You’ve finally made it to the journalism team of WWE. It wasn’t the plan, but when you’re signed for now to Smackdown, your past seems like it is going to remain where it is. That is, until Kurt Angle calls you in to fill in for Charley. Then you keep finding new ways to make enemies.
Pairing: None, some Sheamus x Reader (Y/N)
Warnings/Promises: None, some sassy reader
Word Count: 1290
Note: This series is going to be long if I can maintain it like I would like, forewarning. I had two half ideas, then combined them. I have applied for a creative job at WWE, and I’m hoping I can use this as practice for writing a long-term plan. This series is going to run parallel to what’s actually happening each week, but I am going to stick to what I anticipate. I’m not planning on making a tag list for this, but I can make one if you guys would like to be kept informed. So here it goes, and I hope you enjoy every twist and turn.
May 7 – Smackdown Live, Baltimore
You waited anxiously just outside of Gorilla for the match to be over. Though you giggled when Big E was throwing pancakes at Sheamus, your nerves about your first interview as part of the team filled your mind. Cesaro won the pin and you took several deep breaths trying to calm yourself. The Bar took the commercial break to speak with Mr. McMahon. Your cameraman received some news which he passed along to you.
“I knew you c’uld do it.” Sheamus slapped Cesaro across the back in a congratulatory pat, nearly sending his partner stumbling into you as they entered the hallway.
“Excuse me, Cesaro and Sheamus?” You rolled your shoulders; your voice sounded so quiet. Get it together, Y/N! Thankfully, they still noticed you. “Congratulations on your win this evening, Cesaro.”
“Thank you, miss…” Cesaro dropped off, confused.
“Y/N. Um. Next week it has been revealed that The Bar will face New Day for a spot in the Money in the Bank match, but only one teammate of the winning team gets to go. What are your first thoughts about this development?”
They shared a look, then broke into laughter. Sheamus spoke up first. “The only thoughts we have are about which one of us is going to be in the ladder match.” He chuckled and nudged Cesaro. “Today was not Xavier Wood’s day. And it won’t be next week either, or for his other pancake flipping friends.”
“Y/N,” Cesaro said, “whether it’s me or Sheamus climbing that ladder at Money in the Bank, you can be assured that we will level the playing field next week. Because we don’t just set the Bar…”
“We are the bar!” they said in unison.
You took a step back so they could walk past. Sheamus turned at the last second. “Welcome to WWE, Y/N.”
“Thank you,” you squeaked. You leaned back against the wall as your cameraman sat his gear on a crate. It was only your first day on the main roster, but if you didn’t work the nerves out of your system soon, then it might be one of your last.
May 14 – Monday Night Raw, London
Kurt Angle was typing away on his phone when you entered his hall space. “Ah, Miss Y/L/N, thanks for coming in on such short notice.”
“No problem.” You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. So much for trying to avoid being on Raw. “How can I help?”
“Charley is out sick, and since you came all this way for Smackdown tomorrow, Paige suggested that you could fill in. You up for it?”
You nodded. “Yes, sir. Where do I need to go?”
Angle motioned to one side where a man waved at you. “Our stage manager will make sure you’re mic-ed and will get you where you need to be. And thank you for stepping up.” You didn’t have time to respond as the stage manager guided you down the hall. At least tonight you weren’t likely to run into the impending problem you were doing your best to avoid.
A few minutes later you were waiting to speak to Elias before his match. Finally, you heard his strumming and saw him turn the corner.
“Elias?” You paused as Elias stopped strumming. “With your loss to Bobby Roode last week, what is your plan to claim a place at the Money in the Bank?” You held out your mic.
Elias looked at the mic. Then at you. Then he looked further down the hall and continued to strum, walking away. You sighed and grit your teeth. It was beginning to feel like one of those nights.
It continued to be one of those nights with your interview with Alexa later on. She and Mickie James walked up laughing at something Alexa said. You started your question a few times, but Alexa kept ignoring you to say things to Mickie about Nia Jax.
“And then she has the audacity to make that little speech about standing up for yourself like she didn’t just beat me down after already having stolen my title.”
“Excuse me, Ms. Bliss,” you said as loudly as you dared, “may I ask you a few questions about your next steps after all the losses piling up behind you.” That wasn’t the original question, but you were getting testy.
