Consequences Part 5: Prize Fight

March 11, 2017Aebli Leave a comment

Part 5: Prizefight (Finale)

The Reader (Y/N) is threatened as Dean goes on to fight at finals. With Sam in the hospital, does Raphael have any more plans up his sleeve?

Characters: Boxer!Dean x Reader, Sam, Castiel, Bobby, Uriel, Raphael, Michael (Sorta), Claire and Jo, Crowley and friends

Warnings: Boxing violence, threats, slight cannon divergence

Word Count: 4700

Notes: I am describing Michael Mulligan more towards the way the archangel is depicted in art. Adam would not be in the same weight division as Dean, and I couldn’t find a good way to explain otherwise. Either way, I liked giving Michael Adam’s last name. Please enjoy and please like/comment/reblog. As always, my requests are open, and I’m going to need some as this series comes to a close. Bring me your obscure characters and receive a fic in any style (fluff, smut, angst) you like.

Bobby peaked his head out of the room. “Dean, he coming too.”

For a split second, Dean held back. Then he stepped forward, Y/N at his side.

Sam’s face was swollen from the repeated blows. His neck was in a brace. With the pillows wrapped around him, he looked smaller. No mean feat. Cas and Bobby stood to one side of the room, looking between the brothers. Y/N could feel Dean’s grip tighten, so she squeezed back. He blinked and looked down at their hands. He ran his thumb over her knuckles as he put on a smile.

“Heya, Sammy,’ he said softly.

Sam opened his eyes, which were thankfully not swollen shut.

“Hey, Dean. Y/N.” He tried to sit up further in the bed but Dean rushed forward to push him back down.

“You don’t need to move at all.”

Sam grunted in agreement. “How’d the after party go with Raphael?”

“I’m supposed to lose. Mulligan is one of theirs too.”

Bobby groaned. “Michael Mulligan?” He growled as Dean nodded. “I was afraid of that. Raphael’s got the northern canvas so tight I couldn’t get any information about the head of the ring. Style-wise, he’s good. He took out the Prince of Darkness in the south to win semifinals.”

“The finals aren’t for another week,” Sam said. “You’ll have plenty of time to…”

“To what, Sam? I’m supposed to lose.”

Sam looked at Dean with his nose wrinkled in confusion. Then he looked at Y/N, who focused her attention on the floor. “Oh.”

“And if it’s not Y/N, they’re going to come by the hospital for a visit. I can’t win.”

The hospital room swelled with silence as everyone tried to come up with a solution. No matter which way they turned it, an answer did not present itself.

All through the week, Cas left the Winchesters, Y/N, and Bobby at the hospital while he went back to the ring. His former injuries kept him from competing, but he still had his hearing. He talked to boxers from before the reign of Raphael, people who were still allies, but none of them knew any more information about Michael. He knew who he had to talk to, but it wasn’t going to be easy.

Uriel watched Balthazar like a hawk.

His only chance was to find him outside the ring. It was a weekend, and Balthazar wasn’t due to show for another hour, so Cas found a quiet corner and watched the others train. Even with a match that night, the guys were trying to keep loose. A while later, Cas knit his brow in confusion as a visitor came in followed closely by the boss’s satellite himself. Cas guessed the big man was Michael. He was broad shouldered and narrow waisted, strong but hard to hit. His knuckles were thick from breaking repeatedly, something Cas could see on several of the better boxers in the ring. He knew Michael was good, and Cas had never even seen him fight. If Uriel was with him, then Balthazar was without his traditional guard.

He left for Balthazar’s usual back entrance and waited outside. He grinned as the referee quickly rounded the corner and bumped into him.

“Castiel! Um, I’m going to be late for… something. Excuse me.” He tried to shoulder his way past, but Cas blocked his path.

“That something wouldn’t happen to be a meeting with Raphael’s northern progeny, would it?”

Balthazar was taken aback. He started to form an excuse but sighed instead. “What happened to this city, Cas?”

“Men with too much power and not enough chin took hold. What’s Raphael’s play?”

“You know I couldn’t tell you that, even if I did know.” Again, Balthazar tried to step by, and again Cas kept him from taking another step.

“Would you tell me if you knew? We used to be ring brothers.”

“I know that, but Raphael is different. I know I can trust you, but he’s got so many guys scared or in his pocket that I can’t trust my own shadow. If you make me late, I won’t even have that.”

Cas kept him from opening the door, drawing out a frustrated groan. “A hint. A guess. What do you think is going to be the plan?”

Balthazar sighed, kicking himself for not using another door. “I don’t think Dean is going to make it out of this fight. What nobody knows about the Prince of Darkness is that he’s tied up in his own hospital, practically in a coma. Michael fights for himself as much as he does for Raphael. If he knows Dean is public enemy number one, and that he’s going to get paid to make it look good… Dean better hope he’s got life insurance.” Balthazar took the moment of Cas’s shock to make his way inside, leaving Cas with a brain full of dark, swirling thoughts. Then he was off like a shot, only to lose consciousness as something hit him in the back of the head.

It was getting close to when Dean was supposed to show up to the ring, and they still had not heard from Cas. The final match was to be in the center of town, “neutral ground” between the rings. And it was in the middle for ease of fan access, meaning more money.

“Where is he? I told him hanging around the canvas all week wasn’t a good idea.” Dean was leaned against the wall, but Sam was counting down to when he would start pacing.

Y/N saw the look and stood to keep him from starting. “Maybe he’s found something out. You know we could use the information, and good information takes time. If you don’t think he’ll make it back in time…”

“No. If Castiel doesn’t show up, you are going to stay here with Sam.”

“Like hell, I am.” She poked him in the chest, smirking as he raised an eyebrow. “No more polite doormat, remember? And that goes for speaking to you too.”

“The plan is to not let them catch us together.” He took her hand from its position on his chest and held it in his, noting its delicateness. His voice fell, borderline to a breaking point. “I’m not going to let them force you to watch the match from the office. And I don’t trust Uriel not to…” Dean glanced at Sam, who nodded in agreement.

“I’ve convinced one of the nurses to bring in a radio,” Sam said. “You won’t miss a second of the match, and afterwards Bobby is going to sneak in some drink from his prohibition days,” he added with a grin.

Dean looked down at her, his eyes begging her to stay. She shook her head, punching out as much air from his chest as a blow from Cole.

“I am not staying here. Now, Dean Winchester, are you going to let me ride with you, or are you going to call me a cab?”

He sighed and walked over to the phone, dialing the number. “Hello, I would like to call a cab to Southern Indiana State Hospital.” He looked at Y/N one last time as the receiver asked how many passengers.

“Just two.”

Black faded into a bright white before fading once again into black. Castiel continued to blink slowly, bringing the world into focus. He found himself laying under the stars in the back alley. He launched to his feet instantly regretting moving too fast. He steadied himself against the wall while thinking over what Balthazar told him. As soon as he could see straight, he made his way to the street and hailed a cab.

“So, are we undercover, or…?” Jo whispered to Y/N. She took the bag of popcorn from the vendor and passed it to Claire.

“No. Dean didn’t want to leave me alone. He’s so sure the opposition will do anything to get to him, even if we haven’t been seeing each other long.” It wasn’t the whole truth, but it was enough when coupled with free tickets to the fight.

“Do you think we could continue to get tickets even if he loses? Ouch.” Claire rubbed her shoulder where Jo smacked it. Y/N grinned. The world could be ending and these two would never change.

From the corner of her eye, Y/N spotted a ruffled top of black hair towering over everyone else. “Castiel!” She waved at him till he located her, but took as step back as he stormed over to her.

“Y/N, where’s Dean?” He gripped her arms tight and pulled her to one side of the crowd. “Why are you alone?”

“He’s in his locker room getting ready. And I’m not alone, I’m with my roommates. Castiel, this is Jo and Claire.” She nodded to the girls as they caught up.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he rushed out. “We’ve got to get to Dean.”

“Why, what did you… hey girls?” Y/N turned to Jo and Claire as Cas let go of her. “Go ahead and claim our seats. They’re assigned for the night, but people might try to fight the system.”

“What about… sticking to you?” Claire asked, looking leerily at Castiel, who mirrored her expression.

“I’m with Cas. You had to hear some of that, he’s a friend of Dean’s. And he’s a boxer, so I’ll be well defended.” She laughed when they didn’t budge. “Just go.” Y/N waited till they were halfway to their seats before continuing. “Okay, so what did you hear?’

“Balthazar thinks Dean’s not going to make it out of the fight alive.”

“Balthazar Smith? The referee?”

“Yeah. He’s usually under Uriel’s thumb, but he’s been getting squirrely lately. He doesn’t like how the matches have turned in this last season.”

Y/N hummed in thought. Mostly to herself than to Cas she asked, “would he be squirrely enough to…?”

“No.”

“What?” She brought her attention back up to Cas. “I didn’t even finish my thought.”

“Dean told me about that face. He said you promised him…”

“I did. But he claimed nobody would talk. If Balthazar would talk, maybe he could inspire the rest of the guys too. Do you know which ones would be willing?”

Cas pursed his lips. “I can name several, but a greased palm could take this plan out before it got started.”

“And you? If you could help make sure no other boxers get hurt because of Raphael, would you do it?” Y/N watch his face as it contorted between ‘yes’ and ‘hell no.’ She grinned as he slid into a hesitant ‘yes.’ “Good. Now, where’s a phone?”

The door swung open as Bobby was helping Dean into his colors, John’s fighting coat. Uriel floated in. His smug mug made Dean want to punch it. Then again, it could be not smug and Dean would still want to punch it.

“So, tonight’s the night you retire. I’m sorry to see you go, Winchester.”

“I’m sure you are.” Dean turned to let Bobby check his gloves, counting the seconds till he would leave.

“Aren’t you going to ask what the script is? For old time’s sake.”

Dean groaned through gritted teeth. “What’s the script?”

“I’m going to miss that. And I’m going to miss seeing you bloodied in the ring. The fifth, Winchester. And stick to it this time. We’ve got all your aces.” He left before Dean could give a retort.

Bobby let go of his gloves and snapped in front of Dean’s eyes. “What did you decide?”

“Sam says I should fight to win. Y/N says I should fight to win. But I have this stone in my stomach telling me I should follow the plan one last time and maybe nobody gets hurt.” He paused for a moment, letting his next question float around a bit, hoping Bobby would answer it before he could ask.

Bobby knew that look. He’d seen it when John asked him to help him start the ring. He never could turn down a Winchester.

“Balls. I think you should fight to win too.” He stopped a grinning Dean from saying anything. “But don’t let that make you sloppy. Michael’s a hard hitter. Block your stomach and guard your face. You’re buying the first round tonight if you let him cut open your eye again.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Alright. They should call soon, so show me your shadow punches.”

Y/N slapped the side of the receiver. “Please, it’s urgent. I need to speak to the Captain.” Cas looked at her through the door to the phone box. She waved away his worried glance.

“I can’t just let you through ma’am. We have…”

“Oh, just put her through,” an accented voice said in the background. “Line two if you can manage it.” There was a buzz and a click before she heard the voice again. “Captain Crowley of Chicago PD. What can I do for you today miss…?”

“Y/N. You have to stop the match at LaMotta Arena tonight.”

