It wasn’t the cockerels crowing that woke you, but the dogs excitedly greeting someone.

“Whuh time issit?” you mumbled into Thor’s hair, your hand resting on his still full tummy as you spooned the sleepy Thunder God.

“Too early.”

He wasn’t wrong. Groggily you pulled yourself away, rummaging around for something to throw on so you could investigate who your visitor was.

Opening the bedroom door, you spied the Valkyrie crouched down by the settee, rubbing Geri’s tummy.

“Why?” you asked, not really awake enough to form a proper question.

“Why what?” Valkyrie responded, continuing to fuss the dog at her feet.

“Why are you here? Now? At this godforsaken time?”

“Has Thor forsaken this time in particular?”

Your glare said it all.

“I jest, sorry. Have you been online? Checked your phone? Seen or heard the news?”

“For fuck’s sake, Brunnhilde,” you said, startling the dogs and finally rousing Thor, “I’ve literally just gotten up. Because of you. When would I have done any of that? And why does it matter?”

“I’ll make the coffee, you go get Thor.”

You’d barely turned and taken a step, when you collided with the solid mass that was your lover.

“What’s wrong? Why is the Valkyrie here?” he asked, holding you to his stomach.

“Not a fucking clue.”

You weren’t exactly a morning person. Even less so after a few cocktails, and when your awakening had been rude. Not the good kind of rude, either. Thor knew, from prior experience, that waking you unexpectedly was like deciding to disturb a wasp’s nest. Nothing good would come of it and it wasn’t something you’d likely repeat in a hurry. You were a surly, venomous grump, sure to sting whatever had disturbed you.

Either Brunnhilde was more foolhardy than he thought, or something was seriously wrong.

Brunnhilde returned to find you slouched on the settee, buried in Thor’s hoodie with the hood pulled up and over, almost to the point of covering your eyes, in a vain attempt at ignoring the world. The steaming mug of caffeine placed on the table next to you was met with a snort of derision, and it was with no small amount of trepidation that Thor sat next to you, before pulling you onto his lap. Maybe whatever had brought the Valkyrie would concern only him, and you could doze off against his chest.

“Did you enjoy your pizza last night?” Brunnhilde asked, breaking the frosty silence.

“Yes,” Thor smiled at the memory. “How did you know we had pizza?”

“That’s what brought me here. I’m sorry it’s so early.”

Why would pizza have brought her here, Thor wondered. Did she need a recipe? Did she have some left over? Was she planning to open a pizza place in New Asgard?

“Someone… someone, erm, they snapped some pictures of you. The two of you. In the restaurant. They must’ve recognised you.”

“So?” Thor queried softly, hoping that you had begun to return to sleep in his arms.

“Well, they sold them to some media people. You’re, erm, trending on Twitter. I wanted to tell you before you saw for yourselves, some of the reporting is… unflattering.”

Yeah. Thor could already picture it. Being fat and in the public eye was just a magnet for the worst kind of people.

“If they’ve worked out who Y/N is, it’s not been published yet, but it’s only a matter of time,” Brunnhilde continued.

“Ah, balls,” you said, finally joining the conversation.

“Indeed. A few months back, I asked some friends to do some digging on you. Don’t be alarmed, I just wanted to be prepared for the time when it eventually emerged that you and Thor were together. I didn’t find anything to be worried about in what they found on you, but I understand that there may be things that you’d prefer to stay private. The silence of those involved can be arranged, if you wish.”

There were certainly things in your past that you weren’t exactly proud of. You probably should’ve realised that you couldn’t stay under the radar forever.

“No, it’s ok. Don’t waste your resources, or those of your friends. I’ve been alive long enough to know that if the tabloid press thinks there’s a story, they’ll dig it up somehow. Or just make one up. I’ve done what I’ve done, and that’s the end of that. Anyone commenting on my life probably has stuff they’d rather keep secret,” you answered with a sigh.

“Very well. Do you want to read the dossier?”

“No, no. I’m sure it’s very thorough and accurate. Thor, do you want to read it?”

