Fanfic Addict

Where ever the music takes me and whatever I feel in the mood for. Virgo, 25+, INFJ, all around troublemaker. Lover of too many fandoms and fictional Men. Minors do not follow as I occasionally write nsfw.

[skellyagogo]

Master List of Master Lists

Marvel Master List

The Expendables Master List

Arthur Shelby Master List

WWE/NXT/AEW Wrestling Master List

Supernatural Master List

Seal Team Master List 

Random Misc One Shots:

Arrow/Legends:

Leonard Snart

Sentimental Fool

Scrubs

Dr. Cox & Dr. Death

CSI : Las Vegas

Gil Grissom

Bugs & Mutations

Nick Stokes

Signs from Above

[skellyagogo]

Dean- Uninterrupted

Summary: You are hell-bent on giving him what he needs the most

Warnings: None just utter fluff

Dean Winchester, the world's hardest working unknown hero laid out stone cold asleep on his stomach. A tiny trail of drool slipped out of his parted lips. His freckled features caught somewhere between old and young. Overworked, overtired. Too stubborn to take a break, and even more unwilling to take care of himself at all. It was as if he was physically unable to put himself first for once.

'Do NOT Disturb Under Penalty of Humiliation! Unless the Bunker is on fire, Sam is dying or Led Zepplin is miraculously going back on tour DO NOT DISTURB!!'

That was what the hand-written sign said that she'd hung on the door before she'd gone to sleep. She marked the bedroom warding against witches, demons, angels, and everything else she could think of while he slept soundly. The door was locked and barricaded which was a feat itself to accomplish and not make a sound while he slumbered.

He needed the rest, his body had been screaming for days to recharge but childhood traumas had taught him to look out for others at the expense of himself. The tremendous amount of guilt flooded him every time he even thought about doing something for himself. He was the eldest, the protector, the one that had the weight of the world thrust upon him with no way of shaking it loose himself.

She decided for him that he was going to come first for once. That his needs would be of utmost importance, the only thing that needed attention. It was crazy the lengths she went to just to accomplish it too, but it'd be worth it in the end. Worth it to see some life in his eyes again, to see the exhausted lines disappear from his face. Maybe he'd even smile and actually mean it instead of the facade he wore, the mask to show that everything was alright despite the lie.

Curled behind him in their shared bed listening to a sleepy 'hmm' rumble in his throat. He'd never admit how much he loved it when she was the big spoon. Dean would never say aloud the safety he felt wrapped up in her arms. It killed him how vulnerable it made him feel yet so loved at the same time. He could only figure that it was how she felt when he held her.  

"Time is it baby?" Dean rasped in his sleepy voice while lacing his fingers through hers.

"Too early to be awake." Kissing his neck, nuzzling her face against his skin squeezing him tight until both were asleep.

Hours later when she'd awoken from her slumber she found herself still curled on her side holding onto Dean but he'd turned around in his sleep. Their limbs tangled together, her head resting on his bicep while his arms locked around her. Nose to nose.  

Dean appeared younger somehow as if the extra sleep had given him bits of his youth back. Sunkissed skin speckled with freckles. Teeny faint laugh lines around his eyes and mouth were the only signs of aging but he was aging like fine wine. Blessed with the chiseled features of a Greek god.  

Her eyes drifted down watching the slowed rise and fall of his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart in his rested state. He slept better when she was beside him, a little fact he let slip early on in their relationship.  

Dean had been slightly tipsy and feeling good after a night out at a local bar while on a hunt. Clumsily reaching for her while softly giggling. Mumbling through an exhausted yawn that felt her warmth while hugging him was better than a blanket straight from the dryer. That hugging her, holding her was the only time in ages that he'd been able to sleep peacefully, without nightmares. 

He'd never say it outloud but the way her fingers wound through his hair, nails scratching at the nape of his neck was a feeling almost better than sex. He couldn't explain how soothing it was. How a touch as soft as hers held the power to bring him to his knees and have him begging for more. 

Dean was unfairly naturally handsome but never more so than in moments like this fast asleep. She was lost in thought envying his long eyelashes she missed his groggy smile. 

"Not nice to stare darlin'." Rumbled out in his raspy morning voice as he blinked awake taking in the sight of her tender smile.

"Can't help myself."  

He pulled her atop him with ease. Hands on her hips, thumbs rubbing circles. Leaning up for greedy lazy kisses knowing it was her kryptonite.

"Gonna tell me bout the door & the sigils?" Quirking high a brow, kissing the tip of her nose. Not a hint of worry or anger just amusement.

"Just saving my ruggedly handsome but overly stubborn man from himself."

"Mhm." Skepticism kicked in as he furrowed his brows. The lines crinkled around his eyes.

"You... you needed sleep, lots of sleep." She avoided his gaze at all costs believing that this might have been the thing to finally cross a line with Dean.

"Okay."  

That was all he said and not what she expected either. He pulled her down on top of his chest, arms wrapped tightly around her back. The sigh he let loose was deep and heavy and unlike any sound, she'd heard from him. Dean tucked the blankets around them & kissed the top of her head. 

"Okay?" Peering at him with a cynical glare. "You're not gonna argue? No fuss, no pouting, stubbornness?"

"Nope." Fluffing his pillow getting comfortable again.

"No excuses to run off and do this and that and the other?"

"Nah uh." Chuckling low and gruff cupping her face. "If you're that worried about me to sleep then I guess I gotta listen."

"Where's my Dean?!"

"Shut up or I'm gonna go work on the car." Daring her through a smirk.

She nuzzled into his neck as comfortably as she could get.

"Love you," he professed quietly while dozing off. She was better than a weighted blanket. 

[skellyagogo]

It's been a hot minute since I wrote because of my new role at work bit this Dean fic seems to be everyone's favorite. Love you guys and your support.

[skellyagogo]

Full Metal- Valentine's Secret

Sitting around their usual tables in the Bulkhead listening to the others ramble off the overly romantic and grand gestures done for Valentine's Day. The money wasted on cheesiness just because their loved one expected it. The typical lingerie and chocolate-covered strawberries. The candlelight and Barry White.

"What about you Y/n? Did you and the mystery man do something special?" Stella was curious, hoping to finally find out who the unknown fella was that took up so much of her off time.

"Um... not really," slightly embarrassed but not really. Grand gestures and stereotypical commercial nonsense weren't really her thing. It was damned sure not his either.

"Why not?" Davis chimed in nudging her shoulder playfully.

"Just another day really, not a big deal." Y/n shrugged sipping her beer.

"You tellin' me you're the one woman on the planet that doesn't go gah gah for all that mushy stuff?" Sonny never failed at being annoying or the forever skeptic of love and romance.

"My exes kinda ruined it," playing with the label on her beer bottle knowing a certain set of eyes were locked on her actions. "As if dinner at some fancy place I never wanted to go to in the first place automatically meant I was putting out. Don't get me wrong, I'll never turn down flowers but if you only go all out one day a year then you've got problems."

"Cynic," Clay laughed tossing a napkin at her face.

"I'm serious," she kept going, stealing glances at Metal. "If I don't warrant the attention that ranges from an ass slap or a kiss every day of the year then leave me alone. Valentine's Day is over-commercialized and forgets that love doesn't fit in some picture-perfectly worded sappy Hallmark card."

"What's your version then?" Stella smiled softly leaning into Clay.

"It's messy and hard work but it's endless. We don't have to do the same shit all the time cuz we're two separate people. No judgment for our pasts, taking it day by day and making it the best we can cuz tomorrow's not promised. So if we'd rather spend the day laying in front of the TV with takeout so be it."

Her eyes crinkled as she smiled sighing into her beer. Images of all the nights she'd spent exactly like that with him. Laid atop him on the couch, head buried in his chest, caged in his arms while a football game played on the TV completely ignored. The gentle kisses he placed on her head, fingers running through her hair.

No need for long-winded trivial conversations, just content in the moment; in the sound of her breath. They seemed to be the only two people on Earth that could have a silent conversation, to speak volumes in silence. They spoke with each other in looks and actions, but in those rare moments words were used he did so using the words of the world's greatest poets. Telling her how much he loved her, wanted her, and needed her with the vocabulary of men that stretched across centuries.

"So that's what you did?" Sonny scoffed flicking his toothpick between his lips. "Boring."

"No," her face flushed biting her lip. "We went hiking in the mountains, grilled out some massive steaks, drank some 32-year-old Scotch, and..." sipping her beer trying not to expose their secret. "Extensive cardio in front of the fireplace but that's kind of a weekly thing anyway."

"She wins!" Stella chuckled.

Conversations changed amongst the others now that the competitiveness was done and over. Metal's hand settled on her thigh underneath the table. Heavy hot pressure from his palm, his thumb rubbing lovingly back and forth. Smiling to herself as she caught the quick wink he sent her way as he knocked back and finished his beer. His fingers tapped her leg three times, a signal for the two of them to 'head out' for the night.

"Wait a second," Brock swiveled his head to the side peering suspiciously at Metal and then Trent. "Didn't Metal say he went hiking recently? Thought he hated that shit?"

