours?" 

"Not allowed to give it out."

You're not sure that's true. You make a mental note to ask Henry should you get the chance to. "Are you even much older than me?"

"Sure I am." 

"How much older?"

Another silence. Time to change the angle, or at least attempt to do so. A glance down his frame reminds you of another curiosity. 

"Are you a footballer?" 

To you, the question makes sense - he certainly has the appearance of one, or at least of someone who would have made a good one. To this young nurse, the random nature of the question makes him snort. 

"Maybe." Then, a pause in his writing. A tilt of his head. A slight tug to one corner of his mouth. His expression turns slightly brighter, like this is finally a topic he would consider to be of interest. For a brief moment he appears to be considering actually speaking more than just a few syllables, before ultimately deciding the topic is harmless enough. "Used to be, before the army. No time for it now."

You sit up a little straighter, suddenly even more interested in this new arrival. The army. All of the prying you've done, and a question about football is what makes him finally reveal a minuscule snippet of who he is. 

"You're in the army?" Then, yet another curiosity strikes your excited mind, though a much more morbid one. A one of a dark nature which you take little notice of, considering the way Dr Brenner's experiments have desensitised you, and the way Henry's own past has failed to faze you. "Have you killed people?"

Briefly warm features turn back to the old stern ones once again. One long deep sigh before he turns back to the novel you're sure he's writing with a mumble of irritated clarification. "I'm an army nurse."

"An army nurse." You repeat his words slowly, sounding out the title. The occupation isn't entirely familiar to you. "So, do you-"

"We're finished for today." His clipboard is flung down on the table with much more force than you hope he truly intended, and the abruptness makes you flinch. This fact doesn't seem to bother him - he barely registers the way in which he startled you, instead moving to the landline hanging on the wall, large hand grabbing it while a low voice informs the person on the other end that the session is over. 

Whatever army training he received clearly hadn't taught him manners. The coldness in his action only reminds you further of the footballer boys you knew back in high school, though you're given little time to dwell on this before receiving a routine escort out of the examination room. 

***

A number of weeks pass until you see the new nurse again. 

In that time, you find yourself mulling over that initial interaction. In quiet moments you replay it. The way he acted, ignoring you almost totally until something he deemed to be of actual interest came up. It’s ironic that even with his rudeness, he provided you with more conversation that you normally get from any of the other nurses in the space of a week. 

You also can’t help but think back to the way his strong shoulders filled out his lab coat nicely, or how his long digits moved as he worked, but you don’t allow yourself to dwell on these thoughts for too long. Both in order to avoid the way the memory heats your skin, and to not give any ammunition to any nosy mind readers around the lab. 

But the more you push it down, the worse it gets. Every day you hope he may be your nurse again, and every day brings a disappointment that makes you ache. It’s hard to tell whether it’s due to a nosy need for more information, or due to a festering crush. Something about his stature and stubborn nature has left you hungry for more. 

There’s a fizzy feeling in your chest when the day finally comes for him to examine you once again. It comes without warning, many weeks after your first meeting, and you can’t hide a small smile when he’s the one to walk in the door. The only acknowledgement he gives you is a thin-lipped smile, more in the general direction of the examination table you find yourself on rather than really at you, and even without reading any minds you can tell that it's forced. He only locks eyes with you briefly before turning straight to his work.

Clearly, he is in no mood for conversation again today. You, however, are, and intend to make it. 

"Nice to see you again."

You speak up while he gathers his equipment. White gloves are pulled on as he meets your words with nothing but a quiet mhmm, with no attempt to turn around and acknowledge you fully. You try to squash down the mild feeling of rejection. 

Last time, pushing and prodding eventually got you some snippets of information. It took some time for him to warm up. You hope to discover even more this time around. 

"Mr Army Nurse? Did you hear me?"

Silence. 

"Footballer. Are you going to speak to me today?"

Nothing. 

"Acorns?"

At this he whips around, one brow raised with his mouth shut tight. Cold eyes stare at you with an irritated glare. 

Clearly, he doesn't seem a fan of your very endearing nickname. 

A quiet huff sees him turning back to the table before him, checking his tools and preparing them for your tests. You watch as long fingers fiddle with the items, and with his back turned, you indulge yourself a little more in your ogling. Doing so leaves you far too distracted to notice him muttering some curse low under his breath. 

Judging from his mood, you wonder if he dreaded having to come to see you again. He seems to be gathering his items quickly as though wanting to get this done with. This thought doesn't halt your curiosity in the slightest. 

"You've been gone for weeks."

This stills his rushed movements. His back is still hunched while both hands now press flat down on the table, fingertips pushing firmly against the surface as though trying to press down his frustration. 

"I don't work here." He doesn't move from his position as he speaks, nor does he turn his head to address you. "Army just has me filling in."

Slowly, you nod. You suppose it makes sense. The lab has been increasingly busy, with some of the children in it becoming increasingly strong.

"But why this lab? It's so..." your words fail you, trailing off as you attempt to conjure them. Despite spending a good chunk of your life in the place, it's still difficult to even describe it or its purpose. 

A part of you hopes he may finish this sentence for you, though of course no continuation comes. Yet another long pause makes you aware that you'll have to do it yourself. 

"You know, since we're all... we all have..." his head tilts as you speak. A thought dawns on you, that maybe his position as a very occasional worker caused them to tell him very little of the building's purpose. "What is this lab for?"

"I don't know." His answer seems like a genuine one. Finally he turns to face you, though only to begin your physical checks. By the look of his tools he seems to be beginning with a blood test. "I get brought in to take blood and do exams. Basic nurse stuff. They don't tell me much."

Nodding slowly, you let this thought settle for a moment in your mind. The lab is clearly trying to hide its true purpose. You wonder why they haven’t told him a thing - you could control your powers just fine, holding age and experience on your side, but what if one of the children lashed out? The regular nurses know exactly what their powers are, and know that signing up for this work is dangerous. The poor army nurse was forced into this place without even a proper warning against its residents.  

You decide that’s not something for you to get bogged down about, though the thought unsettles you all the same. 

The feeling of cold gloves on your forearm brings you back into the room. You watch as he tries to find the right spot, long fingers trailing along your skin a few times in an attempt to find the vein, though it takes him far longer than it should. There’s something oddly endearing about his inability to manage what you feel should be basic. At this point, having seen the procedure done so many times, you reckon you could conduct your own blood tests if you had to. 

After a minute of pale digits tapping along your skin, you decide it may be best to speak up before he begins his clueless stabbing.

"This," you point to a spot on your forearm that you now know off by heart. "Is where they normally put it. You took a while to find it last time."

A low unintelligible grumble is all you hear as he starts prodding at your arm again. It's hard to say how many needles you've had jabbed into your skin at this point. Some of the staff are gentle, with delicate, skilled hands and quick, painless insertions. The rest are rough and prod at your skin like a pin cushion. 

Akers seemed much more like the latter during his last attempt to draw blood. You don’t intend to be left with quite as many bruises this time. 

Sure enough, he finds the vein much easier after forgoing his pride in order to take your instruction. 

“Have you done many blood tests before?”

It strikes you that it may sound rude to ask this, but it’s a very genuine curiosity. You’re not sure what training goes into becoming a nurse, less sure of what goes into becoming an army one, and even less so of what exactly is the difference. 

This finally garners an answer, although a very defensive one. “Sure I have.”

You bite back a smart remark about how you find that hard to believe. A part of you also considers the possibility of offering an apology for your assumption, though you’re not sure it’s something he would hold much regard for. 

Instead, you opt to keep the questions flowing as he continues to draw your blood. 

“If you’re in the army, then why are you… here?”

