“Doth Your mother Know You Weareth Her Drapes?”

The cottage had settled into the evening. Crickets chirped softly outside. Cool, dusky moonlight filled the sacred space of your bedroom like mist.

Loki lay on your plush bed, cradling your infant daughter against his chest tenderly, the headboard creaking as he adjusted his position. She blinked up at her father slowly, her gaze locked on him. He stared back, counting the dark green flecks in her eyes, delicately brushing his index finger along the slope of her nose.

Only a few weeks old, she was still so small. Smaller still, when wrapped in his long arms. Yet somehow, her gentle weight pressed against his heart like a stone.

In his periphery, Loki heard a high-pitched squeak from the bathroom, the hushed patter of water against the porcelain tub coming to an abrupt stop. 

A few moments later, you emerged in a cotton nightgown, humidity pouring out in your wake. You crawled lazily into bed bedside him, the mattress dipping under your weight.

“What are you still doing up, my dear?” You leaned in to kiss your daughter’s forehead, breathing in the sweet, musky scent that still clung to her skin. “Is papa keeping you awake with his stories?”

He laughed quietly, though it seemed like it required great effort. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t ready to put her to bed yet. I wanted to spend just a little more time with her.” 

He fell silent then, his arms tightening slightly around her tiny frame. His mouth was downturned, his brow creased.

You knew that look. He didn’t speak, but it was loud in his mind. 

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” You whispered, brushing a dark curl away from his face.

Loki slowly turned to face you, his sharp features softened by vulnerability and the warm glow of your bedside lamps. “I fear I’m not… enough for her.”

You tilted your head, your chest clenching with worry. “What brought this on?”

“My father and I were always at odds with each other,” He said ruefully. “Truthfully, I worry that history will repeat itself. That I won’t be able to bond with her as she grows, to love her as she deserves. I’m scared that I’ll…” He grimaced, unable to push the words past the lump that formed in his throat.

“Become your father?” You supplied gently. He nodded then hung his head, ashamed. 

“Oh, Loki,” You ran a soothing hand up and down his back. “Your father’s inability to provide the love you deserved is not a reflection on you.”

His head snapped up, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He stared at you, desperate to believe you, silently begging your words to be true.

“She danced inside me whenever you touched me. She looks for you when she hears your voice. She always settles when you hold her. She already loves you very, very much.” You pressed a kiss to his temple, sealing the words against him like a promise. “Because you have always loved her as she deserves.”

The dam finally broke, silver tears spilling over his cheekbones. He let out a shuddered breath as you brushed them away with the pad of your thumb. 

“It’s hard enough for me to set her down for the night,” He whispered. “It makes me think of…” He trailed off, unable to speak again. He stared into the middle distance, searching for dark memories his mind couldn’t recall.

He didn’t need to say it. Laufey. He was thinking of Laufey.

“I can’t even begin to imagine abandoning her. Leaving her to perish alone. The mere thought of it makes me sick.”

“I hope that makes you realize that you never deserved that, either. You have always been worthy of the same kind of love you give our child, Loki.”

He inhaled sharply and nodded again, your words crashing against him like a wave. Your daughter cooed sleepily and nestled closer to him, as if she could burrow into his chest. Out like a light.

He gazed down at her with a watery smile, his heart cracking wide open.

“Are you trying to tell me it’s time for bed, little heart?” Loki chuckled, then wiped a stray tear away with his free hand. 

He rose fluidly and carried her to the bassinet beside you. He moved soundlessly, the normally creaky floorboards hushed beneath him. He paused at the threshold and lifted her slowly to press one last kiss to her forehead. 

“I’ll see you in the morning.” He whispered, his voice soft like a woven spell. 

Then, he laid her down with all the reverence of laying flowers on an altar. 

You held your arms out to him as he climbed back into bed. “She has you absolutely wrapped around her finger. How could you ever doubt your love for her?” 

He returned your embrace and brushed his lips against your shoulder, causing you to shiver.

“I suppose I need the reassurance sometimes.” 

As you drifted off to sleep, Loki laid awake, his elbow propped up against his pillow, his head resting in his hand. From his vantage point, he could see the smooth, rhythmic rise and fall of your daughter’s chest.

For a long while, he stayed like that, still and peaceful. 

Watching. 

Adoring.

Counting her breaths like stars.

Twelve years ago…

"Honestly babe it's insane that you're already like two sems away from graduating. Like the three of us just got here," Sydney said as you took your seats at Professor LaTorre's class. You signed up for his Business Laws & Documentation class purely as an elective so you could at least still have a class with your friend. 

The same went for an introductory C++ Programming course so you could spend time with Shane and Isaac. 

"Don't worry babe I'm drawing it out," you said casually. "I'll be damned if I can't manage to actually graduate with you guys this time around, especially since I have control over how many classes I take in a semester. Besides…might be fun to have a lighter class load. I signed up for the cleaup initiative that Stark Industries is leading after the big alien invasion last year." 

"Ooh! Maybe you'll meet an Avenger! The god with the hammer and the lightning is smoking hot," she gushed. "If you do, best believe I'll sign up that same day. I'll cut class if I have to."

"You know what, I'm gonna fully support you there. Even if Mr. Asgardian Barbie doesn't really do it for me." 

"Oh, and what pray tell is doing it for you? The Captain? The Archer?" Then she gasped, her eyes lighting up as she teased, "The redhead? It's the redhead, isn't it? 'Cause like I get it she's hot." 

"Not exactly…" You took a moment to brace yourself before answering. "More like…the other god? Thor's brother?" 

"Girl, what?!" 

You covered your face with your hands. "I know," you groaned. "I'm starting to get why our classmates thought I was a freak now. Like how fucked do I have to be that I see a hot guy in armor towering over a town square in Germany wielding a glowy magic staff and scaring everyone into kneeling submission and my first thought was Damn wish I was there?!" 

"Okay you're not a freak for that, we all have a bad boy phase. It's just that this specific bad boy?Babe he destroyed like half the city."

"No," you argued, bringing your hands down and looking at your friend dead on. "Those ugly looking aliens destroyed the city. He destroyed like what, maybe two letters out of the sign on Stark Tower?" 

"Okay fair, but he was leading those aliens destroying the city. He was in charge."

"Uhh…no. He wasn't. You saw how his mind controlled minions in Stuttgart had these creepy glowy blue eyes?" She took a moment before nodding. "He had them too. He's not the one in charge. He was the one put in front by the guy who was actually in charge. He was the fall guy." 

"Okay maybe I can see where you're coming from…but still babe, really? Him?" 

"What can I say? The heart wants what the heart wants, I guess," you told her with a shrug. "And anyway even if I do end up meeting Thor during my volunteer work, it's not like I'll ever get anywhere. Like what, I meet him and go Tell your brother I think he's cute?" The mere thought had you both breaking out into laughter. 

Just then, the door swung open and Professor LaTorre walked into the classroom, taking his place on the dais and standing on top of his little soapbox. "Ladies, if you could stop with your giggling about…what is it this time? Vampires? One Direction?" He took a moment to let the jab marinate, a self safisfied smirk pulling at his mouth as some members of the class laughed. "Regardless, that's enough of that. Settle now, class." 

He set down his briefcase, pulling out a stack of yellow legal size pad papers and waving it around. Like he was taunting you all. 

"Here are your latest quiz papers. I looked over them all and I have to say, most of your ambitions are…respectable. Admirable, even. Working in local government, internships at local shops. You know…reasonable. Some of you though…" he trailed off, making an awkward expression before doing a pseudo-dance. "I don't like using inflammatory words but…little bit delusional." 

"Respectfully, Sir…delusional how?" you spoke up, challenging him. 

He ended his pseudo-dance, straightening his stance before answering you. "Well some of you apparently have your sights on working for Anna Wintour and organizing for the MET Gala. Another one said they want to manage an NBA team. Ohh and get this." He took a moment to let out a ridiculing laugh. "One of you even said they want to collaborate with Tony Stark."

You dug your nail into your palm to keep yourself from reacting. He was talking about you. 

"Not work for Stark Industries, not intern at one of their child companies. But collaborate." He laughed some more before putting on a mocking voice. On a whim, you whipped out your phone and sneakily started recording him. "I would like to collaborate with Tony Stark on his efforts to create sustainable energy. Maybe even on research and development for the Iron Man suit."

The class broke out into laughter. Well, almost the whole class. Neither you nor Sydney found anything funny about how he was behaving. 

"I mean, I understand that you all had big shiny reputations in your respective high schools. You had guidance counselors who held your hand and tell you you can be anything, and parents who bottle fed you and told you to shoot for the stars. But you guys are in college now; we're trying to prepare you for the real world. 

"Keep your goals proportionate to your potential. Chances are, maybe a handful of all the students in your graduating class will make it big. If that. So no, you're not going to work for Vogue or probably even steam clean the carpet for the MET Gala. No, you're not going to be the next NBA superstar. And no, you're not going to be an Avenger. Stop shooting for the stars and wondering why you keep falling on your asses. Aim low. That way you can still celebrate even your tiny victories." 

You stopped recording him, and made another split second decision, emailing the recording to the Dean. 

A message from Syd came in. Where the fuck does this dude get off?

He told the class to approach his desk and retrieve your papers, telling you to look for your student number seeing as he was making a show of making his treatment seem impartial. 

"I think he wants to keep us small so he doesn't feel too bad that when he hit every single branch of the Ugly Tree when the stork dropped him on his head as a baby, it took his height, too. And his hair," you said in a low voice, making your friend grab on to your arm for dear life as she tried to control her laughter. 

When it came your turn, you and Sydney looked at the remarks he left on your papers. You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes as you read his comments in red ink.

Wow! So ambitious! right there next to your grade of 90. And he put the same thing on Syd's paper next to her paragraph about wanting to be involved with Vogue. 

