#okay maybe I m wearing two pairs of gloves and am wiping down things every 10 minutes

[rhysnolastname]

Yay cooking and it’s not grilled cheese and tomato soup. And I’m not freaking out.

[ravenwritesstuff]

Shelter (2/?)

Fandom: Frozen (modern AU, no magic) Pairings: Kristanna (Kristoff/Anna),previous Hanna (Hans/Anna) Rating: T for now, M for sure later. A/N: Who knows if this will ever get past this, but here ya go. Better someone reads it than it dies in oblivion, yeah? Yeah.

[ part one ]

She always tried to be one of the last workers on site which has it advantages and disadvantages.

The advantage is that every minute counts towards her sweat equity.

The disadvantage is that when her car won’t start - she is out of luck when it comes to asking her slowly developing friends group for help.

She slams open palms against the steering wheel and holds back a screaming sob. There have been a few lurching mornings or moments where she has had to grind the ignition to life, but this is the first time it has been been completely out of luck. It’s the end of the month too so the pay-by-minute cell phone in her purse is at zero and she has every instinct to take it and chuck it into the bushes but she can’t do that. A new phone would cost her fifty dollars at least and she needs that fifty bucks to buy groceries for her family and her stomach sinks to a new low when she realizes she can’t drive to the store, much less work, if her car won’t start.

They will be back on the bus and the idea that trying to navigate the bus schedule on top of everything else is enough to break her.

She has to do something or her car is not the only thing that is going to be broken down.

She reaches down beneath the steering wheel and pops the hood. She gets out and fiddles with the latch until it releases. She lifts the rusted metal and props it up with a metal brace that has seen better days.

She doesn’t know where to start. She doesn’t know anything much about cars. In her past life it had been taken care of for her. She hadn’t even pumped gas until she was twenty one so the mass of metal and tubes and belts all just looked like a horrifying mess of metallic guts. She’d have better chance of naming all the organs in her body than she would of naming all the parts she saw.

Hot tears burn her eyes. If only she could call her -

“Need a jump?”

His voice startles her. She jumps up and bangs her head on the hood. “Gosh dang this mother fudging…!”

She grabs the throbbing spot on the back of her head, sure to become a lump, and catches him watching her with bewilderment. She tries to pull herself taller, stronger, so that he has no reason to pity her.

“Knock yourself out.” She won’t admit defeat even though she feels it. Good glory does she feel it.

She rubs her goose egg while he walks to his truck down the way. A few moments later he is back and rummaging through the lockbox in the bed of his truck. He pulls out thick red and black cables and goes to pop his hood. She watches. She needs to know how to do this because she knows her car situation won’t be changing any time soon.

They are on the side of the road, his truck going the wrong way, parked in front of hers. The engine is so much higher than hers on his lifted bed that she wonders if the cords will reach.

He hooks them to his battery before coming to find hers. She watches his face as he grimaces at the blue powder gathered on her terminals.

“Your battery is corroded. When was the last time you changed it?”

It’s a punch to the gut and she is reeling. She doesn’t know how to answer, doesn’t want to make him angry, doesn’t want to lie…

“I - uh - “ She takes a step back, heel scuffing the blacktop.

“If you have a chance you should look at getting this replaced as well as your connectors. They are shot.”

It isn’t cruel or accusatory, just facts, and she waits for the second blow to fall. She waits for the accusations, the insults, but they never come. Instead he goes back to the bed of his truck and brings out something that looks like a dinosaur’s toothbrush and pulls of some gloves. He uses it to brush off a good amount of the corrosion and then hooks the jump wires to their appropriate terminals before starting his engine from the cab of his truck.

Her head still throbs, but she pretends it doesn’t matter.

He’s being nice.

That doesn’t mean he is will stay nice.

“Try to start your car!” Christopher calls from his cab and she obeys.

She turns the key, but is not even met with a click. She knows that isn’t good.

“Wait ten seconds then try again.” He yells.

She does as he says.

Still nothing.

“Okay. Just wait a minute.” He kills his engine and pops out.

He detaches the cables from her battery, sparks flying when the live ends touch each other accidentally as he tosses them to the ground, and really get in there with the dinosaur toothbrush. He makes a gutteral sound in his throat and she doesn’t know if that is good or bad, if she should offer to help or not, doesn’t want to make him angry, so she stays still and silent in her seat until he reattached his cables and goes back to his cab.

Christopher turns back on his engine.

A few moments pass. “Try it now!”

She does and there is nothing.

Her heart jumps to her throat.

If she cannot get her car to start… her eyes burn. She doesn’t know how to fix this. There is no time, no money, no chance…

He kills his engine and pops out. He unhooks the cables and puts them in his lock box before coming over to where she sits.

“You probably just need a new battery, but it looks like this thing has seen better days.” It is a simple sentence but it is enough to send two tears down her cheeks.

She nods to shake them off, refuses to wipe them and give away her vulnerability. “Figured.”

He shifts his weight, awkward hands shoved into his pockets.

“Need a ride?”

She almost laughs, a choked bubbled in her throat, and shakes her head. “My kids are with friends. I need to find a gas station or something so I can call and tell them I’ll be late.”

She can just see the scorn on Aiden’s face whenever she finally does get there to pick them up.

The sun is almost gone and she has no idea where the nearest gas station might be to this location, but she isn’t going to show weakness. She isn’t going to let him feel sorry for her.

“If you need to call someone you can use my phone.” He reaches into his toolbelt and pulls out a brick of a phone in a heavy duty rubber case. He activates the screen and swipes in his code.

He thrusts it in her direction, clearly not comfortable, but not running either.

“No it’s okay. Thanks for you help but - “ She takes a step back.

“Just make the call.” It’s not angry or hard but on a gust of breath that is just as startling.

She cannot tell if he is frustrated or tired or just in a hurry to get this show on the road, but he doesn’t quite meet her eyes and she doesn’t quite know what to make of him so she takes it. They seem equally unsettled by this offer but not really sure she has any other choice.

She sees all the familiar apps that litter most smart phones overlaying a picture of a woman. She is blonde, long hair waving around her face, and her blue eyes sparkle as she laughs at the photographer. She reminds her of Elsa but Anna shakes off that thought and moves on. She thinks instead that she is very beautiful and that this woman must be his wife. He doesn’t wear a ring, but she remembers from the introduction literature that all jewelry should be left at home as it could get caught or damaged on the site.

Somehow the idea of him having a wife is a relief. It makes her feel slightly less seen and she likes that. Still her hands shake as she keys in Ariel’s number and prays she answers.

On the fifth ring she does.

“Hello?”

“Hey! It’s Anna.” She can hear the kids playing in the background.

“Hey! I didn’t recognize the number but I wondered. Whose phone is this?”

“My site manager’s.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Sorry, I’m sorry. I’m having some car trouble. Can the kids stay with you a little later?” Anna’s eyes catch on where Christopher is poking around under her hood a bit more very clearly trying to give her space.

“Of course. What’s up with your car?”

“I don’t know. It won’t start. Battery maybe.” She plugs her other ear and steps away a bit into the quiet street. “I’m probably going to have to get it towed.”

“Oh no. Anna. I am so sorry. If there is anything we can do…”

“No. Don’t worry about it. You already do way too much for me. If you can just watch them till I get this figured out -”

“Absolutely. They can spend the night if they need to.”  

Anna grimaces. Aiden would hate that. “Thank you so much. I hope it doesn’t come to that but thank you. I don’t know how I could ever repay you.”

“Once you have you have your house you can bet that Eric and I will be dropping off Melody every Friday night like clockwork.” She is teasing and Anna feels the hint of a smile.  

“Deal. Okay. Well I better get this figured out so I’m going to let you go, but I’ll keep you posted.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to send Eric over? Or I could pack up the kids and come get you?”

The offer is tempting but then she still wouldn’t have solved anything with her car. “I’ll let you know but for now I think I’m going to try to get this sorted first.”

“Okay. But be safe. It’s getting dark.”

“I know. Don’t worry. I won’t do anything stupid.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

They end the conversation and she is greeted again with the face of a smiling blonde obscured by apps. She wonders what her name is but knows better than to ask. Christopher has already made it pretty clear he is not interested in small talk.

She goes to where he is fiddling with the confusing mess of wires, cables, and parts beneath the hood of her car. She hands him back his phone. He takes it without comment. Even with the distance she knows he heard every word of what was said.

He looks over over his shoulder as if something under her hood had said something, large hand rubbing the back of his neck.  

“Look - I have a guy - he owes me a few favors.”

“Oh I couldn't ask you to -” she knows where this is going, doesn't want his pity, but he talks right over her.

“It's not a big deal -”

“You've already helped so much -”

“I'm not going to just leave you here with a busted car okay?” He forks his fingers through thick blonde hair and she can hear the frustration creeping into his tone. The hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, her throat closes, and she steps back. “Just give me one second, okay?”

He steps off with his phone to make a call and she tries to get her heart to slow to a normal rhythm.

She doesn’t know where he thinks she will go, but each moment of fading daylight makes her more anxious to start walking towards somewhere she can get less complicated help. The kind of help that doesn’t come with strings, or strangers, or her having to let any man within ten feet of her.

The conversation is short enough that she does not have time to go much further into that dark rabbit hole of her mind. He is back and speaking, pulling her back:

“He can’t make it today, but he can tomorrow. Your car will be fine here till then.”