“My losses?” Alexa sucked her teeth. “They are where they are supposed to be: behind me. I am not going to let that bully Nia keep me down. I don’t care if I have to fight all the women in the division for the Money in the Bank briefcase, I will get my title back, and then nobody is going to touch it again.” She looked back at Mickie, who sagely nodded in agreement. Alexa sniffled and cupped her hands over her chest. “You’re new here, so you can’t possibly understand the cruelty I have survived at the hands of Nia Jax. Well, I say no more. Sooner rather than later, Nia is going to pay for everything she has done to me.”
Although you were keeping your face stoic in an attempt to remain neutral, a disbelieving snort escaped.
Alexa gasped. “What? Go on. I can handle it. Is it a short joke to add to my trauma?”
This chick.
“I’m sure I could come up with some if you’d like, but I don’t want to add to your ‘woe is me’ complex. Actually, if you can’t convince Kurt Angle to let you into the Money in the Bank match, what would you like to say to Nia as she continues to hold the Raw Women’s Championship?”
Both Alexa and Mickie’s jaws dropped. Alexa stamped her foot. She tried to say something, but it came out as sputtering. She took a deep breath and turned back to Mickie.
“See, everyone is against me.” Glancing at you, she squinted her eyes. “When I beat Nia and win back my championship, everybody will show some respect for the only goddess of WWE.” They marched off, leaving you with a mixture of fearful and relieved emotions.
May 15 – Smackdown Live, London
You cut your shout of delight short as Sheamus pinned Big E. He quickly met Cesaro outside the ring and they left up the ramp cheering and patting each other on the back. You’d only been here two weeks and you were already starting to pick favorites.
“Y/N, good to see you,” Cesaro said, nearly bumping into you for the second week in a row.
“Good to see you guys too. So, time for the inevitable question. Which-“
“Which one of us is going to be in the ladder match?” Sheamus finished your question and looked at Cesaro. “If I have anything to say about it, it’s going to be this man right here.” He slapped Cesaro across the chest, who reeled back, flattered.
“Ho, no, no.” Cesaro bumped shoulders with Sheamus. “We know who can do it because he’s done it before. Sheamus will win the contract.”
All you could do was stand and smile while they went back and forth with several “no, you!” Sheamus saw your bemused expression and stopped the cycle.
“Okay, so we haven’t really talked ‘bout it. We wanted to focus on one match at ta time, and now that we have one, we will consider all options. We’ll let you know by the end of the night.”
You tilted your head in confusion. “You mean you’ll let Paige know by the end of the night.”
“Right. Paige.”
“Either way, congratulations, and I can’t wait to hear what you guys decide. Thank you for your time.” You left with a smile.
Smackdown was already beginning to feel like home.
Y/N gets dragged to a boxing match by her friends where she meets Dean “Raisin’ Cain” Winchester. When asked out on a date, she says she’ll only go if he wins. Which is a serious problem.
Pairing: Boxer!Dean x Reader
Warnings: violence in the form of boxing
Word Count: 3100+
Note: I’m not a boxing expert, but I have watched a lot of fights from the greats to make this series. Find any Sugar Ray Robinson fight on YouTube and use it for background music if you’d like. I certainly used some to get in the zone. Feel free to leave comments on how you like or dislike it (with reasons why you dislike it) and guess where the story is going.
The den didn’t look like much from the outside. The brick was chipping on the corners and several of the windows were boarded up. If there hadn’t been a line of patrons waiting at the door, Y/N would have thought it was abandoned.
She looked at her ticket stub again. Admit One: Winter Chicago Amateur Semi-Finals.
“Why are we here?” she asked Jo, her roommate.
“Because Claire got tickets from her friend who works concessions. She’s already inside and said to meet at the seats on the second row.” Jo spun, flaring her skirt and drawing the eye of several men standing around them.
“I feel overdressed.” Y/N looked down at her little black dress, wincing at the grand amount of tulle under the skirt. In reality, it was only a notch above what she wore around town, but she would have preferred to save this dress for a Sunday. “It’s just going to be a bunch of sweaty guys beating each other up. We could watch that any night at your mom’s bar.”