“Anything you wish to tell me about your past, you can tell me about yourself,” he answered, running his fingers through your hair. “Whatever you have done, it’s of no consequence. You’re here now, that’s all that matters. Some youthful follies could not reverse my love for you.”

You nuzzled your face into his chest hair to hide the tears you could feel beginning to sting your eyes.

“Is that all, Brunnhilde? May we return to bed?” Thor said.

“Yes, of course. Apologies once again for disturbing you. I just wanted you to hear it from a friend before you heard it elsewhere.”

You were fast asleep again by the time Thor gently laid you back on the bed. You must’ve been warm in his hoodie, the early rays of sunshine beginning to seep into the bedroom, but he didn’t want to disturb you. His mind was all over the place, so he decided to check the news on your tablet while you were tucked into his side.

Thor’s Hammered!

King of Ass-gard

Pizza Gut - Avenger destroys pizza buffet

Thor quickly put the tablet back down. It stung to read the words they wrote about him, but even worse was what they wrote about you. They didn’t know you, why did they get to judge you, speculate about who you were and why you were with him? You were just another name on the long list of loved ones he wasn’t able to protect.

Gingerly removing himself from your side, relieved when he didn’t wake you, Thor decided to sit back on the settee, letting Loki slither over him. The snake wasn’t as helpful as his brother, but he found it calming anyway.

15 minutes later, the sound of a message being received made him jump. Unlocking his old phone, he saw it was a message from Brunnhilde.

I know you said you didn’t want to know about Y/N’s past, but I think you might find this interesting…

There were several links at the bottom of the message. Thor didn’t want to pry, he really didn’t, but he couldn’t help but be curious as to what was that important that Brunnhilde had felt the need to send him a link.

Moving as quietly as he could, he returned to the bedroom to grab the tablet, before settling back down to see what had been sent.

Typing the address was a torturous process, his fingers weren’t quite dexterous enough to easily manipulate Midgardian devices, although he was becoming more careful with them. Still, he nearly dropped the tablet when he saw where the link took him to.

It was a gallery of pictures. Pictures of you, to be exact. You weren’t naked but it was obvious that these weren’t the kind of pictures you shared with friends or family. He’d heard about these kinds of sites, adult sites they were called. The model had a different name, but it was definitely you. No doubt about it.

Pictures of you in corsets that pushed up your breasts and cinched in your waist. Pictures of you with chokers around your throat. Some pictures where you wore clothing made of a strange material that seemed to fit you like a second skin. Some more where you wore beautiful lingerie in vibrant colours, brilliant blues and vivid violets.

The pictures on the next link were a little different. Leather gloves, ball gags, handcuffs. Fishnet stockings and knee-high leather boots. Why had he never seen any of these outfits? Carefully gripping the tablet with one hand, he moved the other inside the waistband of his pants, rubbing at the head of his excited cock.

For a split second, he considered what Brunnhilde had thought of these pictures. Had she shown them to Sif? What if they’d both enjoyed them?

His cock grew harder at the thought.

And he knew he should feel a little ashamed. You hadn’t mentioned these pictures, so it probably wasn’t something you were proud of, but he couldn’t help but look, hope that others had looked, and seen just how sexy you were.

He didn’t really understand the third link. That seemed to be a niche site. You were barely visible, clad in rain gear, and wrapped in heavy duty tape to secure you to a post.

But, Brunnhilde really had saved the best until last.

Bound, gagged, blindfolded. Eyes wide in another as you looked at the woman stroking your hair as you sat tied to the chair. If he had to be king, he’d insist on having a throne, just so he could recreate that image with you. Only, in his version, you’d be wearing a lot less clothes, his face between your thighs, eating you out until the only thing keeping you upright were the ropes that held you in your place.

It was funny. He’d not really enjoyed being in chains, in a cage, when he’d encountered Surtur. But the thought of you being bound, held captive while he pleasured you in all the different ways he knew how. Now, that was something he liked the idea of.

Freeing his cock, he began to stroke in earnest, the images he’d just seen and images of what he’d like to do to you fuelling his desire. The harder he thought of them, the harder he got, and the harder he pumped his fist.

His orgasm was explosive, and Loki hissed at him angrily. Geri and Freki perked up their ears to see what the fuss was about. He knew he should move and clean himself but he was comfy, he was relaxed, he could rest here for a moment or two.