It was as if the group think mentality suddenly synced. All eyes stared at a stoic stone-faced Metal while Y/n would only stare at her beer bottle.

"He mentioned something about some pricy gift of Scotch too. 'Best shit he ever had' I think is what he said." Trent smirked seeing the edge of Metal's eye twitch.

"Holy shit!" Sonny sat up straight. "He!? And her?! I'll be damned."

"Metal fucks in front of a fireplace!" Clay lost it in a bout of laughter.

[mcgarretts-seal-pack]

Jason Hayes on the Beach 😍🔥

[wwemcumuscleslover]

Oh dear Aphodite, we understand why you fall for him!!!

[cherylblossom]

#just your regular God of War starting Twitter fights

[skellyagogo]

Some people have the audacity to say this man can't act have never seen him in Haven and it shows.

[yumethefrostypanda]

John Price

[alwaysshallow]

john price showing at your door, in the middle of the night, drunk as hell. because he wants something, needs to talk to you, anything. he literally craves your attention AND YOU DON'T GIVE IT TO HIMMMM not as much as he'd like to at least.

[allelitewrestlings]

"It is the Continental Crown, fit for a King." Eddie Kingston becomes Triple Crown Champion AEW Worlds End (2023) • Long Island, NY

[skellyagogo]

Christmas

"What the hell's all this?" Sam marveled taken aback in the doorway of Dean's man cave he created in the Bunker.

The whole room looked as if a Christmas elf had thrown up all over. A live tree trimmed in lights and random items from beer coasters, shotgun shells, candy canes, hex bags, etc. A small pile of poorly wrapped presents beneath its branches.

The big screen TV held the image and sounds of a roaring and crackling fire. The coffee table was full to the brim of sweets & treats. From pie to cookies, and candies. A large pizza box, a bag full of greasy burgers & fries. Sam could even see a mug full of hot chocolate complete with teeny little marshmallows.

"Nothin'," Dean spun around caught red-handed.

"We don't do Christmas," Sam raised an eye, mentally enjoying the way Dean was sweating.

"What?! Nothing! Go away!" Dean crossed his arms glaring, but the embarrassment was etched on his face.

"Did you do all this for..."

"Shut up!" Dean scowled pointing a finger at a smirking Sam.

Dean was supposed to be the strong one, devoid of emotion. He acted as if those emotions and chick flick moments annoyed him, but Sam had caught him indulging in said emotions. Turning his back on his brother sifting through a stack of DVDs, Sam could see his shoulders slump.

"It's the first Christmas she's acknowledged since... her family, ya know." Dean couldn't finish his thought.

She was the anomaly amongst hunters, at least the ones the Winchesters had met. She had a loving family, a functioning emotionally stable family. They cared for each other and looked out for one another. They weren't anything like the boys had known aside from Bobby and Jody.

"She was humming Christmas carols the other day and I just thought..." Finally looking at Sam. "She does so much for everyone and never complains ya know. The least I can do to show her I appreciate it is stomaching some sappy Christmas movies."

"You really love her don't you?"

"Not the greatest at that stuff but yeah, I do." Shifting uncomfortably at even having the conversation with Sam. "Don't always say it outloud but she knows."

"Have even said it outloud to her?" Sam teased.

"Interrupting something?" Her voice made both men jump.

She sauntered into the room with a soft smile, eyes darting from one decoration to the next. Dean froze nervously thinking it was too much until he saw the crinkles around her eyes in a genuine smile. Her fingertips grazed over the ornaments on the tree. The blissed-out grin as she closed her eyes inhaling a deep breath of fresh pine needles and a table full of sugary goodness. Sam gave Dean a thumbs up before quietly leaving, closing the door behind him.

She hadn't grinned like she was in a long time. The last two Christmases she acted as if the holiday didn't exist. Ignored it altogether knowing it would never be the same with the loss of her family. She couldn't even take out her anger over their loss on some supernatural creature because they'd been taken by the hands of man.

They'd been in the right place at the wrong time. Tensions had been rising in the city her family had been hunting in. People were angered over events happening in the world and decided that violence was the only way to get their point across. Riots had sprung up all around her family and they'd been caught in the middle of it. Overwhelmed and outnumbered, their lives were snuffed out by violent protesters without a second thought. Further proof that humans could be worse than the supernatural.

For the briefest of moments, Dean thought she might start to cry, but the furrow in her forehead said otherwise. The tight scrunch of her eyebrows and a not-so-subtle scowl.

"This is all wrong." Sifting through the DVDs frowning. "I can't believe you."

"Damnit," Dean puffed a sigh rubbing his face dejected. "I knew it was too soon."

"What?! No." She leaned into his side wrapping her arms around him. "All this is amazing but it's not Christmas without Die Hard and Rambo."

"Okay, Die Hard I get," Chuckling kissing her temple relieved pulling her towards the couch and snuggling close. "But Rambo?"

"Oh yeah," flashing the kind of smile he knew only appeared whenever a cherished memory was involved. "There are Christmas decorations in the sheriff's office when they're talking to Rambo so Dad declared that it was a Christmas movie. Mom argued but she was outvoted by logic and my brothers."

"Just another reason I liked the guy." Dean hugged her close listening to the sound of the fire on the TV.

"He liked you too," she spoke quietly leaning her head on his shoulder.

"Was never great with parents," running his fingers soothingly up and down her arm. "But he was cool."

They watched Rambo in silence polishing off the burger & fries and most of the pizza. Throughout Die Hard they ate the sweets repeating the best lines along with McClane. They didn't have to talk a lot, didn't have to have heavy emotional conversations out loud to understand each other.

Dean loved that about her, that she understood that sometimes, well most of the time he wasn't the greatest at verbalizing his feelings. She knew he didn't have the best example of how a man should be in John, though he tried his damnedest to make Bobby proud. Dean didn't tell her that he loved her a lot, partially because he was afraid that everything he ever loved had been taken from him, but he always made sure she felt loved.

Splayed out on the couch, she lay atop him. Working his fingers through her hair knowing this was the most relaxed she'd been in months. It was moments like this that made him wish they could have a normal life.

Some little place away from the crowds and people, maybe a cabin like Bobby's. Just something for the two of them. He knew it was impossible but he always had that dream for them. The most normal thing he could muster for her in their messed up supernatural-fueled life was a night with movies and junk food. A few hours to forget all the bullshit that existed in the world.

Dean chewed the inside of his mouth. She was the best thing that ever happened to him and yet somehow he still felt unworthy of her as if he had nothing to offer her. Part of him knew it was stupid.

"Sweetheart," kissing the top of her head, smiling at her sleepy 'hmm' response that purred against his chest. "I lo..."

"I know," nuzzling her cheek against his chest. "S'okay, I know you do."

His deep chuckle softly bounced her head on his chest.

"More than pie?" She laughed questioning him.

"Oh, I most definitely love you more than pie."

[mjfass]

Reblog and write in the tags:

Who is your pick for best wrestler of the year?

[skellyagogo]

Tease

Summary: Flirty banter and social anxiety lead to cramped quarters and fun.

Trigger warnings: sexual situations, social anxiety, loving a co-worker, flirty banter, inappropriate behavior

Pairings; Trent Sawyer, female reader insert

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It was beyond difficult to not fall in love with him. His goofy sense of humor left her laughing until it hurt muscles in her stomach. He was more handsome than he knew, and rarely ever believed it when he was hit on. Trent was chivalrous and gentlemanly as if he belonged to a bygone era. He was easy to talk to leading to endless conversations that bounced from one topic to another. Everything about him was attractive to her.

She could see him from her perch in the next building over. A capture OP that turned boring quickly watching out for the target. Watching the daily routine of a war criminal had its limits.

"I've just seen the most gorgeous man in existence." She chuckled into the comms.

"Stop lookin' at me woman." Sonny's ego knew no bounds.

"Ew, no! Not even with someone else's pussy, you hobbit!" Her gag echoed in her team's ears.

She snapped a picture of Trent and sent it to him. Watched him through her scope as he checked his phone. A range of emotions ran over his face from elation to pride to skepticism before he shook his head and sighed.

"I'd climb that man like a tree," she shamelessly flirted.

Trent's ears burned red looking at his phone. There was no hiding his blush through the power of her scope. Peering her way through his window shaking his head at her in silence.

"You sound hard up maybe you need to solve that problem," Clay smirked from his position on the ground.

It was common knowledge amongst Bravo, their attraction. The infatuation they both seemed to have. One would have to be blind and deaf to not notice how those two were around each other. Their humor seemed to match on every level. Both had been single for damned near a year but nothing more than immature flirtations. Not that Bravo didn't have a running bet though.

"If only, don't think I'm his type," she laughed.

Trent stared at her through his window again knowing full well she could see his raised eye. The tint of rosiness on his cheeks was on display for her pleasure. He had a cocky little smirk that kept trying to curl at the edge of his lips, but he shook his head and went back to watching for their target.

"Now you know that ain't true," Metal quipped. "You're a fine whiskey in a White Claw sort of a world."

"That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me, I think I'mma cry." She gushed with a dramatic sniffle.