“And why would I do that? Maybe I’ve got some money riding on one of them myself.”

The statement made her stop cold. She pushed through the idea that Uriel had gotten to him. “Because I know you would love a chance for some good publicity. I’ve got songbirds for you, Captain. Good ones. Break up the fight tonight and you’ll have a massive shot at something bigger than you’ve ever caught before.” A little Hollywood, maybe, but it was worth a shot. Y/N waited with baited breath as the line remained silent for a hot minute.

“Do you have a songbird nearby that I can talk to?”

She held the mouthpiece to her shoulder and exhaled. She motioned for Cas to come into the phone box. She handed him the phone and shut the door, taking her turn to stand guard. He came out a few minutes later looking pale and relieved at the same time.

“He’ll do it. He’s rounding up a squad and he’ll be here by the fifth round. He can’t make it any sooner.” Cas chuckled. “Considering the speed of the force in other incidents, this will be like lightning.”

As they walked to the seats, Y/N asked, “how do we get the news to Dean?” They looked up as the doormen gave the five-minute warning.

“We don’t. If this goes south, it will look better on the Uriel side if he doesn’t know. I’ll find a way to signal Bobby.”

Y/N shook her head to silence Jo and Claire’s questions as they found their seats. The buzz was quieting down before the announcer stepped towards the ring. Dean and Michael were still in their tunnels, awaiting the call.

“Remember what I said, keep your face blocked, and jab him before he can jab you.”

“You said that already. Any more times and I’ll hear it in my sleep. Ow.” Dean flinched as Bobby smacked him up the backside of his head.

“Don’t get smart. I was there when you were brought into the world, I don’t want to be here when they take you out. Don’t let it be tonight, Dean.”

They both looked towards the ring, glowing outside the comforting dark of the tunnel. The announcer was calling out the usual pleasantries and requesting that nobody smoked.

“Bobby?”

“Yeah.”

“No matter what happens, thank you for all you’ve done for me and Sam.”

Bobby nodded and patted Dean on the back. Then they walked out into the lights as Dean’s name was called.

“In this corner is Dean ‘Raisin’ Cain’ Winchester! Weighing one hundred and seventy-five pounds and wearing the black shorts with the white stripe. He wears his father’s, John Winchester, colors tonight as he makes his way to the ring.”

Y/N craned her neck to see him, but there were too many people. Even as he made his way under the ropes, people had their arms in the air cheering for them.

“In the other corner is our other semi-finalist for tonight, Michael “Feather Feet” Mulligan. Weighing one hundred seventy-two and a half pounds and wearing the white shorts with black stripes. He wears the red and gold colors on his way to the ring.”

Y/n could see him plain. He was like Cas described to her earlier. He didn’t bounce or shadow-box his way to the ring, just walked. Marched to it. Like this was the battle that he intended to win the war with. Y/N sent up a prayer to anyone who was listening that Dean could hold him off till Captain Crowley and the squad arrived.

Deana and Bobby met Michael and his trainer in the middle of the canvas.

Balthazar swallowed a throat-full of air and asked for a fair fight. He had them bump gloves, then sent them to their corners. The match hadn’t even started yet and he was already sweating. He jumped as the opening bell rang.

Dean bounced out to meet Michael. They jabbed out at each other, testing the range of their opponent. Michael landed the first hit, glancing off the side of Dean’s head. He followed with a quick series of one-twos to Dean’s ribs before Dean could catch him in a clinch. Michael continued to reach up to land blows to his head, which Dean returned till Balthazar separated them with difficulty.

Dean saw his opening as Michael reached in for his face. It glanced off his cheek, allowing Dean to dig in close and land several blows to Michael’s torso before ending with a sweeping uppercut. Michael staggered back. He nodded with a mouth-guard smile.

Y/N sat on the edge of her seat in silence as the crowd around her screamed for their favorite. She kept her eyes on Dean as he circled Michael, bobbing and looking for a way in. She cringed as Michael swooped in to get Dean in a clinch. He thundered hits into Dean’s ribs until Balthazar separated them again.

“Come on Dean,” she whispered. Dean’s reaching blows kept being warded off by Michael’s glove. He stayed just out of reach, circling to Dean’s outside.

The crowd spun behind Michael and Dean watched his gloves for the next blow. Dean reached out as Michael did, giving a glove to the face as he received one. Then he zoomed into Michael’s chest, firing them as fast as he could till the bell rang.

He backed away to meet Bobby.

“That was good. Keep wearing him down. Try to aim lower, more to the stomach.”

Dean nodded as he took his mouth guard back, standing with the bell.

Sam pumped a fist into the air as the commentator relayed the fight.

“The pace is fast as ever, and the fight is even-Steven. Raisin’ Cain trying to drive those hard jabs into the body and face. Mulligan trying to get in murderous body blows of his own.”

He listened to the exchange of hits wired down to him. It sounded like rain on a tin roof, but Sam knew from experience how hard those drops could be. He flinched at a particularly heavy one, only to happily crow as the commentator kicked back in, laughing as a frowning nurse walked by.

“Winchester landing a seriously solid blow to Mulligan, doubling him over. Mulligan retreating to catch his breath. He’s still got that smile, though, enjoying the match. If he turns it one like he did in his last bout, Winchester will have to pick up his step. Otherwise, Winchester’s got this in the bag.”

It was too easy. Dean kept his distance when he could. Michael was encroaching on his space, making himself easy to hit, while at the same time limiting Dean’s ability to pull back for a harder hit. Dean bounced back as Michael round housed a blow into his ear. Dean shook his head through the ringing. He looked over Michael’s shoulder at Bobby to see if the ringing was outside or inside his head. He bit down harder on his guard when Bobby stayed on the floor.

Michael chased Dean to the ropes, cinching him again and hammering blows into Dean’s torso. Dean kept his abs tight, minimalizing the impact. But he took a second to take his breath back as Balthazar pulled Michael away. The bell rang, ending round three.

Bobby continued his flow of advice, but Dean barely heard it. He kept his gaze level as Michael stared at him from his own corner.

As they came out for the next round Dean could feel a shift in the air. Michael twisted his hips, putting his other foot in front. Michael advanced towards Dean quickly, too fast for Dean to retreat. He pulled back then released a hard uppercut into Dean’s chin.

Dean fell back into the ropes. The lights above him swam in circles. He could see a blurred Balthazar racing forward to stop Michael, but the blows to his upper chest hit first. The lights gave way to the canvas rushing up to meet him. He gasped for air, though his lungs burned and sent magma towards his heart. He landed on his gloves and knees, shuddering with the fall. He realized he made a mistake as he looked up, taking Michael’s jab to his face, sending him collapsing onto his shoulder. The world was ringing and glowing and moving like molasses, but Dean fought to climb up the ropes.

Y/N sat down as Dean wobbled to his feet. She could feel three concerned faces to either side of her but kept her gaze on Dean. He stumbled out into the center, pulling up his gloves as Michael attacked him again. She clenched her hands in her lap as Dean sent out weak jabs.

The police will be here soon. The police will be here soon. Please, God, let the police be here soon.

Dean felt Bobby catch him as the bell rang, ending the fourth round. He spat out the guard into Bobby’s hand.

“This guy is incredible,” he slurred, sputtering bloody spittle into the bucket. “It’s gonna be a hell of six more rounds.” He grinned sideways at Bobby, who didn’t fully grin back. He gave Dean back his guard and pulled his gloves over his face. Bobby pushed Dean to his feet as the bell rang. If he wanted to end with any shred of dignity, he would dive this round.

To hell with dignity. Time to clip those Feather Feet.

Dean brought his gloves together to catch Michael’s jabs. He shot out one, landing it to Michael’s crown. Michael rushed in, cinching Dean’s arms to his side and towering over him. He backed off before the ref could intervene, but circled back around. He was able to keep an arm loose as Michael trapped him again. He jabbed at Michael’s upper ribs, but it made his arm shudder to hit him. He was forced back into a corner, his shoulder blades dug into the iron pins. His breath was coming out in pants. Dean could feel Michael grinning at the labored rise and fall of his chest, too punch-happy to see it himself.

Michael let Balthazar push him back and waited for Dean in the middle. He shared a look with Balthazar. Dean wasn’t going to make it out in one piece even if he did fall now, the exchange proved it.

Dean took a breath, then launched himself at Michael. He didn’t keep his hands up as Michael pummeled his face. He didn’t let the blows make him retreat. He didn’t reach to hit back. He just forced his way into the center of the ring and stared Michael down.

“Oh no.” Cas moaned.

“What? What does that mean?” Y/N asked, tugging on his sleeve.

“Please Dean, don’t,” was all she could get out of him.

Dean buckled as Michael rained down hits to his back. He shouldered his way into Michael’s chest, forcing him backwards. He didn’t stop till Michael’s arms flew back as his spine collided with the opposite corner pins. Dean pulled back, then sent in as many punches as he could into Michael’s stomach till Balthazar pushed him away.

Michael roared through his guard and chased after him. He was hunched over, but that didn’t stop him from repeatedly sending his glove into Dean’s face. Dean squared his stance, refusing to give any ground even as his head snapped back with each hit. Michael started using both gloves, the other going into Dean’s chest cavity. His torso rippled with pain till his heart’s thumping turning into one long throb. With a deep breath that burned through him harsher than cheap whiskey, Dean swung. Michael spun and fell.

He turned and walked away a few steps as Balthazar swooped in to count. Dean dropped into the canvas as the bell rang, ending round five and the match. He found Y/N’s face as he fell, missing the swarm of police officers that rushed in through every door and tunnel.

His vision bounced and faded to black as pandemonium erupted around the arena.

Raphael stood by his window drinking his hardest Scotch as someone knocked on his door.

“Enter,” he said, watching the police round up his officials and gamble men. Dean stayed where he fell, unswarmed as people tried to avoid being handcuffed. Michael rolled out of the ring and got caught by a tunnel.

“Raphael, it’s been too long.”

He turned and watched Crowley step into his office. “Evening, Captain. Have I not been paying you enough?”

Crowley shook his head. “Not on your payroll. Not one copper.”

“Shame. Would you like to be?”

He thought for a second, eyeing the liquor stand next to a silent Uriel. “No.” He helped himself to some ice and a drink as two sub-officers walked in. “Cuff ‘em tight, boys. They’re slippery.” His revolver was in Uriel’s chest before he could surge forward.

Y/N fought her way to the ring, sliding under the ropes to get to Dean. Bobby was fighting his through the cops, trying to explain whose trainer he was. Dean’s face was pale despite the beating, and his lips were purple.

“No. Don’t do this to me. Dean Winchester, you wake up right now or… or… or I’m going to slap you.”

She let out a shuddering breath as he continued to do nothing. With a screech, she slapped him across the face, instantly bringing her hands to cover her sob.

“I take it I didn’t win if you’re hitting me,” Dean mumbled with his eyes still closed.

Y/N fell over his chest, crying with an irritated smile. “Don’t you ever fall like that again.”

Dean leaned up with a groan. “Does that mean there’ll be a next time?” His eyes glowed like candle-light through a bottle, mischievous. “You’re not ordering me to stop boxing?”

She sighed. “Hell, no. It’s who you are. Besides, my roommates want free tickets for the rest of their lives. Can’t keep up unless I’m dating a boxer.”