He stays seated where he is, large body dwarfing the small stool he’s found himself perched on, and meets your eyes with a raised brow and a shrug. “Told you. Don’t know.”

“No, I mean… why aren’t you out somewhere else. Somewhere, I don’t know…”

“Somewhere where there’s a fight?”

You nod, and he scoffs. 

“Wish I knew.” It’s a quiet mumble. You take note of the spite in his words. This certainly doesn’t seem to be the type of place he had dreamed of ending up. 

“They don’t tell you why they put you here?” A short shake of his head. Frowning, you tilt your own. "Is this what you really want to do?" 

This time, there's a pause in his movements. His eyes flick up to yours before he forces them straight back down to the task at hand, removing the needle and dabbing at the dot of blood that forms on your skin. He busies himself with sorting a vial. 

You don't think he intends to respond for a moment, until another shake of his head comes with a very quiet "no". This hesitation intrigues you, and makes you wonder whether you may have stabbed a sore spot. 

"What do you want to do?"

His brows pull together tightly in the silence that follows. His reluctance to provide any form of an answer only makes you more curious. 

Though you feel as though you may as well be talking to the wall, you continue. 

"Do you want to fight? In the army?"

This is met with a shrug. In the way his shoulders shift, you sense he is trying to act more nonchalant than he feels. Finally he speaks. 

"Wouldn't mind it."

Why he would even want to fight is something you don't understand. 

You suppose he has the right personality for it - quiet and seemingly stubborn. Someone who even an expert would find it difficult to get any form of information out of. 

With that and the way he takes blood tests as though he's stabbing a fearsome foe, you think maybe the front lines may be the very place for him after all. More suited to such rough and careless fingers. 

"You would make a good soldier. Very stern. Very..." He raises a brow as you ponder your next words. Moving closer, his hand presses to your arm again when he notices another drop of blood form, dabbing your gradually heating skin gently. Allowing your eyes to lower and watch him work forces you to take a deep breath before you speak. Even if the digits are concealed by his gloves. "Very strong."

A much more genuine smile pulls at his features now. It's one that you decide suits him. Just as was the case the last time you saw him, it seems that the easiest conversations to have with him are the ones based on his interests. 

They make him seem just the slightest bit more human. 

The smile is slightly wider when you look up at him again. 

"You think so?" 

"Definitely. That's why I asked you about football. You just look like someone who might play, because... well, you look very strong."

The smile now spreading definitely is a real one. This time, he doesn't initially respond, though seemingly not out of annoyance - it appears to be more to do with the red tint slowly starting to dust his cheeks. It seems as though your compliments have been the hammer to finally break through one of his rock hard layers. 

“Thanks. You’re very…” his eyes scan your face, your plain clothes, your buzzed hair. Searching for any unique feature he could mention. He comes up with none. “Very chatty.”

The laugh that bursts out of you is loud. At least this is one statement you know to be true. 

The rest of the conversation fizzles out much more naturally than your last one. This time, he doesn’t slam any clipboards down. He doesn’t come close to pulling the phone off of the wall in his rush to leave the room as he had done before. If anything, he moves more slowly, seemingly enjoying whatever other idle chit chat you use to fill the time at the end of the examination, as though the conversation has helped to get something off of his chest which had been mildly festering in it. 

Though unsure if it could just be down to your imagination, you think you notice that he may even be writing his notes just the slightest bit slower this time around. A hopeful part of you thinks that today he may have even enjoyed himself. 

***

The final time you meet this nurse, he smiles just the slightest bit more warmly when he enters the sterile room. It’s better than his last greeting, and makes you feel more assured in his presence. The routine remains the same: preparing equipment, getting his gloves on, taking your bloods. All of it soundtracked by another series of questions from you. 

This time, however, there's a very important piece of information that he decides to offer up without any push. With the rest of the conversation consisting of nothing more notable, he seems to decide to keep the biggest piece of information until last. 

"Probably not gonna be back here again. They're talking about sending me to Nam soon."

While you’re not sure what Nam is, the idea of him not coming back twists something deep in your stomach, disappointment coursing through it in the wake of what had been a very pleasant interaction. Contrastingly, the relief in him as he says this is hard to miss, as though speaking it aloud has helped to make it feel real. Whatever Nam is, it seems to be something worth getting excited about. 

He's writing slowly on his clipboard when you respond. "Nam?"

"Yeah? Nam." Akers looks at you as though he thinks you may be stupid, as though trying to understand how you could possibly not understand this term. Then after a moment, he registers your confusion. It seems he's forgotten where you've spent the last number of years, or perhaps it's his lack of awareness of the truth in your situation. "Vietnam. With everything going on, they should have sent me over by now."

It takes you a moment to process what he’s saying, but when you do you feel your heart sink down through your chest. It drops down to join a pit growing in your stomach. "So you're... going? Like, for good?"

Akers nods slowly, signing off the last of his notes and placing his clipboard down softly. You recognise this as a sign that the session is about to end.

A smirk on his lips gives you the feeling he may not be quite as disappointed in his departure as you are.  "Not gonna miss me, are you?”

The question catches you slightly off guard, especially with the teasing tone and the very slight suggestion sitting somewhere in it, and you shift where you are as you consider it. 

Would he find it strange if you did?

It’s not as though you’ve known him for very long, though in the time that you have, he has only just started to seem like potential good company. Probing him with your light hearted interrogations have proven to be a far more entertaining use of your time than the usual silence experienced during these examinations. 

Swallowing hard squashes down your disappointment only slightly. Certainly not enough to hide it altogether. Regardless, you do your best to keep your response light hearted, not wanting to show him how you had only just started to feel. 

"I won't miss the bruising."

Akers enjoys this answer. There’s a relief in knowing your false demeanor has been believed. A cheerful grin spreads on his face that you had not yet gotten to see, and by the sounds of it, may not see again. 

After this, the conversation fizzles out as it usually does, though it takes much more out of you to force an interest in silly chat. The disappointment still lingers through it all while the idea of him leaving dwells on your mind. The more you process his departure, the worse the inevitably of it feels. 

This meeting finishes with a promise that he’ll be back, hopefully soon, and that you may see him again before he gets sent to Nam. 

But, of course, you never do. 

***

Hawkins, November 1986

It’s been a very long time since you’ve set foot on that old lab, and even longer since you’ve seen the handsome army nurse. 

Henry has been gone for years at this point. You had tried to lay low and move on, get far away from the town you were once seen as a freak in, and push on to try to live with some semblance of normality. For a while it was nice - but the guilt of knowing Henry was out there somewhere had slowly eaten you over time. Endless possibilities of where the hell he may have ended up often swirled in your mind.  

As soon as you heard of the murders in Hawkins, you knew it was him, and you knew you had no choice but to go back there. 

Getting into the town had been difficult, taking both a physical and mental toll on your body and mind. Avoiding the omnipresent military had been tricky, especially with them seemingly occupying every corner you turned, but you managed to move past their barricades eventually. That had almost been the easy part in comparison to having to see this town once again. The whole place holds memories - high school problems and teenage angst, as well as the darker side of your experiments and testing.

Still, as much as it hurt to see this place again, you had forced yourself to move past it in your search for your very strong brother. And to find him, you had to find the one person you knew for sure would still be left around. 

Finding El and her friends was certainly a help in your hunt for Henry. It didn’t even take very long to do so with your powers, seeing her and tracking her down easily. 

She knew you - or at the very least, recognised you from the lab - and having someone who understood her powers in the way that you did had helped you to gain the whole group’s trust quicker than you expected. Falling in with their plans and gathering information they already held was a blessing for your search. 