"Focus," Ray grumbled annoyed and exhausted with the OP.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket with a text.

'You need your eyes checked.' Trent texted. He believed with every fiber of his being that she was only teasing him and didn't mean a word she ever said to him.

'20-20,' she replied complete with a smiley face. 'I know something beautiful when I see it.'

Her phone vibrated again before she had the chance to pocket it, this time a message from Metal. It was a photo of her staring at Trent with a dopey grin on her face.

'You're drooling' was all Metal typed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Flights home usually graced all of Bravo and company with sleep but tonight it seemed to escape Trent with its presence. He'd finished his book a while ago, but the battery was dead on his iPod. All the others were fast asleep while he stared at the ceiling of the cargo bay. She sat quietly beside him softly bumping his shoulder.

"You okay handsome?" Whispered not to wake those asleep around them.

Trent studied her for a moment. Sincerity and trouble stared back at him. She had the kindest eyes, the type that never failed to make his heart skip a beat. Eyes that always seemed to find him no matter where they were in the world, yet somehow it felt like she was teasing him.

As if she knew the sway she held over him with just a smile. Constantly saying things that'd make any man weak in the knees but bring out a primal side. The quasi-filthy words said in passing or during a sparring session. The comments about how good he looked in a pair of jeans or how the color of his shirt made his eyes pop.

At the Bulkhead she'd mumble things like 'hate to see you leave but love to watch you walk away' whenever he'd momentarily leave their table. One time she even went as far as purposely laying him out on his back while sparring. Aggressively yet playfully smirking.

"You're so hot when you fall for me."

Or while they were grappling she'd pin him to the mat getting inches from his face.

"You feelin' the urge to kiss right now too?"

It pained him that all of it was nothing but a joke to her. All of those words, the glances, the faint touches were nothing more than a way to get a rise out of him.

"M' fine," he muttered looking away from her.

"Penny for your thoughts," nudging his shoulder, hand patting his thigh. "Five bucks if they're dirty," she quietly laughed.

Trent didn't want to but he laughed anyway. Closing his eyes shaking his head. What he wanted wasn't possible because she'd never be in love with him like he was her.

"Exhausted, but too awake to sleep," he heavily sighed feeling her hand squeeze his thigh leaning in close, her lips ghosting his ear.

"You wanna go hide in the bathroom while I wrap my legs around your head and you kiss my lips?"

Any willpower Trent had snapped in that moment. Grabbing a tight hold on her wrist he pulled her through the cargo bay. Passed their sleeping comrades and up a small flight of stairs. His composure was nonexistent with a rough shove into the tiny bathroom locking the door behind them.

The space was small enough without his towering stature easily filling the room. His shoulders were inches from rubbing against each wall. She backed herself as far away from him. Wide-eyed with a frantic stare knowing she'd finally taken it too far.

His eyebrows pinched tightly together as he glared her down. His nostrils flared with each breath. Redness climbed up and spread all over his skin from beneath his Henly. Up his neck to the tips of his ears hidden underneath shaggy strands of hair.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Hissing through clenched teeth. Jaw taut, muscles flexing and twitching.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled in a weak gasp, her eyes focused on her boots.

"Is this some sick game to you?" His chest pressed aggressively to hers, his heart racing, hammering inside.

"Social anxiety makes it impossible... I don't know how to act normal around you." Her voice was fragile in its tone, not daring to look at him afraid he'd see the truth.

"Funny," frustration and jealousy getting the better of him. The bass in his voice, rumbled deep within as he spoke. "You don't have that issue with Clay."

"I didn't fall in love with him!" Anger and rage in her eyes as they flicked towards his. Caught in a stare-down with Trent until her words repeated themselves in her mind. Her hands clamped over her mouth in horror.

Trent took a single step backward, leaning against the door too stunned to speak. He thought it was all a game, a way to torture him, a joke. He watched the way her shoulders slowly slumped and how her arms crossed over her chest. Watery eyes that threatened to spill their contents. All that snarky humor, that bravado, the cocky flirtatious comments gone.

"Let me out," her voice cracked barely above a cold whisper. Silvery lines of tears streaming down her face.

"No." It was the softest his voice had ever sounded.

"Please," the delicate way that word sounded unlike all the years he'd known her. The feeble attempt to push her chest to his, to show she wanted to leave. "I've embarrassed myself enough, I want out."

"Say it again," he pleaded.

She shook her head, sniffling back to emotions she didn't want out. Bullshit feelings she'd shoved down in the deepest recesses that no matter how often she told herself they didn't matter, they kept growing and wouldn't stop. No matter how many times she told herself it wasn't possible, it couldn't be, she wouldn't stop thinking about him and what if.

"Say it again," lifting her chin, forcing her to look at him. His knuckles grazed over her jaw. "Please, or I'm gonna know I'm dreaming cuz that's the only time you ever say that."

"I'm terrified." Endless tears fled her eyes. "It'll change everything."

"Don't be," his thumbs doing their best to wipe away her tears.

"You don't understand." Her forehead thumped to his chest, fisting the material of his shirt in her palm. "I love you so much it hurts. Can't breathe when I look at you, can't stop thinking about what your lips would taste like. I hear your voice and I need to know what your breath feels like on my skin and all the dirty thoughts that'd drip from your lips.

"I am terrified at the atrocities I'd commit if anyone hurt you, battlefield or not. I am hopelessly in love with you despite every ounce of me that tries not to be. If you don't feel the same then I'm going to have to request a transfer to the other side of the world cuz the thought that I spilled my soul and you despising me for it would shatter me to the point of no return."

Her confession coursed through him, zooming through every synapse, every nerve, each molecule. Her words etched into the core of his being, tattoed upon his bones. The silence between them was louder than the roar of the plane around them, the blood rushing in their ears.

"You... love me? Romantically?!" Trent was biting back actions that could warrant a dishonorable discharge. "Why the hell would you do that? Two failed marriages and a slew of women that hated everything about me."

But he tricked her with a taste of her own medicine. His words, the tone in his voice made her pull away just enough to glare at him. She had every intention of telling him off, shutting him up with all the ways he liked to bag on himself, to tear himself down. Trent cupped her face kissing her breathless.

The air sucked from her lungs, the burn that ensued the longer his mouth danced over hers. Lightheaded and dizzy until her brain screamed to breathe through her nose. The slowed tender kiss dragged into passion. His fingers knotting in her hair, hers tentatively working their way under his shirt and up his back digging into his shoulder blades.

"As much as I wanna continue," he trailed kisses down her throat, nipping at her earlobe. "There's no room for you to uh, what'd you say." He paused feeling the shudder of her body against his. "Wrap your legs around my head so I can kiss your lips."

"I uh... well," swallowing hard knowing she'd awoken something in Trent.

"Don't think I've forgotten everything you've said," his husky chuckle made her shiver again.

"Guess you should know then, the things you do to me." Undoing the buttons to her pants, guiding his hand, letting his fingers feel the wetness, the heat throbbing between her thighs.

"I did that?! How?" Encouraged by her movements, the smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth. He let his fingers run over her mound, slipping between her folds, watching her head lull to the side.

"Soaking wet every time I see you," she moaned as his fingers curled and thrust inside her.

"You really wanna know all those filthy thoughts running through my mind?" Removing his fingers, grinning at the wildness in her eyes. The way they twitched when he licked his fingers clean. "The accomodations are a bit tight but I think we can make this work."

He managed to turn her around in the cramped space, her chest smashed into the wall. Jeans and panties around her ankles, a firm grip on her waist. Rubbing his head along her folds.

"We could stop this, ya know." Offered one last out if she changed her mind, but she answered by guiding him inside.

Clamping her mouth closed to keep the noise to a minimum. The urge to moan at the way he filled her up, the way his hands roved and roamed. The way he touched her, how his mouth left wet kisses along her shoulders and neck. His hips rocked back and forth building momentum. Slowed thrusts turned frantic and wild as he struggled to keep himself quiet.

"Every spinup," he sucked a mark on her shoulder, pumping deep within her. "I think about doing this, it's all I can think about."

Both of them chasing their release, love drunk on how it felt. The added thrill of getting caught, of being heard. Knowing that yards away slept the team, their commanding officer. The smell of sex filled the tiny space, beads of sweat rolling over sticky skin. A build-up of humidity in that tiny space full of desires and forbidden thrills.

"In or out?" He panted knowing he was close, too close to want to stop.

Her arms reached back, fingers grabbing hold of his thighs keeping him close. Oh, that woman would be the death of him. Wildly hammering away, skin slapping skin, a sting that was only acceptable pain. The hissed grunts through clenched teeth reaching his release. Muffled moans that sounded like his name trapped in her throat to keep from screaming outloud.

Trent let his chin rest on her shoulder as they both caught their breath. Her fingers curled around his and squeezed back in return. Of all the ways to have your wildest dreams come, a quicky in a tiny bathroom joining the mile-high club hadn't been in either of their Bingo cards for the year.

"Every spinup?" She giggled feeling him softening inside her.

"Spinup, deployment, sparring in the gym, shooting at the range." Kissing her neck, pulling out trying to shimmy his pants back on. "Fuckin' hell you make it impossible not to think about railing you even in the middle of a firefight."