***

Evidently it was more than a moment or two when he awoke to the sound of pans clanging around in the kitchen. There’s no way you couldn’t have seen him, and there’s no way he could pretend it was anything else. He’d fallen asleep with his cock out, the evidence crusted onto his tummy.

Tucking himself back into his pants, he approached the kitchen with caution.

“Good morning, my love,” he tried.

“Good afternoon,” you corrected. “Dare I ask?” you said, looking at his gut pointedly.

Nothing good would come of lying, so he tried his best to explain the truth.

“Ah, well, what happened was, you see, Brunnhilde sent me an electronic letter with some links on my phone. So I looked at them on the tablet,” he explained.

“Brunnhilde sent you porn?”

“Yes. I mean no. I mean maybe? The links were to pictures of you.”

“Ah,” you said, understanding. “Brunnhilde’s friends found those.”

“I suppose so, yes.”

“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed them. I enjoyed doing them.”

Thor doesn’t ask for an explanation, doesn’t press you, doesn’t tell you about his fantasies. You’ll tell him when you want to, if you want to. He’ll tell you when you’re not trying to cook avocado eggs Benedict.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he mumbles before walking off to the bathroom. He’s glad that you’re not angry or upset, but he’s still embarrassed that you caught him in that position.

The shower is cold, but not cold enough to cool him down from his thoughts. Thoughts of those photos, thoughts of last night, and thoughts of what he’d like to do with you in the future. He could probably roll around on Jötunheimr and still feel too hot.

He’s quiet during brunch, but you don’t press him. You just hold his hand, silently telling him that everything will be alright.

You’d briefly checked your phone before Thor had woken up. There were so many notifications, you were afraid it might crash, and you’d put it back down again. Today was an historic day for New Asgard, you didn’t want to overshadow it by worrying about what Twitter trolls had to say about you. It keeps buzzing on the table next to you, and you continue ignoring it.

“Are you going to check that?” Thor asked. “It might be something important.”

“I don’t really want to, I’m afraid of what I might see,” you said.

“I understand, but the longer you leave it, the worse it will be. Maybe just check if there is anything from your family. You don’t want it playing on your mind throughout the day.”

Thor’s right, and so with a resigned sigh, you picked up your phone and looked at your notifications, dismissing anything that wasn’t important.

A message from Sam on Skype that read I knew you had a thing for older men, didn’t realise you liked them THAT old ;-) now I know where you are, let me know when I can visit. Ignore the haters, they’re just jealous.

There was also an entire chain of emails from your mum, without a subject. She’d never quite gotten the hang of email.

Is this you/??>????? And then a link to a news website.

It is, isn’t it.

WHy didn’t you tell us. Where you were????

Your father is looking at flights.

He’s found some cheap ones with Ryanair, we’re coming over in a fortnight. Flying to Oslo. Charlie is coming too.

He can’t find anywhere to stay in New Asgard, are there no hotels????

Answer me.

“Ah, fuck,” you said, staring at down at your phone.

“What’s the matter?” Thor asked, worried that you’d seen something critical of you.

“My family knows where I am now, they’re coming to visit,” you mumbled. “In two weeks.”

“That’s wonderful news, I can’t wait to meet them,” Thor said, kissing your hand.

“Yeah,” you said doubtfully. You loved your family, but they could be tricky at times. They were hurt, of course, by your vagueness on the subject of your whereabouts. You already knew they were going to make some unintentionally hurtful comments, either about Thor, or about Alex, or both. They were also likely to do the same about you.

“Two weeks,” Thor mused, still enthusiastic about the prospect of meeting your family. “I think that gives me sufficient time to build a place for them to stay.”

It was lovely that he was excited by the prospect, but you groaned internally. Something told you that Thor was not going to have time for much if the vote went the way you thought it would.

“I’ll tell them we can accommodate them somewhere,” you said, firing off a quick email. “Now, let’s forget about this and focus on the task at hand. Brunnhilde wanted us there no later than two, that only gives us an hour.”

