#luz having not retained any of the horror that went down because the horror is always happening in her

[crimeronan]

laying here like. what if the only thing AU luz has retained of the mindscape invasion is that raine gives incredible hugs. she's like look i KNOW the last non-hunter person to hug me was belos but i FEEL like raine has given me a hug before and also that it's been really nice. which is really fucking with my ability to keep pushing them away . i like being hugged so much :(

[roemyheart]

Double Trouble

A/N: for @marvelmymarvel bc she really wanted a reader x babe x malarkey love triangle but I am so BAD at writing anything remotely angsty (I am committed to fluff) so idek what this is, I just kind of went with it. Also I’m super sleepy so I barely proofread this rip but I hope you still enjoy! Based on the HBO show characters, no disrespect to the original heroes.

When Winters handed out weekend passes and told Easy company to enjoy the nice weather, you did not imagine that you’d be enjoying the nice weather on a Friday evening outside a cozy Bavarian pub with Edward Heffron’s hands tangled in your hair. 

That’s not to say you weren’t enjoying yourself. In fact, you thought this situation might be a little too enjoyable as Babe trailed kisses across your jaw, pressing his hips against yours. His mouth was soft and hot but when he pulled back to gaze at you, all heavy breathing and flushed cheeks, his eyes were a blazing inferno. “Babe,” you breathed softly, chest heaving, fingers digging into his clean uniform. Babe smiled gently, in stark contrast from the way he’d all but ravaged you against the side of this building. He wound one arm around your waist and the other cupped your cheek gently, calloused palm against warm skin. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for that.” You smiled coyly, standing on your tiptoes to brush another searing kiss to his mouth. When you nipped at his bottom lip playfully, he made a surprised noise at the back of his throat. “I kind of have an idea of how long you’ve waited for that.” He cocked an eyebrow. “And how’s that, Y/N?” You leaned further into his space, grinning. “Lucky guess?” Babe titled his head down. “That’s a load of malarkey.” He murmured against your lips. You tried to avoid jolting in surprise because malarkey had taken on a meaning very different from bullshit. “Maybe a little birdie mentioned that you’re always staring at me like I put the moon in your hands. Maybe I got a little curious.” His hands, splayed wide against your back, began traveling downward. “There are some other ways you can keep my hands occupied…” You caught his wrists, bringing them up to your mouth to kiss his hands sweetly. “I have no qualms about making out with you next to a bar, but I do have standards, Private Heffron.” He pouted, resting his forehead against yours. “Yes, ma’am.” “We should head back in.” Babe sighed, looking at you mournfully. “How am I supposed to go inside and enjoy myself now? Nothing is ever gonna be as good as kissing you outside in the middle of the night.” You smiled at him, shaking your head. “I’m flattered but let me buy you a few drinks. You might change your mind.” Babe did indeed change his mind once he downed a few more beers and Luz dragged him onto the dance floor. You watched him from a booth, smiling fondly. He threw his head back and laughed at Luz’s antics, lighting up the tiny pub with his infectious, intoxicated energy. Sometimes, you wished he would change his mind about you. Babe was fiercely devoted and incredibly charming. He was no longer boyish and reserved; he had blossomed into a fine young man with a heart that radiated honor and compassion. He was sweet, he was hardworking, and he deserved more than you thought you could give him. If he changed his mind about you, you wouldn’t feel so guilty that Donald Malarkey spent more time than appropriate on your own mind. 

A goodnight kiss couldn’t hurt too much though, right? Not when Babe wrapped his arms around you securely, his mouth featherlight against yours. 

“Babe,” You whispered hoarsely, fighting the whimper in your throat as he trailed his lips down your neck, dragging his teeth against the sensitive skin at the crook of your neck. “Hmm?” He continued his slow, sensual assault. “Y-you have to go sleep. In y-your own room.” You warbled, inhaling sharply. He pulled back slowly, looking at you much more like a sad puppy than a guy trying to get into your bed (in every sense of the term). “I guess…” He sighed, pouting at you for the second time that night. You squeezed his hand. “Can’t have you getting in trouble.” He grinned at you crookedly through the dark shadows of your room. “I’m in plenty of trouble.” Babe kissed you once more before heading to his room, leaving you reeling and your heart aching. Babe was already in trouble because of how deeply he adored you but one day later he got into even more trouble. Trouble that came in the form of an awful head cold after going for an unwise late night swim with Tab and Bull. Though the latter two men suffered only from a runny nose, Babe was bedridden (Doc’s orders) with a wicked cough and a fluctuating fever. You visited him several times throughout the day, bringing him tissues and newspapers and hot coffee. It was hard to believe that the sulky bundle of blankets was the same man that made your knees wobbly with smooth words and wandering hands. So, you left Edward Heffron and his addictive kisses in the room down the hall to recover. But that left you yearning for physical affection. Before the war, you’d never given much thought to the intimacy of simple human touch. You worked hard for your family and studied even harder for your classes – getting a boyfriend seemed like a world away, along with all the tender touches and sweet words entailed in a relationship. When you joined the war effort as a medic, human touch became less simple. Saving wounded men was often complicated, and you woke up restless many nights as the memory of bloody hands and anguished screams plagued your dreams. Your hands had been remarkably less bloody throughout your time in Berchtesgaden, but sometimes you felt like they could never be completely clean. As you neatly folded your clothes, barely noticing the chaotic rumble of the men downstairs and outside, you wondered if maybe that’s why you were so drawn to Babe. Despite the horrors of war, every scar jagged and deep, he still seemed to retain his wholesome light. Your conscience could never be clean, but you were pretty sure Babe’s soul was. When he smiled, it was impossible to believe in hopelessness. A knock against the doorframe startles you out of your thoughts. 