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Both scrambled to right themselves, afraid it was Blackburn standing on the other side of the door. Trent reluctantly opened the door a crack ready to lie about needing a minute, sour stomach and all only to come face to face with Metal. Full Metal whose lips curled into a smirk, whose eyes flickered past Trent to see her trying to hide behind him to no avail.

Trent and Metal exchanged knowing glances silently but the shit-eating grin only grew wider on Metal's face. He said nothing as Trent stepped out of the bathroom or how she smacked his ass before tiptoeing back to her hammock.

"Not a word," Trent pointed an accusing finger at Metal in a warning.

"I didn't 'hear' anything," Metal quipped complete with finger quotes snickering. "Bout time though"

Trent was barely in his hammock when the others started to wake. Neither could stop smiling until Sonny spoke up.

"Is it just me or does it smell like sex in here."

[skellyagogo]

Christmas

"What the hell's all this?" Sam marveled taken aback in the doorway of Dean's man cave he created in the Bunker.

The whole room looked as if a Christmas elf had thrown up all over. A live tree trimmed in lights and random items from beer coasters, shotgun shells, candy canes, hex bags, etc. A small pile of poorly wrapped presents beneath its branches.

The big screen TV held the image and sounds of a roaring and crackling fire. The coffee table was full to the brim of sweets & treats. From pie to cookies, and candies. A large pizza box, a bag full of greasy burgers & fries. Sam could even see a mug full of hot chocolate complete with teeny little marshmallows.

"Nothin'," Dean spun around caught red-handed.

"We don't do Christmas," Sam raised an eye, mentally enjoying the way Dean was sweating.

"What?! Nothing! Go away!" Dean crossed his arms glaring, but the embarrassment was etched on his face.

"Did you do all this for..."

"Shut up!" Dean scowled pointing a finger at a smirking Sam.

Dean was supposed to be the strong one, devoid of emotion. He acted as if those emotions and chick flick moments annoyed him, but Sam had caught him indulging in said emotions. Turning his back on his brother sifting through a stack of DVDs, Sam could see his shoulders slump.

"It's the first Christmas she's acknowledged since... her family, ya know." Dean couldn't finish his thought.

She was the anomaly amongst hunters, at least the ones the Winchesters had met. She had a loving family, a functioning emotionally stable family. They cared for each other and looked out for one another. They weren't anything like the boys had known aside from Bobby and Jody.

"She was humming Christmas carols the other day and I just thought..." Finally looking at Sam. "She does so much for everyone and never complains ya know. The least I can do to show her I appreciate it is stomaching some sappy Christmas movies."

"You really love her don't you?"

"Not the greatest at that stuff but yeah, I do." Shifting uncomfortably at even having the conversation with Sam. "Don't always say it outloud but she knows."

"Have even said it outloud to her?" Sam teased.

"Interrupting something?" Her voice made both men jump.

She sauntered into the room with a soft smile, eyes darting from one decoration to the next. Dean froze nervously thinking it was too much until he saw the crinkles around her eyes in a genuine smile. Her fingertips grazed over the ornaments on the tree. The blissed-out grin as she closed her eyes inhaling a deep breath of fresh pine needles and a table full of sugary goodness. Sam gave Dean a thumbs up before quietly leaving, closing the door behind him.

She hadn't grinned like she was in a long time. The last two Christmases she acted as if the holiday didn't exist. Ignored it altogether knowing it would never be the same with the loss of her family. She couldn't even take out her anger over their loss on some supernatural creature because they'd been taken by the hands of man.

They'd been in the right place at the wrong time. Tensions had been rising in the city her family had been hunting in. People were angered over events happening in the world and decided that violence was the only way to get their point across. Riots had sprung up all around her family and they'd been caught in the middle of it. Overwhelmed and outnumbered, their lives were snuffed out by violent protesters without a second thought. Further proof that humans could be worse than the supernatural.

For the briefest of moments, Dean thought she might start to cry, but the furrow in her forehead said otherwise. The tight scrunch of her eyebrows and a not-so-subtle scowl.

"This is all wrong." Sifting through the DVDs frowning. "I can't believe you."

"Damnit," Dean puffed a sigh rubbing his face dejected. "I knew it was too soon."

"What?! No." She leaned into his side wrapping her arms around him. "All this is amazing but it's not Christmas without Die Hard and Rambo."

"Okay, Die Hard I get," Chuckling kissing her temple relieved pulling her towards the couch and snuggling close. "But Rambo?"

"Oh yeah," flashing the kind of smile he knew only appeared whenever a cherished memory was involved. "There are Christmas decorations in the sheriff's office when they're talking to Rambo so Dad declared that it was a Christmas movie. Mom argued but she was outvoted by logic and my brothers."

"Just another reason I liked the guy." Dean hugged her close listening to the sound of the fire on the TV.

"He liked you too," she spoke quietly leaning her head on his shoulder.

"Was never great with parents," running his fingers soothingly up and down her arm. "But he was cool."

They watched Rambo in silence polishing off the burger & fries and most of the pizza. Throughout Die Hard they ate the sweets repeating the best lines along with McClane. They didn't have to talk a lot, didn't have to have heavy emotional conversations out loud to understand each other.

Dean loved that about her, that she understood that sometimes, well most of the time he wasn't the greatest at verbalizing his feelings. She knew he didn't have the best example of how a man should be in John, though he tried his damnedest to make Bobby proud. Dean didn't tell her that he loved her a lot, partially because he was afraid that everything he ever loved had been taken from him, but he always made sure she felt loved.

Splayed out on the couch, she lay atop him. Working his fingers through her hair knowing this was the most relaxed she'd been in months. It was moments like this that made him wish they could have a normal life.

Some little place away from the crowds and people, maybe a cabin like Bobby's. Just something for the two of them. He knew it was impossible but he always had that dream for them. The most normal thing he could muster for her in their messed up supernatural-fueled life was a night with movies and junk food. A few hours to forget all the bullshit that existed in the world.

Dean chewed the inside of his mouth. She was the best thing that ever happened to him and yet somehow he still felt unworthy of her as if he had nothing to offer her. Part of him knew it was stupid.

"Sweetheart," kissing the top of her head, smiling at her sleepy 'hmm' response that purred against his chest. "I lo..."

"I know," nuzzling her cheek against his chest. "S'okay, I know you do."

His deep chuckle softly bounced her head on his chest.

"More than pie?" She laughed questioning him.

"Oh, I most definitely love you more than pie."

[skellyagogo]

You (Prequel)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

*This was going to be a stand-alone but it fits for the prequel to the Eric Blackburn story I wrote entitled 'You'. *

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Eric's turn to host the team's BBQ, but Sonny refused to let him near the grill. Eric's backyard full of Bravo, family, and friends just another reminder to him how his life was empty without them.

"You're fuckin' up the Brats Sonny!" Y/n argued beside Sonny manning two grills at once. "You cook 'em like that and they'll be raw, boil 'em in beer first."

"Ya don't know what the hell yer talkin' bout." Pointing the tongs at her scowling. Questioning a Texan while grilling was grounds for a fight in his mind.

"I know sausages Quinn, my family runs a hog farm & butcher shop!"

"Bet you know your way 'round sausage." He joked as they both huffed a laugh, always bickering those two, but the comment caught Eric's attention across the yard.

"You'll never find out either cuz you ain't my type," the snide remark and all further quips silenced the second she locked eyes with Blackburn from across the backyard.

Fresh off a long stint away, a newly grown and trimmed beard framed his features like a Roman statue. Chisled good looks that shouldn't have been possible in real life yet there they were offset by the impish cheeky smile he flashed her way. She returned a quick wink that left him sipping his beer grinning ear to ear. His conversation with Jason was utterly ignored at that point.

The longing looks they shared between them continued for some time like a game of chicken. Coy smiles & subtle winks. Each time he had her in his sight her whole body would flush and radiate heat. A warmth only associated with lust coursing through her.

She could only handle it for so long before she needed to cool off and wander into the kitchen. Running an ice cube over the back of her neck while the wildest images ran through her mind.

"Does it make you nervous when I stare?" The heat from his breath mingled with the icy droplets that clung to her skin.

The hidden pleasure from the shiver that ran up her spine as his body slowly pressed against her. His arms on either side caged her to the kitchen island. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was something more but he hadn't felt this alive in years. The rush of the chase, the potential reward.

"It does a lot of things," she purred. The sultry tone in her voice had him wishing for an empty house. "But nervous isn't one of them."

His beard nuzzled against her neck. Her body reacted to his touch. Leaning back into him, her fingertips running over his forearms. The hitch in her breath when his lips ghosted the nape of her neck.

"You've been staring at me for longer than today Blackburn." Her palm glided down his thigh.

"Eric," his lips touched the outer curve of her earlobe as he whispered. "Say it just once if this is possible. If not, I walk away and we go back to eye fucking each other wondering 'what if'."

Sonny's boisterous laugh rang out from outside the kitchen door and they broke apart from each other. Eric was in the freezer pulling a fresh ice cube holding it just behind her ear where his lips had touched, trying not to laugh at the way she squirmed.