***

At 2:10 you arrived at the mead hall, Thor in his full regalia, you in the dress he’d gifted you for the May Day feast. Geri and Freki loping along behind you. You went to add the one remaining cake to the long table of food, while Brunnhilde intercepted Thor.

“Is everything alright, after this morning?” she asked him.

“Yes, I think so. Y/N is strong, although her family have elected to visit. That seems to have shaken her,” Thor sighed.

“It must be hard to face someone you thought was dead, even if you love them, once you’ve been through the grieving process,” Brunnhilde noted.

“It is.” Thor knows it’s hard, he went through it enough times with Loki, but he’d do anything to have his brother back. Or his mother, father.

There are flowers everywhere. Bouquets on tables, bunting hanging from the rafters, and people everywhere with flower crowns on their heads. Thor’s pleased with how well they’ve turned out. He makes a note to thank everyone involved, as well as to the plants for blooming so abundantly for him. There was something very satisfying about growing things and tending to them, becoming one with nature.

He’s not surprised when you return with a flower crown, plus one each around the dog’s necks. He doesn’t think they’ll last long, which is why he’d made sure to cultivate flowers that wouldn’t make the dogs sick when they inevitably tried to eat them. Thor particularly likes how you look with your flower crown. He’s seen you wear one before, of course, but they really do suit you. He hopes that if he has to be king, then perhaps one day you’ll wear a different kind of crown.

“Hello, Brunnhilde. Apologies for our lateness. I didn’t grab a crown for you but if Thor doesn’t want this one, I’m sure you can have it,” you offered, holding out the wreath.

“That’s quite alright, I’m not really one for crowns,” Valkyrie answered with a small shake of her head. “I’ll leave you two to mingle, just don’t be late for the vote announcement.”

“We won’t,” Thor assured her, knowing full well that they won’t start without him. “I fear this may not be the only crown I accept today,” he continues, taking the flowers from you and placing them on his head.

“I’m sorry,” you said, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “I’ll support you, no matter the outcome.”

Thor knows this, and he’s glad of it. He’s still not comfortable with being in charge, quite content with his life, building things, tending to the plants, and playing with his animals. But at least he doesn’t have to do it alone. After Loki died, he was so very alone. Korg and Miek were great, but there was something missing in his life, a much closer form of companionship that he’d finally found again.

“Let us mingle, I’m sure there are many children who will be glad to pet the dogs,” Thor said, looping his arm with yours at the elbow.

*** By the time it gets to the hour of the announcement, Geri and Freki have had their bellies rubbed by seemingly every child in New Asgard, much to their delight.

A little boy had brought you a small posy of flowers, and was extra pleased when Thor held him in his strong arms and let the child place the flowers in Thor’s beard. It’s very haphazard, and a little one-sided but Thor’s pleased with the end result, when you show him in your pocket mirror.

It makes him ache desperately to have a child - well, children - of his own. He thinks about what kind of uncle Loki would’ve been.

Hopefully he wouldn’t have stabbed them.

It’s too hot in the mead hall. Thor’s been trying to drink slowly, aware that he’s drinking out of nerves more than anything.

Dutch courage, you’d called it. Allegedly, Dutch soldiers had drunk jenever before going into battle. Thor considered that a little risky. Drinking was best done after battle, being clumsy while handling a weapon didn’t strike him as the best strategy. Then again, it seemed to work fine for Brunnhilde. It didn’t really happen to him, but supposed many people got nervous before a fight.

Thor knew you had a Dutch friend, a teacher. He wondered if they might bring jenever with them if they ever came to visit?

Bruce came over, crowds of Asgardians parting easily for his bulky frame.

“Hey buddy,” he said, hugging Thor. “Are you ready?”

“About as ready as I’ll ever be,” Thor answered. A few years ago, he’d thought he was ready. Had almost been crowned king.

He never thanked Loki for royally screwing that up. It was only now, with hindsight, that he could appreciate the favour his brother had inadvertently done him.

“It’s time,” Bruce told Thor, throwing an arm around his shoulders. Thor looks back at you, but you shake your head. This is an Asgardian matter. Your place is at the back with Geri and Freki, not onstage with Asgard’s elite.