It is simultaneously a relief and a burden. She knows she will not be getting her car fixed tonight by any measure but still that is just one problem of several this presents.

Still she forces a smile despite her shaking nerves.

“Thank you. That is - that is really - you know just - just so, so kind. Thank you. And I’ll pay you - I’ll pay you both when I can. And I can. I can if you can wait till next Friday - but I want to make this right. I want to - to - well - thank you?”

She sounds like an idiot.

She knows she sounds like an idiot, her thoughts too quick and scattered to make any sense.

He is looking at her with a funny crease between thick brows. He shakes his head just slightly.

“Look. Don’t worry about it.” He shoves his hands into his back pockets, rocking onto the heels of heavy work boots. “What part of town do you live in?”

She blinks at the question, not sure what he is asking. Distrust brews in the corner of her mind. “Why?”

He looks up at the darkening sky and nods.

“I’ll give you a ride.”

Of all the reasons she expected him to ask about where she lived - somehow this one hardly registered. She glances at his truck, enormous, but she knows once those doors are shut and she is inside -

“Oh no. I couldn’t.” It comes out on a burst of air, too fast and panicked to be reasonable, and she stammers. “M-my kids - you’d have to pick them up too and - well - it w - would be way too much - their car seats -”

He peers towards her backseat and sees the identical boosters. He sighs.

“Look,” he sounds tired. “I’m not leaving you here by yourself. So grab the car seats and get in the truck, okay? It’ll work just fine.”

She meets his eyes and looks for the expression she has been trained to find - the disdain and anger and promise of worse later - but finds none of it. All she finds is a man who looks like he might be just about as exhausted as she is and she really does not want to bother Ariel anymore so…

“Okay.”

She opens the one working backdoor on her car and wrangles the booster seats despite aching muscles. She puts them on the street before she manually presses the locks down on each door, double checks she has her essentials, and scoots out of the back seat to shut the door.

He already has the car seats in the back of his extended cab. She hadn’t noticed him take them while she locked up and she blinks a moment trying to let her brain catch up. She must have taken longer than a moment because he looks at her from where he has just climbed out of the cab with the car seats like he isn’t entirely sure she isn’t crazy and jerks his head towards the passenger seat.

She mentally double checks that she has everything she needs, that everything is closed and locked or on her person, before walking to his truck on gelatin knees.

It takes her two breaths to get the courage to hoist herself into the cabin. The height of the vehicle is so foreign to her own compact rust bucket. He revs the engine to life before she even has the door shut.

“Where am I going?” He asks as she buckles her seat belt.

She gives him Ariel’s address and he enters it into his phone before setting it on the car mount and plugging it in. The GPS readout says thirteen minutes and Anna is counting it down.

She knows just how much can change in thirteen minutes.

The roar of his truck’s engine and the faint chatter of his radio fill the space between them but she swears she can still feel the silence. She shifts, uncomfortable, gripping the cross belt over her chest in fervent hands and counting seconds. She does not know if he notes her discomfort but he clears his throat and she can see him holding his steering wheel much the same way she is clutching her seat belt.

“So. You have kids.” He taps large fingers on his steering wheel.

“Yes. Twins, actually. Kind of a two-for-one special,” she laughs but it sounds forced, frantic. She never imagined she would ever have this conversation with him.

“How old?”

“Six.”

The road rolls under his tires.

“Do they have names?”

She smiles just thinking of her babies, her shining stars on dark days, and her voice softens. “Aiden and Brantley.”

“Aiden and Brantley,” he lets out a huff. “A and B. You plan that?”

And just as quickly as she had relaxed at the thought of her children a cold sweat breaks out on Anna’s back. She gives a nervous laugh. “Their father did. He wanted to go down the alphabet.”

He grunts, looking over his shoulder as he merges. “You’d think he’d have done it better.”

She does not understand what he means. Her brow furrows.

“What?”

“Well - you’re already an ‘A’. If he was trying to do something alphabetical then Aiden would have been redundant.”

Her mind swims. She is not ready to explain this, never would have expected him to pick up on that so quickly.

She forces another laugh, hiding her discomfort. “Yeah. It would’ve.”

He looks at his GPS, making sure he is on track, maybe only partially listening: “Why wouldn’t it be? Your name’s Anna, right?”

She coughs into her sleeve, cheeks flaming. “Yeah - but he - uh - my ex - he called me something else.”

She has never said that out loud to anyone since she started using her given name again. She has never given voice to the obscenity that was her nullification. To even admit it - especially to this man she hardly knows - who so clearly views her as incapable - makes her insides quake. What could he possibly think of her now? She may be walking to Ariel’s afterall.

The pavement under the tires keeps rhythm for a few seconds. Then:

“What did he call you?”

It is not what she expects. She whips her face towards him, but he is not looking at her. He is watching the road and she studies his profile. He has broad features, everything about him oversized and prominent, and she thinks of the woman on his phone’s background. She wonders if she is as happy with him when the camera is not pointed at her as she is when it is. She looks at his hands on the steering wheel, large and rough, and she wonders if he ever used them to break someone down the way he used them to build houses up.

Sweat breaks out on her hairline.

“Well?” He asks again.

“I’m sorry. What?” She deflects, trying to hide the fact that she had lost track of the conversation.

“If he didn’t call you Anna, then what did he call you?”

It is an odd question. Something most would probably consider a small question, but she feels it like a fist to the ribs. The air sucks from her lungs, phantom pains creeping in, and she clenches the seat belt so tightly her nails nearly break flesh - eyes squeezed shut. But has to say it. She should say, she will.

She says it on a gust of courage:“Cassandra.”

The taste of the name, the shape of it, is an insidious thing that creep into her dreams at night. It is the embodiment of things he wishes would just die, but never will. She tries to press passed it.

“I was the ‘C’. His son had to be the ‘A’, had to be the first in the line. Then we just needed ‘E’, ‘F’, and ‘G’ to connect to his ‘H’  - Hans. His name is Hans and - well - I wouldn’t have been surprise if he found a way to legally force our children to name their offspring to complete the chain.”

She means it as a joke, kind of, tries to make it one, but his face falls flat. She looks back at the road, hard racing faster than the lines passing on the road. If she had known this was where this ride was going to go she never would have gotten in the car.

“So…” He seems to sense her unease but is not ready to let go just yet. He steps out with kid gloves. “Is Anna short for Cassandra?”

She thinks to lie, but changes her mind. Instead, the truth:

“No.”

She does not look at him, cannot, shame keeping her focused on the road. Maybe if she does not look at him, does not acknowledge to whom she is speaking somehow this conversation will not count.

Another tentative step: “Is it your middle name?”

“No.”

An entire mile passes before: “So why would he call you that?”

She knows the reason, hates the reason, and wishes she was a better liar. If she had just been a better liar this entire thing may have turned out differently. She may be home with her sister, never would have needed to meet someone like Hans, never would have been forced to -

“He - my - uh - ex - he uh - well - he didn’t like my name. He said it was too - uh - common? So he called me something else.” The words are automatic. He had taught them them to her but they still taste bitter on her tongue.

“So he changed your name?”

She doesn’t like the way that sounds, hasn’t even told Ariel or Belle that Hans had called her Cassandra, doesn’t know why she tells him now, but now she is regurgitating Han’s catch phrase: “Anna is a boring name for a boring person. He didn’t want to be married to someone boring.”

Two miles pass.

“It sounds like whoever this jackass was he didn’t want you, not really who you are.”

His candor is disarming. Defense of Hans springs to her lips and dies there as she remembers that is not her job anymore. He had lost the right of her protection a long time ago.

Still she is not done defending herself: “We were both young. I don’t think either of us knew what we wanted.”

“Well it sounds like he wanted to erase you.”

A niggling piece in her chest locks into place. The way he puts it is so succinct - so plain - yet she had never been able to put it so simply.

Erase me. She almost laughs. If he’d had his way he would have.

She can hardly fathom the thought so she tries to avoid it.

“Anna’s not such a great name anyway.” she shrugs as if she is not just using Hans’ lines against herself. “There are way better names out there.”

He is quiet then, jaw set tight, and she can feel his judgement. She hopes he doesn’t kick out of the truck, but they are close to Ariel’s now. She can walk, carry the car seats, the rest of the way. She can make it on her own. She can. She has.

But how could she have been so stupid?

She never should have told him what she had - never should have let him see just how weak she had been. She doesn’t know much about this man, but she can tell he doesn’t appreciate weakness. Now she is at a disadvantage and she swore long ago that she would never ever be at a disadvantage to a man ever again. She never should have told him, never should have taken his offer of a ride. He is going to meet her kids and oh shit -

“You can just let me out here.” Bile in her throat she hardly realizes they are still on the highway.

His eyes jerk towards her even as he tries to watch the road. “Are you crazy?”

“We’re almost there. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s - you know? Okay. I mean - you have places to be I’m sure and -”

Her chest feel tight. The truck’s cabin closes around her. She clutches the armrest for dear life.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down there, feisty pants. You doing okay?”

She stares at the tail lights in front of her - unable to respond.

“Look. I’m not letting you out. We’re just a few minute away. Just - chill. Okay?”

He accelerates. She tightens her grip.

It could have been days or seconds before they park in front of Ariel’s modest home in a quiet part of town. Neither of them quite seem to know what to do - so she shoves down her panic just enough to pretend like nothing ever happened.