"Just hold it there, you should be fine." The southern drawl on his words sent her knees wobbling or perhaps it was the fact that the palm of his unseen hand was resting high on her inner thigh.

"S' going on in here?" Sonny was too tipsy to notice the obvious.

"Bug bite," was all Blackburn said before grabbing a fresh beer from the fridge. He was almost out of the kitchen when her voice froze him in his tracks.

"Eric." It was smooth and velvety the way it rolled off her tongue. "Possibilities are endless."

"Good to know," the eagerness not hidden at all in his smile. "Good to know indeed."

Everyone had begun leaving though a few had offered to help clean up but Eric just laughed and waved them off saying he'd leave it til morning. He sat back relaxing on the living room couch and closed his eyes. Lost in thought at what she said and where to go from there now that he was given the green light. A date? Just get down and dirty?

The radio flipped on in the kitchen, the gentle clanging of dishes and running water. He found himself leaning in the doorway watching her in awe. Her back to him as she rinsed and placed glasses and dinnerware in the dishwasher. Softly singing along to 'You Should Probably Leave'. Anyone that was in the know knew he was a sucker for Chris Stapleton.

"Sounds like you're singing our song there sweetheart." Pushing off from the door frame the moment she smiled at him.

"Funny enough a ruggedly handsome Lieutenant Commander was the only person I thought of the first time I heard this song."

"Was he now?" The smirk curled at the corner of his mouth.

Advancing with purpose, encouraged by elation in her eyes, the way her tongue licked over her bottom lip. Her back hit the refrigerator with a thud. Eric's palms were on either side of her head pinning her in place. His eyes darkened showing his wants as her fingers crooked through his belt loops pulling him flush.

"You can still say no," his lips brushing over hers, the whiskers from his beard making her squirm, subtly rutting her pelvis to his.

"Eric," his name sounded like a desperate plea dripping from her tongue.

"If we start this," a trail of kisses up her neck. "I'm not gonna be able to stop, don't think I'll ever wanna stop."

"Whose asking you to stop?"

The sound of lust and need in her tone, mirrored his own. They'd been in this back-and-forth game of 'should they or shouldn't they' for far too long. The burning desire raging within them far too ready to let loose the flames. Her fingers grasped the hem of her t-shirt and Eric took a step back if only to admire the view.

The cottony material drifted to the floor like a feather in a breeze. A rush echoed in his ears as his heart hammered in his chest. She was toying with him, giving him a preview. Her hand behind her back unclasping her bra, letting it fall atop her shirt.

Eric's eyes turned as black as coal. Hunger and lust built up way past the breaking point. Too close to boiling over, to losing himself in carnal need. Anxiously watching the same expressions awash in her eyes. Her sights locked on his mouth following his tongue as it slid over his mouth wetting his lips.

"Fair is fair darlin'." Reaching behind, pulling his shirt over his head, clenching his fists making his biceps flex.

He knew he wasn't as jacked as in his youth, but he still held an impressive muscular physique. All these years hiding it behind fatigues, letting a uniform disguise hard work in the gym. Eric practically growled when her fingers trailed up his chest.

Stripped bare Eric lifted her on the kitchen island, fingers digging into her hips. Nipping and leaving marks all over her chest. His thumb grazed over her slit, warm wet heat coated his finger.

"I don't think I can be gentle," his tongue lapping, swirling, sucking a mark on her collarbone that was sure to form a bruise by morning.

Palming himself at the sight of her glistening, showing how much he turned her on. Egged on by her legs wrapping around his waist. Plunging inside her, bottoming out to the sounds of her moaning his name like it was a heavenly prayer. Her thighs happily crushing him tightly locking him close.

Pounding into her as if it wasn't their first time but their last. Trying to burn a memory for the ages inside their brains. If the world ended tomorrow at least this act of intimacy would be remembered in their next life. A distant deja vu of how sex and love were supposed to be, how it should always feel. Head in the clouds witnessing the heavenly gates while their feet were firmly planted on Earth.

The guttural groans echoed and permeated every bit of the kitchen. Every groan, every purr, each sound she made was music to his ears. If he were to go deaf those sounds would still sing out to him in his mind for the rest of his life. A song that no other would ever have the pleasure to hear.

"F. U. C. K." Each letter was drawn out breathlessly as they fled her lips.

"Don't tell me your cock drunk already sweetheart." His husky chuckle hungrily marked her neck not giving two shits that she'd have to cover them somehow before entering the base the next morning.

His brain screamed out 'Let them know she was taken'. He wanted the world to know she was off the market, to not look upon her. Love bites and beard burns coated her neck and chest. The strength in his fingers left bruises along her thighs. He wasn't going to be able to look at her in uniform without smirking knowing what lay beneath.

Eric felt her tensing, clenching around him. Knew that a knot of sweet release was building within her, just on the cusp of exploding. He wrapped his arm around her back, crushing her chest to his. She buried her face in his neck returning the favor. He hissed at the sharp bite of teeth, the slither of her tongue. A mark he'd wear as a badge of honor over their little secret.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." Her breath was ragged and yet pleading, her nails digging into his shoulders.

"I got ya, baby." Claiming her mouth with sloppy frantic kisses.

His name ripped from her lungs as she came undone. Eric thrusting like a madman following close behind. Silky webs coated her stomach barely pulling out in time. Their bodies were sticky with sweat.

"Did I hurt you?" Lavishing tender kisses along each visible bruise.

"Fair warning," she panted catching her breath and bringing him tightly against her, fingers ruffling through his hair. "I've never used a safe word."

Eric groaned as his forehead banged on her chest. The rumbling and primal noises that erupted from within.

"Oh sweetheart," the devilish smirk curling up on his mouth. "Told you I wasn't gonna be able to stop, now it's confirmed."

The next few hours were spent christening every room in his house, every possible surface. A trail of destruction was left in their wake. The music left on in the kitchen was loud, but she was louder. Screaming his name until her voice went hoarse.

[skellyagogo]

Full Metal- Bullet

There was a running bet in Bravo about Y/n and Metal. Would they or wouldn't they, but the months had rolled by and neither made a move. Hell, it was common and happened quite often that those two slept side by side in the field. Clay had suggested to the others a little nudge that would 'provide entertainment either way'.

Trent had managed to convince Metal that she liked the strong silent type so he was in like Flynn. He just had to act as he normally did, the strong silent type. That ignoring her would be better than being 'direct'.

Clay and Sonny managed to convince Y/n that Metal was just shy because of one too many broken hearts, one too many toxic women. That if she was interested she had to be the one to make the first move. Everyone could see there was something between them. Flirty banter and annoyingly cutesy moments of them asleep near each other on OPs.

The entertainment part that Clay had promised was entertaining. Metal was indeed more stoic and silent than usual and she couldn't stop smiling every time she attempted to 'bring him out of his shell'.

Another night out at the Bulkhead, Bravo sat around their usual tables. Metal was too busy watching her at the bar to care that the rest of the team was watching him.

"Here she comes," Jason muttered nudging Ray. The rest of the table not even attempting to act normal.

She walked toward their table, eight shots carried skillfully in her hands. Leaning over Metal's shoulder to place them on the tabletop without spilling a drop. All of Bravo reached out to grab their shots eagerly watching the interaction between her and Metal. The way his eyes followed her.

As she stood up swiftly and stealthfully placing a kiss on his cheek before heading back to the bar for the round of beer she owned them all for a misstep on their last OP. Metal's eyes bulged open wide, his body straightened up stiffly. His teeth grinding as his jaw clenched tight. That man looked as if he was ready to blow he was so worked up.

His chair scratched against the wooden floorboards as he stood up. He stomped towards her, hand raised as if he was going to grab her shoulder and swing her around but instead, he stalked off towards the bathrooms. Hot air steaming from his ears like a cartoon left Bravo in a ruckus of laughter.

"Blondie Povich was right," Sonny snickered flicking his toothpick between his teeth. "This is some downright diabolical shit, but it's funny as hell."

"Did you see his eyes with that kiss?!" Ray's laugh was unusually evil-sounding. "Though that man was gonna nut right there."

"Who says he didn't?" Clay smirked tossing back his shot as Blackburn and Davis joined their table.

"What'd we miss?" Eric knew it was a bad idea, but it was amusing.

"What day are we on now, I lost count." Lisa grinned sipping her beer. She could tell by the way Y/n moved that she was like a bundle of raw nerves.

"Uh day 72 I believe." Clay snorted a laugh, he never thought it'd get this far. He was convinced this little plan of his wouldn't go longer than a couple of days not months.

"Yesterday at the range she was singing some raunchy little number while they were shooting together." Sonny shook his head grinning. "Kept swaying her hips singing something bout dirty thoughts every time Metal was bout to take a shot."

"That man was on his last straw by the time they were done. He looked downright feral." Ray and Jason shared a fist bump.

"He was ready to snap and probably would have if we weren't there." Trent wiped a tear from his eye he was laughing so hard.

"She dropped her keys in front of him when we got to the bar and that man had a white knuckle hold on the table top. Swear I heard the wood cracking." Jason's head was thrown back in laughter.