They shared a grin before Y/N helped him over to the edge. They sat and watched the chaos around them. On other sides of the apron, Jo and Claire cheered the police, and Bobby and Castiel laughed.

“I’m sorry you won’t get the belt,” Y/N said. “They’ll probably have a whole ‘nother season to figure this out, won’t they?”

“I don’t need a belt,” Dean said, kissing the top of her head.

“I wouldn’t be so sure that you lost it,” Crowley butted in, fighting with a handcuffed, gagged, and fuming Uriel. “The way that several of the witnesses have been singing, you’ve been fighting for real for the whole season. If that story keeps floating around, you might get the belt by default. Congratulations, Winchester.” He nodded at Dean and winked at Y/N, then disappeared into the crowd.

They laughed and Dean wrapped his arm around Y/N’s shoulder.

“Are we still celebrating with Bobby’s booze and Sam?”

“Yeah. He’s gonna be frosted he missed all this.”

It took an hour or so, but they finally made it to the hospital where Sam was, indeed, incredibly angry that he missed the chaos. They had him calmed down to irritated within a few drinks.

Masterlist

Promises Part 5: A Simple Answer

March 3, 2017December 11, 2018Aebli Leave a comment

Y/N responds to Theoric’s question as the battle with the Fire Giants draws closer.

Characters: Reader (Y/N), Loki, Theoric, Frigga

Warnings: magic/sorcery, upcoming battle violence

Word Count: 1960

Note: It is getting heavy now. Please let me know what you think is going to happen next with a comment or reblog, or just like it. That works too. Constructive feedback is always welcome. And my requests are open, so don’t hesitate to send me an idea. Once this series ends I’m going to need them…

Part 1: Under the Stars Part 2: Intimidation Part 3: Faltering

Part 4: A Simple Question

Theoric pulled out a golden band set with a ruby and pearls.

“Y/N of Asgard, will you give me the great honor of being my wife?”

Time slowed. You watched as Theoric slid the ring onto your finger before turning your hand over to kiss your palm. The world came back into focus with a pop as Theoric continued.

“You do not have to choose now. But wear this as you consider my request.”

“She does not have to consider it.” Loki shouldered his way between you and Theoric. Theoric stood, infringing on Loki’s space and coming eye to eye with him. Loki growled, staring him down.

You touched Loki’s arm, gasping as he cringed from your touch. “Loki, why are you acting like this?” He spun to face you, his features contorted in rage underlined with fear. “Why are you afraid of my answer?”

“Because I know this whole tryst is so unlike you,” Loki spat. If eyes were daggers, Loki’s side glance would have cut Theoric down in a second.

“Who says it is unlike me?” Something was wrong, you could feel it like fire under your stomach. “I look forward to my time with Theoric. But Loki, I am fearful of only one thing.” The flame jumped to your heart, spewing the words like lava from a mountain. “I am beginning to resent time I am around you. It has been growing in me like a weed I cannot kill. What happened to us? We used to know each other’s thoughts before they could even be spoken. Now when I am around, you are brooding and filled with ideas of conspiracy. You fight me at every step. I do not know you anymore.”

Loki stepped back from you, mouth agape as he drank in air. You braced yourself on a shelf across from him. The words hurt you as much as they seemed to hurt him, but you didn’t stop. You reached out for Theoric, who took your hand and steadied you.

You kept your eyes on Loki as you spoke. “I graciously accept your proposal, Theoric.” He pulled your hand up to his face and kiss your knuckles above his ring. Loki stormed off in a flutter of leather and shimmering armor deeper into the library.

“Come,” Theoric hummed, pulling you back to him. “We must tell our parents and the court.”

“Yes, Darling.” You let him lead you out of the library, heart still thundering from the confrontation. You ran your tongue across the roof of your mouth. You had never called Theoric ‘darling’ before, and it tasted bitter.

Hours after the announcement you stood in a circle with Frigga and a few other court sorceresses. Each had a piece of parchment with a phrase on it to repeat over and over till the test was done. Inside the circle was a dark, round table with a piece of the Bifrost under a miniature of the palace. The Fire Giants weren’t going to slow their attack just because you were engaged.

“Shall we begin?” Frigga asked. Everyone nodded and looked to you.

You placed your arms at your sides and opened your palms to the table. You started chanting your phrase. The ink glowed on the parchment, golden, then red. The glow spread to the other sheets as each member took up the mantra. Your voices grew as the light shimmered off the paper towards the shard of Bifrost. It spun, faster and faster as everyone spoke louder and hurried. Soon there was an orb stretching up from the flake, crawling up an invisible ball toward the peak. Your voices thundered as one as the strands touched, turning the orb blue. The voices stopped and echoed through the space. The orb spun and glittered.

You sighed and smiled at Frigga, who smiled back.

With a zing, the orb burst, sending everyone flying back from the circle to the floor.

The room tilted as you pulled yourself into a sitting position. “Is everyone alright?” you asked, noting how hoarse you sounded. A chorus of “yes” sounded off as everyone shakily got back to their feet.

“Y/N, what happened?” Frigga steadied herself on the table. The Bifrost sherd was dark as coal. The miniature wasn’t even a pile of dust.

“I’m not sure.” You pulled out your notes and the Ars Notoria from under the table. “We did everything like it said. Nobody is wearing anything enchanted, correct?” You sighed as everyone nodded. “Maybe I have the pronunciation wrong.” You frowned at the sherd. “And I had hoped it would not drain the Bifrost.”

“That is why we perform small tests first, Lady Y/N,” one of the women said with a small smile. The rest nodded and made short comments in agreement.

Frigga gave your shoulder a pat. “No one has read that text in a thousand years. That you were able to make something at all is a wonder. I have full confidence that you will work it out. Come, let us all rest. It is late.”

You stayed behind in the hall as they left. The spell was so vexing in front of you that you missed Theoric walking in.

He leaned down next to you, “do you see a solution yet?”

You jumped with a squeak of fright. In a second you had your fingers clasped around his throat and a dagger pricking at his stomach. He stayed unmoving as you took a moment to register it was him.

“Theoric!” You pulled your hands back. “Please do not frighten me like that.”

“I will try to remember that, and that you are armed.”

You slipped the dagger back into its sheath with a grimace. “Sorry.”

Theoric rubbed his hands up and down your arms before kissing your forehead. You breathed him in, letting his presence relax you till he spoke again.

“Consider the hall beneath the court.”

“Why?” you asked, still not looking at him, choosing instead to sink further into his chest.

“It is empty, and would have enough room to house the contraption you are planning to construct to amplify the spell.”

Your “contraption” was a spinning ring that would contain the spell while also sending the power to the top tower to create a dome. You had to admit he was right. The empty hall was vast, and was windowless, making it perfectly secure.

“Does that answer the problem you had?”

You stepped back from him with a smile. “No, but it is a valid point, Theoric. You will make a great leader one day.”

“If I do, it will be because you have taught me how to defend my ideas through practice and example.”

“You flatter me,” you said, blushing.

“Anything for you, ljós af hjarta mínu, light of my heart.” He kissed your cheek and walked away, leaving you to study the texts once more.

The burning in your stomach flared up again. You could have sworn Theoric couldn’t read the Ars Notoria, much less speak the language of it. The flame died away as you pushed the phrase to the back of your mind.

“You look beautiful, Y/N.” Your mother wiped away a tear caught in her eyelash.

You spun again, loving the way the skirt flared and made the colors dance. You were to wear Theoric’s family colors, and he yours, to show the two families coming together. Your hair was left flowing with its natural form, and your mother had securely pinned the silver bridal crown and ringed it with fresh flowers. This was all practice of course, but you felt breathless.

You were going to be a married woman.

The mirror caught your reflection as you stood before it. You felt blissful, but the fire in your stomach was growing stronger, crimping your brow in pain.

“All you alright? What’s wrong?” Your mother came up behind you and felt your forehead.

You shooed her away. “Nothing. My stomach has been uneasy since Theoric proposed. Pre-wedding nerves, that is all.”

She frowned at you. “Are you sure? You and Theoric have not…?”

“No,” you sputtered. “Even if I was not waiting till I was wed, with everything going on with the Fire Giants… we have not had time to even think of that.” Against your will, Loki’s comment on how Theoric looked like a hungry snake invaded your mind. The pain in your stomach intensified, nearly doubling you over. Why did you feel guilty? You had come to love Theoric. He was not the aloof boy you met years ago. Focusing on why you loved Theoric helped ease the pain.

“Y/N, that looks more serious than ‘nerves.’”

“I know.” You removed the pins and your crown, sitting it on the table by the mirror. “I’m going to see Eir this evening. She’ll be able to use the soul forge and see what is wrong with me.”

Your mother untied the stays in your dress, muttering something about medicinal advancement too late. But your mind wandered elsewhere.

“Mother?”

“Hmm?”

“Why did you and Father choose Theoric over Loki all those years ago?”

Your mother sighed and helped you step out of the dress. She thought for a moment while handing your usual courtly garb to you. “To be quite honest, we thought Odin would not approve. We were simple courtiers, and we started looking too soon. We thought time would bring you two together. Your tutelage under Frigga erased those early complications. For a brief moment, we considered bringing it up. Then Theoric came back, and you two fell in love.” She turned you to face her, resting her hands on your cheeks. “We had nothing against Loki. We simply wanted the best for you while not overreaching our status. We did not want to see your heart broken.” She dropped her hands to take hold of yours. “But you seem… apprehensive. Do you want more time to think on this arrangement?”

You pulled away from her as you thought. Did you? The rift between you and Loki was not what you wanted. A happy and equal marriage was something most young women strove for, but at what cost to you? You spun Theoric’s ring on your finger. Just feeling it against your skin felt like an answer.

“No. I love Theoric.”

That night, Theoric stood in front of the wall and mumbled the words. He was tired of this mirage, he wanted to finally show his true self. The door had barely manifested before he was rushing through it.

Loki peeked from his spot around the corner and followed him. For a split second, he hesitated to touch the door but took a deep breath before bursting through. He called out a quick confining spell, preventing the hall in front of Theoric from expanding anymore. Loki slid to a halt as Theoric’s low, rumbling laugh echoed back to him.

“To be honest, your highness, I am surprised it took you this long to follow me. Have you found your evidence to convict me?”

The papers in Loki’s chest pocket seemed to burn him. He stole them from your desk. A necessary risk of getting caught to see Theoric’s translations of darker spells.

“And what is your plan now, second prince? You save the day and the lady comes back to you?” Theoric laughed again. Loki was beginning to resent it. “I hope you realize that she is truly lost. She has no more room for you.” Theoric began to walk towards Loki.

“Only because you have trapped her. Your plans will not be able to hold her.”

Theoric stopped and grimaced. “You know nothing of my plans,” he growled. He pulled a dagger and launched himself at Loki, aiming for his throat.

Part 6: What About Her?

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Consequences Part 4: Rabbit Punch

February 24, 2017Aebli Leave a comment

Uriel and Raphael make sure that Dean pays for his insubordination… with Sam’s bout.

Characters: Reader (Y/N), Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer, Uriel, Raphael, Cas, Virgil

Warnings: Boxing Violence, gun mention, blood mention, hospitalization

Word Count: 3200 (Sorry. Worth it.)