"What a mega cunt," you grumbled in unison, already shoving the papers in your bags. 

After the last of the students grabbed their paper from his desk, Professor LaTorre dismissed you all for the day. The second the words left his mouth, you and Sydney were already on your feet, making your way to the door. 

"Uh oh, we know that look," Isaac said as he and Shane waved you over to their little gondola at the student square. "What's the sitch?" 

"The sitch?" you shot back, and the boyfriends gave you a carefree shrug. "Well, Kimberly Ann, we just got our quizzes back from LaTerror." You both slapped your papers down on the table, letting them peruse your answers for a minute.

"This 'so ambitious' sounds passive aggressive," Shane observed, squinting his eyes at the red ink like he was waiting for it to confess.

"Oh no, he was just aggressive aggressive," you shot back. "Before he had us get our papers from him, he made sure to launch into a whole tirade that had both of us catching strays. Basically telling us to 'keep our dreams tiny'."

"Yeah well fuck that," Syd screeched, her voice going a bit 'gremlin mode" towards the end. "Not only are you going to collaborate with Tony Stark, babe. You're gonna be a fucking Avenger. I can see it now."

"Jury's out on the whole Avenger bit, but I'll happily take the support on working with Iron Man," you told her, taking her hands and speaking your vision for her out into the universe. Manifesting it, really. "And you, girlie…not only are you going to the MET Gala, you're gonna design a gown that'll be worn to the fucking MET Gala. You're gonna make it and make it big."

"The only time we're aiming low is if we're aiming a dodgeball at LaTerror's family jewels," she said with a cackle. 

Today

"Ohh good God, Shane nooooo," you groaned the second you opened the garment bag he brought you, catching the quickest glimpse of the gorgeous dark emerald silk inside. "I remember telling you to put in the order for the black one."

"And I told you that much as you slay in black, this is your color, babe," he countered, pushing the garment bag back into your arms. "What is it exactly that's keeping you from wearing a dress that's gonna have you looking like a million bucks at your party?" 

"I told you, there are certain colors these days where you need…permission."

"To what? Wear a color?!" 

You simply nodded at him, the scientist's eyes widening from how absurd he found the concept. You took it upon yourself to try and explain. "You notice how people in the building try to avoid wearing like dark red?"

"Yuh huh…"

"Well that's because dark shades of red are Thor's color. The only exception he makes is for Stark's suits. And that's just because the Iron Man suit leans more stoplight than maroon, you know?"

He nodded, trying to follow along. "Okay I'm really trying here, babe, I promise. But last I checked, nobody owns a whole color. We're not in Riverdale and we're not dealing with Cheryl Blossom."

"Sure, but things were…different back in Asgard. There, when you wear a royal's colors it's like you're declaring yourself to the whole kingdom, you know?" You motioned toward the dress he brought you again. "So this dress…gorgeous as it is, isn't something I can just throw on. Because dark shades of green? That's Loki's color."

"What about my color, darling?"

Your heart started skipping at the sound of Loki's voice filling the dining area.

"Uhm…well, last weekend Shane and his husband took me dress shopping and we found something. But I don't know, I think the store made a mistake and gave me this instead of black." You opened the garment bag to let him glimpse the dress.

The god couldn't help the way his breath hitched as he saw the light hit the silken fabric, perfectly set in his color. From the image that was placed upon the garment bag, he could tell that the dress itself was something not far from what women would wear at a ball back in Asgard.

A stray thought even hit him that there were wedding gowns in their realm that were cut in a similar way, and he had to shoo away the image in his mind before he became tempted to lose himself in the fantasy. Picturing you in the same dress and walking toward him, only this time in the Royal Hall. Adorned with a gold that matched his armor. To swear yourselves to the Norns.

He took a step toward you, reaching out to lightly touch the fabric. "Well darling, if you truly wish to change it to black, you only need ask."

A sputtering sound came out of you as you looked upon him with visible disbelief. "What? Like you'll use your magic to--"

"Precisely. If that is what you wish." He took the garment from your hands, gently placing it down on the table before taking another step toward you. Just barely enough to be within your personal space. Close enough he could see the quickening rise and fall of your chest as you breathed. He lightly touched his fingers to your chin, urging you to meet his gaze. "But if it is my assent that is hindering you from wearing this dress, then you have it."

A frantic look entered your eyes and he could feel a slight tremble in you under his touch. "Hang on, you've thrown an absolute fit before just because some junior agent wore a green sweatshirt." 

"There are always exceptions to the rule, little mortal." He moved his hand to wrap around yours, running his thumb across your knuckles. "The choice is entirely yours." The god brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to your knuckles as he held your gaze. "You would make the most captivating sight either way." 

Had another moment passed precisely like this, Loki might have been moved to relinquish his self control and press his lips to yours. The moment seemed so perfectly quiet, and far too many images of what a life together with you would look like were bombarding his mind. However, he also knew far too well that doing so would most definitely cause you to put as much distance between you and him as you could manage. 

So perhaps it was a quiet blessing from the Norns that at that precise moment, Stark had walked into the sitting area, the tinkerer's grating voice doing the work of breaking the tension that was quickly thickening between you two. 

"Jellybean, I had someone reach out to your professors and some of them are coming to your party," his voice filled the room.

"Aaaaand pop goes the bubble," your friend Shane muttered. "Damn it."

Your eyes blinked rapidly, as if you were coming out of a stupor, and something sunk in the god's chest when you stepped out of his hold with an apologetic look in your eyes. "Sorry," you murmured, the ache worsening for him as he begun to ask himself why in the Nine were you apologizing when he had been the one to approach you. 

His brother had relayed to him a story your scientist friend told him about a callow, short-sighted boy named Justin. About how he had taken advantage of your kind nature, and how he was now more than likely the reason behind the walls you'd built around yourself. Why you chose to put so much distance not just from him, but from everyone in the Compound, with the exception of Stark's daughter.

Thor told him he needed to ready himself for the possibility that he would be chasing after you for a long time, given how horrendous prior situations turned out for you. That every sliver of affection might be met with more distance, and if he truly cared for you then he would have to put in even more effort just to close the distance. That if he truly thought you were worth it, then pursuing you would require a different approach from what he'd normally done back on Asgard.

No games, no illusions, no mischief. Just his heart, laid bare. For you to either take or spurn.

And you were more than worth that risk.

You smoothed your hands over your shirt before facing Stark, and Loki took that as his cue to subtly sidle closer to you once more, in an attempt to at least close the physical distance you put between you. "Which professors?"

"Right now I've got your thesis advisor, Louis Doherty?"

"Ohh, I remember him. Pretty cool guy, but I'm willing to bet he RSVP'd more so that he could see Natasha in the flesh," you said with a strained laugh. "Who else?"

"Ethan Sy? Said he was your academic advisor."

"Yeah he was. Strict dude, but fair. And he never gave off any creeper vibes, so he's good people. It'd be nice to see those two again."

"And then there's another one. Boy this one loves to talk. Sent over a long performative ass-kissing note along with this RSVP. Pulcifer LaTorre?"

That name brought out a rather visceral reaction from you, your face contorting into a rage that was simmering just beneath the surface. "LaTerror?!"

"Ohh Boss I can tell you right now, anything he said in that note was a thousand percent performative as all fuck. He was a bitter tyrant of a prof," Shane spoke up, moving towards the pantry to open a small bag of candy popcorn, as if he knew what was coming next.

You took a deep breath, once again side stepping away from the god as you started off with a raised tone, "That fucking shiny bald headed miniscule manchild had the audacity to make a mockery of me and Sydney because he didn't like our answers in one of his stupid generic motherhood statement quizzes. Called us delusional, even."

"What was his question?" Stark asked you, clearly engrossed in where this story was going.

"What are your long term career aspirations?" you quoted, shifting your voice in a way that Loki surmised was to mock your former instructor. "I said, and I quote, I would like to collaborate with Tony Stark on research and development for the Iron Man suit."

"And collaborate you did, Jellybean," he affirmed, raising a glass in your direction. "And not just that, you're family. Maguna loves her princess godmother Auntie Y/N."

"You have to tell her one of these days that I'm not a fucking princess, Stark. But anyway, he quoted my answer word for goddamn word and then proceeded to tell us all that high school was the time for guidance counselors to lie to us and tell us that we can be whatever we wanted, but we're in college now. And fuckers like him are here to prepare us for 'the real world'."

It was at that moment that Thor walked into the common area, hearing only a portion of your story. "And pray tell, my friend, what exactly does your instructor think is this 'real world'?"

"Beats me, Barbie, but he went into a whole spiel about how not a single student in his class will end up organizing for the MET Gala, or playing for the NBA, or become an Avenger. Told us to 'aim low', so we can still celebrate the tiny victories in life."

You'd gotten so animated that your face began to go red from how flushed your cheeks were. It took the god a considerable bit of effort to stop his thoughts from wandering into a fantasy of seeing you in a similar state again. Only in a more private setting. And under more pleasurable circumstances.

"He was a halfwit," Loki told you, stepping toward you once more.

"More like a none-wit," Stark quipped. "Makes his whole message about I'm so proud of Miss Y/L/N, I always knew she was destined to be great a steaming pile of bullshit. Jellybean, you better have something ready for your speech that puts this abysmal excuse for a professor in his place."

"Nah, Tony, I couldn't possibly. I don't wanna make a scene." You'd retreated back into your quieter, more reserved demeanor, picking at the skin of your fingernails.

"Babe, listen to me, if there's ever any time to make a scene, it's at the party that's being thrown to celebrate you," Shane said, a knowing smile pulling at his mouth as he kept going. "Sometimes you gotta make like your old college self and…choose the chaotic path?" For a fleeting moment your friend's gaze flickered in Loki's direction before going back to you.

"Shane? Don't." You kept your voice low, hesitant even. As if you were pleading for him to stop talking rather than tellinghim. 