She plasters on a grin. “Well this has been swell. I’ll just get my stuff and seats and I’ll be out of your -”

She is half way out of the car before his voice catches her: “Wait. I could - if you want - I could just drive you all home?”

And for one second she thinks she might see a crack in his strong facade. It catches her off guard. She hadn’t expect it, but she remembers just what she had let him know. She remembers the secret he holds that he doesn’t know is a secret and if there was even a snowball’s chance in hell that she would let some stranger meet her kids and drive them to their home before it melted before that implication.

She grabs her personal effects and pops open her door. “That’s okay. We’ll figure it out. You’ve done too much already.”

She has the back cab open before he can protest and is wrangling the two car seats like she always has before he is even out of his seat. She slams the back door.

“Thanks for everything!” She waves before she picks up the car seats and bumps the passenger seat closed with her hip.

She runs to Ariel’s front door and doesn’t look back. She waits to hear his truck roar away, but that doesn’t come until she is safe inside her friend’s home.

[ourdreamsrealized]

Chapter Two: To Love a God

Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3

A/N: So no romance just yet, but I promise that it is coming. This chapter took longer than I expected it to, finishing at 12 1/2 pages and 4779 words. I hope you find it enjoyable because I am definitely looking forward to writing Chapter Three!

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Thor Odinson (God of Thunder) x Reader

Synopsis: When you meet Thor for the first time, he’s a happy-go-lucky hero in need of your help, but as more chance meetings happen and a relationship begins to blossom between the two of you, you begin to realize that there is a lot more to this amazing man than meets the eye.

Inspired by @champion-ofthe-sun‘s post: { x }.

Rated: PG-13

Warnings: Sexual Themes, Very Mild Gore, & Language

“Y/N!” You looked up from the file in your hands when you heard the sound of your name. “It is so good to see you again!”

“Thor?” Your eyes widened as you took in his form. He was wearing normal clothing, not the suit of armor he had on when you first met. He looked good in street clothes, a forest green hoodie and dark blue jeans.

“Stark mentioned that you worked for us now,” he stated, stopping in front of you with a larger-than-life grin.

You lifted a brow, smirking at him. “I don’t work for you guys. I work for S.H.I.E.L.D. Helen Cho is my boss.”

“Even so, we will be working together from now on.”

“On occasion.” You nodded, turning your back to him and gesturing to the paper-covered exam table. “Mind sitting for me?”

“Okay…” He moved over to the surface, doing as you asked. “You are doing well, it seems.”

“Quite well. I’ve been working for Helen since the Battle of New York, after you put in a good word for me. Thanks for that, by the way,” You walked over to him, unfolding the blood pressure cuff. “Mind taking your shirt off for me, Thor? It’ll make my job a lot easier.”

“It was no trouble.” He shot a flirtatious look your way that made you roll your eyes before he folded his arms into the fabric and lifted it off of his head. Now shirtless, you used every ounce of willpower to keep yourself from oogling him, but damn, he was fit.

“And you? How are you doing?” you asked, wrapping the cuff around his right upper arm, lining up the arrow on the cuff itself to where his brachial artery should run. “This will just hug you tightly for a bit.”

He nodded, glancing at your hands as they worked before looking at your face. “I am well. I have been in Asgard, where I fought Malekeith and the Dark Elves.”

You inflated the cuff, keeping your stethoscope on his arm while also listening to his story.

“I lost Loki.” His face fell when he stated that, and your heart went out to him.

You got your blood pressure reading and removed the cuff from him. “I’m sorry to hear that.” You went over to the counter by the sink and wrote the value, which turned out a little high but within normal range. You then grabbed the thermometer.

“Why?” he chuckled, watching you with an amused expression on his face. “He was the cause of the Battle of New York.”

“Yes,” you agreed, running the probe over his forehead and down towards his right ear. 36.2 degrees centigrade. “But he was also your brother, right? I can’t imagine losing a sibling.”

“You have siblings?” he questioned as you cleaned off the thermometer with an alcohol wipe.

“Two. An older and a younger brother.”

“So you know the responsibility that comes with being older?” You felt his eyes on you as you lifted his arm into your hands, fingers pressing lightly over his radial artery. “What is it you are doing?”

“Taking your pulse,” you explained, trying to ignore how close you were to the man as you lifted your other arm to look at your watch. “I do. Both were rather immature until a certain age. A lot of the time, it felt like I was the one born first.”

Thor’s boisterous laugh filled the space, and you glanced up at him, unable to help the upward curve of your lips.

“Siblings can be handfuls,” he sighed a few moments later, shaking his head.

“But we love them regardless,” you added, eyes now on his chest, counting each rise and fall as one breath.

“Yes, that is true…” he trailed off, tilting his head to the side. “Why do you stare so intently?”

A full-blown blush overcame your cheeks, but you kept your eyes on his torso because you’d be damned if you lost count and had to do this all over again. “I’m looking at your breathing.”

“Oh…” Was it you or did he sound slightly disappointed?

All was silent for the next few seconds as you moved away from him, relinquishing your touch, as you went over to his file to write down the rest of his vitals. The tech had already gotten his height and weight for you, so all that was left was drawing a sample of blood for lab work.

You washed your hands, dried them off with a paper towel, and then slipped on two latex-free gloves as you turned to look at Thor again.

“Have you ever had your blood drawn before?”

He blinked at your question before replying, “Stark or Banner might have once or twice. Why?”

You opened a drawer to your right and pulled out a few vials along with a needle. “Well, you’re due for your annual check, so I’m going to have to take a few samples.”

Thor fidgeted in his seat, eyes on the needle in your hand. “Of course. I will not stop you from doing what you must.”

You held back a snicker because you couldn’t believe that the God of Thunder had a fear of needles. Still, it would have been rude to laugh at him, and it was a perfectly normal thing to be afraid of.

“Why don’t you tell me about your fight with...uh…” you tried your best to remember the name he had uttered earlier. It started with an “M”, but you knew you would butcher it if you tried. “Was it the Dark Elves?”

Thor’s disposition visibly brightened as you took his arm in your hands again, cleaning off the area above the vein you were going to insert the needle into.

“Well, it was my grandfather that originally fought Malekieth and his army of Dark Elves…” he began as you quickly put the needle into his arm. He did not even flinch, thank goodness, and you listened intently as he retold the tale, filling the vials you needed to.

“Then, I spent the morning with Jane before heading back to Asgard to talk with my father.”

Your chest tightened at the mention of Jane. You knew Thor had a girlfriend, but you also knew of your attraction to the god. It was no wonder that you would feel a little jealous. It wasn’t like you were falling hard for the guy or anything like that.

“Aren’t you going to take my blood?” Thor suddenly asked, breaking you from your thoughts, and, this time, you couldn’t keep the laughter back. “What is it?”

“I already did,” you stated, gesturing towards the counter where five vials of dark red liquid lay. You removed your gloves, depositing them in the trash can next to you.

“How did I miss that?” he asked, getting up from the table quickly. His feet nearly tripped under his weight, and you moved swiftly to steady him.

“Careful. You shouldn’t get up that fast…” you said, gently pressing against his chest to have him sit back down. “You were so focused on talking about your fight that you didn’t even notice what I was doing.”

This time, it was Thor’s turn to laugh as he placed a hand on your shoulder. “Thank you, Y/N. I appreciate it.”

You gave him a small smile. “You’re welcome. Now, I’m going to get going, and Helen is going to come in and talk with you a bit.”

Your patient frowned. “Then, this is goodbye?”

“For now, yes.” You pressed your lips together, not really wanting to leave Thor either. You were having a good time talking with him. In fact, this time with him was a lot better than most of the dates your friends have been setting you up on as of late.

“Will you be at Stark’s party this evening?”

Well, originally, no. Stark had invited you to parties before, and after your first one, you didn’t really see a need to keep going. You always had a terrible time, taking your usual position as wallflower because you knew absolutely no one at most of these functions. But, if Thor was going to be there, maybe this one was worth attending?

“I was invited…” you said, looking down.

“But you declined?”

The sadness in his voice made that earlier feeling, the one you had experienced when he mentioned Jane, return, except it was slightly tweaked; it was not as intense.

“I didn’t give an answer to Tony, but I’m free tonight…” You bit your bottom lip as you met his gaze.

“So you will come, then?” He perked up at the possibility, his shoulders getting out of their slump.

You nodded. “I’ll be there.”

“Great! Then, I will see you later,” he chuckled, his blue eyes sparkling with mirth.

“Until later,” you said, eyes on him as you made your way to the door of the small room. Doing so nearly had you knocking over the sharps bin, but you managed to avoid it and keep your composure in front of Thor.

You were back at your apartment around six-thirty, and the party was going to start at nine, luckily. It gave you enough time to grab a small bowl of cereal, take a shower at a leisurely pace, and change your outfit five times.

Now, usually, you cared a bit about your appearance, wanting to make good first impressions and all that, but this was getting a bit ridiculous. You were just going to one of Tony’s parties, and it wasn’t even a crazy one, considering he invited a lot of his colleagues from S.H.I.E.L.D. Why was this such a big deal for you?

Eventually, you did settle on a wine red, off-the-shoulder cocktail dress. It was slimming, hugging your body in a flattering way, and was sophisticated. It was the most adult dress you owned, considering your closet was comprised of clothes mostly from your college days. The only thing you were a little self-conscious about was the low cut in fabric that revealed a bit of the skin between your breasts.