Without them, there was no way you could have ever ended up on the right track alone. They knew all about the military’s schedules, their routes and routines, and they knew how to get into the dank dark place where they were sure they would find Henry. 

Even if that wasn’t exactly what they called him. 

They had a much better idea of how to navigate the horrid place than you could ever figure out alone. Years of experience sat pricelessly on their side. They know where to go, and the best ways to get there. You’re lucky one day to overhear them talking about how “he” could be in the military base, and from then on you set it as your main destination. Your primary objective, to find your way there with or without the rest of the crew. 

One day, you finally find your chance to break away from their plans. To separate yourself from the group without giving any indication of your direction. You don’t even fully remember what your instruction from them had been, or why you had even come down here in the first place on this day, but once you come close to that military base you decide that these facts don’t matter. 

A part of you felt some slight guilt in leaving them all in order to head out towards the base alone, though you’re sure they’ll survive without you. They have so far. The guilt feels a little less heavy when you remind yourself of your much more important task, and especially when you think of the person you’re coming closer to finding. 

With the group long behind you, you set your sights on the only thing that currently matters, and weave your way through the shadowed woods on your route. Aching feet navigate carefully over the uneven ground, eyes trained on the military base straight ahead.

All of the years of wishing and wondering have led up to this. The closer you get, the more your heart thumps, until excitement sees anxious hands fiddling with the sleeves of your shirt. Butterflies turn into wasps in your stomach as the reality gradually dawns on you. Now that you’re this close to the base, this close to finding him, you become quickly aware that there may soon be no turning back. 

Sharp eyes remain vigilant as you near the perimeter. You scan around, searching for any way in you could possibly manage to use, and for any possible blind spot to the multitude of military lurking around. To your disappointment, you seem to find none, and for a moment you just stay where you are and contemplate your next move. 

From this far back, you think you may be safe from their view - until a shout in the darkness makes it clear that your luck has finally run out. 

"Hey!"

It feels like the wind is knocked out of you at the realisation that you've been spotted. Your head spins and lands on the figure of a tall soldier in the distance, making his way to you from the direction of the base. 

Just the sight of him, gun in hand, is enough to send you running. 

The uneven ground had been much easier to traverse at a steady stroll. At this flat out sprint, panicked feet covering as much ground as they possibly can, you run the very real risk of catching your foot and falling like easy prey. The idea of allowing yourself to be so easily caught after coming this far pushes some extra force through your already tired limbs. 

This doesn’t matter, though. Whether you trip up or not, long legs close the gap much faster than yours could ever widen it. 

Reaching a thicker section of the woods refuels your hope, if only slightly. Twisting in between thick trees and heavy branches makes you think that you may have a good chance to finally lose him, if you could only break his sight. Looking back for only a moment is enough to know that he flickers in and out of view while trying to traverse this heavy forest, and you wonder if you could use those brief gaps in vision to your advantage. 

If you don’t find a way to lose him now, you don’t think you ever will. 

Ducking out of view, you scramble to find the nearest place possible to hide. Tucking in behind a fallen tree trunk is your only viable option, and you hope he’ll run straight past and keep going. With any luck, it will at least stall his hunt, if only for a few seconds. 

The bang of thunder overhead does very little to calm your nerves, tired body only trembling more with every clap. For a moment you wonder if your plan has worked, until the sound of the damp ground underfoot somehow nearby lets you know that he's still close. Holding your breath proves hard after the chase. 

Just as you begin to think it may finally be time to make an escape - the very soldier you've been avoiding steps straight into view. 

And when he does, you don't believe it. 

At first you think the exhaustion has finally gotten to your head, but it only takes a look to know this is real. 

It's him. Instantly recognisable, even after time has weathered him, though seemingly only slightly. 

The army nurse. The footballer. 

Akers. 

A flashlight in your face leaves you blinded for a moment, shaking hands shooting up to shield your eyes from the intrusive light. 

You hope he won't know you. That he won't recognise you now that your hair has grown and your skin has aged. 

If only you could be so lucky. 

You shrink, body curling around itself in a pointless attempt to hide from his ice cold stare. His expression shifts as his eyes take you in - moving between confusion, accusation, and disbelief, but never settling on just one. 

Footsteps begin to approach from somewhere behind him, alerting you to the fact that he's absolutely not alone. "Find anything, lieutenant?"

Lieutenant? Certainly sounds better than army nurse, maybe even better than Acorns. Certainly also sounds as though he finally got to be a soldier after all. 

Sounds even more like he is someone you should have done a much better job of avoiding out here. 

The pause that follows the other soldier's call feels like an eternity - an infinite length of time spent staring back up at the man before you. For a moment, you wonder if he'll even respond. He never did like to answer your questions - maybe he won't answer this one. A stupidly hopeful part of you wonders if he may tell them he found nothing, and head back on his way. 

"Found something alright..." it's barely above a whisper. Your heart still drops though you know they can't hear him. You're not sure whether he's speaking to himself, or to you, knowing that the other soldiers are too far behind to hear his murmur. An even lower tone of what sounds more like a growl coming from the man before you runs a chill down your spine. "A nosy little shit."

There's no gentleness in the way he grabs you - not that he ever had a softness to him in the first place. A rough hand hoists you straight up onto your feet, pulling you after him and towards the men who had followed behind. 

The grip his large hand holds on your arm is crushing. You're sure you'll be left with bruises just as you were by him in the past, though this time without any needles needed.

"Shoulda known back then you were nothing but a freak," his words are venom through gritted teeth, and they sting like a bite. The horrible name brings back awful memories, and your stomach turns as he continues. “Was too young and dumb to know any better. No wonder you were so fucking nosy."

It’s not very often that you find yourself speechless, though this has left you truly stumped. You're not even sure where to start with a response. He probably won’t even listen if you give one. 

Before you can even get a word in edgeways, Akers barks to the nearest soldier. The subject makes your heart drop. 

Martin has been working far harder than usual in recent weeks. 

Even when not in the lab, late nights and long hours spent inside his study seem to have become the norm. His side of the bed feels far icier to you every evening without him in it. Something in his work is gradually getting to him, and it’s becoming more evident as the time goes by. You can’t even remember the last time you enjoyed a quiet night with him, or last felt his loving hands against your skin. 

Tonight, you hope to change that. 

A pretty dress you rarely wear is the first thing you pull out to help do that. A light one normally saved for special occasions. It’s joined by some makeup with his favourite shade of red lip, and a little curl in your hair that makes it bounce as you move. Everything you know that he normally loves. 

It’s already late by the time you’ve put yourself together, and your husband still hasn’t risen from his desk. One last check in the bathroom mirror sees you heading out of the room towards his study, practicing a very slight sway in your hips along the way. 

When you reach his study you stand in the doorway for a moment, leaning against the frame while you wait for his attention to turn your way, and you anticipate his reaction anxiously. You hope he’ll like the effort you’ve made for him. It becomes clear very quickly that he’s far too invested in whatever he’s doing to even look up at you, so you opt instead to slowly move around behind him.

Not once does he look up the entire time you make your way over. 

You can see his paperwork clearer while you stand at his back. Whatever he’s working on, his scribbles make very little sense from where you are. With the line of work he’s in you’re sure they would make even less sense close up. You don’t bother to concern yourself for too long with it. Eager hands come up to rub his stiff shoulders, though he doesn’t take much notice of them doing so. You expect his muscles to relax under your touch - instead, they just tighten. 

“You’re working so hard, dear…” Your voice is low as you continue your gentle massage. He’s still wearing his shirt, though his waistcoat is unbuttoned and jacket discarded, and the slightly looser look has you desperate to get him feeling far more comfortable. “Don’t you want to come to bed?”

