Chrome (Punishing Gray Raven)
If You Were Mine
[ If you were mine, you would never doubt my love. Never. ]
Chrome lives for these quiet hours in the lounge with the commandant—an hour where it can be just the two of them, trading thoughts on Romeo and Juliet like it means something more. He isn’t absorbing a single line of the book in front of him; every secret, stolen glance at her pulls him in deeper.
She sits across from him, brow furrowed in concentration, lashes lowered as she flips each page with that gentle, unthinking grace that always undoes him. Her lips move silently as she reads. Again, he wonders what they taste like. He imagines leaning across the table, tilting her chin, and kissing her until Shakespeare himself would blush.
But he stays still. Controlled. Careful.
Because what if she doesn’t want him that way?
The door slides open. Lee walks in, reporting on the documents he completed on his own initiative. Chrome’s chest tightens instantly.
Of course. Of course.
Lee approaches with easy confidence, his voice warm, his expression brightening the second he addresses her. Chrome’s jaw clenches as she smiles back—effortless, beautiful—like that smile belongs to Lee by default. Jealous heat licks up his chest, impossible to swallow down. Why does Lee get those soft smiles and warm praise, when Chrome is the one who wants them more? Needs them more?
His fists curl under the table as jealousy coils hot and ugly beneath his metal ribcage. Why him? Why not me?
The report ends. Lee exits with a casual wave. The door shuts. Silence returns—not the calm kind, but something tight and suffocating. She goes back to her book, unaware of the wildfire she’s left burning in Chrome’s chest. Pointing to a line on the page, she innocently asks about a passage, but the jealous fire in his throat is already choking him. He stares downward, breathing shallowly, trying to force his systems to steady, but it doesn’t help.
His mechanical heart pounds, wild and heavy.
The restraint he’s clung to finally fractures. He reaches across the table, catching her hand and threading his fingers through hers like he has every right to claim that touch. She looks up, face flushing, lips parting—no words forming.
“Chrome—” Her voice barely shapes his name. “What are you—?”
“I can’t stand it,” he grinds out, jaw tight. “The way he looks at you.”
“Lee? What are you even talking ab—”
He’s already on his feet. The chair scrapes back as he closes the distance, bracing one hand on the table beside her. The space between them shrinks. Her breath catches. She’s trapped—not physically, but by the dark, burning focus in his eyes.
“You smile at him,” Chrome says, voice low and uneven. “You praise him. You look at him like he actually matters to you.”
Her eyes narrow. “He’s my teammate. Of course he matters.”
“Not like that.” His voice drops, rough with something deeper. “Not in the way I want to matter.”
Her breath stutters. The honesty hits harder than the accusation.
“Chrome…” she whispers, but he shakes his head, refusing whatever doubt is about to form.
“Not here,” he murmurs. “Not with doors open and eyes everywhere.”
Before she can protest, he curls his fingers around her wrist—firmly not painful, but grounding—and guides her up from her seat.
“Chrome, what are you—?”
“Just trust me.”
He takes her hand again, gentle but decisive, leading her down the hall and into the nearest storage room. The door locks behind them with a sharp click. Here, away from everyone else, there’s nothing to interrupt. It’s private, quiet, walls lined with metal shelving and the scent of gunpowder lingers in the still air.
He steps toward her, but stops just shy of touching—leaving her a path to run, if she wants it.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” Chrome murmurs. “Tell me you feel nothing for me, and I’ll walk right back out that door.”
She leans against a crate, eyes hard. “So that’s what this is?” she snaps. “You’re jealous?”
“I wanted one hour alone with you,” he snaps back, pacing the narrow space. “And I can’t even have that.”
“Why does it bother you so much?” Her arms cross, shoulders tense.
He stops pacing and looks at her. Really looks. “Don’t I make it obvious?” he exhales, spine against the door.
“Just say it,” she fires back, voice cracking as he pushes off the door and steps closer.
He stands over her now, close enough to feel the warmth of her breath. “I want you. I want your time. Your attention. Your smiles. I want—” His voice falters, eyes locking on hers. “I want all the little pieces of you. And it terrifies me how much I hate the idea of losing you to someone else.”
His leg brushes hers. She inhales sharply, pinned between him and cold metal.
“…you’re afraid I’ll leave.”
“I’m afraid...,” he pauses briefly, “that someone else will matter to you the way you matter to me.”
“…Then kiss me,” she whispers, lifting her chin.
He cups her face, thumbs brushing her cheeks as he finally kisses her—slow at first, then deeper, months of restrained hunger pouring into every heartbeat, every stolen breath. His body presses into hers, pinning her firmly against the crates. One hand slides to the back of her neck, holding her there like he has no intention of letting go while the other traces down her curves to her hip, pulling her closer still.
When their lips part, he lingers—foreheads near touching—as he tucks a stray strand of her hair behind her ear.
“Commandant,” he breathes, meeting her gaze, “I’ve fallen for you. And I don’t want anything else but to stay by your side. For as long as you’ll have me.”
Notes:
Holy fuck this is my first time posting on here... I hope ya'll like it! Please don't take credit for my work!
Another note:
The song Like I Would by Zayn HEAVILY inspired this fic. Jealous Chrome is too hot fr!!