But there was nothing else to wear, and you did have matching heels so…you left your apartment in it, covered by a dark peacoat that your mother had bought you this passed Christmas. You managed to get a taxi pretty quickly, and traffic wasn’t too bad; you arrived a few minutes late, but no one seemed to notice.

“Y/N,” Tony was the first to welcome you, playing the ever doting host. “Glad you could come.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders as he took the jacket you held between your hands and gave it to one of the servants to hang up for you. “Point Break has been asking about you nonstop. I told him you were in grad school; hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t,” you shook your head, still processing who Point Break could be. And what Tony had said to him wasn’t a lie; you were going for your PhD in Nursing.

“Can I get you a drink? Romanoff’s at the bar, currently.”

You had met Agent Romanoff a number of times, and while she could come off a bit intimidating and uncaring, she had been nothing but nice to you. You wouldn’t mind spending some of the evening with her, but the main reason you had come was, well, Thor.

However, a drink might help loosening up around him.

“A drink would be nice. What’s her specialty?” you asked as Tony led you over to the dimly lit bar, weaving through the crowd of guests.

“I don’t know, actually. You’ll have to ask her.” He stopped, eyes moving from you to someone else in the room. “Excuse me, Y/N. I have to go greet another guest.”

“Okay.” You nodded, giving him a small smile before he left your side. You made the rest of the trek over to the bar, sliding into one of the barstools.

“Hey, Y/N.” Natasha’s red lips curved upwards as she leaned against the counter. “You’re looking great! New dress?”

You glanced down at your outfit, happy she complimented it. Natasha always had good taste, so impressing her was a major ego boost. “No, actually. I wore this to one of my friend’s weddings.”

“Very nice. Suits you,” she stated, straightening. “Now, did you come over here to just chat or can I offer you a drink, too?”

“I’ll take that drink, if you don’t mind.” You folded your arms, leaning on them.

“Anything in particular?” She lifted a brow as she reached below the bar for something you could not yet see.

“Surprise me.” You shrugged. You weren’t a big drinker anyway.

Natasha smiled, pulling a margarita glass out from the bar’s cabinet. She pulled a few different bottles from the shelves behind her, mixing them together in a stainless steel bottle. She then poured out the mixture into the glass, sliding it towards you. “Enjoy.”

“Thanks, Natasha,” you said, lifting the drink with one hand and bringing it to your lips to take a sip. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Bruce on his way over, and not wanting to be a third wheel--it was obvious something was going on between the two--you got up from your seat.

“Thor’s over by the windows.” Natasha gestured to the exact spot with a nod just before you got up.

Your eyes moved to the sharply dressed man talking enthusiastically to a group of older veterans that had been invited to the party and Steve. He looked amazing in the black jacket, and his blonde hair was down, as usual, but in a loose ponytail.

You were about to turn to ask Natasha how she knew you were looking for him, but Bruce was chatting her up now, and you weren’t going to disturb them.

When you reached Thor, you heard him talking about some alcohol that had been aged thousands of years. That in itself was intriguing enough, but the fact that he warned against mortals drinking the stuff had your interest even more piqued.

“What does it taste like?” you interjected after he had poured a bit of the liquid into one of the elderly gentleman's glass.

Thor shifted his feet slightly so that his back was no longer to you, and when his blue orbs landed on your face, a wide grin stretched across his. “I can offer a taste, but I think it is best that that is all you drink.”

You straightened your arm out, lifting the glass Natasha had given you to accept a few drops from his bottle. You then brought your red lips to the rim, taking a small bit into your mouth and let a few moments pass before you swallowed it. The burn was harsh down your throat, like you had ingested a ring of fire, and it was hard to keep yourself from screwing your face up in disgust.

Thor’s body shook next to yours, his laugh echoing around you as he placed his large hand on your shoulder farthest from him. “I told you, but I will not deny the lady more if she wishes for it.”

You shook your head, waving the idea off. “I think that it’s not really something I’d like more of.” You put your glass down on the surface next to you.

“Come, then, my friends were going to tell me the story of this battle. Was it Omaha Beach that you mentioned?” Thor brought you to a couch, having you sit next to him, as one of the veterans began to speak about his time as a soldier in World War II. Steve stuck around for a bit longer, sometimes inserting his own recollections into the story, but he soon excused himself and headed towards the bar.

You stayed with Thor for the rest of the night, and as the party dwindled down, the rest of the Avengers, including Maria Hill, joined the two of you.

The conversation was now on Thor’s hammer, which was resting on the coffee table in front of you.

“But it’s a trick!” Clint exclaimed, spinning a drumstick around his fingers.

From beside you, Thor chuckled, leaning forward and handing Steve his empty soda can. “No. No. It’s much more than that.”

“Ah whoever be worthy shall haveth the power!” Clint teased in a deep voice, gesturing with his hands to the massive tool. “Whatever man. It’s a trick!”

Thor relaxed into the couch beside you as you watched the exchange. He pointed to Mjolnir. “Please, be my guest.”

Everyone looked at one another, Hawkeye hesitating as his eyes shot from one Avenger to the other.

“Come on.”

“Really?” Clint asked, his eyebrows high on his forehead.

“Yeah.” Thor nodded, bringing up a hand to stroke his beard as Clint got up from his seat and walked over to the hammer.

“Oh, this is going to be beautiful,” Rhodey snickered, looking to Tony, who was quick to make a sexual joke. Despite yourself, you joined in the laughter that ensued.

“You know I’ve seen this before, right?” Clint said to Thor, who just smiled at him, bemused. Clint wrapped his hand around the handle, grunting as he attempted to lift it with the strength of one arm. After a few moments, he gave up. “I still don’t know how you do it!” He chuckled, a bit embarrassed.

“Smell the silent judgement?” Tony muttered, and Clint pointed a finger at him. “Please, Stark, by all means.”

Tony’s brow rose as he got up from his seat, making his way over to take Clint’s place. He walked with confidence, but there was a smug smirk on his lips. “Never one to shrink from an honest challenge.” He wrapped all ten digits around the handle. “It’s physics.”

“Physics,” someone agreed.

“Right, so if I lift it, I then rule Asgard?” The question was directed at Thor, and you were shocked when he agreed, nodding his head as if it was no big deal.

“I will be reinstituting Prima Nocta,” Tony announced, readying his stance.

You bent forward, elbows resting on your right knee as you crossed your legs and watched.

He tried moving it once, one foot on top of the table for leverage, before he stopped, taking less time than Clint, and stated, “I’ll be right back.”

You glanced sideways at Thor, one corner of your mouth lifting, and he just smiled back, obviously enjoying the show even more than you were.

True to his word, Tony returned with part of his armor on, just covering the lower half of her arm. He tried again, this time using only his left hand. When that didn’t work, Rhodey joined him, also wearing part of his armor. Both men, with combined strength, were unable to even make the hammer budge.

Bruce was next, having no issue with standing on the table for leverage, as he, rather loudly, attempted to pull Mjolnir into the air. Many of you were holding back your giggles at his dramatics, and, when he, too, failed, Steve got up from the otherside of Thor and decided to try for himself.

Thor, not seeming the least bit concerned, took a sip from his glass before putting it back down to watch the next challenger.

Steve stepped up to the hammer, encircled both hands around its handle, and pulled up with all his might. All watched, except you, who happened to notice, out of the corner of your eye, Thor’s smile drop from his face completely. You were about to ask what was wrong, but Steve’s turn was over; Natasha was then asked to try.

When she said no, everyone’s eyes were on you.

“Me?” You placed your fingers against your chest. Some of the strongest men in the room couldn’t lift that thing. How were you going to do it? Still, none of the ladies in the room had tried, and you had nothing to lose.

“Yes! You got this, Y/N!” Clint cheered, sitting up as you stood, smoothing out the skirt of your dress. You felt Thor’s intense gaze on you as you took a few steps closer to Mjolnir.

“I don’t think I’m worthy, but I’ll give it a try,” you stated, moving both hands around the handle. You adjusted your grip for a moment before pulling with all your strength.

How did you know that that would be a mistake?

You fell backwards onto your bum, groaning softly from the impact. You opened your eyes to see many shocked faces, Thor’s among them.

“What?” you asked, following their gaze, horrified to find that it was focused on the area separating your legs, only to find that their attention was on the hammer that now rested between them. “Did I lift it?”

“It seems that you have, Y/N.” Thor stated, his expression becoming stoic.

“So...does she rule Asgard?” Tony asked from his seat, looking to Thor.

“No, of course not,” Clint blurted out before Thor could even separate his lips to respond. “It just means she’s worthy. Thor’s the crown prince.”

“Thor?” You peered up at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Why were you able to move Mjolnir?

Suddenly, a loud-pitched noise came over the loudspeakers, having you all cringe.

“Worthy…No...” the word was drawn out and said in a voice unfamiliar to all of you. You all looked to the source, finding, what looked like to you, a very dismembered iron man suit.

“How could you be worthy?” the thing asked, looking at the lot of you. “You’re all killers.”

“Stark?” the seriousness of Steve’s voice caused dread to harden in the bottom of your stomach, weighing you down like a rock.

Tony’s worried tone worsened the feeling. “Jarvis?”

“I’m sorry I was asleep...or...I was a dream,” the robot spoke again.

Tony continued to speak to Jarvis, asking him to reboot, but nothing was changing. Your heartbeat quickened as you looked from Thor to Tony to Steve to the defective suit.