It takes him a second to even register your question, and another to respond. “Sure. In a minute.”

The short response catches you slightly off guard. It seems you’ll have to turn up the effort. 

"Martin," your tired voice sounds as silky as you can make it. You let your hands slide slowly over his shoulders, gradually down his front and under his navy waistcoat, feeling his muscles tense under your touch. His skin feels warm even through his white shirt. "Come to bed, honey."

The doctor pays you very little mind. You take notice of his half eaten plate of dinner pushed aside on his desk. Earlier, he had reassured you that he would finish it while he worked. That had meant another dinner spent alone at the dining table for you, with every one feeling even lonelier than the last. Whatever he's working on, it must be important, though you know this late work will have him exhausted in the morning. 

Soft hands rubbing circles over his shirt still do nothing to stir him even as time passes by. A part of you begins to wonder how long you should continue until it would be an appropriate time to give up. If he would only turn around, he would see the actual effort you had made for him. The way you had done up your hair, and put on the exact lipstick you knew he would like. Even your little dress would surely raise his brow, and with any luck, something else. 

It becomes clear that just words and gentle hands won’t do very much to pull him from his current focused state. Looking to snap him out of this trance, you move to press your lips slowly to his cheek, then his jaw, until coming to whisper into his ear. "It's so late darling. Come on, come to-"

"I told you to give me a minute." There’s no hint of jest in his spat out words. His muscles tense harder underneath your fingers. Martin breaths deeply, then lets out a very sharp sigh, as though his order wasn’t enough to convey his mood. Just to drive his point further, he raises one hand in a gesture of dismissal. “Go on. I’ll join you when I’m done.”

When I’m done. In Martin’s world, that could be hours. Operating on his own time and expecting you to do the same, as though he sometimes forgets that the whole planet isn’t living in his world. 

It takes you a moment to move yourself away. Uncertain hands eventually leave his hard chest awkwardly, and you step back to stand up straight. There’s a very familiar defeated feeling in your chest, knowing it’s time to retire to bed for another night without your strangely distant husband. 

When on earth did he grow this frigid?

You’re not even sure whether you should bother to say something in response to his snapping, so you don’t. You just huff and turn on your heel to go to bed - not because you’ve been told to, but because you’re no longer bothered to wait up for him. If he was bothered enough to pay you any mind, he may even notice the clack of your heels against the hard floor. When in a good mood he normally loves to see you wear them. 

The bedroom feels much colder when you eventually reach it. You give a quick comb through your hair before changing out of your clothes. Your pretty dress gets left out on purpose, hanging up where you know he’ll see it to ensure he knows you had worn it. The heels he likes you to wear get left on the floor directly under it. You don’t even bother to wash off your makeup, though you now regret even having bothered to do it.  

If he can’t see you all done up for him, then you may as well make sure he knows exactly what he missed. 

***

The birds are softly chirping outside the window by the time you feel the bed dip. The sun hasn’t quite peeked through the curtains yet, despite it already threatening to rise outside. Martin sighs heavily as he sits. Lately it feels as though he is weighed down by some unspoken burden. At this early hour, you can’t bring yourself to care enough to ask what it is. With your back facing him, you keep your eyes shut tight and try to pretend to not even register his presence. 

You hear him kick off his shoes, before slowly hanging his clothes. There’s a quietness to his movements. A deliberate one, as though he doesn’t want to wake you. Oh, how considerate. 

When he eventually peels back the covers to join you underneath them, you don’t even bother to turn and greet him. 

“Sorry, sweetheart…” the words are whispered against your ear, while a long arm comes around to pull you into his chest. With your back pressed against it you can feel his skin bare. “Things are just… I’m just very busy.”

His apology is met with silence. After enough time has passed without a response, he just pulls you in closer. Now that your back is flush against him, your cheeks can’t help but grow a little hot. His slender arm wraps tighter around your middle. 

“I know you’re awake. I’m here now, you don’t have to pretend you can’t hear me.” Though his words should seem caring, there’s an edge to them that you can’t quite pinpoint. It’s not an angry one, nor is it icy. More of a slightly snarky tone woven through them. After a few moments of continued silence, Martin sighs quietly, and presses a soft kiss to your cheek. His next words are spoken low and deep against your skin. “I saw your pretty dress hanging up. Were you wearing that for me?” 

The feeling of his lips against you make you shiver, and you try hard to ignore a suddenly brewing arousal beginning to claw through your exhaustion. It’s been some time since you were wrapped up like this. Silently, you nod. At least he notices the dress now. Even if it is a few hours too late. 

Martin pushes himself up on an elbow, before pulling you to lay your head back flat against the pillow and look up at him. You can just about make out his features in the gradually brightening room. Even in the dimness, it’s easy to tell that something is troubling him, more so than usual. You’re sure the lines on his face have only deepened in recent weeks. 

“Did your makeup too.” His observation is met with the same heavy silence. The arm around you moves, the hand coming up to rest gently on your cheek. The cold metal of his wedding ring stings on your skin. A reminder of the love and union you’re supposed to be experiencing. 

At this point, it feels more like his work is the thing he should have married. He’s been far more tied to it recently than he has been to you. 

“You made such an effort for me.” He traces your faded red lips with his thumb. Tired eyes remain stuck on them for a moment, before flicking back up to stare into your own. His voice reduces to a whisper. “I’m a fool to disregard you, dear.”

Swallowing hard, you tear your eyes away from his own to stare past him at the ceiling. Looking too long into his blue eyes may sway you to melt underneath him, but it’s late, and you want him to know the opportunity is long gone. 

Sensing your everlasting reluctance, Martin offers you a smile in another attempt to warm your cold shoulder. “You look lovely. Really. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”

You didn’t even notice earlier. Letting out a small sigh, you move away to turn back onto your side, but Martin’s hand remains on your face and pulls you back to look at him again. The pads of his long fingers press harder into your cheek. Not harshly, or painfully, but just enough to make you aware that he wants you attention. 

“Haven’t had any time with you in so long.” Martin leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, then your cheek. Then a peck to your lips that you don’t quite return. “I’ve been so caught up in work…” His lips graze against yours while he speaks in a mumble. A shift in his hips makes you aware that he’s half hard already. The feeling takes you by surprise. “It’s been so long since we-“

“Go to sleep, Martin. It’s late.” Or early, you think, hearing the birds singing louder outside. 

You’re tempted to bite back and tell him that whatever he’s after, he would have gotten it hours ago had he only followed you to bed when you asked. Though the feeling of his body does stir a small something deep inside you, you ignore it in favour of holding your ground. You’re too far past the point of wanting to try to keep him happy tonight. Had he rubbed against you like this all those hours ago, or muttered sweet words and kissed your skin as he does right now, then maybe your reaction would have been different. 

“So you can speak.” His sarcasm only further irritates you, and you let the emotion show on your face in a glare. He tilts his head at your very clear annoyance and presses his fingers into your skin slightly harder. “Here I was, worried the cat had gotten your tongue.”

One of your hands comes up to swiftly pull his own from your face, before you finally turn to lay over on your side again. You ignore the sudden emptiness that you now feel without his touch. A part of you expects him to reach for you, to pull you up against him or to pull you onto your back again, but his body is instead frozen just behind you. 

“Goodnight, Martin.”

A few moments pass before he shifts just slightly. It’s clear that he’s thinking over his next move, thinking of any other words or ways to loosen your firm stance. You remain where you are, stiff and rigid while you wait for him to move away. Eventually he decides to give up on his affectionate act, and shuffles to the other side of the bed where he turns his body away from you with a huff. The movement reminds you of a toddler not getting his way. 

“Goodnight.”