"I concur, Lady Y/N," Thor spoke up, grabbing his own snack from the pantry. "If this past instructor made a mockery of you in your youth, then it seems only right that gets to learn how bitter that form of ridicule tastes." 

"Look, just--can we drop this?" you addressed the room, a dismissive, almost defeated tone to your voice. "Just because I'm a veteran at receiving it doesn't make me an expert at dishing it out. Besides, I remember reading somewhere that 'living well should be the best revenge', so I'm just gonna do exactly that." Then you turned toward the blond Asgardian, addressing him directly. "Ohh by the way, my plus one? Sydney? She's got a thing for you. Had it bad for over a decade. She'd be over the moon if you took a few minutes to, I don't know maybe talk to her? She's smart, she's gorgeous, she's creative, and it's not gonna be a dull conversation, I promise." 

He simply nodded at you, accepting your request, and you took that as your cue to leave the room. 

Before you could reach for the garment bag that held your gown for the gala, it disappeared with a flash of green magic, and you turned back to see Loki with his gaze trained on you, a playful smirk gracing his features. "Give it back, please." You couldn't help but smile back as he shook his head at you.

"Only once I have escorted you back to your chambers, darling." He closed the distance between you, gently taking your hand in his as he led you toward the apartment complex. 

Once you were both out of earshot, Tony got to work, firing up a tablet and instructing for FRIDAY to put together everything she could find on that awful excuse of a professor of yours. "What're you doing there, Boss?" 

"Well, Jellybean might not be well versed in dishing out a hefty serving of humble pie, but lucky for her, I wrote the book," he answered Shane, creating a new file in his system simply named LaTerror.

Thor walked over to where Stark had begun his work, peering over his shoulder to see what exactly he had in mind. "How can we help?" 

A/N: Whatever Tony's up to, I fully support it. Also once again, yes…I can confirm that LaTerror is based off of an actual professor I had in college, and he really did mock one of my answers in his quizzes in front of the class. Like bro, how was I supposed to know you had a limit for what you wanted to read as an "ambition"? Fuck all the way out of here.

Anyways, I'm working on part 3…and I'm planning on putting a mango ride in there somewhere. I'm also working on phase 3 planning for RTC Season 2 and a whole bunch of other stuff that are kind of refusing to get to the top of my head despite (or maybe because of) the energy drinks I've already slammed…we'll see how this goes…

Fifteen years ago…

You weren't usually one to do touch ups on your appearance throughout the day; you'd pick your outfit and fix your hair before you even left the house, and that was that. Today, though…today was different. And so were the last few days.

Ever since your Science class teacher Mrs. Matthews made you lab partners with Justin, currently the most popular guy in your year after he helped the football team secure a spot at Nationals as a sophomore. The girls were practically tripping over themselves the day the pairings were announced, bribe presents in hand for your teacher to hopefully partner him up with them.

But then she produced a piece of paper from her satchel, revealing that not only could she not be swayed, but she'd already determined who would be paired off with whom for this particular project. And by her decree, Justin was your partner.

So for the last week and a half, you took it upon yourself to dart off into the girls' bathroom before your Science class and make sure that you didn't have any strands of hair poking up and out of your ponytail. After all, it never hurt to make yourself presentable. You swiped on a thin coat of Chapstick and pinched your cheeks, deciding you were ready for the class ahead, and giddily walked to Mrs. Matthews' classroom with a spring in your step.

"Y/N, can I talk to you a minute?"

Turning around, you came face to face with Sydney, a girl you shared both History and English with. She seemed uneasy, hands gripped tight to the strap of her crossbody bag and her lips pressed together in an awkward grimace.

"Sure," you told her, glancing at the wall clock nearby. You had time before class started.

"I heard you're partnered up with Justin in Science?" She gave you a tight smile as you vigorously nodded your head. "Something you need to know. I know that right now he's been like super sweet to you, acting all interested. Probably even had lunch with you once or twice since Mrs. Matthews paired you up?"

"Hang on, what is this, Syd?"

"Just--Yes or no, Y/N."

"I--I mean, yes. We've been getting to know each other since Mrs. Matthews partnered us up, there's nothing wrong with that, what the fuck."

She took a breath, her knuckles going white as she gripped her bag strap even tighter. "God damn, I was hoping that this wasn't the case."

"You know, jealousy really isn't a good look on you," you said through gritted teeth, squinting your eyes at her. You could feel yourself freakishly getting warmer despite your hands starting to get clammy. Great. Now you had to go to the bathroom again and make sure your face wasn't splotchy before going into the classroom.

You were gonna be late for Science.

"Girl, trust me?! This isn't jealousy." Her voice grew a bit more shrill, her stance getting defensive. "I was partnered with him for a book report last semester. He did the same thing. Had lunch with me, even asked me to hang out with him one weekend. He would say things that made me think he was reading the book and actually putting in the work, and before I knew it, I unknowingly wrote our entire book report without him putting in a single word other than his name. And then when we got our papers back and he got his A+, suddenly it's like he couldn't even be within six feet of me. Like I was contagious or something."

You took a few breaths before answering her, smoothing your hands over your clothes and straightening your posture. "Well that's nothing like this project. He actually helps, he's just not that good with the actual writing, so he sends links."

"Links?" she repeated, snorting at the word. "That's it? Not even some notes about what he read on the page? Like at least tell me he did that."

If you were a cartoon, your ears would have been steaming by now. "This is nothing like that," you insisted, turning on your heel and stomping into Mrs. Matthews' classroom.

Justin was already inside, and when he saw you he waved you over, patting the back of the seat next to his. The cheerleaders he was talking to threw you a snarky look before turning around with a flip of their hair and catwalking out of the room to their own class.

"You okay?" he asked you once you set your bag down. "You're looking a bit red."

"Huh?" you said dumbly, shaking your head like a dog, as if that would help in shooing away your irritation. "Yeah, yeah, of course. It's just…warm." You tried not to cringe at your lame excuse.

"It really is," he said with a smile, reaching into his own bag and pulling out a bottle of Gatorade. "Here. It should help."

"What? No, no, it's okay." You made a motion with your hands to politely decline. "You need it. You have like…practice later."

Your breath audibly hitched when he reached over and took your hand, placing the bottle in it and closing your fingers around it. He gave you one of those wide shining grins that always had the girls swooning. "We have water fountains, I'll be fine. Really, Y/N, I insist."

"Okay," you said, your voice smaller than usual. Almost squeaky. "Thank you."

"By the way I found a few more links that might be useful for our paper."

You tried to silence Sydney's words to you from earlier, forcing a smile on your face as you tried to keep yourself checked in to this conversation. "Ohh, yeah…just send it over to me after school. Honestly we're making really good progress, we might be able to turn our paper in by like…next week, probably."

"Oh sick! You're awesome." Your heart did a little flutter at his words, followed by a big flutter when he placed his arm over the back of your seat, leaning in a bit closer to you. "What're your plans for the weekend, by the way?"

"Uhh, I--Ahh--uhm…" you stammered, words suddenly failing to process between your brain and your mouth. "Nothing, really. I don't like making plans for my free time, I usually just like to keep it…you know, free." You capped off your bumbling answer with a lame chuckle. Though it felt a little less lame when he let out a little laugh along with you.

"Well, I'm throwing a little pool party on Saturday. You should come. Maybe spend some of your free time there. With me."

The widest smile stretched across your face at his words. "I'd like that."

"Great! I'll see you there. And listen, just because it's a pool party you don't need to feel pressured to wear like a bikini or something. Casual dress code, I promise."

You drove like a madman straight out of the school parking lot to the mall the second the final bell rang for the day, spending about a month's worth of your savings on an outfit for Saturday. That morning, you received a text from him that the party would start at around 4 in the afternoon, telling you that he looked forward to seeing you there.

For most of the morning, you worked your brain to a screeching halt finishing up the paper and printing it with both your names on the cover page. You figured it would be a nice surprise to present the paper for him to sign -- as per Mrs. Matthews' instructions for submitting this particular assignment -- perhaps sometime after the party was over.

Giving yourself another once over in the mirror, you made a few final adjustments to the dark evergreen two-piece swimsuit you'd chosen before draping the sheer black caftan your mom lent you over your shoulders. You decided to follow your parents' advice and drive to the rather opulent neighborhood that Justin's family lived in. "That way you don't have to wait for us in case you need to make a quick exit," your dad said before tossing you the car keys.

When you pulled up to the Vergazo family's home, there were already a handful of cars parked in the driveway. You slung your little crocheted satchel across your body and walked through the towering double doors, a member of the house staff pointing you toward the backyard where thumping music was coming from.

You were quickly drawn to the fire pit, and you decided you'd go over there to mingle with a few friendly faces from your other classes before you went around to look for Justin. On your way there, you crossed paths with Syd, and you gave each other a small smile, both of you hoping that the ugliness from earlier this week was something you could easily get past.

The way you saw it, no friendship was worth throwing away over a guy. Any guy.

"Damn girl, you look good!" Shane, another one of your and Syd's friends, exclaimed. He slowly clapped alongside his boyfriend Isaac, scooting over on the curved bench to clear up some room for you. "Where the hell you been hiding all that?"

"Under my fear for getting dress coded," you shot back, raising your voice so he could hear you over the loud music. "You know how some of the teachers get if you show so much as an inch of clavicle."

Both boys threw their heads back, laughing as they quoted one of your teachers in a mocking tone. "You're distracting the boys' learning!"

"Honestly though, I swear one of them has it out for you," Shane said. "Didn't I hear like last week that Health teacher tried to code you for showing too much neck?"

"Ugh, you mean Miss Boom Shaka Laka?" That made the boys let out a laugh again. "I'm not even gonna bother knowing her actual name, I'm putting in a request that that hateful bitch never becomes my teacher, she's gonna fail me on the spot. But yeah…and I remember last semester she tried to code Syd too. And I shit you not, it was for her sleeves being too short."