“There was this...terrible noise…” the intruder held his head. “And I was tangled in...in…” he looked down at himself, and for a moment, you thought he was going to fall, but he caught himself. “Strings. Had to kill the other guy. He was good guy.”

You sucked in a sharp breath as Steve asked the question that was on everybody’s mind. “You killed someone?”

“Wouldn’t have been my first call...but...down in the real world, we’re faced with ugly choices.”

“Who sent you?” Thor asked, sharp stare on the robot as he offered you a hand. You took it, keeping his hammer in your other palm as he pulled you up to your feet, bringing you flush against him.

Then Tony’s voice filled the room. It wasn’t him, but a recording. “I see a suit of armor around the world.”

Everyone looked to the genius, and you summoned up the courage to ask, “W-what does that mean?”

“Ultron,” Bruce answered, although it didn’t really help you any. You had never heard of an ‘Ultron’.

“In the flesh,” the defective suit spoke before correcting himself. “Or--no--not yet. Not this...chrysalis…” he examined his metal body again. “But I’m ready…”

As he said this, you heard the click of Maria loading her gun, and Thor’s fingers were wrapped around the ones you had on Mjolnir.

“I’m on a mission,” Ultron continued.

“What mission?” Natasha questioned as Maria slowly stood, and you were beginning to understand that a fight was just a moment away…

“Peace in our time.” As Ultron said this, two robots broke through the wall behind him, immediately attacking the group of you.

Thor pushed you behind him, taking the hammer from your grasp. He brought his arm forward, hitting one of the suits of metal that had gone straight for him. The robot was not prepared for the hit and went flying back, crashing into the bar. Thor didn’t give him a second’s rest, flying into the air after him as the room erupted into chaos.

All you could do was get out of their way, hiding behind the couch as you thought of something to do. You weren’t a fighter, never was, but you could take care of yourself.

And so you did, eventually sneaking out of the room to rush down the hall to the infirmary. You were going to need some supplies, and while you were confident victory was on the Avenger’s side, it didn’t mean there wasn’t going to be a price for it.

This was your way of helping.

By the time you stocked up on bandages, antiseptic, and the proper equipment needed to complete stitches, the place had gone silent save the loud pounding of your heart. You rushed out of the supply room, making a left outside the infirmary.

“Y/N?” you could hear Thor’s booming voice calling for you frantically. “Y/N?!”

Tony’s joined in, followed by Steve’s and Natasha’s.

“I’m here!” you answered, entering the room that had been turned into a battleground. Everyone looked relieved, but Thor was the first one to rush over to you, bringing you into a bone-crushing hug.

“Are you alright?” he asked, pulling back moments later, his eyes studying your form.

You blinked, a bit surprised by how much he cared. “I-I’m fine, I just--”

“Thank god, Y/N,” your boss cut you off, moving over to both you and Thor and taking some items from you. “Do you mind helping Rhodey first? He went through a window.”

You nodded at Helen before hastening over to the man in question. He was sporting many superficial cuts, and you could already tell that his arm was dislocated. You warned him before you fixed his arm that it would hurt, and he would still need to see Helen about its progress. You then wiped up his cuts, taking some pieces of glass from them.

Luckily, that was the worst of the injuries. With Helen helping you, you finished attending to everyone within a half hour.

Thor was your last patient, having sustained very little, but he was uncharacteristically quiet, just staring at you intently as you cleaned up a cut on the side of his face. When you were done, you put some space between the two of you, your cheeks warming slightly.

“Y/N?”

You turned to see Tony standing in the doorway. “I got a cab for you.” He was holding your jacket.

It was then that it hit you. You would have to spend the rest of the night home, alone, and yes; you did that every night. However, after what just happened... “Oh, okay.” You tried your best to steady your voice as you looked back at Thor, offering him a kind smile. “I better get going.”

You nearly jumped when he wrapped his hand about your wrist, the appendage looking tiny in comparison to his thick fingers. “You are shaking.”

“I’ll be fine, Thor, really. I’m a big girl,” you chuckled, trying to brush off his worry. You didn’t want to be a burden on him or Tony in any way.

“I know,” he nodded, his lips curving into a fond smile. “But I would feel better if you spent the night here.” Before you could answer, he lifted his gaze over your head. “Stark, she will stay here for tonight.”

The genius just shrugged. “I’m sure she can borrow something of Natasha’s to wear, and I have plenty of room.”

“See? It is no trouble,” Thor said, his sky blue eyes back on yours.

“It really isn’t.” Natasha walked up to the two of you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I have some pajamas you can borrow. Nothing fancy, but it’ll do.”

“Thanks, Natasha, really. I appreciate it...And thank you, too, Tony.”

“It’s no problem.”

“Let’s go.” Natasha nodded towards the door to the room.

“Okay.” You glanced over at the God of Thunder. “Thanks, Thor. I’ll see you in the morning?”

A bit of his cheerful mood from earlier returned. “Yes. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight.” You waved at him before moving to catch up with Natasha. On your way out, Tony gave you your jacket, gently patting you on the back as a sign of appreciation.

You didn’t sleep all too well that night, but it was better than going home and cowering in bed until morning. Still, it would be a lie to say you were only a bit disappointed that Thor was not around the next day.

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[concussed-to-pieces]

Quiet; Prologue

Fandom: WWE

Pairing: Baron Corbin/Female Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Happy Thirst Party Saturday, everyone! Been working on this prologue for a little bit. Tagging our usual suspects, @tox-moxley, @oraclegazes, @hardcorewwetrash and @writergrrrl29. Enjoy!

Baron figured he would never find his mate. He was getting up there in years, after all. Most of the other wolves he knew were mated up by their early twenties and yet here he was still alone. Lone Wolf Baron Corbin, in more ways than one.

But then, oh, but then. He woke up one morning with a strange taste in his mouth. Sometimes around the full moon he would grind his teeth in his sleep, but this was a different taste. He wondered if he needed to start wearing one of those mouth guards while he slept. Huh. There was a commotion outside the door to his room, that was probably what had roused him. He could already smell Corey (he seemed to bathe in cologne) and...BlissBayley, never alone.

He pressed his ear to the door, straining to hear what was going on. His hearing wasn’t the best. Too many concerts.

“I’m so glad you’re becoming one of the team! How cool is that, ‘Lexa?”

“What’s your name, cutie? Who are you rooming with?”

The voice that must have answered Bliss’ question was too quiet for Baron to hear. A strange smell tugged his attention. It was faint, like it was blocked. New person smell. But…captivating. Baron suddenly realized he was drooling and quickly wiped his mouth off on his shirt. What the hell? He took a step back from the door and the smell faded, filling him with a sense of relief. Then, his chest started aching. Well that was weird.

...

You were so small, and you had the too-tense look of someone who knew they were small. Being friends with tiny fae Bliss had taught Baron a few things about short people (mainly, that they’ll kick you Daniel Bryan-style in the shins if you say anything about it). He was…he knew how large he was, and how threatening he could seem with his deep voice and dark eyes. What big teeth you have…

Baron shook his head, returning to his pushups after his momentary break. Get them out of your head, man.

Being who he was, what he was, always made things more difficult for Baron out on the road. There weren’t many safe spots for him to either shift or sweat it out, and now for whatever damn reason he felt an intense urge to keep you close. He chalked it up to being lonely. You weren’t hard on the eyes by any means and he had been solitary for quite a while. Also you seemed like you could use a little protecting and he was a goddamn sucker for that.

Baron wasn’t sure what was wrong with him when he woke up on a full moon night, seemingly for no reason. He slid back down in his bed, a bit startled at being awake and quietly luxuriating in the sounds of the night that he could finally hear again, even through the hotel walls. Full moon was good for something every once in a while.

Then, there was a soft noise from the room adjacent to his own. His ears pricked up of their own accord; that was your room. Carmella had gone out for the evening, maybe she’d returned? There was another sound and then that smell again, wrapping around his senses like a velvet glove. Baron bit his lip, his body a suddenly-confused mess of scent reactions and anxious energy. He got up and got a glass of water, running a hand through his hair. What’s wrong with me? Am I broken somehow? He wondered, not without a touch of fear. Broken meant he wouldn’t be able to succeed. Broken meant he could kiss this dream goodbye, even after essentially reshaping his body from the ground up.

Baron shook his head at himself. Damn quick to panic, Jesus. The sound was a little louder this time. It was a gentle sort of whimper, but it made Baron’s stomach drop out. What…? Your scent hit him full force and he choked on his next swallow of water as a surge of intense longing caught him off guard. Baron felt like every bone in his body ached, like his heart was being split in two and without meaning to he opened his mouth. His responding whine was low and long, a searching noise. Where are you, where are you? Baron’s eyes widened as the gravity of the situation hit him. Uh oh.

You?! Well, it wasn’t like you weren’t attractive to him, to say the least. But…you were scared of him! You hadn’t made eye contact yet, for fuck’s sake, always ducking your head if he so much as glanced your way. It…was this a joke? Was the universe really that hell bent on fucking with him that it would give him his mate, someone who was supposed to be his life, and make it so that they were terrified of him?

Baron sat on the end of the bed, his head in his hands. Fuck. Bliss and Bayley would have answers. He would talk to them. Keep the panic at bay. There was no need to lose it just yet. Maybe it was a mistake, maybe there was something wrong with him. He picked up his phone.

-Need to talk, Alexa. Or Bayley. Please.