“Jesus, Malarkey, you scared the crap out of me!” “What’s really scary is that you’re spending our free Saturday night folding clothes.” You wrinkled your nose at him. “Folding clothes is the most fun way to spend a Saturday night, you just have no taste.” “I couldn’t agree any less.” You rolled your eyes, laying your pants in the wardrobe that was much too big. Malarkey moved his hands from behind his back to reveal a case of beer and a deck of cards. You cracked a smile. “Is that all for me, Don? You didn’t have to, really.” He smirked at you, light eyes dancing, and shook his head. “It’s for me, actually. But I like you so I’m willing to share.” You shrugged. “I’ll take what I can get.”

You could only take so much. Don barked out a laugh every time he beat you, leaning into your space, and you felt like you were absolutely burning. He smelled like summer and fancy beer and clean laundry. You desperately hoped he was too drunk to notice the way you ogled at the dog tags glinting against his collarbone and at his muscular arms when he tugged off the top of his uniform, leaving him in tank top that nearly had you drooling. 

He was killing you, and not just in this game of Speed. “Oh come on, Y/N, you’re not even trying!” You frowned at him, teetering just off the edge of tipsy as you took a long pull from the bottle. “I am trying. Just not as hard as you, apparently.” His mouth curled up into a devious smile as he shuffled the cards. “I’ve got a deal for you, doll.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “What?” “If you win, I’ll do whatever you want me to for one hour. If I win, you do what I want for an hour.” “Hmmm.” You pursed your lips pensively. “Whatever I want?” You tried to ignore the way your stomach flip-flopped when he practically purred, “Anything your sweet heart desires.” Flustered, you could only laugh nervously. “Even run around butt-naked through the dining room?” He nodded solemnly. A little voice at the back of your head told you that this was only headed in one direction. “You’re on, Malarkey.”

Several minutes later, it was Malarkey who was on you. He caged you against the bed, radiating heat and kissing you like his life depended on it. You couldn’t even really remember who won – did anyone win at all? It was Malarkey, wasn’t it? Or did the late night and strong beer finally take hold of your good sense? The way Don growled when you tangled your fingers in his hair sounded dangerous, but honestly, he was the person who always made you feel the safest. You often found yourself wrapped securely in his space. He’d held you close when you got hit in Carentan and Arnhem. He’d clung to you throughout the raging firefights and awful casualties of Bastogne. He’d tucked your head against his chest the night after you found the camp. In the moments when the world seemed to crumble around you, Don made sure to keep you from getting swept up in the rubble. Though, you did feel like you were drowning in his hot and heavy kisses – in a good way. Despite the haze of sleep and alcohol, you couldn’t help but notice how different this was from kissing Babe. These kisses and caresses held the weight of the world. It was more intense, every sigh, every gasp, every touch. It was strong and it scared you, but he murmured your name tenderly against your skin and nothing had ever sounded so right. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to do that.” You tensed up involuntarily because you’d definitely heard that before. “How long?” You asked softly. Malarkey hovered above you, gently brushing the hair out of your face, still breathing hard. You couldn’t tell if your heart or his heart was pounding loudly. He smiled, almost bitterly. “Since Toccoa. Since you took my spaghetti.” Your eyes widened. “That’s…a long time.” He kissed your nose, resting his weight against you comfortably. “Tell me about it.” “And it took you this long to tell me?” You playfully pinched his arm, disregarding the toned muscle and how your stomach lurched. “Hey, getting shot at is scary. But telling someone you like them while getting shot at is even scarier. I had to wait until I knew it was completely safe.” His smile was softer the flower petals and his gaze sweeter than honey. You squeezed him to your body, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “You’re safe here.” “You know who isn’t safe here?” You pulled away to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “Who?” Malarkey looked at you sternly. “Heffron.” He pinched your waist and you squeaked, becoming so flustered you were nearly lightheaded. “W-what?” “You heard me right. If he comes in here asking for Y/N to be sweet to him, he’s got something else coming. I’ll sock him right in his pretty face.” You wound your finger around an orange curl and tugged gently. “Don’t get so bothered about Babe. Just be sweet to me.” You rubbed your nose against his affectionately and he smiled softly. His voice washed over you like the Atlantic ocean. “I can only be sweet to you, Y/N. You make everything about this bitter world a little better.”

(Apparently this bitter world had it out for you because you ended up on a bus ride squeezed between a fuming Malarkey and a snuggly, sick Heffron soon after.)