"Someone should report her," Isaac spoke up. "That feels…like, I don't know, a bit vindictive."

"Feels like that bad guy from Totally Spies," Shane quipped.

"She's bald! She's bald and she's torturing people with hair!" you all said in unison before breaking out into another fit of laughter.

The music started to quiet down and the DJ's mic began to pick up a conversation that came through on the speakers. Shane made a motion for both you and Isaac to stop talking, tilting his head toward the speakers. Two voices were getting picked up by the mic. One was Rianne, captain of the cheer squad.

The other voice was Justin's.

"Can't believe you even invited that freak here. She's gonna kill the whole vibe when she gets here," she complained to him.

"Ohh hey that's me," you deadpanned at the guys, waving your arms toward each other like goofs. "Too late, byotch. Already here."

"Come on, baby," he cooed at her. "Don't be like that. Every girl deserves to be Cinderella for a night."

"You're too fucking sweet to her," she hissed. "Pushing your goddamn luck, I'm two steps away from making turning Cinderella into Prom Queen Carrie."

"Ohh this mega cunt needs to be put down," Isaac seethed, already making a motion to stand up.

"Don't even bother, she's not worth it," you told him, reaching over his boyfriend to grab onto his arm and make him sit back down. "In a couple years we're gonna be out of this hellhole and we'll be free of bitches like Rianne. And she's gonna be whining about the next girl whose mere existence offends her, and whatever we're doing? My hand to God we will be killing it."

"Yeah, but Ri you know the best part about Cinderella, right?" Justin's voice came through on the speakers again. "Eventually the clock strikes midnight, and then everything that was going right with her life turns right back to shit."

You and the boyfriends gave each other a look, as if telling each other 'Are you hearing this shit?'

"But baby how long do I have to wait for fucking midnight already?"

"She said we're ready to turn in that paper to Mrs. Matthews this week, baby." Your stomach dropped at his reveal, and Shane grabbed on to your hand, Isaac moving to sit on your other side. "Almost time to turn back into a pumpkin." A few moments passed and then his voice came through again. "Ohh hey Sydney. I asked Y/N to come here today, do you know if she's gonna be here soon?"

"She's already here." You could hear the amount of restraint that Syd was exerting in just those three words. "Friendly advice? Try not having incriminating conversations when you're like two feet from a microphone."

A collective 'Ooooh' broke out all over the Vergazos' backyard, and you stood up from your seat, facing Justin and Rianne's direction. Even from this far you could see a bit of the color leaving his face when he locked eyes with you.

"Dumb fucking jock," Syd muttered before walking back toward the fire pit.

Once she made her way over to you and the guys, all you managed to say as you felt your fingers go numb was, "You were right. And I was wrong. I'm sorry."

"Babe, you have nothing to apologize for. He's the asshole in this," she reassured you, taking hold of one of your hands. "Let's just get out of here."

"No, I should get to be the asshole, too," you said, your tone detached as you reached into your bag, pulling out your joint research project. The one you worked like a dog to finish before you left the house. The one he didn't do a damn thing to help with because he "wasn't any good with the writing bits".

You didn't break eye contact with the football player as you side stepped toward the open fire and tossed the paper in there. His expression quickly turned panicked as the flames grew nearly as tall as you for a split second, the stench of burning paper filling the air.

"Now let's get outta here," you told your friends, already walking out of the fire pit and maneuvering through the people so you can get back to your car.

You all let out a collective groan when you heard Justin's frantic words following after you. "Y/N, I'm sorry--"

"Fuck off," the four of you said in unison, walking through the open front doors. You settled yourselves into your car, and once you were seated you finally felt your shoulders slump forward, your head thumping against your steering wheel as tears began to roll down your cheeks.

"I'm such a fucking idiot," you said weakly.

"You're not an idiot, babe. Justin's just an asshole and then some," Syd reassured you, rubbing circles on your upper back.

"Hey, why don't we just go over to my place and we can hang by our pool?" Isaac offered, giving you directions to his family's house just a few blocks over. "I can get our projector set up outside and we can watch Twilight?"

"Deal," you said with a sniffle.

"One more thing? That green looks bomb on you," he said, motioning toward your outfit. "You have to wear it more often. We're gonna make it like 'your color'."

That had you feeling a bit lighter, a laugh bubbling up out of you. "I'll make a note of it."

When the bell rang for Mrs. Matthews' class the Monday after that disaster of a party, you were nowhere to be found. Justin's eyes darted around nervously, hoping that your display from Saturday was nothing more than an outburst, and he could apologize.

With the weight of this project being a solid twenty percent of the class's final grade, he needed to get a decent score if he wanted a chance at a grade good enough for talent scouts to consider him for football scholarships in a few years. He couldn't afford to piss you off enough that you would choose to leave him hanging.

He waited as your other classmates filed in slowly, making a point to secure the seat next to him. He even got you a pink rose, following his older brother Joshua's advice on what he could do to seem sorry and get back on your good side. But as the second bell rang for this period, and Mrs. Matthews stood up to close the door, he knew it was safe to assume you'd chosen to not show your face at school today.

"Guess her tail's still stuck between her legs," Rianne hissed, the sound of the metal legs of her chair scraping the floor filling the room, followed by the clickety clack of her heels as she made her way to the seat next to her boyfriend. "Is this seat taken, baby?"

Justin merely gave her a half-hearted shrug, dismissively waving his hand at the empty seat. "Have at it, Ri."

"Oh." The sound of Mrs. Matthew's voice along with the rapid knocking on the door had his attention snap back to the classroom door.

But the teacher opened the door, you didn't walk through it. Sydney did. Folder in hand.

"Miss Howard, I assume you would be the one to know something about Miss Y/L/N's uncharacteristic absence today?" Your friend quietly nodded, and Justin couldn't hear what she was saying as she handed the folder to your teacher. And then followed by a folded up piece of paper.

Sydney then walked out of the classroom, and his head began to pound as Mrs. Matthews unfolded and read through the paper, a satisfied smile slowly stretching across her face. "Mister Vergazo, you will be accomplishing your final research project alone. Miss Y/L/N has turned in her paper."

"Mrs. Matthews, I thought your decisions on research partners were final--"

"Please save your advocating for your boyfriend's plight for someone who can be swayed, Miss Jacobs," the teacher cut Rianne off. "If you wish to help him, perhaps you can write his papers from now on. According to Miss Y/L/N, he seems to be excellent at sending links."

Her cutting judgment at the couple had the rest of the students in the classroom breaking out into laughter. Some of them even backing up your words and going "Ain't that the truth." Some of them even called him some rather biting terms. Freeloader. Leech. Parasite.

His grades were fucked.

"Mrs. Matthews, do you know where I can find Y/N? Talk to her? Come on, this is our final grade she's playing with."

"Your final grade, Mister Vergazo," she emphasized. "Miss Y/L/N has secured her grades. And you will no longer find her in school today. She's tested out."

"Of our year?" Rianne asked, her voice going up an octave from the incredulity.

"Of High School," the teacher clarified, the classroom filling with mixed reactions. Some awestruck. Most shocked. And then Justin felt his blood go cold at her next words. "It seems, Mister Vergazo, that midnight has struck. But she was never a pumpkin. She was a diamond. And it seems that the cruelty she survived at the hands of you and your peers was the fire that forged her."

Rianne let out a haughty scoff at those words. "Puh-lease, she's a loser. Always has been. Always will be."

"Okay you know what, mega cunt?! You're gonna be a has been in three years," Isaac's voice boomed from the back of the class.

"Mister Richards!" The class fell quiet as Mrs. Matthews shouted. "I will not stand for that language in my classroom. Detention!" She reached into her drawer and pulled out a lanyard attached to a clipboard with "SCIENCE" drawn on it.

Isaac was undeterred, walking to the front of the room with a sway of his hips, making a show of presenting his neck as if he were being given a medal.

"Loser," Rianne muttered.

"Ah what the hell, I'm going to detention anyway." He stood up straight and faced the class again, locking eyes with the cheerleader as he jutted out his hip, smacked his jean-clad butt, and gave her a middle finger. "Future washout."

He passed the principal's office on the way to the designated Detention classroom, and was able to catch you as you were on your way out, clenching and unclenching your writing hand. He had no doubt it was sore from having spent the whole morning completing admission forms and answering qualifying exams.

Your mouth fell open when you saw your friend walking towards you, pointing at the "lanyard of shame" around his neck. "What did you do that had Mrs. Matthews give you that?"

"I called Rianne a mega cunt." You let out a borderline witchy cackle at his answer. "So that's it? You're all done with Augustine?"

"Yeah. I'll probably pay y'all a visit in a few years for your graduation. I refuse to miss out on seeing you guys march." He took the lanyard off and held out his arms, and you happily stepped into the embrace. "I'm gonna miss you goofs."

"Oh don't be such a drama queen, we'll see each other on the weekends. And holiday breaks. And in a few years we'll all be at Columbia together." He placed his hands on your shoulders and gave you a reassuring squeeze. "And we'll make sure to video call every few days to make sure you're not just running on Red Bull and burgers. Don't be a stranger, babe."

"I won't, I promise." You could feel your throat close up. You didn't think that you were gonna get emotional finally leaving these cursed halls. "And I'll make sure to take some extra units in a few years if that's what it takes to share a class with y'all again." You motioned your head towards the Detention room. "Now go. Before you get into more trouble."

When you got to your car, you gave the vast campus of Augustine High School one final look, not surprised that you didn't feel particularly sentimental about this part. Other than Syd, Shane, and Isaac, you would miss nothing and no one within the school's gates.

"Good riddance," you muttered as you drove away.

Today

"Jellybean, we're throwing you a party."