Note: Sorry this got out a little later than usual. If you can believe it, even this isn’t the climax to everything. Let me know how you like it by commenting, reblogging, and liking my fic. I hope you guys enjoy it!

Dean was buttoning up his shirt when Sam burst in.

“Jeez, Sam, can’t you…”

“Uriel’s goons are coming down the hallway.”

Dean and Bobby shared a glance. “Bobby, take Sam and get to the ring; don’t let him out of your sight. They won’t hurt him before, they might try afterward. Sam, watch Bobby’s back while he watches yours and get out of here. They don’t need to see you warning me.”

Sam nodded and waited for Bobby by the door, keeping an eye on the hall.

Bobby clapped Dean on the shoulder, “Be careful, boy. Get out to the crowd if you can.” He and Sam left.

Dean finished his tie. He wasn’t going to rush. Maybe a little. He grabbed his hat and coat and almost made it to the arena entrance before they caught up to him, one running up behind him and two blocking his path.

“Come on, Winchester,” the back one said, poking something hard into Dean’s spine.

“I hope that’s a gun you’re packing back there,” Dean grumbled.

“No,” one of the front guys said pulling out his own pistol, “he’s just happy to see you.”

From her seat on the second row, Y/N twiddled her thumbs and bounced her knee waiting for Dean. He’d won, like what was agreed. Dean wondered on their way over if Cole was going to fight for real to go to the finals himself.

“You’re making me nervous, Y/N,” Cas chuckled.

“Oops. Why isn’t he back yet?”

“It takes a while to shift into civilian clothes. There’s a lot of cleaning to get the ring stench off.”

She sighed. “I’ll appreciate it… when he gets here.” She didn’t stop twiddling and bouncing.

Uriel pulled Dean into Raphael’s office, pistol whipping him to the floor. “You’re done breaking contract, Winchester.”

Dean rubbed his jaw and stood to his feet. “You said the win was mine, that Cole would take a dive. If anyone’s broken their word, it’s you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Dean,” Raphael growled from his desk, “you have been nothing but disrespectful. Uriel told me what happened this morning. Yes, you took your win fair and square, but you can’t leave the ring without paying your dues. Since Cole didn’t finish taking it out of your hide, our visitor is going to take it out of Sam’s.”

Uriel had the gun pinned to Dean’s ribs before he could launch forward. “You want me to pay? Then let Cole finish it out back. Sam stopped being part of the deal…ugh.” Uriel jabbed the muzzle further into Dean’s side.

“Just shuddup and watch. We’ve even got a perfect seat for you.” He shoved Dean towards a bar stool set up by the window. Dean looked down over the crowd and into the ring. Bobby was double checking Sam’s gloves. Dean took a split second to find Y/N and Cas, letting out a relieved breath to see her safe. Uriel forced Dean to sit down, then laughed, “enjoy the fight.”

The final people rushed to their seats as the announcer stepped into the ring.

“Ladies and gentlemen, our stadium’s trumpeter will play our National Anthem.”

Everyone in the stadium stood. Dean shot a look at Uriel as he stood too, but he didn’t turn his attention to the flag. He was too busy boring a hole into Castiel’s head, hoping that somehow he could get his attention.

As the Anthem finished with applause and whistles, Castiel looked up towards the office, growling to see Uriel backlit, and hovering over Dean’s shoulder in the window. He caught Bobby’s eye and directed him towards Dean, then turned to Y/N. “I don’t know how much of this you know, but Dean’s not going to sit with us.” He nodded up to the office, making Y/N gasp. Cas barely caught her in time to help her into her seat as her knees buckled. “They won’t kill him, he’s got to attend finals. They can still make money off him, but be ready to run just in case.”

The announcer spoke into the mic, “the officials appointed by the State Athletic Commission are: the attending physician attending at the ringside, Dr. J.D. Houston, the timer at the bell, Bill Stapleton, counting after knockdown, Bill Doty, the judges, Mike McAddams, and Captain A.R. Dowdy, and the referee, Balthazar Smith. The contestants: 10 rounds at 158 from Kansas, wearing white trunks with a black tracer, and weighing 183, Sam Winchester, the defending Cruiserweight Champion. And his opponent,” the announcer pulled a card out of his pocket and began to read, “from St. Louis, Missouri, weighing 182 and one-half, and wearing black and red trunks, Virgil Akins. Referee Balthazar Smith will now give the contestants their instructions.”

Balthazar stepped to the middle and ushered Sam and Virgil forward. He looked anxiously between them. He laid out the rules like he always did, but somehow the words “I want a clean fight” meant more. “Now go to your opposite corners, and at the bell come out fighting.”

The bell rang and the radio reporter in front of Y/N and Cas launched into action. “This is the opening round, and this is the chance of the spectators, as well as the fighters, to study style. This is a brilliant audience on hand, half of Chicago must be crowded into the space, and the other half listening at home. Movie stars, politicians, and of course the fans all squeezed into the hall here. They’re all watching Virgil Akins use his unique jumping-jack style. Referee Smith cautions him for a kidney punch Akins lands on “Law Breaker” Winchester. He shows no fear of Winchester; in fact, he’s bullying him around the ring to say ‘I’m the boss in here.’ They are matched nearly pound for pound, and looking like one of the greatest fights this ring as ever seen.”

Sam was taller than Akins, giving the smaller man plenty of space to hit him. Y/N couldn’t help but see how the smaller man used it. She could feel Cas’s nervousness, and she could see Dean watching them from the office.

“Akins landing punches like he’s the boss and he knows it. Winchester biding his time, learning his opponent. Beautiful long left by Akin. But he’s doing the most damage while in Winchester’s clinches. Winchester digging for the body, trying to lower that guard as he towers over Akins who carries his gloves high. Protects his chin well. Glancing right off the cheekbone of Sam Winchester. There might be blood early, folks.”

Dean tensed as Sam staggered back, stunned. He kept the smile to himself as his brother then dove back in. Every second he was watching Sam, he was hyper aware of the firearm in his back.

“Winchester digging with light left jabs. Akins using an up and down elevator style, now each pushing leather gloves into each other’s faces in the clinch. Beautiful right and a left hook, making Winchester coming back on his heels then; that was a stiff punch. Those thumps are the punches in close that Winchester had a great deal of trouble smothering. A champion, Winchester, but up against a very unorthodox boxer. And that’s the bell ending the first round.”

They sat in their opposite corners. Sam showed Bobby his mouth. It wasn’t gushing yet, but Bobby and Cas knew it could become a problem. Cas explained how it could possibly even choke him around the mouth guard if it got too bad.

Y/N watched Virgil sit in his corner and noticed him glance up to the office behind Sam. Virgil shrugged at something his coach said and stood up, sending up a quick prayer as the next bell rang.

“Akins relaxed in his corner, whether it’s phycological warfare or not, we don’t know. But he’s acting like this is just another outing. He doesn’t have a care in the world. He’s crossed himself as the gong sounds and comes out ready for round two. Winchester has suffered some cuts inside his mouth. He keeps circling clockwise around Akins’s best punch and his stiffest hand. The one that does the most damage is the left as Winchester staggers back again. Winchester is angry now, nearly puffing smoke like a bull ready to charge. Winchester, maneuvering to land his combination punches, steps back but Akins moves in swiftly. Gives him no chance to take a step.

“Come on, Sam,” Dean mumbled. “I know we’ve worked on this.”

Uriel chuckled behind him.

“Winchester bends down in the same kind of a bob as Akins. But Winchester is mostly fighting standing up while Akins bobs up and down as a very difficult target. Akins is a natural middleweight, but he’s gained some heavy muscle to fight at the cruiserweight level. Winchester reaches out and lands on Akins’s face, snapping his head back! The crowd cheers for Winchester!

“Akins grins through his mouth guard, clearly enjoying himself. Winchester disinclined to fight too much in the clinches. Referee Smith keeps cautioning against the whipping punch over Winchester’s shoulder. A blow to the neck is a strong reason for disqualification and for being disbarred from boxing altogether. Winchester has very little success blocking that. Both men are now trying to out-feint each other. Winchester keeps reaching down for Akins, who backs away out of reach of the taller boxer. Akins uppercuts, but misses him by a mile. And that bell is round two.

Y/N kept her focus on Virgil. Something about him seemed off. She watched him as he shot a look towards Balthazar, who nodded back.

“Cas, something’s wrong.”

The bell rang over her worries, preventing her from sending any kind of warning to Sam.

“And here we go, round three, still at the start of this match but it’s been hot. Winchester has held his own against the bouncing Akins, and Akins is not being kept down due to the height difference. Akins is out maneuvering him at every turn. Of course, what he has is a good punch in either hand and a lot of strength in those clinches. Akins really pounds Winchester with that left hook; you can see Winchester’s back jarring from the blow.”

Y/N turned with a shout into Cas’s shoulder as Sam was knocked into the ropes. She peaked out and whispered, “come on Sam. Hold him off.”

“Winchester still in the fight, but a little feeble with that right, shoulder hurt. Akins paying no attention to Winchester’s cut mouth or shoulder pains. He has his man really studied. Akins swings in with a right lead just as Winchester was feigning with his shoulder. Winchester steadies himself on Akins’s shoulders, rolling them into the ropes. The ref separates them, but no rest. As soon as Winchester steps back to ready himself, boom, Akins moves right in on him. Winchester needs a little bit of a moment to prepare an attack, and that’s when Akins takes the moment, breaking his opponent’s flow. Winchester over stretches his stance, cinching Akins’s arms where he can, but Akin reaches up to beat him around the head. He almost hits the ref that time. Akin seems to back just out of punching range, then Boom, shoot in.”

Dean laughed as Sam’s glove made contact with Virgil’s waist, sending him jerking upwards from the force. “This guy is definably yours.”

“What makes you say that, Winchester?”

“All cheap shots and no gut. Sound familiar, Uriel?”

Uriel replied with a low growl and tightened his grip on the pistol.

Y/N was not listening to the reporter anymore but heard it all as background noise.

“Akins is remarkably hitting powerfully with each hand, favoring neither the right or left. Winchester sets himself to move around and hit with a hard right only. Now he’s moving in retreat. He hasn’t had a hard shot at Akins’s head other than one or two times so far, and it looks like Akins is going to keep it that way. And of course, Akins is not cut up or marked in any way. He keeps back just enough to make Winchester overreach, then leaps in, giving him a little pat in the ribs. Getting in the closing minutes now of the round. There’s a champion in that ring, only time will tell which man it is. Winchester still pounding away, right down to the last second. His face is bleeding, and he looks groggy already, but he’s still rapping away at the body. Oh! And down goes Referee Balthazar Smith!”

The audience and judges leapt to their feet as Balthazar went over the ropes and apron. Everyone’s view of the boxers was obscured by the person in front of them, and the front row people were craning to see Balthazar. Virgil took the moment of distraction to hit Sam in the back of the neck, then upper-cutting him to explain the fall.

Sam fell to the canvas with a thud. The counting ref swooped in and made it to ten and could have made it to thirty before Sam even groaned, but there was too much pandemonium to get him off the canvas. There’s was a deliriously happy crowd circling Virgil’s corner, already celebrating the win.