“Y/N,” Jo sighed, “try to enjoy this. The guys fighting tonight are going to look a lot better than the ones at the bar.” Jo leaned close and whispered, “and they’ll be wearing considerably less clothing.”
“Jo!”
A quick cheer resounded from the front of the line as the doors opened. Light poured out into the street, followed quickly by lively music. Barely twenty people had walked through the doors when the bet collectors were yelling the stats. Y/N and Jo showed their ticket to the bouncer and were nearly drowned in the rush to get in. They were separated, but Y/N walked over to a less populated part of the arena to catch her breath.
“You alright, sweetheart?” a voiced asked.
She turned and found herself face to chest with a man in a suit. Taking a step away, she looked up into the greenest eyes she’d ever seen. He watched her with concern, but something about him made him feel dangerous. Like he could easily overpower her in more ways than one.
“Yes. Thank you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get to my seat.” She turned to walk away.
“You might want to wait a few more minutes till the crowd dies down or you’ll get swamped again.” Y/N stopped to listen. It was still crowded. “And I would take a moment to breathe. Once you’re sitting down, it’s probably not going to smell good.”
“Wonderful,” she muttered under her breath. But she stayed all the same. If the smell of sweaty men could reach her up here, then it was going to be unbearable down there.
“I’m Dean. What’s your name?” he asked, holding out a hand. She shook it with her fingertips.
“Y/N. Pleased to meet you.” She turned to watch people find their seat, reminded of the movements of ants.
“Have you ever been to a fight before?” Dean asked.
“Are you writing a book?”
He raised his hands in defense. “Just wanted to get to know you, sweetheart.”
Y/N snickered, “I hope you don’t think you’ll get anything out of it.”
“Well now that you mention it…” Y/N turned to gape at him. He was serious. If he wasn’t so big she would have thought his boyish movements would have been cute. She almost missed his question while watching his tongue dart out to wet his lips. “Did you hear me?”
“Please?”
“What are your plans after the fight?”
“As far as I can see, nothing with you.” Y/N turned to walk away, she could handle the second-row problems better than this.
“Come on, princess. Being one of the boxers should get me somewhere.”
Y/N took a deep breath. He was big enough to be a boxer but didn’t seem to fully fit the type. Not to mention he wasn’t dressed for a fight.
“I’ll tell you what. You win your fight tonight and I might meet you after the prizefight. Otherwise, forget it.”
Y/N walked away from his grinning face and into the pit. Jo and Claire didn’t have time to ask questions as the first opponents arrived at the ring. Y/N was ready to forget Dean.
“Dean! Where’ve you been, boy?” Bobby Singer grabbed Dean by the lapels and tugged him into the prep room. “You need to get dressed before Uriel gets here.” They froze as someone knocked on the door. “Balls.”
Bobby opened the door for Uriel. Dean hated his sneering face, but he was second in command for the match-fixing ring.
“Take a dive in the fifth, Winchester, and stay there. Feel free to do what you want till then as long as it doesn’t keep Cole from taking you out.”
“That’s not what we agreed, Uriel,” Bobby snarled, “Dean’s supposed to go to the big prize match in March.”
“He will. We had to add a week into the schedule so a special guest could meet you there. You’ll get a rematch next week, and then you’ll be on your way as planned.” Uriel laughed, a sound everyone found akin to nails on a chalkboard.
“You’d better not screw me. Not like you did to Cas with Bartholomew.” Dean stayed back, but his fists were tight enough to turn his knuckles white.
“Yeah, wasn’t that a bite? He made the distance till the tenth, though.” Uriel chuckled.
“It was torture,” Bobby spat.
Uriel stepped forward till he loomed over Bobby. “I wouldn’t focus on the past if I were you. Those who look back too much tend to get lost in the future.” He nodded at Dean and walked out, shouting over his shoulder, “the fifth, Winchester.”
They stood in silence, both seething. But it was the life they were in, one that they more or less chose. Sometimes they joked that God himself couldn’t stop them from deciding who lived and who died. They saved that for nights even darker than this.
“One of these days someone’s going to feed him a knuckle sandwich,” Dean growled.
Bobby nodded in agreement. “But it’s not gonna be you. And it’s not gonna be tonight. You’ve got too much riding on your family for you to rebel. It’d take the whole house of players to end this.”