Your head snapped up so fast the motion nearly cricked your neck. Tony's announcement was more than enough to break your focus out of the braid you were practicing on Morgan's hair. "The fuck? What for?"

"Teehee…fuck," the small child squeaked beside you, an adorably toothy grin stretched across her face as she looked up at you. "I sound like you, Auntie Y/N."

"Uh uh," Tony quipped, snapping his fingers first Morgan's way, and then towards a jar in the middle of the common room. "Swear jar, little lady. You know better than to repeat your Auntie Y/N's no-no words."

You rolled your eyes at the billionaire, reaching into your pocket and handing your goddaughter a few bills. "No way that's coming out of your allowance, baby." She happily took the bills from your hand, giving you a kiss on the cheek before she skipped towards the swear jar. You addressed her father next, "Party's really not necessary, Tony. Can't you just do that pseudo-knighting schtick you did with Parker?"

"'Course we can." He made his way over to you, touching his hand across your shoulders before making a blessing motion like a priest. "Agent Y/L/N, you're officially an Avenger."

"Thank you."

"First order of business is to have you inducted."

"Press con," you told him. You really didn't want a party.

"Press con with music. And drinks. And food."

"That's a party, Tony," you grumbled. "There's really no need."

"Nonsense, Lady Y/N," Thor's booming voice filled the common area before he even physically stepped into the room. "There is always a good reason to throw a party." He walked toward the pantry with a large wagon stacked high with boxes in tow. "My brother and I have fulfilled our grocery duty for the year, Stark. Remove our names from that wheel of yours now."

You were on your feet the second he mentioned his brother, quickly busying yourself with unloading the wagon so you could avoid interacting with him.

The last thing you needed was the raven haired god sussing out that you had heart eyes for him if he so much as threw a "hello" your way. No good ever came from someone that drop dead gorgeous knowing what kind of effect they had on you.

"Thank you, Point Break. Finally someone who sees reason. Come on, Y/N, it'll be fun. Think of it like having another Prom."

"Didn't go to Prom, Tony," you called out before lifting the first box off the wagon with a loud grunt.

"What the--Why the hell not? Dressed to the nines? Time capsule of what music was 'hip' at the time? Spiking the punch bowl? How could you miss that?"

"Tested out of High School on my sophomore year," you told him, letting out little grunts of frustration when your box cutter's blade kept on snagging on the packaging tape. "Turned out to work in my favor because on what would've been my Prom night, there was a Taylor Swift concert in my town, so I got to see her live and sit in the VIP section back when tickets didn't cost two thousand dollars a pop."

Just then, Shane walked in to the room, shrugging off his lab coat and putting it on the coat hanger before rushing over to where you were standing, looking like he was bursting at the seams to tell you what fresh bit of gossip he'd become privy to. "Babe. Babe babe babe you're never gonna believe this--"

"Wait, before that, tell Tony about Prom. His face is still giving denial."

"What about it?"

"Me at Prom," you clarified.

"Ohh yeah, no. Y/N didn't go, Boss. She got VIP for the Speak Now tour for under two hundred dollars. Lucky bitch."

"Teehee…bitch," Morgan repeated. You didn't even hesitate to reach into your pocket and put down a couple more dollars on the counter for her swear jar.

"Sorry…" your old friend trailed off, grimacing in Tony's direction. "We still wrote in her name for Prom Queen, though."

"Girl, what do you mean 'we'?" You lightly hit his arm with the back of your hand.

"The three of us," he told you. "Plus some other ones that refused to vote for those god awful cheerleaders. Pretty sure you were runner up."

"But like…she doesn't even go here," you said in a goofy voice, mimicing Damien from Mean Girls, which had both him and Stark breaking out into a laugh. "But anyways…what were you gonna say?"

"Ohh, right. Remember Rianne Jacobs?"

The name had you standing up straighter, visibly on edge. "Wish I didn't," you answered him. "What about her?"

"So remember when my husband called her a future washout?" You nodded, prompting him to continue. "Well it looks like she's been struggling to get a job, so she had to humble herself and now guess who's the new receptionist for the receiving area of the Avengers Compound."

"No fucking way," you blurted out, automatically slapping down another couple dollars before Morgan even repeated the words. "But like…isn't receptionist supposed to be an entry level job? For fresh grads? We all graduated about a decade ago, what is she even--"

"Unhand me, you foul human," you heard Loki raise his voice at someone near the Compound's main entrance. His tone had everyone in the room standing ramrod straight and alert.

The last time he spoke like that, he was in Stuttgart and commanding everyone to kneel before him.

He walked into your view, a look of pure revulsion on his face at whoever he was talking to, before his eyes scanned the expanse of the common area. That look of disgust faded and turned into something decidedly more friendly when his gaze reached the kitchen and pantry area where you stood.

"You okay?" you asked him, trying to keep your tone casual. From the corner of your eye, you could see Shane giving you a knowing look, wordlessly teasing you. You kicked at his dress shoes in response.

"I demand words with whosoever hired that disgustingly promiscuous woman at the front desk." He visibly shuddered before walking towards you.

"Let me guess," you quipped, looking over at Shane. "Rianne?"

"Right on the money, honey," he confirmed with a little snap.

"You have the displeasure of knowing that woman, darling?" Loki asked you, lightly touching his fingertips to the inside of your wrist.

"Uhm…yeah," you answered him, your voice coming out in a little squeak. You cleared your throat before speaking again. "Yes, unfortunately. Shane and I, we went to school with her." You tried to subtly move your arm away from his hold, clasping your hands together instead, and you immediately started picking at the sides of your nails. "Anyway uhh…what did she…do exactly that got you ticked? I mean, whatever it is you were probably in the right. She's the absolute worst."

The way your words were tumbling out of you had the god breaking into a soft laugh. "Right. She has no regard for physical boundaries and kept on trying to press herself against me. And she kept insisting on taking your drink."

Your brows scrunched together at his statement. "Uhh--I don't remember…I--" You clamped your lips shut, composing yourself before talking again. "I didn't leave a drink at the front desk."

The god's face broke out into a soft smile, the kind that had your heart doing somersaults, as he stepped closer towards you. Shane took that as a cue to back away. "No, of course. I simply meant that…I brought a drink. For you." That was when you caught sight of the can he was holding in his other hand.

You fought to keep your expression fairly neutral, ultimately failing as your eyes widened and you started smiling ear to ear like you were a lovestruck teenager all over again. "Ohh! Uhm…y-you didn't have to do that. I saw a whole case of them at the bottom of the wagon, it's all good, really."

Unbeknownst to either of you, Morgan walked up to the blond Asgardian, pulling on his pant leg and asking him point blank, "Uncle Barbie, does Prince Loki like Auntie Y/N?" Thor simply nodded at the small child, unable to help but smile as he watched the scene unfold before him. Morgan walked over to Shane next. "And does she like him back?" When he nodded, she held her tiny hands over her mouth and started pitter-pattering her feet on the floor.

"No erm…I know, I placed the case in myself," he clarified. The onlookers all gave each other a knowing look, clearly amused that the god seemed to be equally tongue tied as you. "I just noticed this flavor seemed new and only got the one for you to try. And perhaps if you found it to your liking, we could get more?"

"Ohh…" you squeaked, your smile getting wider. You watched in awe as his hand and forearm turned cobalt blue for a split second and suddenly the can was frosted over. "That's…that's really thoughtful, thank you." When you moved to take the can from him, he gave you a soft smile, holding your forearm with his free hand and then closing his other hand over yours once you were holding the near freezing drink.

"Mister Laufeyson, I'm so sorry about my behavior earlier, maybe we could--" The sound of Rianne's shrill voice broke you out of the moment, and both you and Loki moved to look at her standing at the threshold of the common area. Her face went from lustful to downright loathsome the second she saw how close you two were standing together. And how he held your hand. "What in the flying fuck are you doing here, freak? Pretty sure this area of the compound isn't for staff."

Before anyone could speak up and read her for filth, you snapped at her. "I live here, receptionist," you hissed her way. "And it's Agent Y/L/N to you."

The color left her face and she backed away from the doorway slowly, mumbling an apology you knew she didn't mean. Despite all the time that had passed, that short interaction showed you she never had and never would possess a remorseful bone in her body.

"Okay so maybe I left out a tiny detail earlier…" you trailed off, turning to face the god again. "We didn't just go to school with her, she was my bully. Well, one of my bullies. The main one, really."

Tony made his way over to Morgan's swear jar, already placing a few bills in before reacting. "That raging bitch was your bully? Ohh she's fired." He tapped on his tablet furiously before making a swiping motion as if he was sending something out into the world. "And if she tries to file a complaint for unlawful termination, we've got footage of how she acted around both you and Reindeer Games." He then clapped his hands together and addressed everyone in the room. "But anyway. Party. Two weeks from now. To celebrate Y/N officially becoming an Avenger. And Jellybean, just think of this like a do-over for the Prom you never had."

"Sorry, what is a 'Prom'?" Thor asked, raising his hand into the air.

"It's basically a ball," you answered him, every part of you still acutely aware that to this moment, Loki was still holding your hand. "When we reach a certain age in school, we have one for our whole class. But I qualified to graduate from school before I reached that age, so I never went to my year's Prom."

"A ball, you say?" You turned your head and stifled a gasp, seeing how intently the god of mischief was staring at you, opting to just nod your head at him. "Perhaps we could share a dance, then?"

"Uhh…sure." Your voice grew small again, your breath hitching when he lifted your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles before finally taking a step back from you.

As you went about unloading the wagon, insisting that you could proceed with the task on your own and politely declining Loki's offer of assistance, questions began to bubble up in Thor's mind. He noted how despite the relationships you'd built among the team, you still behaved as if you were alone on your own isolated island.

How whenever his brother would show you even the smallest fraction of his affection for you, you would flinch away. As if you were resisting against accepting even the simple gesture of the prince getting a beverage for you.