Bobby jumped into the ring and pushed everybody back as the announcer lifted Virgil’s arm high. The crowd’s cheers died down as the doctor followed him in, cracking Sam’s eyes open. The doctor shook his head and motioned for the cot to haul Sam to the hospital.

“Well that was some fighting, wasn’t it Dean?” Raphael said, relaxed in his office chair.

Dean was fuming. He stood, even as Uriel pressed the pistol to his temple. “You won’t shoot me. All those witnesses down there? And how are you going to explain why the semi-finalist is dead, no matter which way you throw it?”

Raphael nodded and motioned for Uriel to lower his gun. Uriel sneered and twisted it. “Uriel. Put it away,” Raphael commanded. When it was out of sight, Raphael poured himself another shot of bourbon. “Even with what’s unfortunately happened to Sam, you are still owed a congratulation. You’re going to the Amateur Finals, well done.”

“What’s your play, Raphael?”

“Michael Mulligan. Smart kid. Young in the face, I admit. But he’s got a fighting wisdom about him. Beat our darkest prodigal to meet you.”

“Do you ‘not own’ this one too?” Dean mocked.

Uriel piped up, “you are correct. Not even the heat knows we control that canvas, and we are going to keep it that way.”

Raphael down the last of his drink then walked to tower over Dean. “You are going to lose one last time, then retire. Make it look good and you can leave with a shred of dignity.” His voice dropped, sending an uneasy shiver down Dean’s spine. “You will throw it, Dean, or I will personally pay a visit to Sam and your girl to prove my point.” He grinned. “Now go see your brother, I think he’ll want to be seeing you.” Raphael turned away like nothing happened. Uriel stepped out of the way begrudgingly.

Dean was off like a shot.

Y/N considered her stomach to be a strong one, but when she finally caught up with Sam at the hospital, she almost fainted dead away.

“How is he?” Dean croaked, catching her as she swayed on her feet.

“Dean, you’re alright.” She embraced him, shivering against him. She met his gaze, holding his face in her hands. “He’s really beaten up, Dean. The doctor hasn’t said how bad yet.” Y/N felt her heart shudder in her chest as he closed his eyes in defeat.

“This is all my fault.”

“No, it isn’t.” Y/N surprised herself with how strong her voices sounded but kept going. “It’s not your fault. Or Sam’s fault, or anyone who is held under your bosses’ thumb. They are the ones deciding who lives and who dies. You have fought against their power and they are doing everything they can to crush you. They are afraid of you, Dean. You can’t stop now.”

“Y/N,” Dean choked, “they’ve threatened to come after you next if I don’t do what they say. I can’t keep doing this if you are at risk. I thought Sam would be able to hold his own, but they stooped lower than I ever thought possible. I can’t let them take a jab at you.”

Dean moved to walk away, but Y/N grabbed his vest.

“Don’t you walk away from me, Winchester. You need all the friends you can get right now.” She poked him in the chest, flicking it into his nose when he looked down at her. “Do you think they’ll leave me alone because you broke up with me? They may be a lot of things, but they are not stupid. I am safest with you, and Castiel, and Bobby, and Sam.” Y/N sighed and wrapped his arms around her before wrapping her arms around his waist. “You are strong with a support system. Sam knew what he was walking into, and you need people to watch your back. Don’t push us away.”

Dean chuffed and squeezed her closer. “How did you learn me so good, so quick?”

Y/N laughed into Dean’s chest. “Cas ratted on you. He’s worried you’ll do what you always do when trouble comes.”

“That jerk.” Dean rubbed his hand up and down her back. He kissed the top of her head, whispering into her hair, “thank you.”

The doctor stepped out of Sam’s room. “Mr. Winchester?”

“Yes, sir.” Dean let go of Y/N, but held onto her hand, focusing on not crushing her delicate fingers with his stress.

“Sam is going to pull through.” He gave Dean and Y/N a moment to let out a sigh of relief before continuing. “We’ll need to keep him her for a while, and we won’t know the full damage till some of tonight’s boxing wounds heal, but I really think he’s going to be alright. If I could confide in you, though,” he looked passingly at Y/N. Dean nodded for him to go on. “It is of my personal, and professional opinion that this man’s injuries were not caused by an upper cutting punch. If you have anyone you can trust, I have enough evidence to prosecute his opponent.”

Dean thought for a second. “Thank you, doctor. I’ll keep that in mind and in my pocket. Thank you.” The pair watched the doctor as he left.

“You’re going to try, right?” Y/N asked.

“No. Not yet. It’s enough for Virgil, not for the top level.” Dean looked at her, taking in how her focus listed to one side. “No. Y/N you can’t go to the police. Not yet. You promised.”

“And your boss promised you’d win with no ramifications too,” she snarked. “Fine. I won’t go. But the second we have something I’m the voice. You guys are too close. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Bobby peaked his head out of the room. “Dean, he coming too.”

For a split second, Dean held back. Then he stepped forward, Y/N at his side.

Part 5: Prizefight

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Promises Part 4: A Simple Question

February 17, 2017December 11, 2018Aebli Leave a comment

Theoric and the Reader (Y/N) deepen their relationship. Loki notices that Theoric sneaks away, and tries to riddle out where Theoric is going.

Characters: Y/N, Theoric, Loki, Frigga

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1700+

Note: This wasn’t meant to be a political thriller, but I kinda like it. Let me know what you think by rebloging, liking, or commenting. My requests and asks are open, as well as my tag lists.

Part 1: Under the Stars Part 2: Intimidation Part 3: Faltering

Frigga’s face was masked with indifference as the captain of the guard spoke.

“We do not need a shield around the city. It will make us appear weak and fearful. Besides, what Lady Y/N is proposing seems to be made of light, something I do not think will be strong enough to hold off the Fire Giants.”

You spoke up, “if we do not create some sort of defense, our only hope will be based on the soldiers who will be confined to the ground and to a few speeders. We simply do not have enough to send to Muspelheim and to defend the city at the same time. And what about our outlying towns, Captain? If we pull everyone to the palace or send them all to another realm, who will defend the people?”

“Each town has their own defenders,” he parried.

“But not as trained as the royal guard; they will all perish. If we can create a shield large enough to protect the palace, then we can share the magic with the towns and outlying villages. Then the individual warriors have a better chance of survival. It is not weakness. It is a good offense.”

The Captain had never been a friendly comrade at war counsels. He kept any snide comments to himself as Frigga considered the proposals. Theoric stood at the captain’s side. He opened his mouth to speak, but you nodded your head. Leaping into trouble with the captain and the queen would not go well for him. You turned your attention back to Frigga as she took a breath.

“Lady Y/N has made some valid points. We cannot become complicit in our battle honor. The Fire Giants have tactics we have not seen for generations. She is studied in military history as well as magic, Captain. Lady Y/N, will you be able to construct such a field without the help of the guards?”

“Yes, your majesty.”

“Then it is settled. Lady Y/N and I will work with the others of our craft, and Captain you will ready your troops for battle. Odin Allfather should return from the front soon and I will tell him the plans.” She stood, and everyone stood with her. “To your tasks.” She met you at the door as everyone dispersed, followed by other members of the counsel practiced in magic. “Thank you for your inspired proposal. I am glad to see you are doing well, Y/N. How is your strength?”

“Returning slowly, but I should be fully recovered after a sleep or two. I believe I have a text that will help us.” You caught Theoric’s eye as he walked past you. “Lieutenant Theoric, a moment please.”

“Yes, my lady?”

“My queen, this man brought me a book some time ago with ancient spells long forgotten. If you should thank anyone for the proposal, it should be the lieutenant.”

Frigga nodded as Theoric bent at the waist. “Indeed, thank you, sir. We will keep you updated as the shield develops so you can relay it to the Captain.”

“Yes, your majesty.” Theoric saluted as she left. You stayed behind and beamed at him.

“She likes you. I told her about the book earlier and she wanted to thank you in public. It is full of ways that we can defend Asgard and her allies. I’ll see you at dinner.” You turned to walk away, but Theoric caught your hand.

“Y/N, if I could see you a little sooner than that, I would appreciate it. I have a few questions… about the book… among other things. Could we meet in the library before then?”

You felt your cheeks flush. “Yes. I’ll wait for you in the stacks.”

“Till then, my lady,” he leaned down and kissed your hand. Then he spun on his heel and left with a warm grin.

Loki stepped into time with you as you headed for Frigga’s hall.

“You two are getting serious. I hope you can see that he is using you.”

“No, he isn’t,” you scoffed, “he had no way of knowing I could get your mother to do that.”

“I doubt it. You are her chief student, the best. He would have to be a simpleton not to see that.” Loki stopped and gripped your arm. “I do not trust his motives. I’ve seen the way he gapes at you when you are not looking. Like a hungry snake at a mouse.”

“Have you been spying on him?” you asked, pulling your arm from his grasp.

“Not yet, but I am strongly considering it.”

“Please don’t. He is a soldier, an honorable one.” You sighed, “I have not been blinded, Loki. I appreciate what you are trying to do, but you do not have to watch out for me anymore.” You leaned up and kissed his cheek. “I am happy. Remember your promise. Do not interfere.”

You walked away from him, leaving him standing alone in the passage. He muttered under his breath, “I’m sorry, Y/N. I cannot.”

Loki headed after Theoric. He disguised himself as a warrior from a different division, one that he hoped Theoric would not recognize. Loki couldn’t help but notice how Theoric smiled at every young woman he passed, beaming when they giggled. He wanted to fight Theoric when he ran his fingers up a young maid’s arm but held back. Theoric was going somewhere for a reason, and Loki was intent to find out just how treacherous he was. Once, Theoric turned and looked behind him. Loki continued walking and changed his illusion around the corner again to continue following him.

Theoric would his way down to the base of the palace. Once people flow ceased, Loki kept a distance between them, shifting into himself for the quiet without armor rattling. He watched from an alcove as Theoric waved his arm and the bare wall revealed a door similar to the ones on the upper floors. Loki picked up a few words, enough to recognize a simple distortion spell. Theoric walked through, and the door vanished behind him.

Loki was torn. Was this all a trap? If he should follow Theoric, he could be caught. If he stayed, Theoric might have transported somewhere else in the palace and he would be stuck staring at a blank wall for hours. He decided to wait.

The wall revealed the door once again within an hour. Theoric emerged, carrying a charm on a string and a small box. His bliss smile sent acid through Loki’s veins. Loki clenched his fists, ready to confront him. Then he saw the details of the charm.

It was the emblem of Muspelheim. An iridescent flame that glowed as if lit from within. It started off blue, but as the door vanished, the flame changed to orange, then to red as the wall reverted.

Theoric held it in his palm and muttered words in a language Loki didn’t recognize. The spell rose and fell in the air in a way that was seriously more complex than concealing the door. When he was done, Theoric tied the string around his neck, now simply wearing his family crest. Loki ran down the hall as Theoric moved to leave.

You ran your fingers over the spines, watching the gold letters and embellishments disappear under your fingers and then reappear as you continued moving. Although as a rule, the library was quiet, today the silence would be stifling to anyone else. Not you. You thrived in the silence. It gave you a clear mind. When mixed with the aged smell of parchment and vellum, you felt stronger than Thor.