"Did you ever think about what happens when Metal figures out what ya'll have done to him? Or her?" Blackburn furrowed his brows at the obvious.

"They never thought about the combined wrath of Y/n & Metal." Lisa chuckled seeing reality dawning on the faces of Bravo. "They're scary enough as individuals but as... a couple? You're all fuckin' screwed."

That thought had honestly never crossed any of their minds. A chill ran through all of them. Metal was outwardly scary. He had the look of a serial killer and gave off sleep with one eye open vibes but her. She was unassuming, the one you'd never expect and that was one of the reasons she was hand-picked for Bravo.

She was the kind of woman that would worry and fuss over you being too skinny so she'd bring you a plateful of homemade cookies. She harbored an unhinged sort of energy within her that would stand over your convulsing body from consuming poisoned baked goods and smile sweetly while the last sound you heard was a menacing laugh that rivaled the Joker.

It was one of the reasons why everyone thought she and Metal fit together. His crazy matched her crazy in and out of the field. It kept them from climbing the walls every time they had to 'hurry up and wait' whenever they caught an OP.

The first time the team realized those two just fit right like puzzle pieces was a stint in JBAD when she'd taken a bullet for Metal. It was the most insane shit they'd seen in a while. One second they were scouting their way through a recon and the next she was pushing him out of the way and bleeding letting out a hail of gunfire in return.

Back at JBAD, she refused a doctor, just sat down on a crate near their ramshackle Tiki bar, and took a shot as Trent went to work digging out the fragments. The silence, the eerie calmness from her gathered a crowd to watch placing bets on when she'd crack and start screaming. Metal sat in front of her locked in a stare-down.

"You cry and you owe me a case of beer." His tone was level but only she and Trent noticed the subtle twitch in the corner of his eyes.

Metal didn't know how to comprehend her actions in the field. Had one of his team taken a shot instead of him? Sure. Had a brother shoved him out of harm's way. You bet that's a part of being a team, but the way she did it was... something different.

She stared back at him knowing full well what he was doing. The big bad infamous Alpha 1 was trying to keep her focused on anything but Trent digging in her back for shrapnel.

"Me?! Cry?" She snorted a pained laugh. "You're gonna be the one cryin' watchin' me behave more manly than your big ass."

"Big ass?!?" Shaking his head cracking a rare smile. "Think you got me beat on the big ass there cake boss!"

"You hittin' on me?" She quirked an eye. Her question caused a tint of color on his already sun-kissed skin.

The silence that proceeded after their little exchange only intensified their staredown. Neither of them was ready to process the possibility of what could be under the circumstances. Trent had long finished and bandaged her up. The group that gathered had left before either of them noticed. Both continued to slowly blink at one another lost in a world that shouldn't have been.

How was either supposed to proceed after that when the nagging thought of whether or not it was because of what she did hanging over their heads? The thoughts of whether had he always been attracted to her or was just because she took a bullet for him racing through his head. Did she push him out of the way because that's what a teammate was supposed to do or was there something lurking deeper?

Metal hadn't been able to stop thinking about her. That stupid cocky smirk, the sound of her laugh. The way she kept everything professional and yet somehow not with the morbid and raunchy jokes. All of Bravo was asleep in their hut, but Metal couldn't sleep. He lay awake staring at the plywood ceiling asking himself the same question. Why?

The snores of the others couldn't hide the sound of her feet hitting the floor as she slipped from her bunk and towards the showers. He followed close behind, compelled to check on her but he heard her through the roar of the water cascading from the shower stall. The choking sob, the pain, the ragged breath that contained the muffled screams of agony only held at bay by her hands covering her mouth.

Ignore and Override. A mantra that was branded into all of them. Tomorrow she'd act as if nothing happened and continue as if she hadn't been shot, hadn't spent half the night crying in excruciating pain.

Y/n again at Bravo's table with their beers. Metal appeared close behind her, eyes glued on her hips. His jaw was so tight his facial muscles could have snapped like rubber bands. He sat in the chair beside her accidentally shoving his knee into her thigh.

"Always hittin' on me," she mumbled into her beer smirking.

Metal opened his mouth to respond but noticed the way Trent was watching him and instead let out a heavy sigh and rubbed his temples. How in the hell was he supposed to get her to notice him, to catch her attention to ask her out if he couldn't speak?

"You gonna do some karaoke?" Lisa quizzed Y/n catching the glint of something in her eyes.

"Mm, not much of a singer." Shrugging her shoulders, side-eyeing Metal.

"Really?!" Blackburn felt the need to stir the pot feeling safe from the repurcussion because of his rank. "I heard otherwise."

Y/n scowled at the rest of Bravo. They just had to ruin it, just had to show up at the range when she was so close to figuring out if Metal was interested.

"Fine," she grumbled annoyed but swore she heard Metal snicker beside her. "I'll need more alcohol then."

A few beers later Davis managed to get Y/n to agree to sing a duet. She was fine and dandy with the song they selected until making her way back to the table seeing the last person on Earth she wanted to see sitting at the bar.

Slumping beside Metal shrinking in on herself, he was instantly on alert searching the crowd to find the perpetrator. Every muscle in his body tightening and ready for a fight seeing that asshole. She'd told him all about the break-up after it happened when he questioned her personality change.

"Whose the block of muscle at the bar staring a hole into Y/n?" Lisa's curiosity roused the rest of Bravo's attention.

Without missing a beat Metal put his arm around the back of Y/n's chair glaring straight back at the man in question.

"Captain Fuck Face," Metal snarled earning a chuckle from Y/n. His sarcasm was amusing though truthful anger lingered in his voice. "Captain I'm gonna crush his fuckin' skull under my boot."

"He didn't break your heart," Y/n eased up laughing, leaning into Metal's shoulder. "Why are you pissed about it?"

Metal spit dip into his water bottle engaged in an Alpha male stare-down with her ex.

"Who is that?" Lisa asked Sonny quietly beside her.

"Our resident hell cat was involved with some hautie tautie tea sippin' SAS Captain." Sonny was spilling the tea to Lisa like an old lady at Church.

"SAS??" Davis scoffed impressed.

Her ex was indeed a block of muscle. Quads that made cargo pants look like skinny jeans. Biceps bulging in a size too-small t-shirt. Pectorals that twitched when he flexed his arm. Shaggy chocolate brown hedgehog-like bedhead hair. A chiseled jaw covered in a beard flecked in shades of brown, red, and gray. A strong arm leaning on the bartop, fist flexing darkened battle-born eyes staring daggers into Metal.

"He proposed before a spinup, supposed to be gone two months but right as we were about to take off they canceled. My stupid ass raced home without a call to fuck his English brains out but no." She stared at her beer feeling like garbage, it was two years ago but it still had her thinking she wasn't enough for love, that it'd crush her heart all over again.

"She walked in on him fuckin' some recruit. Tried tellin' her it wasn't what it looked like despite being balls deep in some dumb bitch." Metal's voice tinged with poison as his stoic glare never left her ex. "He should have stayed away."

If looks could kill those two men would have been engaged in a blood bath for the ages.

"That's awful," Lisa commiserated from across the table.

"The voice was nice," Y/n snorted a stiff laugh. "But that man couldn't find my clit let alone make me cum. I faked it so often with him I forgot what an orgasm was supposed to feel like."

Jason spit out his beer on his shirt. The men of Bravo choked on their laughter at her vulgar outburst. Metal huffed a laugh moving his arm from the back of her chair to directly around her shoulders. He was comfortable until her name was called for her song.

"Forgive me but I'm about to be a petty bitch. Duet next time Davis? He's obviously back to grovel for forgiveness." Standing with a hesitant smirk at Metal. "Trust me?"

"Not with that look," Metal gazed up at her curiously and finally snorted a deep chuckle. "Do what you gotta do."

Walking up to that tiny stage smirking at her team.

"Don't hold this against me," she laughed into the microphone before whispering to the DJ.

When the song started Davis wasn't the only one grinning at the song choice. Y/n microphone in hand walked off the stage, her eyes locked on Metal. A mischievious smirk and a sway in her hips singing in a sultry tone that sent Metal's heart pounding in overdrive. Straddling Metal's lap, instinctively his hands rested upon her hips.

"Harder than a bullet can hit ya," she sang but his fingers trailed up to the scar on her back.

He was entranced, more so when the chorus hit and she started to grind against him. Her eyes darkened as he clicked his teeth. That's what she meant about trust. Lap dancing on Metal while her ex watched from afar. Swirling her hips, singing away. Bravo wolf whistling and howling cheering her on.

Metal was into it, more than he should have been in public but needless to say. His hold on her was more possessive than before but she liked it. Face to face as the song ended, the air heavy between them as Metal grunted in her ear.

"We should leave, now."

She dropped the mic and cradled his face nodding in agreement. Ignoring the voices of Bravo, ignoring the calls for an encore. Walking past her ex Metal smirked smacking her ass.

"My last name will look better behind hers than yours ever would."