How when he offered you his dagger once he saw how your own blade had turned pitifully dull, you hesitated. And moved with great caution, your stance defensive. As if you were bracing for an outburst akin to how his brother reacted to the advances of your childhood tormentor.

And seeing as he had a unique opportunity to gain some insight from the Stark Industries scientist who had known you for a rather sizable portion of you life, he seized it. "Why does Lady Y/N behave like that?" he asked Shane.

"Like what?"

"With my brother," the blond Asgardian clarified. "It is clear to anyone that looks upon them that he carries a great affection for her. And I can see even with her peculiar behavior that she returns his affections. So why does she behave as if she's readying herself to be rejected by him?"

As your old friend recounted your experience at the hands of an insipid boy named Justin from a decade and a half ago, his heart began to hurt. Not just for you, but for his brother as well. He knew of your experience far too well, having to watch Loki go through something similar during their youth back in Asgard.

From multiple individuals. Striking up a friendship, feigning romantic interest -- some even going so far as to turning the false relationship sexual -- all with the intent of leveraging his social status as an Asgardian royal to further their own selfish agendas. Using the younger prince as a stepping stone for their narrow and paltry ambitions.

"When she plays with Morgan, do you ever notice how she practically runs away from playing Cinderella? Short of kicking and screaming?" Thor quietly nodded at Shane's question. "Well that's because that's what Justin called her. Because, and I'm directly quoting from the son of a bitch here, 'the best part about Cinderella is eventually the clock strikes midnight, and she turns back into a pumpkin'. So I'm only gonna tell you this because that girl right there is like a sister to me, and I want her to be happy…having a literal prince pursuing her? She will try to run. Kicking and screaming. Your brother needs to be ready to run after her."

When you were finished unloading and flattening the first box atop the large grocery wagon, the Compound's office manager walked into the common area, relieving you of the task and unwittingly pushing you into continuing your conversation with Loki devoid of any distractions. Shane took that as his cue to announce his departure for the night.

"Okay babe, I'm off. How's about we make a date for this weekend to find you a dress for this party?"

"Fine," you grumbled, giving him a quick hug before he walked out of the common room. "Drive safe, okay?"

"Always," he shot back. "Let's find you something in that dark green you look so good in. Swear to God, babe, that's your color."

You made a "no" motion with your hands. "Not my color, babe. Not anymore. It's his," you said in a rushed tone, motioning your head towards Loki.

He gave you a playful look before disappearing down the hall, blurting out, "I know…".

"Come to think of it, we should all get going," Stark spoke up, lifting his daughter into the air. "I gotta put little Maguna to bed, and two of you have mission briefing in the morning with Rogers. And knowing Capsicle, it's at oh-seven-hundred." He bounced the little girl in his arms. "Say bye bye, Maguna."

"Bye bye Maguna," she repeated with an endearing toothy grin. When she passed by where you and Loki stood, she threw her arms around your neck, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "Goodnight, Princess Auntie Y/N."

"Not a princess," you told her, kissing her hair. "Goodnight, baby."

"Not yet," she giggled as her father carried her away.

"May I walk you to your chambers, darling?" Loki offered, presenting you his hand to take. Thor watched fascinated as your hand instinctively raised to accept, but stopped midway. It seemed that urge to "run away kicking and screaming", as Shane mentioned, ran deep inside you.

"Ohh uhm…it's okay, you don't have to," you answered, your voice barely audible even with the god's comparatively more advanced hearing. He gave his brother a look, wordlessly urging him to insist.

"I want to," he pressed, seeming to take his brother's cue. The blond Asgardian watched on with a smile as his brother gently took your hand and you walked out of the common room with him.

It seemed he wouldn't have to coach his brother on how to prove his intention to you. Loki looked more than ready to chase after you regardless. No matter how long it took.

A/N: To say this got away from me is the biggest understatement of the month 😂 And this is only part 1 of 3…

Also if it wasn't that obvious…this is another one of those "vent" pieces that draw from my actual experiences. I am so annoyed to tell y'all that Justin Vergazo and Rianne Jacobs are based on actual people I've had the displeasure of knowing.

Anyways…this was actually enough to get me out of my writing slump (kind of) so I'm gonna see if this is finally the jump I needed to start working on 'relinquish the crown'.

How slow they came, their horses at a mere trot. Their white flags with red crosses waving in the wind. Everyone crowded before them. One officer dragged forward your father, the Governor, and forced him to kneel. 

You stood nearby, your mother hugging her arms around you, to shield you, protect you. You could hear the faint, worried murmurs of the crowd all about you. Wondering what would happen. You heard the king of England was making a conquest of France, but how distant it all seemed until he was here. 

You looked up at the king in front and center on his white horse. You had never looked at a king before.

You could not deny he was a handsome man. Young, but not boyish. Virile. He was tall and lean, with auburn-blonde curls and a short, cropped beard. High cheekbones. The most piercing blue eyes you have ever seen. And bedecked in his armor, one would think him a knight from a story. Except for the crown.

“Do you understand what happens when an army goes through and sacks a city, governor? What will happen if you do not let us through?” He asked. 

There was silence from your father.

The king then spoke, his voice rising.

“Houses will be destroyed, lives will be taken. We will pull your old men by their beards. Your daughters will shriek when they are handed to soldiers. Hungry for their viriginities. Your infants we will set on spikes as their mothers scream. That is what will happen.”

You heard sounds of worry and shock from the crowd. Mothers looked down at their children. 

The king looked over. He noticed you. You felt your eyes on him. Growing warm in your face, you lowered your eyes in timidness. Not daring to glare at a king. 

 It felt like one was at the edge of a cliff and dreading the gust of wind that would fall. One word from the king would release chaos and horrors of all unspeakable kinds. Upon your family. And you. 

“But…all this we will avoid, on two conditions…” the king announced. His voice softened.

“Two?” asked your father.

“One, that you let us pass….” began the king.

“And the second?” asked your father. 

The king’s eyes fell on you again. 

“Who is this woman?” he asked.

“My daughter.”

The king paused a moment before he spoke. 

“You offer your daughter to me for the night.”

You felt your heart race. Your stomach began churning. Already, you were trembling all over your limbs. No, you thought, no, no, no, no…

Your mother pulled you in tighter.

“She will not be yours!” she blurted.

The king silenced her with a look.

“You will let us pass. And your daughter will be in my bed. Or I will set my soldiers upon the town,” repeated the king. 

But…what choice did you have? If you refused, if your father refused…then how many more women would be raped? How many lives lost or ruined?

“My…my daughter’s honor…” muttered your father, still on his knees.

“Will be compensated, with a wealthy dowry,” assured the king. He nodded at one officer beside him, who pulled out a bag of coins.

“She is not a whore! My daughter is worth more than any of your gold can buy!” your father spat back.

Pulling out of your mother's arms, heart racing, you stepped forward. You walked over and kneeled next to your father.

“Mon pere…let it happen,” you whispered. 

Father looked at you, his jaw dropped.

“Tell the king you accept,” you assured him. “I will go to him. It’s only one night, and it will be over. I’ll have a dowry worth more than the one saved up for me. Afterwards, I can marry whoever I want.”

Father turned his head back to the king. He then spoke.

“Your soldiers may pass. And you may have her.”

A deep exhale went throughout the crowd. Your mother put her hands over her mouth, tears in her eyes. Soon enough, Henry took the reins of the horse. He looked over to the man on the horse next to him. An older man with long, grey hair. 

“Tonight, we stay here as guests. Grant them mercy,” he ordered.

The older man nodded. He then turned, and word trickled down to the soldiers.

A path was formed among the crowd as the people stepped away, and the king and his horse and army rode through it.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two hours later, the older man approached you at the door in your home. 

“My lady, the king has summoned you,” he announced.

Your mother got out a handkerchief and began to weep. Your father hung his head down in shame. You then walked outside and followed the gentleman through your city of Harlefleur.

You knew already where you were going. Your father may have been the governor, but the Dumont’s were the wealthiest family in town. Their mansion in the center was the largest. So it was there that the king stayed. And it was there that the older man, who was the lord of Exeter, escorted you.

The lord of Exeter walked you through the front door. He guided you upstairs, past the servants of the house. He then led you to one separate room. It had a fireplace and a cream four-poster bed. Inside was a large tub and female servants with cloths and soap. 

“The king ordered you to bathe.”

“I’m not dirty,” you said. You were still a lady who took care to always appear proper, especially in front of men. And in front of kings.

“Still, you must be clean before the presence of his majesty,” the lord of Exeter declared. He then closed the door.

They set you in the tub, already full of water. Making sure not to make your hair too wet, they scrubbed all over your body until you were truly clean. You then got out and dried with a towel. 

One of the servants, an older woman with wrinkles and grey hair, brought forward a golden dress.

“The king said he would like you to wear this,” she announced.

The maids helped you step into the dress and secured it in the back. They gave you a jeweled belt. They then took care of your hair as you would have liked it. At least you had a little say in these matters.

It was a dress even more beautiful than the ones you owned. It had long sleeves and a small train. The jeweled belt flattered your figure. There was an ample cut square collar that flattered the top of your chest. You were then given a jeweled headdress placed on top of your head. 

How did they get this? Was it stolen? From a common woman attacked by a soldier? No, for these were not the clothes of a common woman. From the lady of the house? You didn’t know.

There was a knock on the door. The older woman opened it and revealed the Lord of Exeter. 

“Now…it is time,” he announced. 

You followed him out, holding up your skirt so you wouldn’t trip. Heads of servants turned towards you, eyes curious. He then led you to a large door. He knocked on it.

“You may enter,” came the king’s voice.

He pushed open the door, and you stepped inside.

Inside, it was lit with candles. There was a table with chairs. Chests here and there. And a great, large bed in the center of it, with thick red blankets and feather pillows. A crackling fireplace. There, dressed in red leathers and his crown in front of the fire, was his majesty the king of England. He was leaning against the railing, but straightened himself once he saw you. 