He barely whispers it, but you hear it very clearly in the quiet room. The cold distance in the bed feels like a mile now that he’s created it. Wrapping the blanket tighter around you doesn’t do much to subdue the shiver that has suddenly come over you, and it does even less to replace the feeling of him pressed against your back. 

Maybe by morning things will feel a little better, or you’ll feel like your suddenly withdrawn husband really does care for you for a change. Just like he had done before. 

Finding yourself in Robert’s arms, tangled up as you chased release in his lap had served as a very effective distraction to everything going on around you. Unfortunately, it had proven to be an extremely short-lived one. 

Once recovered from his high, it didn’t take long for the lieutenant to put his mind straight back onto business. You barely had yourself dressed when he took the lead in moving out of the trailer, gesturing for you to follow along. A scramble to get yourself covered saw you running along to find his side, not forgetting to pick up Hop’s gifted pistol before you left. 

Though you were unsure where Hop and El were headed, Robert seemed to know all too well. The things El had seen in his head seemed to have been enough for him to deduce their destination. At first, it was like following a bloodhound after a scent - he knew exactly the way to go without so much as a look around. It made you wonder just how much time he had spent down here.  

Along the way, you had hoped your influence would change his tired mind. His tired, and admittedly satisfied mind. Foolishly so, you had made some attempt at reasoning, huffing out words to try to sway him from his mission while attempting to keep up with his much longer stride. Robert didn’t seem to need to watch his footing as much as you did. His thick boots stomped confidently on the uneven ground. 

There had been some hesitation when you had tried to change his mind. Some consideration. A mull over your words as you had asked him to leave everyone be, and in some moments you became hopeful that his mind wouldn’t circle back once again to what seemed to be the most important thing in it. It didn’t take long, however, to discover just how headstrong Robert really was, and there seemed to be no convincing him no matter what you did. 

A mild feeling of potentially being used began to niggle in the back of your head, though focusing on not tripping yourself up on the unfamiliar ground helped somewhat to ignore it. It hurt, knowing that even wrapping yourself in his arms wasn’t enough to influence him. The feeling of his spend still dripping from your heat while striding by his side only drove this painful point home further. 

Once you reached the outskirts of your destination, a new anxiety rose from within you. An even newer uncertainty than the one already festering. A fear of not knowing what was going to happen now that you would return to your opposing sides. 

“Don’t think your friends will be happy to see you with me. Not sure mine would be either.” Robert had muttered the very obvious, stopping to turn to you once the lab was in view. “I don’t want to leave you, but… I can’t bring you in there with me. Find somewhere safe, and hide. I’ll try to find you as soon as I can.”

At least his words were some indication that there was more than just his mission on his mind. 

You wondered if the promise was one he was sure he could keep, or a one he was only hoping he could. Like the promise he made about coming back to your apartment. A hard swallow and a nod had confirmed your hesitant agreement, while nerves made your hand wrap tighter around the pistol still in it.

After that, a commotion coming from the base was enough to pull him straight back into his work once again. Robert pulled you in for a very rushed embrace before a quick apology and a reminder to hide. That was the last you heard from him before he took off running. 

Clearly, he had gotten to the rank of lieutenant for many reasons. Determination certainly seemed to be one of them. Distractions didn’t seem to have too heavy of an influence, and you wondered if his training included wearing blinkers to focus on his work when it came to avoiding any love interests. 

***

After that, the last time you saw Robert was while he was curled up on the floor of Kay’s lab. Discarded to the ground after Hop had ultimately managed to best him. 

You shouldn’t have been inside of the lab in the first place, but you’d be damned if you were going to wait outside like a spare tool while the others all worked. Despite heavy fear, a potentially overconfident part of you decided to defy Robert’s orders, finding your way in behind him rather than hiding. 

Sneaking into the lab had been much easier than it should have been.

With an indecisive mind you watched Robert enter the base through the side gate, before impulse decided to follow him. You watched his figure rush further away until you felt he was far enough, before slipping in through the very same entrance. Slipping in the gate just before it shut had almost sent you to a heart attack. You don’t know what he may have done or said if he had seen you. 

You were thankful that every soldier was too preoccupied to notice your attempt at getting through the base - they appeared to be too concerned with Robert’s return, or too busy with whatever commotion was seemingly going on inside. By the fact that this seemed to be El and Hop’s location, you had a feeling that the source of the commotion was a familiar one to you. 

The emptiness only made the place seem more eerie, and the walk inside felt more creepy than it did safe. The pistol Hop had left you with had remained ready in your hand the whole way, though you felt a relief in having not needed it. 

By the time you had made it into the lab, it was clear that Hop and Robert had already found each other. They were far too busy throwing each other around the room to even notice you, and the dark lighting certainly helped. Ducking out of sight had made you feel like a coward, though there was very little else you could do. Getting in between them would have been suicide. 

Desperation to help had almost crippled you. A guilty need to help Robert, rather than the very people whose side you should be on, though you knew that doing so would turn Hop and El against you instantly. The fight was one you had tried to avoid seeing, busying yourself with staying hidden and staring at the wall until they may need you, though the scene is still burned into your memory all the same. Robert’s screams of pain still echo in your ears. The sizzle of his skin after Hop hit him with god knows what remains ingrained in your mind, and you wonder if you’ll ever forget those sounds. 

Robert had survived the brawl, sure - and though this should be a relief, this fact only leaves you more on edge. Knowing now that his sole mission is to actively hunt the very people you’ve found yourself in the company of is a fact you still can't seem to get a hold of. 

You had only gotten one brief look at his unmoving figure before the rest had whisked you straight out of the lab. There was very little time to explain how you had managed to get to the lab, especially while avoiding mentioning Robert being the one to get you there, and even less time for Hop and El to explain the brand new addition of Kali. A brief introduction was all they managed before the four of you found yourselves speeding out of there. 

So much of the following hours turned into a mixed up blur. Ending up in a dirty old church, finding your way out of the upside down, and reuniting with the others - it should have left you filled with relief. Instead, your mind couldn’t get out of the confusion and uncertainty it still seemed to be overflowing with. There was only one person consistently filling it. 

Even now hours later, as you move with Hop, El and Kali through the halls of the old Hawkins lab, a knot in your stomach twists and turns relentlessly. Knowing that Robert is actively hunting your friends was already upsetting. Knowing that he is likely very actively hunting you now too, now that you are guilty by association, unsettles you even further. When his hands had been all over you earlier, this had not exactly been how you had expected the rest of your day to go. Was it even still the same day? You’re already far too worked up and exhausted to even know. 

Through it all, you still can’t quite bring yourself to stop feeling something for him. You wish that you could understand why. Maybe the memory of him being inside of you only hours ago had some part to play in this, or the fading smell of him still lingering on your skin. 

Already pounding, your aching mind can’t help but get stuck on him. It has been since you met him. Now, the warm thoughts are replaced, though not yet fully disappeared. This constant paranoia of knowing he may be on his hunt has you looking over your shoulder as you move through the old lab. Hopper is leading the way to the room where you’ll apparently find a tank for El. Though no one seems to be around, there’s a feeling of being watched that you can’t quite shake no matter how hard you try, or how much you attempt to distract yourself. 

***

The moment Murray had alerted you all to the military’s arrival, your heart had sank. Thoughts of how they had found you all, and who had found you all, had swirled around your mind. It had taken a lot of energy to resist the urge to grab a hold of the walkie talkie and ask Murray if he was there. Though Murray wouldn’t even know who exactly he was. 