[skellyagogo]

Not Her

It should have been him, he should be the one in that hospital bed. It wasn't supposed to be her, but there she lay bruised and battered. They wouldn't let him in her room just yet so he was stuck looking at her from the window in her room's door.

All the gashes that had to be stitched closed, all the burns that had been bandaged. It should have been him in that explosion, it should have been anyone just not her. Fear and anger welled up inside him, fed by the acidic bile bubbling in his stomach that made him want to throw up having to see her like that. This was the very reason why relationships within a team were supposed to be forbidden.

When the staff finally let him in her room the smell of the overly sanitized and sterileness of the hospital stung his nose. Bright overhead lights and yet the appearance of eerie shadows cast darkness around the room. It was symbolism at its finest as if some unknown was showing all that could see that see that she was walking the fine line between light and dark, alive and dead.

Dulcid tones of beeps and chirps from the machines hooked up beside her bed. The slow drip of an IV sent a stab of pain through his heart with each drip, drip, drip. He'd sat in a chair beside her bed for days refusing to move. Trent sat so long he lost feeling in his legs forcing him to pace back and forth at the foot of her bed to get the blood flowing through his limbs again.

Trent had never gone this long without hearing her voice, the sound of her laughter at his stupid jokes. Eighteen days without seeing those brilliant eyes looking up at him in adoration. Eighteen without waking up with her curled on his chest being greeted with her raspy 'mornin' baby'.

He loved it when she called him baby, babe, and hotness. All those ridiculous lovey dovie pet names that held him enthralled with her. Her love was intoxicating, addictive, often leaving him drunk on the very thought of her choosing him of all people to be with.

But right now she looked too pale, so fragile and delicate in that bed, a stark difference than usual. He didn't care for it, didn't like it, hated how broken she appeared. Tubes down her throat and up her nose. A needle in her arm, pins in her leg that was steadied in a hanging brace. It never should have happened to her.

Trent was already scarred, marked by war. One more scar, one more mark, or a broken and mangled limb wouldn't have mattered for himself, but she didn't deserve that. He knew it was a part of the job, she signed up for this life, this job. Knew the possibilities of being a SEAL. She worked for it, fought for it, proved that she was the best of the best and could hang, but he never once, ever, thought she'd be the one riding that thin line in a hospital bed because of an OP gone wrong.

He desperately needed her to wake up, to tell you how much he loved her but doctors felt her best option of survival was a medically induced coma. They reasoned her body needed that extra help, that fighting chance to heal from the trauma suffered. They couldn't even reassure him that she'd even wake up. The doctors kept telling him it was all up to her now and whatever deity she worshipped.

Trent had lost his faith many years ago but that first night she was in the hospital he prayed. He fell to his knees and he begged, pleaded that she live. Prayed so long that his knees had worn indents in the waiting room's carpeted floor. He wished, hoped, prayed, crossed his fingers, and all he could think of that she'd come back to him, that everything would be okay again.

The medical staff and the rest of Bravo, even Blackburn tried to convince him to take a break from his vigil. Attempted to get him to see reason, to go get a shower, get his head right. Tried to tempt him with food, but he wouldn't leave. Trent kept repeating the same thing each time they tried.

'She did the same for me once, it's what you do when you love someone. For better or worse, I'm by her side always.'

People often caught him talking to her as if she were awake. Sat beside her bed, her hand between his while he chatted away like she'd answer him at any second. When he couldn't talk because of the ache in his heart, he read to her. He read her favorite book because he remembered watching a documentary that said coma patients who heard familiar voices recovered faster.

He washed her hair, her face, anything to bring the tiniest bit of normality to the situation. He painted her nails her favorite color something she didn't get to do often because of their line of work. It was stupid but it brought him some peace of mind.

Metal lurked often, checking in on Trent when he was none the wiser. Not in all their time had he ever seen Trent so lost. Trent Sawyer was in complete shambles without her and it hurt all who had to witness his agony.

Everyone knew Trent and her were together. The secret that everyone knew but no one spoke about outloud. Even Blackburn knew but those two were able to keep work professional so there was no reason to alert the higher-ups of the infraction. The unspoken secret that left the others hugging their loved ones tighter at what could happen in the blink of an eye.

Twenty-three days in Trent finally caught sight of himself in the bathroom mirror. Unkempt hair, scraggly, and in need of a good wash. A scruffy beard and sunken eyes. Rumpled clothes that seemed to drown him. He didn't even recognize himself.

He called Metal to come and sit with her so he could shower, he was too afraid she'd wake up alone and scared. Metal had come rushing over with a change of clothes and food knowing he wouldn't leave the hospital. The staff willingly led him to the staff locker rooms so Trent could use their showers.

The hospital water pressure was dismal at best, but he needed it. The cold water shocked his system awake. Clumps of hair fell at his feet from little food and nothing but worry and anxiety coursed through his body. Trent rushed back to her room and was just outside her door when he heard Metal's voice. Unnaturally tender for Alpha 1.

"He loves you more than I thought possible, never thought he could love again after what his ex-wife put him through but you. Trent looks at you like you're the moon & stars; like sunshine and rainbows fall outta your ass." His deep chuckle was forced and strained followed by a heavy sigh rubbing his face out of nervous habit. "You gotta wake up cuz he won't survive without you."

Trent fell asleep that night holding onto her hand thinking of all the could be's, the should be's, the would be's of their life together if only she'd wake up. He dreamt of a sandy beach, of turquoise waters and waves crashing against the shore. She sat beside him squishing her toes in the sand watching the sunset. He could feel the weight of her head on his shoulder. The white sundress clinging to her skin, soaking wet, and not a care in the world.

She kept telling him how handsome he looked while twirling a ring around his finger. 'Mrs. Trent Sawyer' dripping from her tongue like honey making his chest swell with pride. It was the wedding they whispered about late at night when sleep refused to come.

That's what he wanted for her. A warm sandy beach on some sunny remote island. A honeymoon she'd remember and smile fondly of forever. Trent wanted to give her the world even if the only world he could give her was contained within his love.

In and out of sleep in a paralyzed state. Unable to move, to open his eyes properly. He kept screaming in his head for his body to move but it wouldn't. Dismayed as his mind and body betrayed him, fear gripping hold of him that she could be dying and he couldn't wake himself up.

Trent could hear erratic beeping and rushed frantic voices that seemed close, too close to be a dream. It was like he was weightless in a free fall he couldn't prevent. Unable to open his eyes, couldn't move his limbs.

He knew he felt the tears streaming from his eyes on his face, the rapid heartbeat thumping in his chest. Trent knew something was happening around him but he couldn't wake. Deafening silence and darkness took hold of him as his body shut itself down. Emotional trauma was funny like that.

Groggy and blinded by a bright light reluctantly opened his eyes. He had the worst nightmare that played on a loop. She died beside him and there wasn't anything he could do. When his eyes focused he realized he was still in her hospital room but lying in a bed of his own. There were no sounds of beeping, no dripping of an IV. Rubbing his eyes he thought he was still in a nightmare.

Frantically looking around the room, his eyes fell upon her sleeping form in a bed next to his. No tubes in her mouth, none in her nose. There was color in her skin again, though tired looking, but no longer fragile. Clumsily crawling out of his bed and making his way to her side. Clutching her hand, fingers gingerly brushing hair from her face. He was choked up ready to burst watching the faint smile appear on her lips as her eyes fluttered open.

"That's the second time I almost lost you," her voice raspy and dry but it was music to his ears.

"Huh?" Blinking confused lifting a cup of water & straw to her chapped lips.

She looked exhausted, the bruises prominent but faded. How long had it been since the explosion? Trent couldn't remember but what had she meant? Weakly resting her palm on his cheek, fear and worry filled his eyes.

"You weren't taking care of yourself, baby. They said you were dehydrated and sleep deprived, found you out cold on the floor."

Kissing her knuckles, her forehead, her nose, and finally her lips. Overwhelmed with silent tears that she was awake.

"Don't kiss your way outta this!" Her brows knit together, her own health on the back burner worried about him.

"You were almost blown up!" Exasperated Trent tried to argue.

"And you almost died again!! Startin' to think you secretly wanna leave me." If she hadn't pouted with that tiny smile she knew he was a sucker for he might have continued to argue.

Even after all this time, all their years together he still couldn't believe she chose him of all people to love. She had this way about her, to make him feel at ease. Getting him out of his head and stopping him from worrying, questioning, and giving in to his doubts about himself. She loved him flaws and all, kissed every part of him that he disliked.

Carefully he sat at the edge of her bed, elated to see her smile, hear her voice, feel her fingers squeezing his. He loved her more than he could reason, more than he thought realistic. She kept the PTSD and depression from getting bad and knew when he was getting terrible again. When the demons were scratching and clawing inside his head.

"I won't... I can't... I don't," Trent struggled to find the words.

Wincing she shrugged her shoulders knowing what he was trying to say. Pulling him in for a long-awaited embrace, letting Trent melt into her. Easing his mind, freeing his worry.

"Maybe we should finally take that vacation," kissing him slowly. "Ya know the sandy beach and all that."

"Yeah," laughing for the first time in over a month. "Long overdue."