“Do you know?” Thor asked Bruce, desperately.

“No Thor. Even if I did, I couldn’t tell you,” Bruce noted. “Whatever happens, you have people that care about you. It won’t be like it was before.”

Thor joins Valkyrie, Sif and several others onstage. Bruce waves his hands, dampening down the crowd that buzzes like a hornet’s nest. Despite all the assurances, this is still a volatile situation and Bruce says a silent prayer that everything works out for the best.

“Thank you all,” Bruce addressed the crowd. “Thank you for trusting in the process and for allowing us, as outside observers, to count all of your votes. No system will be perfect, but we hope that you will all respect the outcome, whatever it may be. It took three rounds of voting for an option to gain over 50% of the vote. I’ll now hand over to Captain America, who has the results.”

Bruce steps down, stands to the right hand side of the stage as Sam steps forward. Anticipation builds around the room, like static during a storm. Sif holds hands with both Thor and Valkyrie, holding in a breath as she waits to see which of the people she cares about most will draw the short straw of heading Asgard.

She fervently hopes that the people will have chosen another option, but she doubts it. Most Asgardians fell on one side of the divide or the other - traditionalists who wanted to continue the existing royal family, and those who felt that Brunnhilde was the best leader amongst those left.

“Thank you, Bruce,” Sam said, grateful that someone the Asgardians were familiar with had addressed them first. “The result is very close, but let me assure you, it is accurate. We counted every single ballot ten times, just to ensure there was no discrepancy. With 50.8% of the vote, the people of Asgard have chosen the option of an octarchy.”

The room erupted with people cheering, complaining, or otherwise chatting with people about what it all meant. Sam waited for the commotion to die down before continuing.”

“Furthermore, the proposed solution, as outlined within the election materials is that Thor, son of Odin.” Sam paused, Thor’s full title sounding odd coming out of his mouth, but that was what the piece of paper he was holding said. “Thor, son of Odin, shall rule as king, and head of state.”

Thor paled visibly and your heart went out to him, glad that Sif was holding his hand.

“Succession will be a matter of blood, as it has always been, unless Thor shall have no issue. In that event, the people of Asgard will once again convene to decide how they wish to be governed. Brunnhilde, of the Valkyrior, shall serve as his second in command. She will rule in his absence or if he is incapacitated, if Thor does not have an heir of legal age.”

Sam shook his head. He shouldn’t have let Bucky write the speech, he should’ve known his metal-armed partner would try to stitch him up with flowery Asgardian language. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Bucky smirking, standing next to Bruce. Sam makes a mental note to put on his suit later, pick Bucky up, and drop him in the North Sea.

“The other six members of the council will be chosen as follows. Thor, son of Odin, and Brunnhilde, of the Valkyrior, shall each choose one. Two more shall be elected by the people of Asgard. The final two shall be selected at random in a lottery of all citizens who have come of age. These positions shall be reviewed every ten years, unless circumstances, or the will of the people dictate otherwise.”

The place descends into chaos, even the dogs start barking at all the noise, and it only stops when the valkyrie gets to the front of the stage and lets out an ear-piercing screech. Everyone stops what they’re doing and looks at her, wincing.

“Settle down everyone, settle down,” she shouted. “I respect this result, just as I said I would, and I pledge to serve both Asgard and its king to the best of my ability, as long as I am able to do so. I would like to thank you for your trust and patience during the time in which I served as Asgard’s caretaker. I know that not all of you were happy with the situation, but I hope I served you well. There is one among us, who I would like to nominate for inclusion on the council. However, I am aware that some of you may feel it is a conflict of interests. As many of you are aware, the Lady Sif and I are in love. She is my nomination if you will accept her.”

Raucous applause erupts. Sif is well liked, and most people are pleased to have her helping to steer Asgard’s course, even if she’s a little too eager to head into battle at times.

“Very well, I thank you all for your trust,” the valkyrie continued. “While I have the floor, there is one more thing I wish to do. I was going to do it later, but I think now is best, to declare my love in front of all those I serve.”

This time it’s Sif’s turn to go pale, as the Valkyrie sinks to her knees, turning back to Sif.