Barely two minutes went by before there was a knock on the door to his room. Baron padded to the door and opened it, pausing and raising an eyebrow. It wasn’t Alexa, nor was it Bayley. It was Carmella, standing there with her hands on her hips. “Carm?” He asked cautiously. “Something wrong?”

“You tell me, sugarcube. My roomie was in a fuckin’ tizzy, said they heard a noise from ya’ room like ya’ in pain.” Carmella looked suspicious, standing on her tiptoes to see over Corbin’s shoulder. “Ya’ got someone else in there or what?”

“N-No, I uh. I got up to get a drink and tripped in the dark.” Baron’s panic increased tenfold. You had heard his fucking pitiful noise, his where are you noise. “Kind of a klutz, Carm. All legs, y’know.” He forced a chuckle.

Carmella didn’t seem convinced in the slightest, pursing her lips and fixing Corbin with a stern glare. “If I find out ya’ been sneakin’ chicks in here…” Baron couldn’t help the snicker that escaped and after a second Carmella joined in. “Alright, alright. I’m sorry. I’m used to ‘Zo, y’know how it is.” She apologized, patting his arm.

Baron nodded. “I’m not like that, Carm. I’ve got nothing to prove in that department.” He said, leaning easily against the doorframe. “I’ve gotten no complaints.”

“Ya’ have to actually hook up with someone ta’ get complaints, Corbs.” Carmella teased.

“You figured out my master plan! Cass always said you were smart.” Baron rumpled her hair carefully, fully aware that it was a dangerous game to mess with the hair of the Staten Island princess. She swatted his fingers away with an annoyed noise as Alexa made her usual sound to alert him of her presence, like a tiny bell chiming high enough that only he could hear it. “Alright, yeah. Let them know I'm okay, Carm. Just hit my shin on the coffee table. Sorry if I woke them or anything.”

Alexa was behind the door when he closed it, but Baron was so used to her cropping up wherever she wanted that he couldn't even muster up a flinch. She looked tired yet still somehow managed to shimmer just the tiniest bit, fluffing her hair out over her shoulders as Baron slid the deadbolt. “What's up, Big Bad? Dragged me out of a nice warm bed with the wife for this so it had better be important.”

...

Baron knew the stories. He had heard them from some of the other weres; Alexa and Bayley had read him some things. What people like him did to people like you, how he could prevent losing his mind over this shit. You were scared of him, damn it, and not much could be done about that except what he was already doing. It was exasperating.

Roman in particular had been raised very strict and always seemed to have a helpful tip to calm shit down when it started swirling. The constant ebb and flow of alpha posturing could get a little exhausting, especially since most of the time it came from people who weren’t what Baron was.

Also he wasn’t entirely sure what he’d done wrong in a past life to gain the friendship of the walking nuclear explosion of energy that was Mojo Rawley. Zack Ryder was decent, polite and on the quieter side. Mojo was everything but. The definition of “life of the party”, Baron couldn’t count how many times he’d turned down offers to teach him how to breakdance. Since Ryder usually roomed with his girlfriend and Baron was…well, solitary, Mojo ended up more or less Corbin’s permanent room partner. Which could have gone much worse than it did, honestly.

Sometimes he wondered if Mojo knew. The Hype train rarely slowed and never came to a stop, but occasionally Mojo seemed to have oddly precise insight. “Full moon tonight, Big Banter, can’t wait to watch you go on the hunt!” It might have made Baron uneasy if he’d ever displayed any other signs of lucidity. He chalked it up to Mojo just going along with his gimmick.

The taste he woke up with in his mouth every morning had become commonplace. The urge to have you close was kept at bay with the morning group workout sessions. You were in the same room as him and apparently that was enough for Baron to retain his sanity (if only just). His turns were the hardest part to deal with; they had never been all that regular to begin with and now for some reason they were even more off-kilter than ever before.

He could hazard a guess why. The critter tended to roam a little close to the surface. He hadn’t noticed how close until he almost bumblefucked his way through Cass like a hot knife through butter, scaring the shit out of not only Carmella but also himself. He hadn’t been this out of control since he was a teenager and it was terrifying. Colin and Enzo had laughed it off but Corbin felt awful, he could have seriously hurt the larger man.

Bliss had threatened to have Bayley Hugplex him to within an inch of his life if he didn’t get his shit together, and Corbin knew he definitely would have deserved it. He just didn’t know how to go about this without turning into someone even worse than he already was.

Wonder of all wonders, an opportunity was practically gift-wrapped and delivered to him in the hands of Big Cass and Zack Ryder. First, Ryder offered to switch places with him during the next hotel stay, something about Emma not being with him. Ryder had been staying with Cass, who then asked Baron if he would switch with Carmella. “You know how it is, man. If she can be here, she wants to be here.” Colin had rolled his eyes, but Baron saw right through him. He had agreed with little thought, overly used to working around his fellow superstars who actually had boyfriends, girlfriends, and significant others.

It hit him as he was tucking his clothes into his backpack and Baron slowed to a halt, one of his shirts falling out of his hands. Carm usually rooms with...oh. Oh no. It was too late for him to take it back, Carmella was already on her way over. Shit, shit!

She looked smug when she arrived. Too smug. Like she was in on a secret that Baron didn't know about. He wondered fleetingly if you were interested in him too, if this was an elaborate scheme to get you and him together. “Be nice to them.” She said sternly as he slung his pack over his shoulder. “Don't scare 'em, got it? I'll kick ya' ass if ya' do.”

“Why does everyone think I'm so fucking scary?” Corbin grumbled, feeling a little peeved. First Alexa and Bayley, now even Carm was ganging up on him. Christ.

She was having none of his attitude though and Colin chuckled when she caught Baron by that pesky lock of hair that wasn't quite long enough to get wrapped up in his bun. Corbin yelped, halting. “Because ya' a king-size professional wrestler, slash former football player, who looks like he has the brain to match. They're also kinda' quiet. Shy. So play nice. I know ya' smart, big guy. Be smart now, or ya' gonna' be in trouble.” Carmella warned, finally releasing his hair and handing him the keycard to her room.

Baron resisted the urge to slam the door behind him, irritated beyond belief. Didn't anyone understand how difficult this was for him?! You were his mate and he hadn't even so much as touched you, fuck, made legitimate eye contact with you. He had an inkling of how those overly-territorial psycho weres everyone whispered about came into being and the thought made him shudder and suck in a few calming breaths. No way in hell was he going to do anything that would lump him in with the likes of those fucks.

You looked even smaller alone in a hotel hallway at one in the morning. Baron fought a wince when your eyes landed on his boots and then widened. He could smell the panic coming off you in waves and it made his skin crawl. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry. Your distress threatened to send him into a tailspin of his own and he slowed down, doing his deep breathing and trying, trying so damn hard to just be calm and collected and not nervous, I'm not nervous.

“Oh.” You said softly when Baron finally managed to get his legs to function properly again. Your eyes traveled up his chest, up, up, up and oh-!

Baron was transfixed, certain he must look like an idiot. His jaw had probably gone slack. Was he drooling again? Fuck it. You were his, you were his, oh God, it was you--

“Room with you?” He realized he was speaking, mouth forming words his brain wasn't awake for. “Thank fuck.” Oh God no, he was trying to be smooth. Somebody kill him, stop it stop it!

You were apologizing as he fumbled with the door, Baron wasn't entirely sure for what. His hands were shaking so hard, Jesus Christ. Is it hot in here? The pet name slipped out unintentionally. You had been 'little one' to him for such a long time in his head, it just seemed natural that he call you that. You didn't seem to mind and he sent up a silent prayer of thanks to whoever was listening.

“I-I'll be quiet, I promise.”

Your stutter made Baron's heart thud painfully in his chest and he had to clear his throat before he could attempt to smile, try to give an answer that would drown out the chants in his brain of I ruined everything, I ruined everything.

Baron couldn't sleep. Not surprising. Trying to get comfortable on the small bed plagued him until the wee hours of the morning, while half-dreams full of you in said small bed saying his name in your sweet little voice ran rampant. He had heard your voice, finally. You had made eye contact with him. It should have been enough, damn it, it should have.

It was a struggle to wait until you woke up and slipped out of the room in the morning, your movements almost totally silent like you were trying not to wake him up. Baron knew someday he would appreciate your consideration, but today he could barely hold out until you were gone before he lunged for your bed, grabbed your pillow and buried his face in it. He knew he had to work fast. He didn't know when you would be back and his body was a frothing mess, his cock stiff just from your scent.

Baron retreated to his own bed, your pillow in tow.  The ache in his chest felt like it was multiplying, his body in such a state of longing it bordered on physical pain. He couldn't bite back the whine that bubbled in his throat as he crushed your pillow to his chest. He couldn't remember a time when he'd been this desperate and out of sorts, couldn't remember what his own scent was as yours took over. Fuck. It was over almost before it began. He'd barely gotten his hand into his sleeping pants and then he was coming, his hips shuddering and his eyes rolling back in his head.

Fuck.

Baron panted for breath, startled that he'd come that fast. Jesus, he was fucked something fierce. He staggered back up, hastily replacing your pillow and then going to the bathroom to wash his hands. He splashed some water on his face and braced himself on the sink, still breathing a little heavier than he would like. I’m okay. I’m okay. It's not a problem yet. Yeah, right. Maybe someday he’d believe it.