You dipped into the lowest curtsy you could.

“Thank you. You may now leave us, uncle,” said the king. 

The lord of Exeter closed the door behind him. Your heart picked up again. You stood still and folded your hands. 

“Do you speak English?” he asked.

“Like my mother tongue, your grace,” you answered. 

The king walked forward. You kept your eyes down as he circled you. He then stopped in front of you. Hands gesturing forward to the table. 

“Here, sit.”

You walked over and sat down. The table was bare except for a bottle of wine and two goblets. 

“Would you like some wine?” asked the king.

You did not answer, eyeing the bottle with nervousness. 

“Rest assured, there is nothing in it. Only wine,” replied the king. 

“Yes, of course.”

He poured out some in a goblet and handed it to you. Inside it was a deep, dark red. It looked almost black. The taste was dry and bitter, but it was strong.

“What is your name?” he asked.

You gave it to him. 

He poured his own cup and took a deep drink. He then set it down. You could feel something in his eyes. There was a stillness. As if he was doing everything in his power not to reach out and grab you at once. No, he was showing restraint.

“Do you like the wine?” he asked.

“Yes. It is good, my lord.”

“Would you like any food?”

“No, no thank you, my lord.”

You took another drink, deepening it. If the wine affected you, this would be more pleasant. You could drink your way through this. The king leaned forward, his hands together. He looked all over you.

“You look beautiful.”

“Thank you, my lord,” you replied.

“It pleases me when you say that. You may keep calling me ‘my lord.’ And your majesty.”

“Of course, my lord.”

You took another sip of wine. You were already getting to the end of your drink. You felt your body warmed by the fireplace. Outside, one could hear an owl.

“Why did you make this request, my lord?” you asked.

He was still. Then he spoke in a soft voice.

“My lady, because I want you beyond what words can describe.”

He then stood up and walked to you. He held out a hand, and you accepted it. He led you to stand up. His hands traced over your sides, then up to your face. He even tipped your chin up with his hand.

“Look at me,” he said.

You obeyed.

“Promise me one thing?” he asked.

You looked up at him.

“Never stop looking at me.”

He then leaned forward and kissed you. It was…warm, his lips were soft. Already, you could feel yourself melting in, giving away. It was a sweet kiss, far sweeter than anything you expected would happen tonight.

His hands wandered to your back, supporting you as he gave you another kiss. He leaned down further. His hands clutched onto you. 

You let go, already trying to catch your breath. His hands went to the top of your head and took off your headdress. He then went to your belt and undid it as it fell to the floor. His hands then went to the back of your dress, and began to undo it.

You let him. Something in you was growing.

Soon enough, the dress fell to the ground before you. You wore only a shift. Your own breathing was deep. You looked right at him. He took his hands and went to the sleeves on your shoulders of your shift. It was already loose with an open collar. 

He then pulled it down by the sleeves.

Soon it fell, revealing your breasts, then the rest of your body as it fell in a circle around your feet.

He looked down at you. His hands grazing your breasts.

“Beautiful,” was all he said.

He took you in his arms and picked you up. You wondered how strong he was; it was as if you were nothing but air. He carried you over to the bed and laid you down.

He took off his own doublet and the shirt beneath it, revealing his chest. You wondered at his muscles. He then removed his codpiece. You could see he was already hard. You wondered how hard he had been the entire time. He took off his boots in a hurry. You leaned forward to have a look. He then removed his pants. Already, his large manhood was reaching high, leaking precum.

He joined you on the bed and hovered over you. You could feel his cock graze your stomach. Hearts racing, you saw him reach his hand and use it to part your legs. 

He tested you. He plunged a finger inside your core. Already, you could feel yourself getting wet at his touch. You moaned at it, feeling him inside, digging around.

“Are you a virgin?” he asked.

You gave him your answer. And he nodded.

He prepared you, his finger spreading you open, and then found a spot and teased it. It swirled around you, making space. You then felt him add another finger.

“My…my lord…”

“Spread your legs wider, your king commands it,” he breathed.

You obeyed, going as wide as you could. He set himself between them. He then pulled himself forward, his face meeting your own. His cock at your entrance.

He then thrust forward.

You let out a small sound. He was quite large; there was a pinprick of pain. He pulled out, and then he entered again. And again. He then began a rhythm. 

“Oh…oh God…” you moaned out.

He then took your legs and hooked them so they were around his waist. He was breathing in deep. He plunged, this time further.

“Oh!” you cried out.

“Sweet lady-yes- dear, sweet lady,” he panted out between thrusts. “Yes-yes-keep-don’t be quiet. Don’t be timid-oh-just-just keep telling me- let them know, let them all know how the king pleasures you.”

He dove in again, letting out a grunt. A sound you never knew you could make flew out of you. His hand then dove into you. It found your bud and began to strum you as he continued to thrust in and out.

“Does-does your king give you pleasure?” he grunted.

“Yes-yes, my lord!” you began to cry out. 

It began to speed up. Something in you was spinning, spinning up. Your voice was starting to rise; you were gripping the bedsheets.

He then paused, and he pulled out of you. Before you could ask any questions, he had you flipped onto your stomach.

“Hold onto the bed,” he demanded.

You grabbed the headboard. Gripping it tight. Knowing exactly what was going to happen.

He then took you again from this different angle, and you felt him behind you.

“Oh, oh god, my lord!” you cried out. The pain mixed with pleasure from his position. He himself let out another cry.

He increased the pace. Pounding into you with a fury. Breasts bouncing, your own cries and moans grew louder and louder. But the pleasure was immense. The filthiness of this act, of him being behind you- it rose something in you that you couldn’t name. You only held tighter onto the headboard as he started to pound into you.

“Oh god- oh god! My-my lord!” 

“Call-call me Henry!” he then demanded.

 “Oh-yes, yes, my lord! Yes, Henry!”

“Yes-yes-use-use my name- keep saying it!”

His hands reached between your legs and fiddled with your bud again. Going at a more furious pace, the bed shaking. His own grunts and moans increasing. But so did the strength of his strokes on your bud. That, mixed with this position, gave you that spinning feeling again. That rising sensation.

“Henry-Henry-oh-Henry I-I-I’m close-I’m gonna come, I-I-”

“I-I am too-hold on-yes, yes, like that-make me have you, come now, your-your king commands you-”

Soon enough, it broke on you. You felt suspended in bliss, in pure, pure pleasure. With a final cry, he came too, and you felt his hot seed spurt inside you. Both of you lay there, panting. Your hold onto the headboard slipped, and you fell into the bed. 

He pulled out of you and then grabbed your waist. He pulled you down to lie beside him, still panting hard. You placed a hand on his pectorals. The sudden warmth seeping through you. Here he was, holding you. He held you tight to him; you could hear his heartbeat and smell the woods on him.

“I’m going to talk to your father. I’ll keep you as a concubine. You won’t leave my side,” he said as he caught his breath. 

At this point, you wouldn’t have minded that.

How slow they came, their horses at a mere trot. Their white flags with red crosses waving in the wind. Everyone crowded before them. One officer dragged forward your father, the Governor, and forced him to kneel. 

You stood nearby, your mother hugging her arms around you, to shield you, protect you. You could hear the faint, worried murmurs of the crowd all about you. Wondering what would happen. You heard the king of England was making a conquest of France, but how distant it all seemed until he was here. 

You looked up at the king in front and center on his white horse. You had never looked at a king before.

You could not deny he was a handsome man. Young, but not boyish. Virile. He was tall and lean, with auburn-blonde curls and a short, cropped beard. High cheekbones. The most piercing blue eyes you have ever seen. And bedecked in his armor, one would think him a knight from a story. Except for the crown.

“Do you understand what happens when an army goes through and sacks a city, governor? What will happen if you do not let us through?” He asked. 

There was silence from your father.

The king then spoke, his voice rising.

“Houses will be destroyed, lives will be taken. We will pull your old men by their beards. Your daughters will shriek when they are handed to soldiers. Hungry for their viriginities. Your infants we will set on spikes as their mothers scream. That is what will happen.”

You heard sounds of worry and shock from the crowd. Mothers looked down at their children. 

The king looked over. He noticed you. You felt your eyes on him. Growing warm in your face, you lowered your eyes in timidness. Not daring to glare at a king. 

 It felt like one was at the edge of a cliff and dreading the gust of wind that would fall. One word from the king would release chaos and horrors of all unspeakable kinds. Upon your family. And you. 

“But…all this we will avoid, on two conditions…” the king announced. His voice softened.

“Two?” asked your father.

“One, that you let us pass….” began the king.

“And the second?” asked your father. 

The king’s eyes fell on you again. 

“Who is this woman?” he asked.

“My daughter.”

The king paused a moment before he spoke. 

“You offer your daughter to me for the night.”

You felt your heart race. Your stomach began churning. Already, you were trembling all over your limbs. No, you thought, no, no, no, no…

Your mother pulled you in tighter.

“She will not be yours!” she blurted.

The king silenced her with a look.

“You will let us pass. And your daughter will be in my bed. Or I will set my soldiers upon the town,” repeated the king. 

But…what choice did you have? If you refused, if your father refused…then how many more women would be raped? How many lives lost or ruined?

“My…my daughter’s honor…” muttered your father, still on his knees.

“Will be compensated, with a wealthy dowry,” assured the king. He nodded at one officer beside him, who pulled out a bag of coins.

“She is not a whore! My daughter is worth more than any of your gold can buy!” your father spat back.

Pulling out of your mother's arms, heart racing, you stepped forward. You walked over and kneeled next to your father.

“Mon pere…let it happen,” you whispered. 

Father looked at you, his jaw dropped.