“Lady Sif,” Brunnhilde began. “I have lived long and travelled far, and there is no beauty that can compare to yours. Your love shines brighter than any star, and I am a better person for you sharing it with me. I have no title or riches to give you. This is but a small trinket, for I have already given you the greatest gift I have to give, which is my heart. I would be honoured if you would accept this ring as a token of my love, as is the custom on much of Midgard, and agree to be my wife.”

Sif is openly sobbing, and Thor’s not sure he’s ever seen her cry before. Scores more around the room wipe away tears as Sif slowly moves forward, allowing the Valkyrie to slip the ring onto her finger. Once it’s in place, Sif takes Brunnhilde’s hands and pulls her up, embracing her tightly and kissing her fiercely to a chorus of cheers.

It’s a wonderful sight, and you’re glad that there’s something for Asgard to celebrate, even if the vote didn’t go everyone’s way. Your throat goes dry as Thor nervously makes his way to the front of the stage to speak.

“Hello everyone. Apologies if I seem nervous, it has been many years since I last addressed so many,” he said, fiddling with the hem of his cloak. It’s far too hot to be wearing it, but he’d insisted that this was an important occasion and that he should dress accordingly.

“My congratulations to the Lady Sif and the Lady Brunnhilde. Theirs is an excellent union, and I wish them an eternity of happiness together.”

Thor waits until the cheering dies down before continuing.

“I, too, respect and honour the results of this vote. No man can outrun his destiny, and it seems mine will always be to rule Asgard as its king, even though I feel ill-equipped to do so. Fate apparently wills it so. I have not led Asgard well these last few years, and I apologise for that from the bottom of my heart. I have been remiss in my duties. I know that some of you do not trust that I have changed, but I give you my solemn word that I have. That I will act for the good of Asgard, and the other eight realms, as long as there is life in my breast.”

The entire room draws a collective gasp as Thor sinks to one knee. Panic sets in. This can’t be happening. Surely he’s not about to propose as well?

“I kneel before you, as your humble servant,” Thor continued, and you sighed in relief. “Too long, the people of Asgard have knelt before the throne. No more. I kneel before you all, and ask for your forgiveness. I am not the man I was, but I hope with time, that I will become someone better, someone worthy of the position that I find myself in.

“Asgard is not a place, it is a people. My father told me that, and I see now how true it is. I thank each and every one of you for trusting and believing in Asgard, in each other, when I did not trust or believe in myself. Together, you have created something strong and beautiful. I thank you for sharing it with me. You have rebuilt, you have shown incredible strength and fortitude.

“I am sorry for abandoning you. It is the most dishonourable and cowardly thing I have ever done. I asked the Valkyrie to rule in my stead, because I felt she was the best person for the job. I am truly sorry for abandoning Asgard in her hour of need. Thank you, all of you. Thank you for preserving our traditions and stories. Thank you for building a new home for us all. Thank you to everyone who has helped today. Baking delicacies, creating flower crowns, playing music. All that you do, on this day and every day, to ensure that we survive, that our culture survives, is appreciated by me.

“I hope to be able to thank you all individually, but please understand, it may take me some time. I kneel before you, as your king, humbled by the faith you still place in me. I shall work to rule as a king of the people, not above them. The throne should not be an untouchable pedestal on which I am put.

“Although I do not have a crown, I kneel before you, ready to serve Asgard, completely and unreservedly.”

“About your crown,” a voice called from the stunned crowd, as all eyes turned to look at Lorelei. She walked slowly through them, people parting for her, before she stopped in front of the stage, directly in front of Thor.

“When Hela attacked, many of us realised that Asgard was in peril. As we fled the city, some of us gathered up important artefacts. I apologise for keeping this from you, your majesty, but there never seemed to be an opportune moment…” she trailed off, reaching into a leather satchel, slung low against her hip.

Several people fainted, as with trembling hands, she pulled a crown from it.

“My-my father’s crown,” Thor mumbled, stunned.

“Yes, your majesty,” Lorelei explained. “I apologise again for keeping it secret, but you had already lost so much, I did not wish to remind you of your father. I have kept it safe, all these years. I believed that one day, you would be restored to the throne. I believed that day would be today.”