[skellyagogo]

Not Her

It should have been him, he should be the one in that hospital bed. It wasn't supposed to be her, but there she lay bruised and battered. They wouldn't let him in her room just yet so he was stuck looking at her from the window in her room's door.

All the gashes that had to be stitched closed, all the burns that had been bandaged. It should have been him in that explosion, it should have been anyone just not her. Fear and anger welled up inside him, fed by the acidic bile bubbling in his stomach that made him want to throw up having to see her like that. This was the very reason why relationships within a team were supposed to be forbidden.

When the staff finally let him in her room the smell of the overly sanitized and sterileness of the hospital stung his nose. Bright overhead lights and yet the appearance of eerie shadows cast darkness around the room. It was symbolism at its finest as if some unknown was showing all that could see that see that she was walking the fine line between light and dark, alive and dead.

Dulcid tones of beeps and chirps from the machines hooked up beside her bed. The slow drip of an IV sent a stab of pain through his heart with each drip, drip, drip. He'd sat in a chair beside her bed for days refusing to move. Trent sat so long he lost feeling in his legs forcing him to pace back and forth at the foot of her bed to get the blood flowing through his limbs again.

Trent had never gone this long without hearing her voice, the sound of her laughter at his stupid jokes. Eighteen days without seeing those brilliant eyes looking up at him in adoration. Eighteen without waking up with her curled on his chest being greeted with her raspy 'mornin' baby'.

He loved it when she called him baby, babe, and hotness. All those ridiculous lovey dovie pet names that held him enthralled with her. Her love was intoxicating, addictive, often leaving him drunk on the very thought of her choosing him of all people to be with.

But right now she looked too pale, so fragile and delicate in that bed, a stark difference than usual. He didn't care for it, didn't like it, hated how broken she appeared. Tubes down her throat and up her nose. A needle in her arm, pins in her leg that was steadied in a hanging brace. It never should have happened to her.

Trent was already scarred, marked by war. One more scar, one more mark, or a broken and mangled limb wouldn't have mattered for himself, but she didn't deserve that. He knew it was a part of the job, she signed up for this life, this job. Knew the possibilities of being a SEAL. She worked for it, fought for it, proved that she was the best of the best and could hang, but he never once, ever, thought she'd be the one riding that thin line in a hospital bed because of an OP gone wrong.

He desperately needed her to wake up, to tell you how much he loved her but doctors felt her best option of survival was a medically induced coma. They reasoned her body needed that extra help, that fighting chance to heal from the trauma suffered. They couldn't even reassure him that she'd even wake up. The doctors kept telling him it was all up to her now and whatever deity she worshipped.

Trent had lost his faith many years ago but that first night she was in the hospital he prayed. He fell to his knees and he begged, pleaded that she live. Prayed so long that his knees had worn indents in the waiting room's carpeted floor. He wished, hoped, prayed, crossed his fingers, and all he could think of that she'd come back to him, that everything would be okay again.

The medical staff and the rest of Bravo, even Blackburn tried to convince him to take a break from his vigil. Attempted to get him to see reason, to go get a shower, get his head right. Tried to tempt him with food, but he wouldn't leave. Trent kept repeating the same thing each time they tried.

'She did the same for me once, it's what you do when you love someone. For better or worse, I'm by her side always.'

People often caught him talking to her as if she were awake. Sat beside her bed, her hand between his while he chatted away like she'd answer him at any second. When he couldn't talk because of the ache in his heart, he read to her. He read her favorite book because he remembered watching a documentary that said coma patients who heard familiar voices recovered faster.

He washed her hair, her face, anything to bring the tiniest bit of normality to the situation. He painted her nails her favorite color something she didn't get to do often because of their line of work. It was stupid but it brought him some peace of mind.

Metal lurked often, checking in on Trent when he was none the wiser. Not in all their time had he ever seen Trent so lost. Trent Sawyer was in complete shambles without her and it hurt all who had to witness his agony.

Everyone knew Trent and her were together. The secret that everyone knew but no one spoke about outloud. Even Blackburn knew but those two were able to keep work professional so there was no reason to alert the higher-ups of the infraction. The unspoken secret that left the others hugging their loved ones tighter at what could happen in the blink of an eye.

Twenty-three days in Trent finally caught sight of himself in the bathroom mirror. Unkempt hair, scraggly, and in need of a good wash. A scruffy beard and sunken eyes. Rumpled clothes that seemed to drown him. He didn't even recognize himself.

He called Metal to come and sit with her so he could shower, he was too afraid she'd wake up alone and scared. Metal had come rushing over with a change of clothes and food knowing he wouldn't leave the hospital. The staff willingly led him to the staff locker rooms so Trent could use their showers.

The hospital water pressure was dismal at best, but he needed it. The cold water shocked his system awake. Clumps of hair fell at his feet from little food and nothing but worry and anxiety coursed through his body. Trent rushed back to her room and was just outside her door when he heard Metal's voice. Unnaturally tender for Alpha 1.

"He loves you more than I thought possible, never thought he could love again after what his ex-wife put him through but you. Trent looks at you like you're the moon & stars; like sunshine and rainbows fall outta your ass." His deep chuckle was forced and strained followed by a heavy sigh rubbing his face out of nervous habit. "You gotta wake up cuz he won't survive without you."

Trent fell asleep that night holding onto her hand thinking of all the could be's, the should be's, the would be's of their life together if only she'd wake up. He dreamt of a sandy beach, of turquoise waters and waves crashing against the shore. She sat beside him squishing her toes in the sand watching the sunset. He could feel the weight of her head on his shoulder. The white sundress clinging to her skin, soaking wet, and not a care in the world.

She kept telling him how handsome he looked while twirling a ring around his finger. 'Mrs. Trent Sawyer' dripping from her tongue like honey making his chest swell with pride. It was the wedding they whispered about late at night when sleep refused to come.

That's what he wanted for her. A warm sandy beach on some sunny remote island. A honeymoon she'd remember and smile fondly of forever. Trent wanted to give her the world even if the only world he could give her was contained within his love.

In and out of sleep in a paralyzed state. Unable to move, to open his eyes properly. He kept screaming in his head for his body to move but it wouldn't. Dismayed as his mind and body betrayed him, fear gripping hold of him that she could be dying and he couldn't wake himself up.

Trent could hear erratic beeping and rushed frantic voices that seemed close, too close to be a dream. It was like he was weightless in a free fall he couldn't prevent. Unable to open his eyes, couldn't move his limbs.

He knew he felt the tears streaming from his eyes on his face, the rapid heartbeat thumping in his chest. Trent knew something was happening around him but he couldn't wake. Deafening silence and darkness took hold of him as his body shut itself down. Emotional trauma was funny like that.

Groggy and blinded by a bright light reluctantly opened his eyes. He had the worst nightmare that played on a loop. She died beside him and there wasn't anything he could do. When his eyes focused he realized he was still in her hospital room but lying in a bed of his own. There were no sounds of beeping, no dripping of an IV. Rubbing his eyes he thought he was still in a nightmare.

Frantically looking around the room, his eyes fell upon her sleeping form in a bed next to his. No tubes in her mouth, none in her nose. There was color in her skin again, though tired looking, but no longer fragile. Clumsily crawling out of his bed and making his way to her side. Clutching her hand, fingers gingerly brushing hair from her face. He was choked up ready to burst watching the faint smile appear on her lips as her eyes fluttered open.

"That's the second time I almost lost you," her voice raspy and dry but it was music to his ears.

"Huh?" Blinking confused lifting a cup of water & straw to her chapped lips.

She looked exhausted, the bruises prominent but faded. How long had it been since the explosion? Trent couldn't remember but what had she meant? Weakly resting her palm on his cheek, fear and worry filled his eyes.

"You weren't taking care of yourself, baby. They said you were dehydrated and sleep deprived, found you out cold on the floor."

Kissing her knuckles, her forehead, her nose, and finally her lips. Overwhelmed with silent tears that she was awake.

"Don't kiss your way outta this!" Her brows knit together, her own health on the back burner worried about him.

"You were almost blown up!" Exasperated Trent tried to argue.

"And you almost died again!! Startin' to think you secretly wanna leave me." If she hadn't pouted with that tiny smile she knew he was a sucker for he might have continued to argue.

Even after all this time, all their years together he still couldn't believe she chose him of all people to love. She had this way about her, to make him feel at ease. Getting him out of his head and stopping him from worrying, questioning, and giving in to his doubts about himself. She loved him flaws and all, kissed every part of him that he disliked.

Carefully he sat at the edge of her bed, elated to see her smile, hear her voice, feel her fingers squeezing his. He loved her more than he could reason, more than he thought realistic. She kept the PTSD and depression from getting bad and knew when he was getting terrible again. When the demons were scratching and clawing inside his head.

"I won't... I can't... I don't," Trent struggled to find the words.

Wincing she shrugged her shoulders knowing what he was trying to say. Pulling him in for a long-awaited embrace, letting Trent melt into her. Easing his mind, freeing his worry.

"Maybe we should finally take that vacation," kissing him slowly. "Ya know the sandy beach and all that."

"Yeah," laughing for the first time in over a month. "Long overdue."