“Tell the king you accept,” you assured him. “I will go to him. It’s only one night, and it will be over. I’ll have a dowry worth more than the one saved up for me. Afterwards, I can marry whoever I want.”

Father turned his head back to the king. He then spoke.

“Your soldiers may pass. And you may have her.”

A deep exhale went throughout the crowd. Your mother put her hands over her mouth, tears in her eyes. Soon enough, Henry took the reins of the horse. He looked over to the man on the horse next to him. An older man with long, grey hair. 

“Tonight, we stay here as guests. Grant them mercy,” he ordered.

The older man nodded. He then turned, and word trickled down to the soldiers.

A path was formed among the crowd as the people stepped away, and the king and his horse and army rode through it.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two hours later, the older man approached you at the door in your home. 

“My lady, the king has summoned you,” he announced.

Your mother got out a handkerchief and began to weep. Your father hung his head down in shame. You then walked outside and followed the gentleman through your city of Harlefleur.

You knew already where you were going. Your father may have been the governor, but the Dumont’s were the wealthiest family in town. Their mansion in the center was the largest. So it was there that the king stayed. And it was there that the older man, who was the lord of Exeter, escorted you.

The lord of Exeter walked you through the front door. He guided you upstairs, past the servants of the house. He then led you to one separate room. It had a fireplace and a cream four-poster bed. Inside was a large tub and female servants with cloths and soap. 

“The king ordered you to bathe.”

“I’m not dirty,” you said. You were still a lady who took care to always appear proper, especially in front of men. And in front of kings.

“Still, you must be clean before the presence of his majesty,” the lord of Exeter declared. He then closed the door.

They set you in the tub, already full of water. Making sure not to make your hair too wet, they scrubbed all over your body until you were truly clean. You then got out and dried with a towel. 

One of the servants, an older woman with wrinkles and grey hair, brought forward a golden dress.

“The king said he would like you to wear this,” she announced.

The maids helped you step into the dress and secured it in the back. They gave you a jeweled belt. They then took care of your hair as you would have liked it. At least you had a little say in these matters.

It was a dress even more beautiful than the ones you owned. It had long sleeves and a small train. The jeweled belt flattered your figure. There was an ample cut square collar that flattered the top of your chest. You were then given a jeweled headdress placed on top of your head. 

How did they get this? Was it stolen? From a common woman attacked by a soldier? No, for these were not the clothes of a common woman. From the lady of the house? You didn’t know.

There was a knock on the door. The older woman opened it and revealed the Lord of Exeter. 

“Now…it is time,” he announced. 

You followed him out, holding up your skirt so you wouldn’t trip. Heads of servants turned towards you, eyes curious. He then led you to a large door. He knocked on it.

“You may enter,” came the king’s voice.

He pushed open the door, and you stepped inside.

Inside, it was lit with candles. There was a table with chairs. Chests here and there. And a great, large bed in the center of it, with thick red blankets and feather pillows. A crackling fireplace. There, dressed in red leathers and his crown in front of the fire, was his majesty the king of England. He was leaning against the railing, but straightened himself once he saw you. 

You dipped into the lowest curtsy you could.

“Thank you. You may now leave us, uncle,” said the king. 

The lord of Exeter closed the door behind him. Your heart picked up again. You stood still and folded your hands. 

“Do you speak English?” he asked.

“Like my mother tongue, your grace,” you answered. 

The king walked forward. You kept your eyes down as he circled you. He then stopped in front of you. Hands gesturing forward to the table. 

“Here, sit.”

You walked over and sat down. The table was bare except for a bottle of wine and two goblets. 

“Would you like some wine?” asked the king.

You did not answer, eyeing the bottle with nervousness. 

“Rest assured, there is nothing in it. Only wine,” replied the king. 

“Yes, of course.”

He poured out some in a goblet and handed it to you. Inside it was a deep, dark red. It looked almost black. The taste was dry and bitter, but it was strong.

“What is your name?” he asked.

You gave it to him. 

He poured his own cup and took a deep drink. He then set it down. You could feel something in his eyes. There was a stillness. As if he was doing everything in his power not to reach out and grab you at once. No, he was showing restraint.

“Do you like the wine?” he asked.

“Yes. It is good, my lord.”

“Would you like any food?”

“No, no thank you, my lord.”

You took another drink, deepening it. If the wine affected you, this would be more pleasant. You could drink your way through this. The king leaned forward, his hands together. He looked all over you.

“You look beautiful.”

“Thank you, my lord,” you replied.

“It pleases me when you say that. You may keep calling me ‘my lord.’ And your majesty.”

“Of course, my lord.”

You took another sip of wine. You were already getting to the end of your drink. You felt your body warmed by the fireplace. Outside, one could hear an owl.

“Why did you make this request, my lord?” you asked.

He was still. Then he spoke in a soft voice.

“My lady, because I want you beyond what words can describe.”

He then stood up and walked to you. He held out a hand, and you accepted it. He led you to stand up. His hands traced over your sides, then up to your face. He even tipped your chin up with his hand.

“Look at me,” he said.

You obeyed.

“Promise me one thing?” he asked.

You looked up at him.

“Never stop looking at me.”

He then leaned forward and kissed you. It was…warm, his lips were soft. Already, you could feel yourself melting in, giving away. It was a sweet kiss, far sweeter than anything you expected would happen tonight.

His hands wandered to your back, supporting you as he gave you another kiss. He leaned down further. His hands clutched onto you. 

You let go, already trying to catch your breath. His hands went to the top of your head and took off your headdress. He then went to your belt and undid it as it fell to the floor. His hands then went to the back of your dress, and began to undo it.

You let him. Something in you was growing.

Soon enough, the dress fell to the ground before you. You wore only a shift. Your own breathing was deep. You looked right at him. He took his hands and went to the sleeves on your shoulders of your shift. It was already loose with an open collar. 

He then pulled it down by the sleeves.

Soon it fell, revealing your breasts, then the rest of your body as it fell in a circle around your feet.

He looked down at you. His hands grazing your breasts.

“Beautiful,” was all he said.

He took you in his arms and picked you up. You wondered how strong he was; it was as if you were nothing but air. He carried you over to the bed and laid you down.

He took off his own doublet and the shirt beneath it, revealing his chest. You wondered at his muscles. He then removed his codpiece. You could see he was already hard. You wondered how hard he had been the entire time. He took off his boots in a hurry. You leaned forward to have a look. He then removed his pants. Already, his large manhood was reaching high, leaking precum.

He joined you on the bed and hovered over you. You could feel his cock graze your stomach. Hearts racing, you saw him reach his hand and use it to part your legs. 

He tested you. He plunged a finger inside your core. Already, you could feel yourself getting wet at his touch. You moaned at it, feeling him inside, digging around.

“Are you a virgin?” he asked.

You gave him your answer. And he nodded.

He prepared you, his finger spreading you open, and then found a spot and teased it. It swirled around you, making space. You then felt him add another finger.

“My…my lord…”

“Spread your legs wider, your king commands it,” he breathed.

You obeyed, going as wide as you could. He set himself between them. He then pulled himself forward, his face meeting your own. His cock at your entrance.

He then thrust forward.

You let out a small sound. He was quite large; there was a pinprick of pain. He pulled out, and then he entered again. And again. He then began a rhythm. 

“Oh…oh God…” you moaned out.

He then took your legs and hooked them so they were around his waist. He was breathing in deep. He plunged, this time further.

“Oh!” you cried out.

“Sweet lady-yes- dear, sweet lady,” he panted out between thrusts. “Yes-yes-keep-don’t be quiet. Don’t be timid-oh-just-just keep telling me- let them know, let them all know how the king pleasures you.”

He dove in again, letting out a grunt. A sound you never knew you could make flew out of you. His hand then dove into you. It found your bud and began to strum you as he continued to thrust in and out.

“Does-does your king give you pleasure?” he grunted.

“Yes-yes, my lord!” you began to cry out. 

It began to speed up. Something in you was spinning, spinning up. Your voice was starting to rise; you were gripping the bedsheets.

He then paused, and he pulled out of you. Before you could ask any questions, he had you flipped onto your stomach.

“Hold onto the bed,” he demanded.

You grabbed the headboard. Gripping it tight. Knowing exactly what was going to happen.

He then took you again from this different angle, and you felt him behind you.

“Oh, oh god, my lord!” you cried out. The pain mixed with pleasure from his position. He himself let out another cry.

He increased the pace. Pounding into you with a fury. Breasts bouncing, your own cries and moans grew louder and louder. But the pleasure was immense. The filthiness of this act, of him being behind you- it rose something in you that you couldn’t name. You only held tighter onto the headboard as he started to pound into you.

“Oh god- oh god! My-my lord!” 

“Call-call me Henry!” he then demanded.

 “Oh-yes, yes, my lord! Yes, Henry!”

“Yes-yes-use-use my name- keep saying it!”

His hands reached between your legs and fiddled with your bud again. Going at a more furious pace, the bed shaking. His own grunts and moans increasing. But so did the strength of his strokes on your bud. That, mixed with this position, gave you that spinning feeling again. That rising sensation.

“Henry-Henry-oh-Henry I-I-I’m close-I’m gonna come, I-I-”

“I-I am too-hold on-yes, yes, like that-make me have you, come now, your-your king commands you-”

Soon enough, it broke on you. You felt suspended in bliss, in pure, pure pleasure. With a final cry, he came too, and you felt his hot seed spurt inside you. Both of you lay there, panting. Your hold onto the headboard slipped, and you fell into the bed. 

He pulled out of you and then grabbed your waist. He pulled you down to lie beside him, still panting hard. You placed a hand on his pectorals. The sudden warmth seeping through you. Here he was, holding you. He held you tight to him; you could hear his heartbeat and smell the woods on him.

“I’m going to talk to your father. I’ll keep you as a concubine. You won’t leave my side,” he said as he caught his breath. 

At this point, you wouldn’t have minded that.