“Or getting caught,” Dean mumbled.
“Bite your tongue boy! If they get caught, we get caught. And then all their attack dogs will get stuck in the same cage as us. We wouldn’t last the night.” Bobby sighed. Dean looked at him from the corner of his eyes. He was getting old, and the stress of the maintaining the fixes was taking its toll. Bobby shook himself with a grunt. “You need to change quick if you want to catch Sam before his fight.”
Dean shed his jackets while Bobby hunted out the shorts and gloves. He’d signed on to do whatever Uriel told him, but the image of the pretty girl from earlier mixed with the shame of being a fixed boxer made him question how tonight was really going to turn out.
Y/N jumped as the bell rang, ending the match. The ref announced the scores, awarding the win to the tall man with long hair. She halfway wondered how he could see his opponent.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer started, “these ring officials have been appointed by the Illinois State Boxing Commission.” He rattled off several names, she couldn’t remember if they were different from the match before, but they did look a little grimmer. “This is the feature presentation of the light heavyweight not exceeding 175 pounds. From Fort Benning, Georgia, wearing the black trunks with the white stripe and weighing 170 pounds: Cole “Avenger” Trenton.”
A quick cheer rang through the arena. The announcer waited for it to die down before continuing.
“And from Lawrence, Kansas, wearing the white trunks with the black stripes and weighing 175 pounds: Dean “Raisin’ Cain” Winchester.”
Y/N nearly fell out of her seat. It was the man she’d met earlier. And he was the title fight! She covered her face with her hands as Dean looked around the crowd before finding her. He smiled and winked, making her blush. She hoped he was too far away to see it.
“And ladies and gentlemen here is referee Balthazar Smith with instructions for both contestants. And ladies and gentlemen, no smoking, please.”
The referee stepped up to the mike and waited for Dean and Cole to meet. Their coaches stayed close, massaging their shoulders, and probably holding them back based on the daggers they were shooting. “You boys received your instruction from the Illinois Boxing Commission. I want a clean break at all times; careful of your kidney punches and your rabbit punches. In case of a knock-down, I want you to go to your furthest corner and stay there ‘til I tell you to come out fighting. Also, in case of a knock-down, you must take an eight-count. It that understood?” Dean a Cole nodded. “Shake hands and come out fighting.”
The boxers separated and went to their respective corners. Their managers took their robes and gave them mouth guards. The row in front of the girls was filled with men from the press. Y/N had been listening to the man directly in front of her all night as he announced the fight for a small radio program. He kept using terms she didn’t always recognize, but sometimes he’d clarify for visiting listeners. She hoped Dean wouldn’t get hurt.
Bobby held Dean back as he bounced and shadow boxed. “I know you don’t want to, but do what Uriel says. Next week you’ll get the rematch, and then we’ll be onto the big time.” Dean nodded and danced towards the center as the bell rang.
“Ladies and gentlemen, that was the opening bell for this scheduled ten rounder, and Raisin’ Cain Winchester, who won the championship last year, is on his way to defend his title against a younger opponent in the semi-finals. Cole the Avenger is fighting in memory of his father, who died due to boxing injuries.”
He labeled several punches and moves as the men started to swing at one another. “Trenton, who is very effective inside, very good at body punching, and Winchester who is obviously good at long range… with that snappy left jab… and the right cross.”
Dean cinched Cole’s arms to his sides, preventing further body punches. Already they were both sweating, and Dean’s grip was slipping. The referee came over and broke them apart. They separated, but Cole chased Dean into a retreat. Dean fired out a jab, which Cole returned. They traded punches, uppercuts, and several different types of blows that Y/N had learned that night.
“That right hand to Winchester was just a trifle short. If Winchester keeps dancing around the ring like he is, he might tire before he can knock some wind out of Trenton. But there can be no doubt that both men came here tonight to fight. A short minute remaining in round one.”
To Y/N, the minute felt like ten as the men quickly exchanged blows faster than the reporter could call them. Cole landed a solid punch to Dean’s face, making him stagger back into the ropes.
“A little trickle from Winchester. Trenton is scoring repeatedly!”
The bell sounded as Dean pushed off. They ignored one another and went to their corners.