Before Murray’s announcement and right after getting out of the tank, El had looked at you strangely. Like she had found out something new. A tilt of her head and a tightly knitted brow had suggested some suspicion. It had worried you. Before the crackle of the walkie talkie coming to life, there had been a moment where you were sure she was going to ask you something, though the question was forcibly put straight on hold. 

Even as you move quickly now through the halls, whenever you catch her eye, she still stares at you strangely. Only after a while do you notice that Kali is beginning to look at you the same. 

It unsettles you. What had she seen inside that tank? Out of everyone, there was very little about you that could have been of any interest to this entire mission. You’ve had very little part in all of this. None of your actions, nor your memories could possibly be of any slight interest to her, and they would surely be of even less interest to Kali. 

One thing does suddenly pop out in your thinking, and the idea only worries you further. Could she have seen your memories of Robert?

You almost stop dead when that realisation hits. What if she had snooped around your head the same way she had done to his?

There’s no time to dwell on any of this, and even less time to make sense of it. Hopper leads the way as soldiers' orders begin to echo off of the white covered walls of the lab. You can hear them somewhere overhead, on one of the many floors above you, though you wish you couldn't. All you can do is follow Hop and hope you don't meet them. 

Through the various calls from the floor above, Robert's voice stands out amongst the many. There's no mistaking it. The voice that had whispered sweet promises to you only hours ago. Would he have ever bothered to keep them? Right now, you don't know. You start to think not. Maybe you would still be hiding in those woods, awaiting his return if you hadn’t disobeyed him. Your nails dig into your palms as you move, jaw tightening as you attempt to force yourself to ignore this newly uncertain feeling. To ignore him.

Tired feet continue to run while your exhausted mind remains stuck on him. There’s some strange form of irony you can’t help but find in it all. Enough so that if your life wasn’t very possibly on the line in this moment, you may even consider it funny. Something cruelly ironic about returning to the town you had run away from in the past, only to find yourself very literally running from a man you had found in it, and had only just started to trust. 

This thought is quickly forgotten as you find your feet tripping while you run, and have to straighten yourself so as to not tumble. A shaky breath pushes you on, and you continue sprinting through the halls. 

Just as Hop leads you all up one staircase, the shine of flashlights from the floor above sends you all spinning back around in the other direction. Down another hallway, yet another new one, another covered in that bright white shit that every room is somehow plastered with. You don't even know what it is - in your time on earth and very limited time in the upside down, you've never seen a material like it. The air in here feels thicker, somehow heavier than before as it enters your lungs, though you’re sure it’s only your own terrified mind causing it to feel that way. 

Rushed steps bring the four of you barely a couple of feet down this hall before the sounds of El and Kali in agony suddenly stop you in your tracks. Spinning around, you see them both dropping down, hunched on the floor, hands flat against either side of their heads in some attempt to block out that painful noise. The soldiers could be on top of you all at any moment - the thought of getting caught out right now sends your system into a panic, and you swallow hard as your nails just dig in harder to your palms. 

It feels useless, you feel useless, unable to do anything but just stand and stare, until Hop pipes up. 

"We need to go- I'll take El, come on." His order is a clear one. Within a second, Hop throws El right over his shoulder as if the action costs him nothing. There's an expectancy in his gaze, and a reluctance in yours. You can't carry anyone as easily as that. 

"But Hop, I can't- she can't walk, I can't carry-" 

"I don't care how you do it, just do it."  

A shaky breath fills your chest before you tear your eyes from his. Hop starts his way down the hallway, reminding you that this situation is urgent, as though you're not overwhelmingly aware of that already. The soldiers are silent now. This only adds to your panic. They’re on the prowl. Shaking hands help Kali up as best you can, pulling one of her arms over your shoulders, grabbing onto her as tight as you can in an effort to support her at your side. 

Hop is off like a bolt the moment you have Kali up. Following him does not prove easy. You're much slower, and scared, though you trail behind him all the same. The task is difficult, frustratingly so, and a part of you wishes you had never bothered to leave your apartment in the first place. 

Your night would have turned out much better if Robert had just stayed there with you when you had asked him to. 

The memory of his warm touch sends a shudder straight through you. Not long ago you were wrapped up in his arms. Now, you're zipping through hallways, trying to escape while he's actively chasing you down. Robert had never felt intimidating or threatening to you before, but the thought of the Lieutenant now stalking the halls shoots adrenaline through your veins like a drug. Every time you think of him, your stomach only twists more. 

Another groan from Kali reminds you of your current urgency. You try to breathe deeply as you attempt to support as much of her as you can. 

"C'mon," you're not even sure if Kali can hear your feeble encouragement, with the way her face is scrunched up in pain as you move further down the hall. You're practically dragging her, her feet trailing along the smooth floor. The further you go, the quicker your heart races, and you only hope the sound doesn’t echo off the cold walls. "Nearly there, c'mon..."

You're not even sure where there is. There's no telling how far you'll have to go to get away from whatever it is that causes this pain for both girls. Whatever the hell the military is using, it's strong, and as far as you are concerned, it's bullshit.

With El still thrown over his shoulder, Hop turns quickly to look at your weak attempt of helping. The ex-chief doesn’t even try to hide his disapproval. 

"Come on," Hop's encouragement is a little less gentle than yours had been, the words hissed out. After a moment of watching you drag Kali along, he huffs. "Sit her against the wall. I'll go put El down somewhere safe. You go stay with El, I'll come back for her."

You want to refuse - leaving Kali alone in this hall could be dangerous, even if you'll only be a few steps away - though you know such a resistance would be pointless. By now you've come to the conclusion that it's much easier to agree with Hop than to not.

"I'm sorry," gently as you can, you ease the still hurting Kali to the floor. You hear Hop's footsteps rush down the hall, searching for a safe space to put El. You know that if you don't follow him now, he'll be scarier to deal with than the actual military. Scarier than Robert, the predator on his hunt. "Hop is coming. Just wait. Wait here. Ok?"

Kali doesn't respond. She doesn't seem to even register you speaking. Her now free hands have gone straight back to clasping either side of her head, eyes screwed shut in a very unsuccessful attempt to ease her discomfort. A guilt bubbles inside you as you begin to walk away from her, and you can only hope that Hop is quick. 

It doesn't take long to find the room he's stowed El in, the poor girl hunched against the wall just like Kali had been outside. Hop barely acknowledges you when you arrive. He passes you in the doorway with barely a glance. There's an unspoken understanding that you should just shut up and look out for El, and so you defeatedly decide to do just that. There's no point in arguing with Hop, and especially not when El is in danger. You have no choice now but to throw yourself down like the spare tool you had avoided being. 

Then, just moments after Hop has left and just as you've thrown yourself down next to El, the sudden sound of gunshots echo through the halls. Reflex makes you cover your own ears at the noise. Tired eyes widen as your racing mind attempts to calm itself, though such an effort is wasted. Clearly, someone has found Hop and Kali, and they don't seem to want to play clean. You shut your eyes as the bullets continue to rain, trying to ignore the tremble coursing through every bone in your body. 

After a moment, everything stills. The guns no longer fire. The only voice you can hear is a faint whisper of Hop's, though you can't make out what he's saying. It’s reassuring when you notice he doesn't sound pained. Maybe his firing had been in defence, and maybe he's won. It's just a relief to know the gunshots didn't take him. You hope his low words are spoken to Kali, and only Kali. 

Then just as you’ve allowed yourself to relax just slighty, there’s a grunt, and a sound like someone falling to the floor. Your body tenses again when your ear picks up a different voice.  

A very different voice you know too well. 

"And I got you."

Robert's voice is unmistakable. You're frozen where you are when you hear it, back pressed flush against the wall right behind you. There's almost a satisfaction woven through his words, as though he's proud of all that's happening. 