You didn’t look up from the shelves when you heard boots behind you. “So what did you want to talk to me about, Theor…”

“Tell me more about the book he gave you.” Loki stayed at the edge of the row, standing as if ready for battle. He glanced behind him and you noticed he was out of breath.

“He found a copy of the Ara Notoria, a text that has not been seen in centuries. I’ve been translating the spells since he arrived; they are powerful and wonderful. Loki…”

“You can read it?” Loki stepped closer. His eyes glowed with a mixture of anger and worry, a glow you learned when you were teenagers. “Has he asked you about any of them?”

“Yes, a few. But he is not skilled in magic. He cannot even pronounce the words. Why are you asking me all of this, Loki?”

“He is not the man you think he is.”

“I think he is the man I love, the man who loves me. Why are you still trying to sabotage my relationships? You swore you would stop.”

Loki stepped closer and placed his large hands on your shoulders. “This isn’t that. He is dangerous. Theoric has been sneaking around the palace to the deepest reserves. He vanishes without a trace…”

“Sounds like what you do occasionally.”

“Theoric is planning something.”

“You are correct, your highness.” Theoric walked down the row to meet you. Loki stepped away, but not by much. “I have been sneaking around, but not for the reason you think, Loki.” He sighed and smiled at you. “I had hoped to do this a bit more publicly, but seeing that my honor is at stake…”

Theoric sank to one knee and took your hands in his. “Y/N, years ago you entranced me with your wit and your strength. When you showed me your favorite place, this library, I did not understand how someone could love dusty pages. Then I began to read. I found strategy, wisdom, worlds that I would have never seen without you. When we reunited, I was a lost man. The knowledge I gained from the books were not enough until you showed me the way they connected.” Theoric shifted and chuffed, “if I am honest, I missed some of your lessons because I was distracted by the aura that surrounds you in sunlight. Or the way library dust dances when you are with me. If I die tonight, I hope to keep those memories with me to Valhalla. But if I survive, I hope that my future could be filled with similar memories.”

He pulled out a golden band set with a ruby and pearls.

“Y/N of Asgard, will you give me the great honor of being my wife?”

Part 5: A Simple Answer

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Consequences: Part 3 – Undercard

February 10, 2017Aebli Leave a comment

Y/N’s past hunts her down, and she finds out some of Dean’s secrets as well. Dean has to choose whether to fall or to fight.

Characters: Reader (Y/N), Boss Mr. Shurley, former ex, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Uriel, Cole Trenton, Raphael, Virgil, Castiel

Warnings: Boxing violence, abuse mention

Word Count: 3500+

Notes: I’m sorry I couldn’t finish the series in time for the Supernatural Fic Apocalypse, but I hope you like it and will look for it in the next few weeks. Tag lists, requests, and feedback comments are open. Enjoy!

Part 1: Ringside Part 2: Caution

Y/N aligned her pens and pencils for the day. It didn’t wasn’t much, but being a secretary paid the bills well enough. She pulled the weekend cover off the typewriter and ran her fingers over the keys. One day she would buy one for herself; then she could create magic.

Mr. Chuck Shurley waved at her as he entered his office. He hung his hat on the doorknob, a sign he didn’t want to be disturbed, and Y/N heard the door click as he locked it. She assumed it meant he had several submissions to look over. Being the boss of a small publication company meant he had final say over what they published. Y/N hoped that being secretary would help her out when she wrote her first piece.

Y/N, deep in thought over that dream, didn’t pay much attention to the suited man who walked up to her desk, hat in hand.

“Excuse me miss, does Y/N Y/L/N work here?”

His voice made her blood run cold. Y/N looked up and almost screamed. He was smartly dressed, but she knew what lived underneath. She reached for the button that would call security, but…

“Please don’t. I’m in, I’m out, I’m gone. Just hear me out.”

Her heart thundered in her chest as her finger hovered over her salvation. He walked around and took that hand in his. Y/N gasped in defeat. Maybe she could scream?

“When you left… I thought I would die. I got drunk every night till my mind cleared. It’s all my fault; I hurt you. I shouldn’t have.” He sank to one knee, “can you… will you forgive me?” The crouch pulled back his coat to reveal a vest holster. Words died on her lips. He chuckled nervously, “say something. Anything.” He let go of her hand to pull his jacket over the holster.

She took her chance. And pushed the security button. Mr. Shurley yanked his door open as your ex stood and pulled back his hand. Mr. Shurley saw you flinch and pushed him out of the way. She leapt to her feet and stood behind Mr. Shurley. ‘He’s got a gun,” She whispered as the guards ran in. They took him by the arms and led him out.

“I’m sorry, Y/N! Bitch! I said I was sorry!” His crying and cursing faded away, leaving Y/N shivering against the wall.

When Mr. Shurley turned, she burst into tears. “I’m sorry, sir. I thought I was far enough away. I didn’t mean to put anyone in danger. I…”

“It’s alright, Y/N. Is there anyone you can call to take you home? Preferably a man?”

“No… yes.”

“Hey, Winchester, some girl’s calling for you.”

Dean nearly ran to the training gym’s receiver, grinning through the whistling from the other guys. “Y/N. What I can I do for you?”

His face fell as he heard her broken voice on the other line. “Dean, can you come get me from work?”

“What’s wrong? I can be there in…”

“Winchester!” Uriel called out, motioning him to come to the ring.

Dean cursed under his breath. “I can send my brother. You know Sam, right? Will he be an okay second till I can get there?” Dean waited with baited breath till she answered.

“Yes.”

“I’ll send him your way and come as soon as I can get away. I promise.” Dean got her work and home address and sent Sam with a cab. He walked to the ring and said to Uriel, “say it quick. I’ve gotta leave.”

“Don’t rush me; We’ve got important matters to discuss.”

“Yeah, I know. Do what you say and everything will be peaches. I got that.” Dean stepped to walk away, but Uriel grabbed him by the collar. He spun him around to the row of seats surrounding the practice ring.

“Have a seat. There’s more to it.” He leaned against the apron, towering over seated Dean. “Raphael seems to be under the impression that you will follow orders better in the future if we give you this win.”

“Fantastic. Can I go now?”

“No. Cole, on the other hand, wants to beat you fair and square. While I am inclined to agree with him, there is a bit of a time constraint considering your fight is the undercard to Sam’s. So he’ll go down quick enough.”

“Great. I’ll be seeing you…” Dean tried to stand, but Uriel forced him back into the chair. Dean snarled, arms tensed and ready to share a few blows. From the corners of his eyes, he saw the other fighters in the gym look away.

Uriel chuckled and patted Dean’s shoulder. “Don’t think we don’t know where you’re running off to. We saw that sweet little miss you ran to the night this all went sideways. Your Sophie[1] can wait a few minutes. If you don’t think so, I can talk on the way over and explain personally why you’re late.”

“She doesn’t know anything. She doesn’t need to know.” Dean pushed Uriel’s hand off his shoulder, “and I am not just going to sit here while you threaten her. I’ll do your bidding, for Sam, but you’ll leave her out of this.” He turned and stalked away, grabbing his leather jacket off the hook next to the door.

“If you walk out that door now, Winchester, your career here or in any other boxing circle is finished.”

Dean looked over his shoulder at Uriel’s fuming face. “Then I guess after Cole’s rematch I’m done.” He slammed the door behind him.

Uriel punched the corner of the ring, making the rope post splinter around the edge. He scanned around, then found him. “Trenton! Get over here; we need to talk.”

“Thank you for bringing me home,” Y/N said from the couch. Jo and Claire were out at their own jobs, so Sam had taken it upon himself to make coffee. He brought her a cup, which she nearly dropped from her shaking hands. He took it back and sat it on the end table before sitting next to her.

“You’re going to be alright. Dean’s not going to let that creep anywhere near you. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s hunting down that bast-… the guy right now.” He glanced at his watch again, wondering what Uriel was holding him for.

“Why do you look worried?” Y/N asked with a nervous chuckle. “My ex is the one in danger.”

Sam shook his watch back under his sleeve. “Nothing. The boss was talking to him, and it didn’t look good.” Sam coughed, “not that you need to think about it too much. Probably a pep talk that couldn’t happen any later.” He handed her back the coffee mug, relieved it didn’t shake as much.

Y/N was thinking too hard for her hands to shake. Connections broke past her terrifying memories. “Are the fights rigged?” she blurted out.

Sam almost fell off the couch. “What? Why would you think that?”

“The guy at the dinner. He said the fights were faked.” Y/N nibbled her bottom lip. She handed the forgotten coffee back to Sam. In the contest, Dean was almost counted out, then he looked at her. She remembered the way his eyes gleamed, she thought in defiance of defeat. Maybe there was more to it. “Was he supposed to lose the fight I met him at?” She looked up at Sam when he didn’t answer. He tried to stand up, but she placed her hand on his thigh, freezing him in place. “Tell me the truth. Is it rigged?”

The front door clicked shut as Dean walked in. “Is what rigged?” He glanced at Sam, who was staring into the coffee mug. “You told her?” Dean shouted.

“I didn’t say anything!”

Y/N stood and walked over to Dean. At first, he looked down at her in shock, then glanced away before grabbing the door knob to leave.

“No. You’re not going anywhere till you tell me what’s going on.”

“Y/N…”

“Is this what you couldn’t tell me at the dinner?”

Dean met her gaze. His eyes darted between hers. With a sigh, he took off his hat and coat. “This is going to take a while.”

Y/N had no idea there was such thing as a family business in boxing. When their Dad died, the ring they owned would have gone under had it not been for Raphael. But he changed things. Everything. The easy thing about bribing the boys was he could always threaten to hurt the other if they stepped out of line.

“That’s why I don’t want to get you involved. I didn’t want to put you in danger.”

“I’m already in danger! But I would much rather have you on my side than have to battle anyone alone.”

Dean growled, “did they threaten you already? Is that why you called me?” He stood up and paced around the room. “That son of a… I’m going to rip his throat out.”

“No. It was my ex.”

Dean stopped. “The one you told me about?”

She nodded and told him about her morning. She couldn’t say his name. It withered and evaporated before it could reach her lips, frightened to summon the ghost into reality. Then the rest of her story spilled out. She told it like it was a common thing. Small town, no chance of escape. He was the better of the prospects. But the local bar made good money off men like him. The town rebuilt the police station next to it for easy access, it was so popular with guys quick to their fists. Y/N wasn’t sure how many people took the fights home with them. They’d been engaged. He almost lived in her parent’s house, but just short of paying rent. Their attic always seemed to smell of cheap whiskey. She left after just one episode, penniless and only possessing the clothes on her back, refusing to live in a place where denying to buy him a refill made him… she didn’t, couldn’t finish.

“I’m gonna rip his throat out too.”

“Please don’t do that. He’s just a leech of a bum who happens to own a handgun. You’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

Dean sighed and sat back down. “Sounds like equal Jonah swallowers to me.” He sat in silence for a moment. “So that’s where your ‘don’t be a polite doormat’ worldview comes from. I wish I had your strength to fight my demons.”

“You do,” Sam said. “I’ve seen how you’ve undermined them for years. You’ve got the chin to fight them.” He spoke over Dean’s protests, “don’t worry about me. They won’t touch me before the fight, and afterwards, I’ll be with you and Bobby. Then we can both leave.”

“What about during the fight?” Y/N asked. “Does Raphael control him too?”