“And round one is over! Raisin’ Cain Winchester taking about as much punishment as I’ve ever seen him take in round one except for last year when Castiel Novak nearly punched him out of the ring. Winchester came back to win that fight. Novak fought and lost to Bartholomew in his next bout in a nearly murderous display. Winchester has had a total of 130 bouts, losing seven, two draws, and one technical knock-out trying to win the middleweight championship when he first started.”
The reporter continued to pass along Dean’s stats and Y/N couldn’t help but be slightly impressed. He was actually a good fighter. But she wasn’t sure she wanted to date a boxer. Not yet. There were still nine rounds to go to see if he could hold up his end of the bargain.
Rounds two, three, and four came and went with similar displays of prowess. Dean’s cut on his brow kept bleeding into his eye. Bobby kept patching it up and cleaning it the best that he could. Y/N learned that he had been a boxer back in the day, but an unsportsmanlike hit to his spine kept him out for several years. When he came back, he stuck to training others and found the Winchesters: Dean and Sam. He was a coach for both of them. Y/N wondered how his heart stayed in his chest on nights when they both fought.
“Trenton talking to Winchester constantly. And the eye of Dean Winchester is starting to smear a bit. Right on the right eyebrow.”
Cole swung out, catching Dean in the ribs, making him double over.
“Probably the best blow of the fight! Avenger Trenton overhand right swinging below to catch Winchester in the ribs.”
Dean swung wildly, missing Cole completely as he ducked. Dean backed away and tried to wipe the blood out of his eye, but missed seeing Cole’s left hook. He dropped like a stone, his head bouncing painfully against the canvas.
The world slowed down to single heartbeats. Patrons leaped to their feet like rocks in molasses. Bobby shook his head, refusing to watch. Y/N looked for his eyes, begging whoever would hear her to see the brilliant green instead of the blood over his closed lids. She gasped as they fluttered.
He found hers as well, latching onto them like a ship to a lighthouse during a storm.
The referee started to count.
One.
Two.
Three.
“To hell with this,” Dean mumbled.
Four.
He reached for a rope, using it to pull himself up. But knees don’t count. He knew he had to get to his feet.
Five.
Cole shouted at him, “stay down! Or you’ll be worse than done, Winchester.”
Six.
Dean managed to get one leg under him, but it wobbled too much to support him.
Seven.
Dean pulled again, straining against his bruised ribs to stand on his feet.
The crowd roared with delight.
“Dean Winchester was not down for the count yet, ladies and gentlemen! We’ve still got a match as long as he’s got any fight left in him.”
The bell rang, ending the fifth round. Cole looked pale and a little green around the gills. Dean nodded to him, taking the blame for the manager storm that was going to hit later.
They met again, but Cole let Dean do all the hitting, feigning exhaustion. Dean knew Cole’s fighting and his style. Cole was tired, especially now that Dean wasn’t pulling his punches.
“A slowly tiring Winchester, but Trenton slows as well. Not punching cleanly going into this round, missing. Winchester’s left hook was low, giving him a warning from ref Balthazar.”
Dean gave Cole four quick jabs to the torso, sending him stumbling into the ropes amid a chorus of cheers. He followed with three more to the head and face.
“Come on Dean! You’ve got ‘im!” Y/N screamed.
“Four clean blows into Trenton, and then three more. Winchester was hurting Trenton. He’s hurting him now. Jabs to the ribs and the face. Now a bolo. Trenton is round housing, missing Raisin’ Cain Winchester by a mile. Trenton’s left eye is swollen. Closing gradually. Damn! Pardon my language, ladies and gentlemen, Dean Winchester has spun Trenton around. He’s still standing, but blocking drunk. Ref Balthazar separates them again as Trenton leans on Winchester. Half a minute to go in the sixth round. Winchester set him up with those body blows, damaged his nose. He has Trenton on his feet asleep, holding on. The audience is standing and cheering.”
Dean kept jabbing. Cole wasn’t fighting back and he was a fellow pawn, but Dean was punching red. All those times when he had a win in the bag and Uriel told him to fall, or every time they promised him the prize fight, like tonight, but then took it away. He could hold himself up. They could take their schemes and schedules with them to hell.