As though the predator has just found one part of his prey. 

In the short time you've known him, you've never seen Robert angry. You’ve seen him kind. Gentle. Aroused, and then determined. Not at all how he's acting out here - furious and threatening. 

It's reasonable to assume that he'll be pissed, after the way he's been tied up and beaten, and you bite your cheek as you think of how badly he'll want revenge now that Hop is apparently at his mercy. You dread to think just how badly Hop was hit. 

As desperately as you want to call out, to intervene or to calm him, you know you'll only make the whole thing worse. Robert is pissed, Hop is pissed - and the older man still doesn't even know that you know Robert, the very person hunting his adopted daughter down. Confessing this fact right now may not be the smartest idea in the world. 

Lost in thought, you hadn't noticed how panicked you've quickly become. Your chest heaves as though you've just ran a marathon, and your heart certainly feels like it too. Sweat starts at the back of your neck, and your lips harshly quiver. Blinking quickly, you attempt to still your already shaking limbs, trembling knees coming up to press to your chest with your arms wrapped tight around them. Staying here makes you feel like a sitting duck, though you know you have no choice. 

It all makes you feel useless, to be stuck in this room while god knows what is happening out there. As difficult as it may be, you know that you have to be careful, and you absolutely have to focus. It would be no use letting the military find El all because your mind was too caught up in the memories of the handsome soldier - especially when that very same man is the very one hunting her down. 

You jump as you hear another body hit the floor, and bite your lip to hold back a gasp. Now, you can make out the sound of Kali groaning in pain. Robert's voice finds your ears again straight after. 

"Tell me where the other freak is. Or this one dies right here, right now."

Your already racing heart picks up even more, thumping impossibly fast in your chest while the blood rushes in your ears. You don't even know Robert well enough to know if that's a threat he'll follow through with, though you pray that based on the very little you apparently do know of him, it's not. 

"I don't know what you're talking about. It's just us!" Hopper's voice offers you some relief in knowing he's ok, though it's short lived. His attempt to reason gets him nowhere. 

Your heart drops at the sound of another gunshot, though you feel a strange relief when Robert's voice follows it. The gun wasn't aimed at him. Your heart sinks to the floor as you notice how much you care about that, and even further as you wonder who it was aimed for. 

"You think I'm playing a game here? Where is she?!"

The last part is almost a roar, and you can hear his voice clearly from down the hall as though he had yelled the words right beside you. 

As though spurred on by the argument, El suddenly shifts beside you. Before you've even processed her movement she's clawed herself up, clearly determined and using every bit of energy she can, gripping on to any surface available in an attempt to make her way down the hall. Her sudden determination only serves to make you feel even weaker, curled up in your corner in fear. 

"El, s-stop-" 

You stretch your still shaking legs straight, shifting where you sit as you watch her. She doesn't listen. It's clearly taking everything inside her to even stand, let alone to move, and you're not even sure she can hear you in the first place. Trembling limbs take her slowly out of the room, and you scramble to your feet to try to help her. 

If she won't listen to you and stop, then you know you have no choice but to follow. You do just that, moving up beside her and pulling one of her arms over your shoulders just like you had done for Kali. 

Everything inside you is telling you not to keep going as you move down the hall. You know there could be soldiers anywhere. Your stomach twists yet again, and bile threatens to rise up your throat. Every step towards the room where Robert has Hop and Kali only makes your heart thump louder. It takes some focus to not let your shaking limbs drop El. 

You're not even the one with the worst end of the deal here, yet you still want to cry. It's all so much, too much, and all you can think of is being back in your apartment with Robert once again. Your eyes prickle as you think about this, about how easy it had seemed. Before either of you knew of this shit. Before you got pulled directly into this shit. Even finding pleasure with him in that dingy old trailer was a million times better than any of this.  

A realisation hits that you still want him in the same way you did. Guilt is very quick to follow that notion. 

At this thought, the tears that had threatened to pour begin to do just that. With your arms supporting El, you can't even wipe them away. All you can do is let them stream. Teeth begin to chatter as your shoulders shake. You want to rewind time - whether it’s to when you had him pressed against you, or before you even knew him, you’re not totally even sure. 

"One last chance." That painfully familiar voice fills your ears once again, closer now than before and even more unsettling. For a moment the sound of him makes you wonder if you're still stuck in a memory, and not this horrid reality. "Where is she?"

There's a pause. A pregnant one, a silence filling the room as Hop comes up with a response. You know he would never tell them where El is, and you would be hopeful that he would never tell them where you are either. 

Not that it matters, now that you’re helping El to reveal yourselves to him anyway. 

"Go to hell."

Hop is always a man of his word for the ones he loves. Of course he wouldn't give you or El's location up. Even if El is apparently prepared to do just that.  

"Ok then."

You remember Kali, and Robert's seemingly promising threat against her. The certainty in Robert's statement makes you feel sick. Is he following through on that threat? 

The sudden silence is worse than the previous angry words. El picks up her pace beside you, at least as much as she can, still whining in pain as she desperately scrambles to get to the room. This interaction you've both been eavesdropping on while making your way up the hall has clearly distressed her just as much as it has you. 

You're finally almost to the door when a deafening bang fills the air, and it takes you a moment to realise what just caused it. An explosion from the room just ahead. It's the loudest sound you've ever heard. The both of you freeze side by side, ears ringing, and you can just about make out the sound of glass smashing and bodies falling in the room just steps ahead of you. 

What the hell just happened? 

You dread to think of what caused that bang, or who may be injured because of it. There’s barely a moment to consider this before you notice a weight suddenly disappear from your shoulders. El perks up beside you - whatever that blast was, it was all that was needed to finally get rid of her kryptonite. She moves freely now. Without a second thought or look behind she starts again towards the room. 

You briefly wonder if her stubborn nature comes from Hop. 

You can’t fully consider this in the panic. All you can do is follow helplessly behind her. She reaches the door just a moment before you do. You can barely even process the scene when you get there. 

All you can process is chaos - soldiers scrambling to their feet, glass shattered everywhere, and Kali staring up at you from the floor in the middle of it all. You only have a second to register her, and Hop - who seems to be ok, but Kali certainly doesn't. She still looks as though she's aching even with the kryptonite now gone, face scrunched up as she looks at you, and your eyes are drawn to a slowly forming pool of blood just below her. Your knees feel just a little bit weaker at the sight of it. 

You pray that that came from the blast, and not from the man you know most likely caused it. 

In mere seconds, El has the necks of every soldier in the room snapped cleanly, each one dropping to the tile floor in sequence. In the very little you know of her, you've never known her to be so violent. Every soldier drops, except for the one who has just turned where he stands in order to survey the intruding attacker, blue eyes opening widely as they find yours and pierce through them. Eyes you had stared deeply into while in his flush embrace not long ago. 

It’s so hard to fully register what you see as you look at him. You thought you had seen Robert angry earlier. When Hopper had tied him up and interrogated him, you thought that his raised voice and rough words were as far as his rage would go. The fight afterwards certainly can’t have helped, and you gasp when you eventually notice a large wound covering much of the side of his face. Surely a souvenir from Hopper - it’s fresh enough to be from the blast. It looks like it aches, and the skin around it stretches as his expression twists into one between disappointment and fury. 

The switch in Robert’s demeanor heavily unsettles you. In a way, it even disturbs you. A small part of you wonders if his anger is worsened by the way you defied his earlier orders. Had you hidden somewhere safe just as he had asked, then you may not have been forced to face off like this. 

You wonder if a trick of the light is to blame for the faint softness that he still seems to look at you with, even through the rage. Though hard to pick up, there’s a vague sense of regret hidden somewhere behind his expression. Even a slight sense of want, buried deep now within his stony exterior. 