“No, my opponent is from the other side of town. Virgil-something. Bobby did a little digging to check that, said all he found out was the guy had weapons for fists.”

Dean sniggered, “wait till he meets your armory.” He was smiling again. He wrapped Y/N’s fingers in his own and kissed her hand. “Do you think we can do this?”

“Yes. But why don’t we call the cops?”

“They probably already know,” Sam snorted. “They’ve got as much of a hold on the underworld as Raphael has in the local boxing. Besides, we’d go to jail and get stuck with Uriel’s cronies.”

“We wouldn’t last the night,” Dean mumbled. “You can’t go to the heat, Y/N. They’d nab us all, whether we’ve been blackmailed or not. Promise me you won’t go to the police.”

“I promise.”

Sam checked his watch. “We’d better get going if we want to be on time for call.”

“I’m just the undercard, so I’m going to stay a minute and come over with Y/N.” Dean looked at her, “if that’s alright?”

“Yes. It won’t take me but a minute to get ready.” Y/N stood and walked Sam to the door. When he was gone, Dean was there to kiss her. At first it surprised her, but the way his lips matched hers tilt for tilt, they felt like puzzle pieces completing one another. She gasped when Dean broke away suddenly.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“Dean, it’s okay.” Y/N tried not to blush, but her breath wasn’t coming out right. It staggered and spun till she could gather her thoughts. “Does that make this next evening date number two?” she asked with a giggle.

Dean grinned, “hell yes.”

When they got to the ring, it was already packed. Dean introduced her to Castiel, close friends since before and after his last big fight with Bartholomew. “He’s your bodyguard till I get back.”

“Fine,” Y/N huffed, “but give Trenton an extra uppercut from me, okay?” Dean chuckled and kissed her cheek before leaving. There were a few small fights, Y/N realized she was sitting behind the same radio host as before, then the arena went silent as Dean and Cole walked to the ring. The announcer did his thing and jazzed up Sam’s top billing fight to follow. The crowd roared as the first bell rang.

“Winchester starts this first round, as he does every round, with a series of jabs,” the radio man said. “Trenton sets a pattern too. Weaving, crouching, trying to get under. The third man in the ring is our referee Balthazar Smith. The opponents stay in the middle, spinning the center to stay focused and close. They’re going at it now. Trenton is jabbing quick, but Winchester gives him a few solid blows to the head. And that’s the bell, ladies and gentlemen. Round one is at a close.”

Y/N and Castiel cheered with the rest of the crowd. Trenton had a few fans, but Dean had several more. Y/N watched the judges almost as much as she watched the fight and liked how they nodded when Dean landed a hit. The bell rang to start the next round.

“They start up again, moving faster at one another. Much different than the slow build of last round. Already you can sense what a perfect match this is. These two men are masters at their trade, but only one will move… and Winchester lands a blow to Trenton’s stomach! Trenton staggers back but launches himself at Winchester. He gets in a few hits… but now Winchester gives him the one-two. Winchester’s got the speed in him tonight. Trenton is stunned. Winchester stinging in those jabs, Trenton trying to get in close with those wicked hooks. The referee has to separate them as the bell rings.”

Dean was looking ragged by round eight. Cole wasn’t falling like Uriel had said. From their corners, Dean shot Cole a look. Cole nodded back, confirming Dean’s thoughts. Dean nodded at Bobby, who was fixing his eyebrow, still open from their first bout. Dean sighed and stood as the bell rang.

“Rolling into round nine, the audience feels like they’re ready for an explosion. They meet quick. Both men dishing it out and still staying in there, though a quick series of hits could make the bout. Oh! Did you hear that thump? That was a Winchester glove colliding with Trenton’s ribs. Winchester still has that patch over his eye, but he’s still forcing the fight, although just a little bit slower. And Trenton watching like a hawk, always looking for that split second of an opening, always eager to unload his combinations.”

Y/N flinched with each hit. They were harder now and audible above the din of the audience. Even Castiel’s brow was knit with worry.

“Trenton upper cutting Winchester, sending him to retreat along the ropes. Trenton lands one to Winchester’s face. That can’t feel good on his patch. Winchester pulls him close, cinching Trenton’s arms. But they’re still able to reach up to hit him in the back of the head. They are separated with much struggle from the ref. Trenton chases Winchester around the ring, jabbing an upper cutting. Winchester blocks his face and sends out jabs that land on Trenton.”

“Round eleven, thirty minutes of actual fighting have gone by. Neither man has really taken over, but this could be the fiercest of them all. They’re starting out close and hard, ladies and gentlemen, and it doesn’t look like they’re going to let up. Winchester twists under Trenton’s punch, then pulls up to land on Trenton’s face. Winchester uppercuts, but misses him by a mile. Trenton pulls in close, one-two into Winchester’s chest with a little bit of elbow into his cheek. Ref and judges on the wrong side of the ring to see it. Now you can hear the audience as Winchester starts raining down on Trenton. This is what they’ve been waiting for. Trenton fights back, but the blows keep coming. Trenton gets Winchester on the ropes, thirty seconds left in the round. He uses them to land body blows, but Winchester pushes him back, cinching Trenton’s arms again. They’re both haymaking as the bell rings.”

“Round number twelve, and again those opening jabs by Winchester. “Raisin’ Cain” just a little bit slower, but he’s shaking off that battering he took in the previous rounds. Trenton, weaving, crouching, always aggressive. He’s loaded with confidence after that last round. But Winchester is showing his dynamite. One, two, three jabs to Trenton, snapping his head back with each. Winchester’s stance spread out as Trenton backs away from another combination. If you can hear that static, ladies and gentlemen, that’s the full audience spurring on their favorite. Trenton tries to bob down, but Winchester’s uppercut is waiting for him. Even with the patching, Winchester’s red is flowing; I can smell the iron from here.”

Dean’s lips looked more swollen than they were stretched over his mouth guard, but his hurt eye was starting to close. His left arm hung lower, giving him less protection.

“Here we go for the final round. Through it all Trenton and Winchester have dueled like champions. With just three minutes left, Trenton is still the aggressor. Winchester, who’s probably thinking he’s never had it rougher, is gamely hanging on, mouth open, jabbing all the time and tying Trenton up in the clinches. Winchester dances Trenton over to the ropes, his restraints looking more like support as Trenton leans on him. It’s been a rough night for him too. They back away from each other before the ref has to separate them. Their arms reach out at the same time, while they receive a punch like the one their dishing out. Trenton keeps trying to bob below Winchester’s hits but keeps finding uppercuts before being beaten down by roundhouses. Thirty seconds to go. Winchester cinches Trenton, but Trenton keeps catching him in the ribs. There’s the bell, and the big fight is over. Both Cole Trenton and Dean Winchester deserve tremendous credit. But now it’s up to the judges appointed by the Chicago City Commission. Here’s announcer Johnny Addie with their decision.”

The announcer stepped into the center, dragging the mic chord behind him. He flipped through the judges’ cards, then pulled the mic to his mouth.

“Judge Aidie Idella scores it nine five one even, Trenton. Referee Al Burr scores it nine two six, Winchester.”

The crowd booed. Y/N couldn’t tell if it was for or against Dean.

“The other judge, Bill Wrecked, scores it eight six one even, the winner and official semi-finalist of the Light Heavyweight of Chicago, Dean Winchester.” The announcer lifted Dean’s arm above his head as the crowd cheered. The announcer marked the place and time for the final match, then led Dean out of the ring. He and Bobby went to the back to change out so he could watch Sam’s fight.

Uriel got up from his seat in the third row behind the judges and motioned for the ref to follow him. They ended up in Raphael’s office, where he was entertaining a visitor with the best view of the ring, and his aged drinks.

Raphael didn’t turn from the window but addressed the men as they entered. “Uriel, you haven’t met him yet, but this is Virgil Akins. He’s put on a lot of weight to fight Sam tonight, make sure it’s memorable to all the right people. And Balthazar,” he turned and faced him, “don’t screw this up with a bad call.”

“Yes, sir.”

Balthazar Smith kept a strong face, but Uriel smiled to see him wipe his hands on his pants. Uriel led him and Virgil out into the hallway, cornering them to one side. He shook Virgil’s hand.

“Dean Winchester has already said he’s finished. We’ll invite him nicely to the box to watch his brother’s fight, then you can have him. He’ll think it’s a real fight, so hold nothing back. You know how to end it. Balthazar, when Virgil uses his rabbit punch, make sure you’re looking the other way, and do something to make sure the judges are looking away too.”

“But sir, those punches can kill.”

“I know. There’s no way Dean did this without talking to his brother, so Sam’s in on it. Don’t worry too much about it. Virgil’s got it handled. Understand?”

Balthazar moved to give a retort but swallowed it. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now get out there before anyone misses you. Soon the Winchesters will be finished.”

[1] Sophie: 50’s slang for “girlfriend”

Part 4: Rabbit Punch

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@sassy-losechester, @mysteriouslyme81, @theriumking, @kittenofdoomage, @supernatural-jackles, @bringmesomepie56, @jpadjackles, @ilostmyshoe-79

A Sunbeam Morning

February 10, 2017Aebli Leave a comment

deepdisireslonging:

A lovely wake-up call for Dean.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Hand job, oral (male receiving, implied female receiving) implied later smut

Word Count: 508

Note: Happy Smut Appreciation Day! At first, I wasn’t going to write anything since I’ve planned another Dean post to come out later this week, but then this hit me. I highly recommend reading while listening to this Ambient Mixer.

You woke as Dean shifted next to you. He continued to snore lightly, something that made you smile. He always denied that he snored.

Morning was starting to break through the curtains, blinding the spot over your pillow. You curled into his chest, hoping it would block out enough of the light. It was dark, but also close enough for you to feel other things in greater detail. Like the stiffness presently pressed into your stomach. You suppressed a giggle as he draped an arm over you, keeping you from moving too much.

You could have fun with this.

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Supernatural Smut Appreciation Day!

Secrets

February 10, 2017Aebli Leave a comment

deepdisireslonging:

Lucifer makes a deal with Castiel and the Reader that will please everybody. But it’s up to the reader to accept.

Pairing: Casifer x reader

Warnings: restraint, gagging (kind of), oral (female receiving), breath play

Word Count: 1195

Note: I’ve never felt so dirty writing in public before. Happy Supernatural Smut Appreciation Day.

“Y/N.”

With one fluid motion, you had your back against the wall and your gun pointed at Cas’s chest.

You lowered it with a sigh. “Cas. We’ve talked about this. I know that a bullet won’t hurt you, but I would prefer not to shoot you either. You need to knock instead of just barging into my bedroom.”

“There wasn’t time. Y/N,” he slumped against the closed door, “I need to… tell you…” You rushed to catch him as he slid to the floor. The color was draining from his face and he had broken out into a cold sweat.

“We need to call the boys,” you started. Before you could shout, Cas had his hand over your mouth. With a flutter of wings, he pinned you to the bed. He held your wrists above you with one hand while the other continued to cover your mouth. There was a gleam in his eyes that you’d seen before, but not in him. Sam had it for a while. You gasped and struggled under his grip as you realized.

Lucifer.