“Trenton punching drunk as the bell rings, ending round six. The ringside doctor checking him out. If he doesn’t respond to the bell, the fight will be over. No! He’s up and ready to go. This is round seven, ladies and gentlemen. And Winchester is not holding back, not with the end so close.”
Y/N notices a flurry of movement to one side of the ring. The doctor is waving his arms till a large man nods. The bell rings, but Dean keeps going.
“Winchester doesn’t hear the bell. Ref Balthazar has to break them apart. But it’s too late! Down goes Trenton. The ref counts… and Dean Winchester has won by a knockout, ladies and gentlemen. For six rounds, Trenton gave better than he took. Then Winchester unleashed all of his best guns for the last round. Our score cards showing that Winchester was ahead sixty-three points to fifty-seven.”
The ref pulled Dean towards the middle as Cole’s coach and attendees pulled Cole’s body off the canvas. The announcer stepped on stage and grabbed the mic. “Attention ladies and gentlemen, the winner by knockout, in two minutes and fifteen seconds of the seventh round, and the defending winner of the Winter Chicago Amateur Semi-finals is Dean “Raisin’ Cain” Winchester. He will face his last opponent to defend his title for another year once dates have been determined.”
He raised Dean’s arm above their heads. Y/N joined the rest of the crowd with a standing applause and cheering.
“See! You enjoyed yourself.” Jo yelled above the din.
“Yeah. I guess I did. Thanks, Claire, for the tickets.”
Claire continued cheering, stopping for a split second to gasp out, “he’s coming this way.”
Y/N looked back at the ring to see Dean pushing his way through the managers. Aiming to meet him halfway, she headed to the chaos surrounding the canvas.
Bobby was shaking Dean. “What were you thinking?”
“Nothing,” Uriel’s voice said, breaking into the circle. “He wasn’t thinking at all.”
Dean stopped his struggle to face Uriel. “You want to duke it out here?” he challenged.
Uriel shook his head with a smirk. “No. But we will discuss this Winchester. Enjoy the light… while it lasts. And get that brow checked out; we wouldn’t want it to turn into something serious.”
Dean broke away, surging through the crowd. He bumped into the person he wanted to see most.
When they were children, Loki and Y/N promised each other to marry if they did not find someone else by the next Belewe moon in 250 years.
Pairing: young!Loki x young!Reader (Think age 11 or so)
Warnings: None, except slight sabotage I guess
Word Count: 2,200+
Note: I used thispost to calculate Loki’s age for the series as he is going to age throughout. Please let me know how you’re liking it (or not) and tell me what you think is going to happen next. Hint: if you know a little of the mythology, you might see the end coming. Shoot me a message or something if you want to be tagged for the series, or for anything else.
~1635 AD (Midgard Time)
His door shut with a small click, one that echoed through the hallway like a bell. Loki flinched but kept moving. The next guard exchange was about to happen so he would have to time his escape perfectly. He ducked behind a pillar as a pair of boots thundered into the passageway. They didn’t stop. Loki half wondered if he should be proud that he wasn’t seen, or worried that the guards were inept at their job.
There wasn’t time to reflect on this quandary, he didn’t want to be late.
The grassy alcove outside the library was empty save for one solitary figure. Loki’s breathing was rushed, having run the remaining way from the hallway. He focused on calming it, then making it quiet. His steps were soundless as he slinked up behind the figure.
“Boo,” he whispered.
“Boo, yourself,” a voice said from behind him. Loki jumped with a yelp as you stepped out of the shadows. With a wave of your hand, the figure turned and faded away.
“Someday you must teach me how you do that.” Loki looked up at the sky and a smile broke out over his face. “It has begun.” Overhead a glowing celestial orb rocketed through the sky. Its tail sparked as it fought the Asgardian atmosphere.
“Do you think it will pass the correct spot?” you asked.
“Perhaps.”
The comet soared closer to the object of your attention: a relatively close moon, not your own, that filled the sky. Every two hundred and fifty years or so, the comet Orvar had the chance to pass behind the moon, creating a comet-lunar eclipse. When this happened, the reflection of the moon shown blue with the space fire around the comet. It was called the Belewe Moon. If one watched the comet pass by in a secret place, the observer was supposed to have good luck until the next Belewe moon.