Despite that, even from where you remain stuck in the doorway, you can practically feel his blood boiling beneath the surface. His head tilts as he continues to take you in. 

“Picked your side, huh?” 

Robert's gaze is trained on you as he growls, barely regarding El initially, too focused on your presence in this godforsaken place. A hundred answers flash through you, not a single one sensible in your panicked mind. You're frozen in place as you hold his stare, teeth finding the inside of your cheek and nervously chewing it once again. 

Trying to respond to such a question in this awful position feels impossible, though it feels much more like a statement from him than an ask. Instead, you find yourself remaining involuntarily mute. 

After what feels like an eternity’s worth of seconds pass, Robert snaps out of his trance and finally fully registers El beside you. He raises his gun out of instinct but, as fast as he is, El is quicker. She always is. One hand raised in front of her keeps Robert held firmly in place, eyes now wide and lip faintly quivering as he becomes frozen under her power. 

Like a fish out of water, your mouth opens to speak, but quickly snaps shut. Still no answers come to your tongue. It's like some strange kind of nightmare, one in which you cannot speak and you cannot move. You have to force with all your will to make your terrified body do either. There's not much use in reasoning with El, especially considering the fire you can very clearly see coursing through her, though you attempt to all the same. 

"El, leave him-"

You watch in horror as his hand begins moving, turning his gun so that it begins to point to his chin. There's no way of him fighting against it under El’s influence. Out of the corner of your eye, Kali still stares at you. Were you not so panicked, you might notice the slight twitch of her fingers at her side, like a sorcerer quietly casting a spell. 

"El, please just let me-"

Pleading will evidently get you nowhere. The gun still continues its path. 

"El-"

The gun keeps turning. You want to move, either to help Robert or to push El down, but your feet are so stuck in place that you almost wonder if that white shit has sealed itself around them. 

"El, please-"

Robert’s whole body is trembling. It's obvious that he's trying to fight with everything in him to not let her do this. To not let himself do this. A panicked, misty eyed glance in your direction is the last look he gives you. 

You know well enough that there's no way of fighting once El has control. 

A whisper draws your attention to El as the gun inches closer to Robert's chin, though you can barely hear her words as she speaks them, drowned out by ringing ears and a million thoughts scrambling in your head. 

"I can see his thoughts… about how much he thought he could trust you."

One big bang before he drops to the ground, and you do so almost in unison. Knees hit the cold white tile as his back slams against it, lifeless body splayed out while the blood begins to pour. 

You feel like you may puke. 

You do. 

You start calling his name out, screaming it out as though he'll be able to respond to it. It doesn't register to you that he won't. You can't even hear it yourself, ears still buzzing from the shot, your heart pounding in them like a jackhammer.

Hands and knees scramble across the floor to claw your way to his side, strings of curses flowing out in between your sobs. You're sure you pick up some glass on your hands as you move, but there isn't a single fibre in your body that could care right now. Every part of you that worries what the others may think has disappeared too. 

A trembling hand on either side of his face turns it towards your own. Paler than usual and completely still. Devoid of any life, though full of it moments ago. His empty blue eyes don't return your desperate gaze.

You press your ear to his chest for a heartbeat, but all you hear is your own pulse throbbing in your head. Robert's chest is silent. So painfully silent, as thought there was never any life in it at all. Defeated and in denial, you allow yourself to collapse on top of him, hands still feebly holding his face and your head still pressed to his chest as a sob tears through you. It's too late now to care about anyone watching. About anyone seeing you thrown across him in despair. About anyone seeing you care about him.  

Whether they knew about the two of you or not, it clearly would have never mattered in the end. 

What feels like forever passes exactly like that. In reality, it’s only a few quiet moments. Moments spent with your heaving body still thrown over him, making some meek attempt to decide what the hell you’re supposed to do now. 

Then suddenly, you blink, and he's back. Still standing. Still alive. The absence of his body below you almost feels lonely, though not for very long. Robert stares at you from the centre of the room as he had done before, though now with an expression like a man who just got a personal visit from the grim reaper himself. 

The bodies of his men are still scattered all around you. It takes you a moment to notice that they’re the only other bodies inside the room. 

Hop, El, Kali - all three have disappeared. Into thin air, you think initially, until the thumping in your ears gives way to allow you to hear rushed footsteps further down the hall. A part of you wonders if you should follow, though you’re smart enough to know that there’s a reason you were left where you are.  

When you piece the puzzle together, you remember the brief explanation you were given of Kali’s power. With the strange and suspicious looks she and El had been giving you all throughout the lab, it all suddenly begins to click. Somewhere, in some part of the dark void El had gone to in that tank, she had seen some sort of evidence of your feelings for Robert. 

You feel uncomfortable at the thought that she may have seen more than just your feelings. 

A sudden tension fills you as you realise you may have just been used as a form of bait - a distraction to keep the scary army man from hurting any of the others. You would think it to be a betrayal, had you not so desperately and guiltily wanted to get back to Robert all along, and had it not seemingly worked in everyone’s favour. 

Much closer footsteps snap you out of your detective moment. Only now do you register Robert standing much closer, and you’re forced to tilt your head up to meet his eyes. This close, you can make out the wound much better - it’s a burn, a very deep one, and the thought of such pain sends a shiver running through you. It was clearly barely cleaned before he was sent straight out on his hunt yet again. You find it hard to take your eyes off of it. 

Robert’s expression suggests that he doesn’t enjoy you inspecting it. 

“I don’t know what the fuck that was, or how the fuck I just-” Died? - you finish his sentence mentally. Robert still stares at you, jaw tense as his eyes turn glassy. You notice a tremble return to his lip. His stress suggests he just saw some version of the same vision you did. “Tell me where they’re gone, and while we follow them you’re gonna explain what the hell just happened.” 

Swallowing hard, you do your best to put on a brave face and nod. Instead, your eyes sting yet again as you register the situation. As you register what you would swear you just experienced, was it not for the fact of Robert standing very much alive before you. 

“I-I don’t know what just…” You trail off, and expect your useless response to leave him angrier, but you can’t force out much more just yet. All it does is have the opposite effect. Blue eyes soften at the sight of your own welling up. Robert’s own body betrays him, shoulders dropping as his jaw softens. You bring a shaking hand to cover your face, and his brow scrunches at the sight. 

Robert doesn’t know what to do, and you can tell. His large hands fiddle on either side of him. He opens his mouth, words now coming a little softer so as to not poke at you, though you barely let him get them out. “Did you see-“

“You just fucking died!” A sob shakes your body, and you stop making any attempt to gather yourself. You’re so overtired, so overwhelmed, so sick of holding things back. This seems to have been enough to push you finally over the edge. You give up on that attempt of a brave face. “I just saw you! I-I just saw you shoot yourself!”

Watching his stiff body fall was like a reality check in the harshest possible form. 

His iron exterior finally snaps. Long arms betray his cold front even further by finding themselves around you. It’s not the first time he’s seen you cry, though this is the first time you’ve felt his body shake along with yours. You think you hear him sniffle. You’re very sure you hear him sob, though it’s hard to tell when his arms wrap around you even tighter, pressing your wet face to his chest. 

It takes some time for either of you to feel capable of even speaking. Even longer to feel like you can move. By the time you attempt to follow the others, you’re certain Robert isn’t even following them on his hunt anymore. It seems more like the reality of losing every one of his men has hit him, driven home even harder by the reality of almost losing himself. He takes much more care when walking alongside you now, far more concerned than before with making sure that you’re alright beside him. 

The shell of a solider now seems much more focused on getting the two of you home.