His voice was higher than Cas’s. Playful. “You’ve always been the smart one, Y/N. I’ve been with the boys all morning and they haven’t noticed a thing.” Castiel’s face grinned at you, but with a darkness. “Then he actually pushed me out of the way for a bit. You are very important to him.” He twisted his head and shuddered, “easy Cassie. Don’t fight too much. Not when I’ve got your girl in such a compromising position.”

Your blood ran cold. What do you want, Lucifer?

“I want you to keep this a secret from the Winchesters. They are searching for something I need, but they’ll stop once they know I’m not Castiel.”

You glared at him, refusing to believe it was that simple.

“How about I up the ante? I’ll give you the thing you want most; you won’t even have to beg for it. Unless that’s your kink.”

How could he see that? You’d buried it long ago.

“I know you’ve been longing for it. And guess what? Castiel wants it too.”

For a split second Castiel broke through with a look that was so him. Ashamed, but questioning.

So, you’re going to buy my silence with sex?

He leaned forward till you could feel his breath next to your ear, “I guess I am.”

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Happy Supernatural Smut Appreciation Day!

(This one is probably my favorite…)

Spn Smut Apocalypse 2017

February 10, 2017Aebli Leave a comment

deepdisireslonging:

Dean Winchester

The Pointy End

Love Like Lightning: Part 1 : Part 2

Marvelous Night for a Rain Dance

A Sunbeam Morning

Sam Winchester

Deep in the Archives

Castiel

Satisfied

Casifer/Lustiel

Secrets

Supernatural Smut Appreciation Day

Promises: Part 3 – Faltering

February 3, 2017December 11, 2018Aebli Leave a comment

Theoric takes the reader to a glen to relax, but they are attacked. Loki comes to find that the reader has true feelings for Theoric.

Characters: Reader (Y/N), Theoric, Frigga, Loki

Warnings: Short moment of peril, otherwise nothing but blatant flirting.

Word Count: 1900+

Note: I love how this ending turned out. Please don’t hate me.

Part 1: Under the Stars Part 2: Intimidation

~1885

Theoric dragged you down the hallway, laughing all the while.

“Where are we going?” you asked for the hundredth time. He sent you a note that morning requesting that you dress warmly, and to bring a cloak. It billowed behind you as you ran.

For the hundredth time, you received the same answer: “It’s a surprise!”

Theoric knew his way around the palace now that he was a lieutenant in Asgardian Guard. Because of his nobility, he could have easily jumped to that rank years ago, but you learned from outside sources that he worked his way to the top till he was indispensable. The more time you spent with him, you began to notice little things about him. The way his eyes would light up before he laughed, the same way they did when he was suppressing one. The way his armor gleamed, alerting you to his presence. And the light tone in his voice when he said your name. It was enough to make you blush just thinking about it.

“Here we are,” he said, slowing before rounding a corner.

“The stables? I have to admit it’s been a while, but…” You didn’t get to finish as he led you to a twin stall. Inside were two gorgeous black stallions. They were saddled in Theoric’s colors, black, and silver with red detailing. The slightly smaller one nuzzled into your shoulder till Theoric handed you a sugar cube. It was gone a second later.

“I hope you do not mind, but I took the liberty of requesting an afternoon with you from the queen. During some of my patrols, I discovered a secluded path that I believe you will appreciate. How long has it been since you have not ridden in a carriage?”

“Not since I was a little girl, but I would appreciate some lessons and practice.” You don’t know where the words came from, but they made his eyes light up before he broke into a grin.

“First things first, this one is Gísl. And the larger one is Hófvarpnir. Secondly, you need to get in the saddle.”

You squealed as he wrapped his hands around your waist and lifted you onto Gísl. His touch lingered till you were steady, then you felt cold without him. He mounted Hófvarpnir and clicked. Gísl followed till you were at the gate of the stables.

“I almost forgot, but you are going to need these.” He held out a pair of red gloves embroidered with silver thread. They were lined in black fur and reached high enough to fold over the sleeves of your dress. You thanked him and took up the reigns. He gave you a quick lesson to reteach you a few things, then led you into the wood.

You passed many beautiful places. Each time you paused, Theoric kept going. After a while, it began to feel like you were going in circles, but you didn’t mind. Theoric filled the air with discussion. He asked if you had any success translating the book he gave you. You had, but you kept the details of the spells to yourself. Odin had given him his own guard to train and command. He invited you to watch the drills someday. You invited him to read with you on days when he wanted peace and quiet.

At last, he brought Hófvarpnir to a halt at a rocky bend you couldn’t see around. He dismounted, then helped you. Again, he lingered to hold you, then led you into the glen as the horses trotted behind.

A nearly perfect circle of trees opened to reveal an ancient well. The surrounding grass was green like fresh spring. The stones on the well were carved with letters you did not recognize. The minerals inside the cuts seemed to glow gold in the sunlight. There was even a bucket, but no rope.

“What is this place?”

“A sanctuary I come to when life at court becomes rife with politics that no one can agree on. I come here to think, to rest. To search my mind for answers. I must admit we would have been here sooner, but listening to your excitement for your research was too pleasant. I did not want to interrupt.”

“Please, interrupt me. If you are not careful I might ramble till the sky grows dark.”

Theoric chuckled and began to pull out a blanket and some food from the saddle bags. You wandered to the well and looked down. The inky darkness gave no distinction for depth. You imagined it tunneled for miles. Yet, there were trickles that ran in three directions from the base, disappearing into the tree line.

“So, is this your favorite place?”

“Any place with you is my favorite,” he said. Theoric looked away with a shy smile. “I promise I did not read that from a book.”

You blushed and covered your face. You were sure your cheeks were brighter than the gloves.

A crackling in the tree line echoed around you. The horses whinnied, their ears rotating to catch the origin. Theoric crouched, ready to spring. You noticed he’d only worn light armor usually reserved for training. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, unprotected in his riding gloves. The air, which had been brisk all morning, warmed instantly.

You found it difficult to breathe as the air grew hot. Then two large flames walked into the clearing. Fire giants of Muspelheim. They stood as tall as the trees. Their red skin stretched across muscles that glowed from within. Their faces were surround by fire, like a lion with his mane. Horns, dark like soot, protruded from their foreheads, unique to each giant.

“Verðandi konungur,” one said, pointing down towards you and Theoric. They stepped closer into the clearing.

You stopped Theoric from drawing his sword. With a few muttered words, you drew water from the trickles to form a large droplet, keeping it spinning above your hands. “Do not step any closer.” The fire giants stayed where they were, glancing between you and Theoric. He pulled you towards Gísl, who you mounted in a very unladylike fashion with your legs on both sides. Theoric mounted as well and clicked, sending both horses into a gallop. You kept the droplet hovering between you.

You felt something hot fly by your face. Gísl reared as a tree exploded into flames before you. Theoric circled back around to lead him forward. He took the reins from you, leaving you free to control the droplet. Another tree erupted into flames. More followed suit till you could barely see the path for the flames. The droplet was not large enough to put out every tree, you knew you had to save it for something even more dangerous. It came as a tree fell in front of you. The horses leapt over it, but Theoric’s cloak caught a branch and started to burn. You sent some of the droplet to the hem, waiting till it hissed and steamed before reforming the orb.

The fire giants gave a screech as you burst through the tree line into the field by the stables. Guards were already lining up for an attack. Theoric hopped off Hófvarpnir and sent him into the stables with Gísl once you were on the ground.

“Hold the line! They must not reach the walls,” Theoric cried out. He pulled his sword and motioned the mass forward.

“Wait!” Taking a deep breath, you muttered more of what you had before. The water in the troughs and some from shore nearby trickled to a form a stream in front of the warriors. You pulled it up till there was a curtain of water wider than the flames. It inched towards the trees as the screeches grew closer. Your arms were shaking, but you continued to mutter the words louder till you were shouting them. With a final cry, the curtain fell over the trees like a wave, dousing the fire and the giants within. They screamed till they were no more.

“That was amazing, Y/N. Y/N?”

Theoric caught you as you fell.

Loki could hear voices as he grew closer to your quarters. He stormed in, only to be hushed immediately upon arrival. “Where is she? Is she alright?”

“Y/N is asleep,” Frigga said. “She is tired and needs rest.”

“What is he doing here?” Loki pointed at Theoric. “You were to protect her, not lead her into danger.”

Theoric stood from kneeling by your sleeping side. “I had no way of knowing there would be an attack this close to the palace. She is alive, and she saved the warriors better than anyone else could. Now let her rest, your highness, in peace.”

His voice came into focus as you opened your eyes. “Theoric,” you whispered. He gave you his hand as he again kneeled next to you.

“How are you feeling, Lady Y/N?” Loki asked quietly. It stung that you didn’t ask for him.

“Like I’ve been hollowed out,” you sighed, “but I will heal. I overstepped with magic, that is all.”

“Why did you not wait for assistance?”

“There was not time.” You moved to push yourself up, but Theoric pushed you back down. “My queen, is there anything I can do to help strengthen the shield?”

“You can rest and help us another day, Y/N.” She tapped Theoric on the shoulder, making him rise, “but for now you can sleep.”

Loki watched as you gave Theoric’s hand one last squeeze before closing your eyes with a smile. Loki turned away with a shuddering breath, missing the assured look on Theoric’s face. They left Frigga to weave a deep sleep over you, parting as soon as they could.

Theoric stormed to the depths of the palace till he reached a tunnel. He hacked away the lock and took the torch. When he reached the other end, it was starting to grow dark. Warm light that became hot as it approached flickered over the ground till two fire giants stepped into the clearing.

“Why did you attack us? It is not the time for such actions yet,” Theoric bellowed.

The giant growled and his voice crackled. “We sent word that Krakatoa was a success. You set up a meeting, but did not mention you were bringing a witness.”

“Our meetings have always been at night, you heimsk kol. You almost killed the one person who can read the texts that will open portals between our worlds.”

“She killed two of our warriors. She will die in the conflict.”

Theoric speared the torch into the ground. “No one is to touch her. If at any point, she even smells like smoke, I will terminate our arrangement.”

The giant chuckled, a sound akin to logs breaking in a bonfire. “You care for her.”

“She is a powerful sorceress, worthy enough to be my queen. Nothing more.”

The other giant spoke up, “then keep her close, verðandi konungur, or we will curb her sorcery ourselves.”

“Leave her docility to me. All will be in place when the time comes. As for now, you cannot use the portal any longer. Heimdall will spy it out and see that it is closed. Do nothing but prepare till I call upon you again.”

Theoric plucked his torch from the ground and headed back into the tunnel. The giants dimmed their flames and walked away as well to relay his message. Theoric replaced the torch and doused it at the other end.

He raised his hand to the broken lock and whispered a few words. The bent chains folded back into place, and the padlock clicked into action. He stepped back and waved his arm. A wall of gold shimmered over the tunnel, then vanished, leaving the space blank and the passageway a seemingly dead end.

Theoric chuckled to himself, then walked back into the main halls. His turn to patrol would start soon.

Part 4: A Simple Question

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Consequences Part 5: Prize Fight

Series

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Promises Part 5: A Simple Answer

Consequences Part 4: Rabbit Punch

Promises Part 4: A Simple Question

Consequences: Part 3 – Undercard

A Sunbeam Morning

Secrets

Spn Smut Apocalypse 2017

Promises: Part 3 – Faltering