“Do you want to see if we can see anybody else watching the moon?” Loki asked, walking towards the edge.
“No, Loki, don’t. Don’t ruin someone’s luck by spying out their hiding place,” you held him back and shrugged, “besides, if, by peeking you give our spot away, you’ll curse us both with bad luck.”
Loki nodded in agreement.
You sat on the grass and laid back to watch the sky. Even with the brightness of the comet, you could see billions of stars. Loki laid next to you, hands behind his head. You twisted to lay your head on his chest, breathing in time to the rise of his breath.
“What luck do you think you’ll have?” he asked.
You thought for a moment then said, “maybe I’ll marry a husband who’ll build me a library. I know it won’t be as big as the one here, but it’ll be mine.”
“Marry?” Loki’s breath hitched beneath you. “You are not old enough for that yet. And we’re still in school.”
“Not for much longer,” you sighed, “Mother and Father have been discussing taking me out of school. A boy is coming tomorrow. They say I might be betrothed to him.”
“Betrothed? What is this, the Dark Ages? Nobody does that anymore.”
“They do here at court.” The comet continued its path, finally drawing close to the moon. “We wouldn’t have a ceremony till years later, but… I’m of an age where they must start thinking about it. And at this stage, I have a choice. They told me I can say no if I wish.”
“Then say no.” Loki’s chest was tight. You rolled over so you could twist to look directly into his eyes.
“Why should I? I have not met him yet.”
“But you’ve met me,” Loki smirked at you, but his eyes claimed something deeper.
“I don’t think you are on my parent’s list. You are too above my station.”
Loki turned to lay on his side; you did the same. “Then it will help your family even more. I’m a prince of Asgard. You are an intelligent young lady of the court. There couldn’t be a more perfect pairing. And Father favor’s Thor, so he will be the one to have an arranged marriage for the throne.”
“You speak like it is so easy, Loki,” You rolled back onto your back. “There are more politics involved than you think.”
Loki looked down to his feet, so close to yours. “Then I will learn the politics.” He glanced at you, but you were watching the sky. “Y/N?”
“Hmm?”
“If I learn the politics, and if I can convince our parents that the match will be good, would you at least consider… me?”
Orvar was just touching the inner edge of the moon. You two were so young. What could you possibly know about marriage? The first glimmer of blue started to glow around the moon. It gave you an idea.
“Do you think you could wait for me?”
“What?”
“If I have not married by the next Belewe Moon, nor you, would you marry me then?”
Loki laid back with a confused huff. “Yes. But that is not for another two hundred and fifty years.”
“Exactly. If no suitors have caught my eye by then, my parents will want to take any proposal given to them. It will help you sway them even more. But you would have to promise. I do not want to wait that long with the false hope that you will back out, married or not.”
“Agreed.”
The comet was fully behind the moon now. The sky surrounding it burst into different beams of blue as the tail fully eclipsed the moon. You could hear soft cheering around the city.
“Y/N, I promise you by the light of the Belewe light: if neither of us has wed by the next moon, I shall wed you without hesitation.” His voice was strong.
“I promise you, Loki, by the light of the Belewe light: if neither of us has wed by the next moon, I shall wed you without hesitation.”
The cheers died off as Orvar passed the point of illumination. The moon lost its halo, and the sky was as it was before.
Loki took your hand and squeezed it. He continued to hold it till the comet was out of sight. He successfully escorted you back to your room without incident. You fell asleep with the courage that he had the luck, and skill, to make it back without getting caught.
The Next Morning
“What do you think of him, Y/N?” your mother asked you. The boy jumped out of the transport and took a small bouquet from his father.
“He’s cute, I guess. But looks are not everything,” you replied. You could feel your parents grinning at each other over your head.
“Sindri,” your father called out, “welcome to Asgard!”
“Thank you, my friend. May I introduce my wife, Erna, and my son, Theoric.”
The fathers continued to talk as you looked at Theoric. He was cute, in a way. His hands were shaking around the flowers, but he kept his posture straight and strong. You found his eyes observing you as well and looked away, blushing through getting caught.
“Here,” he said, holding out the flowers, “these are for you.” You took them. A few sprigs of baby’s breath surrounded a single, small, red tulip that hadn’t opened yet.