Something was pinching the skin of his palm. Baron looked down, confused. It was your room key pressing into his hand, probably dropped while you were getting ready to leave. Oh. The relief that he felt was almost enough to make him laugh, even while a territorial rush flooded him. This room was his den now, and he would welcome you back to it as best as he could. God, more than anything he wished for a nice nest of sheets and soft blankets to surprise you with.

Baron Corbin was the last person who would call himself, ‘smooth’. He knew he was woefully out of touch as far as relationships went, shit, as far as flirting went. He had no idea what he was doing. So he sat on his bed, twiddled his thumbs. Waited nervously for your return.

He could smell the food before you even reached the door. He could smell the sleep still on you in the  yawns you tried to stifle in the hall. You'd obviously slept about as well as he did. Baron ached to fix that. But he reined himself in, opened the door before you knocked (only a little creepy, great job) and a goddamn miracle happened. The scent of interested caught him completely by surprise. It was brief. Baron almost believed that he imagined it but then your face pinked up. Oh?

Being near you during your morning workout was a huge mistake. You made these little determined noises of exertion that had Baron's mind running rampant, his body screaming its approval inside his head. He ended up having to crank his music way louder than normal, doing his damnedest to get through his workout before he did something stupid. He really, really wanted to hold you. And also maybe slam your back against the wall, grind his hips into yours until you came just from the friction, then he would slide down, peel your workout shorts off and eat you out until you begged him to--

Christ!Baron snorted in disbelief at himself. You had offered to push the beds together so he would actually fit, and he'd given his goddamn word that he wouldn't touch you. You had brought the pack food this morning. He wished you were his with all his fucking heart but he wasn't going to force it. When you felt safe. When you were ready. He was plenty strong enough to endure this.

He had to be.

The sheets were almost Baron's undoing. His throat threatened to close up as he realized you had made a nest, a den of soft things for he and you to sleep in. He doubted you understood the gravity of your kind gesture to someone like him.

You slept like a rock, obviously over your new-person fear as you were this close to crowding his side of the bed when Baron drifted off. His dreams were less fitful than the previous night, probably calmed by the closer proximity of your presence. He could tell that you were looking at him even before he opened his eyes in the morning, his skin feeling twitchy. It was the tattoos, of course it was the tattoos. The way you asked to come along when he got his next one made him want to hope and Baron was barely able to keep his voice steady when he answered.

The breakfast run was the perfect method to escape and he took it, rubbing a hand over his face while the elevator descended. I didn’t think you would warm up to me like this. It was okay to admit it to himself, right? Fuck, what do you even like for breakfast? You had a muffin yesterday. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The elevator doors pinged open and Baron straightened up. Jason and Chad were the only two actually getting breakfast at this early hour, both young men waving at Baron as he headed for the muffin plate. Abruptly (and Baron thanked God for his sensitive nose because otherwise he would have been caught completely unawares) Mojo was on his back, whooping when Corbin barely moved.

“It’s big breakfast time for Big Banter, whoo!”

Gable, the goddamn traitor, was laughing so hard he almost fell out of his chair, while Jason just looked amused. Corey (who eschewed elevators, something about having perfectly good legs) strolled in from the lobby with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Morning, cupcake!” He said cheerily to Baron, who just grunted in reply and carried on his task of loading up more food, albeit a bit slower now with Mojo clinging to his back. It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d had to haul the Hype Train around. Corey elbowed Corbin in his ribs. “So? How’d it go last night?” He stage-whispered.

Baron raised an eyebrow at the other tattooed man. “Excuse me, Graves?”

“Oh don’t play fuckin’ coy with me, man. Are they into you or what? I know you’ve been fucking mooning over them.” Corey was apparently much more observant than he let on. Either that or Baron was really bad at hiding his feelings.

Probably the last one.

“Dammit Graves, you can’t just ask me that shit.” Baron grumbled. “I don’t know if they’re into me, okay? I’m a huge, scary, weird…I just don’t think I’m their type.” I’m a fucking werewolf, Corey, not something you shack up with fucking lightly!

“But you’re bringing them breakfast! That’s pretty hype.” Baron had forgotten Mojo was still gripping his spine like the world’s strangest backpack. Mojo continued, “If I dig someone, I am all about that bed breakfast stuff. Also I don’t sleep, so every meal is breakfast to me!”

“Mojo can you maybe let me go, kinda’ got shit to do.” Baron didn’t really have time for a fucking seminar from Captain Concussion and Hype Bro Number Two, barely managing to weasel his way out of Mojo’s grip without dropping his plate. “If you guys will excuse me.”

Corey, the fucking juvenile that he was, started making kissy noises at him (to Baron’s complete chagrin). Corbin stormed back to the elevator, grumbling swears under his breath for the duration of the ride up to your floor. He hated the dumb flush that had stained his face. He hated how easy it was to wind him up when it came to you. It wasn’t fair for fuck’s sake, why did he have to be so fucking scary?

All his irritation was forgotten when you welcomed him back to the room. You’d made the beds while he was gone and you smelled like happy, bouncing in place when you realized he’d picked up your favorite kind of muffin (entirely by accident, but Baron would take the victory). Watching you eat soothed the ache in his chest a bit. At least he could do this right, provide for the pack. All he had to do was keep his hands to himself from here on out and maybe…Jesus, maybe you would love him.

He felt like such a piece of crap, hanging onto every little scent signal or nervous gesture. He didn’t know what else he could do though, nothing was enough for his insides to stop fucking screaming.

“You should just tell them.” Bayley, ever the optimist, spoke as she cinched her hair down tight enough to give Baron phantom pains in his scalp. She didn’t shimmer quite like Alexa, she was more like a…radiator. Putting out waves. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Christ, do I even need to say it?” He didn’t mean to snap but shit, if it was that easy he wouldn’t need help! The fact that he’d been able to snap even while near her, was enough to make Bayley fix him with a stern look.

“Baron, do you need me to…?” She put her hand on his arm just for a second. “Let me take some of it, okay? Stay still.”

“No, Bayley. This is my goddamn mess to deal with.” He said grimly, sliding out from beneath her fingers. “I need someone to talk to, okay? Not necessarily magically fix what I’m dealing with. My heart and my brain playing tug-of-war is probably something I should learn how to handle.”

Bayley nodded in understanding, patting the bar on the weight bench. “Spot me and you can talk to your heart’s content. I’m all ears.”

Corbin did feel a little better after essentially blowing through his word allowance for the damn year, his voice somewhat hoarse when Bayley finally finished her workout and sat down to take a swig of water.

“They offered to push the beds together so you’d be more comfortable. So obviously, there’s no fear. Or at least, little enough that they can work through it and your keen nose doesn’t pick up on it.” She mused. “They got you breakfast, and they liked when you returned the favor. They want to come with you when you get another tattoo. I don’t know, big guy. I feel like you have this all wrapped up and you’re worried about nothing.”

“I’m just so scared I’m going to fuck it up, Bayley.” Baron confessed. “I’m so huge and…shit, my heart hurts so damn much when I think about what I could do, how fucked up I could get. We’ve all heard the stories, y’know?” Corbin felt a headache coming on and dropped his face into his hands, rubbing his temples. “I promised not to touch them when we're in bed together but all I wanna’ do is hold them.” He mumbled through his fingers.

“So do it. Instigate some contact, doesn't have to be in the bed. They wouldn’t still be in that room if they felt unsafe.” Bayley pointed out. “I can’t help explain away your need for tactile stimulation, Baron. I can’t take it away either. That’s something that’s built into you. All I can do is calm down the frenzy every once in a while.”

Baron nodded, even though the motion felt like a prison cell door slamming shut. “I know. I…thanks for listening.”

“Hey, anytime.” Bayley squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. “We have to stick together, after all. 'Lexa and I want you happy, got it?”

…

He had promised to keep his hands to himself. That was the one thing he could do. He wanted to fucking touch you all over, rub your shoulders after your grueling training or stroke your hair when you tucked in for the night. But he promised, fuck he had promised. You made noises in your sleep sometimes, like you were having bad dreams. It was the hardest thing in the world for him to stay still when your hands wandered, and one time you had a different kind of dream.

It started with the whimpering, like all your other dreams. Baron rolled over to face the wall, his palms suddenly sweaty. He was absolute shit at dealing with this, having to practically lay there with his arms folded so he didn't touch you. He froze when your fingers grazed his shirt, choked as a soft little moan issued from your throat. Oh no. He felt like he was on fire, the scent of your arousal lighting his nerves up. Your fingers were back, clumsily dragging down his spine before you dug them into the sheets. Another whimper and Baron was so close to shattering his own ribs with how hard he was hugging himself.

I'm stronger than this. I'm not some weak, piece of crap alpha. I'm okay. I'm fine.

Baron inhaled deeply in a valiant attempt to keep himself under control but all it did was fill his senses with you, you, squirming on the bed beside him and Jesus Christ he was only human, damn it, damn it-

He flopped onto his back, half-hoping he would wake you up with the motion. But all you did was mold your body to his side and make a pleased humming noise. Despite the air conditioner and fan running in the room you were warm, your skin hot where it touched his. Baron flexed his hands, desperately grabbing the sheets to keep from touching you. Oh God, is that...?

Your groin pressed to his thigh and Baron found himself biting down on his fist to stay quiet. His body was in total chaos, man at war with wolf as one half of him screamed I promised! and the other half shouted back mate wants me!