“He picked those himself this morning,” Erna said kindly. Your mother tapped you on your shoulder.
“Thank you. They are beautiful.”
“Perhaps you could show Theoric around the palace while we talk.” You clenched your jaw and looked up at your mother with pleading eyes. Could she be any more of a cliché? She didn’t give you time to reply or to complain before taking Erna’s arm and leading her inside. Your heart was thundering in your chest as you turned back to face Theoric.
“You don’t have to show me around,” he said, breaking the silence. “You can just show me your favorite place. If you would like.”
You nodded in agreement. If Thor and his friends saw you with him, you wouldn’t live it down for weeks. “Follow me.” You led him through back hallways to the library, opening the door with a flourish.
Theoric gave you a single nod as he looked around. “Your favorite place is… a library?”
“Yes. I have an impossible dream to read them all.”
“That is impossible.” Theoric walked to one of the bookshelves and pulled out a book. He flipped through the pages quickly, then shelved it with a huff. “Do you have any other favorite places?”
Your eyes flitted to the grassy alcove, but you played it off as thinking. “No. I have been known to stay here all day when I’m not called elsewhere.”
“How incredibly dull. How are you still sane?” He looked past you to the hallway. “I think we should get back. Mother said there was to be a lunch before they started discussing anything important.”
“My mother said the same. This way.” You took the short route to the small dining hall outside your family’s quarters while at court. You walked quickly, answering shortly to any questions Theoric had. Then he was silent. You turned around to ask if he was alright, but he was gone. Panic set in. While you had already eliminated him as a suitor, your parents and his would be furious if you lost him in the palace. You started to backtrack your steps, hoping he could not have wandered far.
Loki was deeply engrossed in a book when a disgruntled boy walked around the corner muttering about incompetent girls.
“You there! Which way to the dining hall?”
“Which one?” Loki muttered, refusing to look up from his book.
“The one Y/N Y/L/N was taking me to before she lost me around a corner. Would you stop reading and show me the way?”
Loki sighed and closed his book. The boy’s hands were clenched, as was his jaw, and he kept shifting his feet impatiently. Loki was going to take his time with this rude boy. There was no way you were going to choose this one over him.
“This way.”
Loki led him in circles for quite some time. He occasionally poked his head into one of the other small dining halls, feigning innocence. By the time they reached the correct hall, Theoric was fuming.
“I asked for guidance, not a tour. Everybody in this place is so incompetent.” He burst through the doors, starting chaos inside. Loki thought it best to slip away. Besides, he’d left his book on the window sill.
You burst in through the other doors as Theoric did. “Mother, I cannot find-“
“You! You lost me on purpose.” Theoric pointed at you across the table, face redder than a beet.
“It is not my fault that you could not keep up.” It was an accident. A gentleman would be understanding. You looked at your mother and sent her a curt nod. This was not the one. She sighed and looked at the other three adults, passing along your message.
“Father, I refuse to stay any longer.” Theoric turned on his heel to march out.
“Are you sure that is the right way, Theoric? Are you an expert of the palace now?” You smirked at his back, enjoying the way he flinched.
He stopped, flustered. He stomped his foot and waited for your father to usher his parents out the door. Your mother shot you a look. You were in trouble, but they’d have to find you first. Nobody knew the palace better than you, except maybe Loki.
Loki.
He had to know about this idiootti, this idiot.
You found him in his favorite window alcove, reading as always. He heard you coming and made room for you. You laid against the opposite wall so your feet could almost touch.
“How was the meeting?”
“A disaster. I lost him on the way back from the library, and he was extremely rude about it. And he thinks reading is dull.”
Loki whipped around to look at you. “What? A person who does not read considers it dull because they find themselves so.”
“I know that, and you know that. But I’m in trouble now for losing him, and probably again for not sticking around to see him off.”
“He wasn’t worth it.”
After a moment of reflection, you spoke up.
“Did you mean what you said last night? Or was it just the moon?”
“I swore, Y/N. I will never break that vow, no matter how many stars fly through the sky.”
Your heartbeat slowed. Calmed.
Loki handed you a book from his stack. You two sat reading in silence except for sound of the palace bustle below.
Our Deepest Desires 