The only good thing was that whatever you had been dreaming about seemed to have faded away. Your smell relaxed into good and sleep and Baron began the slow, careful task of untangling you from his body. It would help no one if you woke up now, especially with the raging hard-on he was sporting.

He finally escaped to the bathroom, bracing one hand against the wall beside the mirror as he wrangled his sleeping shorts down around his thighs and held his shirt up out of the way with his teeth. Quickly jerking off seemed to be a way of life for him these days. It was nicer to visualize you helping him out though, the idea of you on your knees for him too pretty to pass up thinking about.

“C-come for me, alpha?”

Baron was grateful for the shirt in his mouth to stifle his groan. He couldn't bring himself to feel guilty about imagining you doing things to him. It was the only solace he had, damn it.

“Please, Baron, I-I need you.”

If you ever wore anything like the little skirts he pictured you in, he was pretty sure he would outright die. Kneeling in front of him, pressing your tits together in invitation. Maybe wearing one of his shirts. Or a skirt and nothing else. Baron felt like a damn bitch in heat, panting through his teeth as he stroked his cock to the idea of mating you one day, of finally claiming you when you actually wanted him. Your hands on him, touching him, owning him, your mouth...

Corbin came with a muffled growl.

That lonely ache flared back up in his chest while he cleaned himself off, cold washcloth doing little to soothe down the feverish heat of his skin. He wanted to howl more than anything in the world. Get the damn sad out of his rib cage before it ate him alive. Baron had never been good at handling feelings, too volatile with his hot temper and hard fists. He usually just ignored everything, balled it up inside, worked himself into a lather at the gym or in the ring until he couldn't export the pain quick enough and everything exploded.

He'd also never had someone like you at stake.

When he finally shuffled back to the bed, he almost laid on top of you accidentally. You had rolled to his side of the bed and wrapped yourself in the blankets, snoring away peacefully without a care in the world. Baron sighed, climbing over you and tucking the flat sheet around his legs. He ran pretty warm anyways.

He didn't expect to wake up with your head on his chest. Baron fucking panicked, apologizing left and right then fleeing as fast as he could. Mojo was more than willing to bring him along to the gym for a morning sweat and it was there that Baron stayed for most of the day, going rounds with the bag, lifting weights, deep-breathing his way through push-ups and muscle spasms. In the back of his mind he knew he was just fucking himself over, wrecking his body before his match tonight. But Baron couldn't have cared less if he tried. He deserved to lose, deserved whatever pain he inflicted on himself because he broke his promise. Shit, he clusterfucked that promise to high hell. You probably hated him, probably never wanted to see him again.

...

He didn't mean to be so pissed off after his match. He knew he was going to lose so he was just being childish, inches away from throwing shit and pitching the mother of all tantrums and then...

You pulled him close, your head resting on his chest. Baron finally gave in to the urge of smelling your hair, feeling the shiver than ran through your body when he did. “I promised I wouldn't touch you.” He breathed, almost convincing himself to pull away. Almost. “Can't even do that right. And now I'm getting all this grubby ring shit on you. Not fair to you, little one.” He hurt all over. Rhyno hadn't exactly been gentle with him and Baron knew he deserved every bruise that plagued his body.

Your fingers gripped his ribs tighter and he instantly surrendered. He wondered wildly if the lack of fear in your scent was a sign. You weren't scared or excited, just radiating comfort at a rate that put Bayley to shame. You were in full-blown soothing mode and it was like being wrapped in the warmest blanket on a cold night, covering his skin with a tingling sensation.

He was so fucked. If he didn't get away now, he wasn't sure what he might do to you. All those stories came rushing to the front of his mind, all the cautionary 'too much of a good thing' tales that ended in mates being trapped or worse, fucking killed because some weak werewolf couldn't handle that they were still people. Baron didn't want to be one of them. He hoped he couldn't be one of them. But the way he felt around you was unlike anything else. He was completely lost.

You were speaking again, your voice so soft. The order to shower was a surprise, as was the offer of a back rub. And Baron, the pitiful son of a bitch, jumped at it. Maybe your hands all over his back would be enough to stave off that painful ache in his chest, enough to make his skin stop crawling with worry. He forced his mind blank during the shower, just doing his deep breathing while the hot water undid some of the tension in his shoulders.

I am calm. I am in control.

His control went out the window the second your thumbs dug into the base of his neck. Baron felt his cock start to harden and he couldn't bite back his groan, burying his face in his arm. He could do this. He was strong. So were you, if your hands were anything to go by. Jesus Christ, he wasn't sure if he was going to last until the end of this back rub. The shifting onto his back at the end hadn't been intentional. Baron already felt vulnerable enough for fuck's sake and now his body was betraying him, exposing his belly to you like he was a fucking pup. But...

But you were interested, your smell intoxicating to him. You were interested and excited and even when he put his hands all over you, moved you, asked you questions, you weren't scared. Baron got the feeling that he may not be in as much trouble as he had thought originally. Your body welcomed his touches; when he slid his fingers into you your slick trickled down his arm. Obviously you had been waiting for this and that sent a hot wave of satisfaction through Baron's body. Waiting for him. You liked being praised and it was a damn good thing, because he had nothing but praise for you.

You had already come once, leaving a wet stain on the front of his boxers. Baron snarled into your ear as you rolled back against him, begging for him in a voice that was a thousand times sweeter than anything he could have imagined. He realized that the taste he'd been waking up with in his mouth was you. His brain felt thick and foggy at that, the fucking joy in his chest threatening to cut off his breath. You were his, you were his, wonderful, thoughtful mate. It was almost too much.

“Anytime you say stop, I'll stop.” This was one promise he refused to break. He wouldn't be the beginning of another horror story if he could help it. You could be as willing as you wanted, but the out always needed to be there. He knew he was...a lot to handle, and if you didn't feel safe refusing him no matter what then he had fucked up from the start.

The few and far between older werewolves that Baron had met in this line of work were usually all too happy to share the knowledge of their own experiences. For some damn reason this included mating. At least there, the answer was always the same.

“You'll know when you find them because it won't feel like anything else you've done. Or anyone else, for that matter.”

Baron had been pretty sure that it was all horseshit. Regardless of who it was, the motions were the same. He'd only fucked a few people in his lifetime, honestly disinterested in the whole thing before he'd met you. It was so much damn work for someone he had no emotional connection with, and not only that but someone he knew he would have no emotional connection with.

Mounting you for the first time shattered every perception he had when it came to sex. Baron felt like his whole body was suddenly awake, like he'd just been sleepwalking through life until this second. “You'll know when you find them.”

Jesus, they were right.

You responded in an incredibly positive manner, whimpering and fucking back against him like you were the one who had been waiting for him. In a way, you might have been. Your body was so fucking hot, so wet and ready, a chorus of good and want and mate. Baron felt your walls shudder down onto his cock and he wanted to go to pieces when you begged, “More.” Your hand held his own, his fingers cradling your stomach carefully, so carefully.

The only problem Baron was having at this point was his stupid fucking brain screaming at him, this doesn't mean they'll stay! Which was true, this wasn't a relationship by a far cry. This was a mindless rut, this was him losing his self-control and mating you because you were willing. But holy shit were you willing, the way you fucking cried his name when you came almost making him howl his approval. He barely bit back the noise in time and thank God, imagine trying to explain that shit.

Baron wanted to dig his teeth into your shoulder, wanted to mark and claim you as his own in a visible area. His fingers cupped your stomach again and he got the insane visual of your belly swollen with his pups, claim! He almost choked on his next breath. Shit, Baron didn't even know if he wanted kids, but the wolf in him only knew one end to a mounting and it made him moan with a need that wasn't entirely his own.

Would that make you stay?

That was dangerous, Baron hated himself for even being capable of thinking such. He would never do that to you, that was fucking medieval shit. He was more than the needy, affection-starved wolf for fuck's sake. “I won't, but I want to. Maybe I'd get to keep you then. See you like this more.” His words were hard to get out, his jaw all but locked with the effort of not biting. He was better than that, God fucking damn it.

Your soft permission was what did him in. “You have me. As long as you want. You don't have to leave me if you don't want to.”

Oh fuck-! Corbin barely managed to pull out in time, his whole body shuddering as he realized how close he had been to...

No, no, it's alright. You're safe. I'll be more careful next time. Jesus.

He abruptly felt weak, slumping onto his side and pulling you to him for a long kiss. Fucking from behind had its benefits but it made kissing incredibly difficult, and if there was one thing Baron loved it was kissing. Kissing you. Hopefully a lot. “Let me just go get something to clean you up with. I kinda' made a mess.”

You caught that pesky stray curl of hair and Baron went along with your grip, a pleased shudder running through him. “It's okay. I enjoyed every second of it.” Your stammer was barely there, nothing but a little hiccup at the end of the sentence.

Baron was pretty sure he must look like a fucking idiot, probably still all red from exertion and hazy from coming harder than he had in years, but he couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. He brushed his nose against yours in an almost-kiss, your smell still wrapping him in comfort. Mate. Good.

Mine?

“Really?”

“Really.”

Baron knew he was red now, unable to do anything about the pleased flush that pinked his face. His legs felt like he may have overdone it a little bit, never mind the rest of his body, but you weren't going to sleep all sticky. He could offer that much help, at least.

“You really like that wolf stuff, hmm?” You murmured as you tucked yourself into his chest, your fingers back to tracing his tattoos.

You could say that, little one.

Part One