With trembling fingers, she reaches out the crown as Thor lowered his head. Tears were running down his face, into his beard, for everyone to see as he sat back up, slowly rising to his feet.

A collective sense of shock reverberated around the room, and you anxiously stroked your two dogs, who sat flanked you on either side.

“Thank you, good Lady Lorelei. This truly is an extraordinary gift. I thought I would never see this again, let alone wear it. I do wonder, now, what else was saved from Asgard, but that is a matter for another time,” Thor advised. “I have but one more matter to discuss, before it is time to feast. There is much to celebrate this day, and I hope it is one that will long be remembered.”

Thor paused, taking a moment to look around the hall. His friends, his people looking up at him. It filled him with a tiny spark of confidence that everything would work out fine this time, unlike when he had told Loki it would, all those years ago, after Asgard was destroyed.

“Like the Lady Brunnhilde, I too have someone I wish to nominate to the council. Like her, this person is one who is very dear to me,” he noted, looking across the heads of everyone to look you in the eye.

Thousands of heads turned to face you as you froze, wishing the ground would swallow you up.

“I wish to nominate the Lady Y/N. She has done so much for Asgard, though her time with us has been short so far,” Thor admitted. “As an outsider, I believe she has much knowledge and wisdom to offer us about Midgard, its people, and their customs. Her counsel is invaluable to me, and I would like to offer her a place at this table, if there are no objections.”

Deathly silence descends, everyone waiting for someone to say something.

“A wise appointment, your majesty,” Leifr spoke up, and a chorus of cheers echoed around the room.

“It is settled then,” Thor exclaimed happily. “The other four positions shall be determined in due time, but now I say it is time to eat, drink, and dance our fill. There is much to celebrate as we enter into a proud new chapter in Asgard’s history.”

Everything was a blur for several hours as you try to process exactly what’s happened. Thor being king again was something you expected, and he seems to be taking it well. His speech was genuinely moving and you could see many Asgardians visibly softening to him as he spoke.

But appointing you to be one of Asgard’s eight rulers?

No. No no no. This could not be happening. You didn’t belong here, didn’t want that kind of responsibility.

Judging by the way people keep congratulating you, it definitely is happening. You barely have an appetite, pushing your food around, eating small amounts whenever Thor prompts you to try this dish or that.

It had been a productive few hours for the other three newly instated rulers. Between them, they’d managed to hash out a plan for getting the other council members appointed. They’d even found time to draft a press release with Pepper, covering the events of the day. The world media would be taken aback. New Asgard had never released any information before. Along with the details of the election, Pepper had made sure to note that the new rulers would be willing to engage with journalists going forward to ensure transparency about what the kingdom was doing, but that they would not interact with any outlet that did not respect Asgardian privacy or engaged in hurtful gossip about them.

Apparently, the prince of another country, and his wife, had done something similar a few years prior.

You sit completely zoned out, a zombie. Utterly alone while surrounded by people. Geri and Freki lie protectively at your feet, aware that something is wrong.

Even Thor can sense that something is amiss. You’re paying no attention to him eating increasingly absurd portions. He even mentioned that he was getting full and you just nodded politely, a slightly vacant smile plastered to your face. You didn’t even try to touch his stomach, where it sat pressed up against the table.

Eventually, Sam manages to make his way over, whispering in Thor’s ear. You’re dimly aware that they’re talking about you, by the way Thor keeps glancing nervously in your direction.

“Let us go for a walk,” he said, standing up and tugging at your elbow. “Young Sam said that you look like you could do with some fresh air.”

Moving on autopilot you follow him, Geri and Freki loping along behind you. He leads you down to the beach, the sun setting in the distance as Thor gently maneuvers you into sitting down on a driftwood log.

“Are you quite alright?” Thor asked, running his fingers up your bare arms as he crouched awkwardly in front of you. “You seem distant, distracted.”

“This is all just very overwhelming,” you said, looking at your hands where they rested in your lap.

“I agree, much has happened today. We can return home, if you wish?”

“Why did you appoint me to the council?” you whispered, voice shaking. “I don’t know if I’ll still be here in ten years. What if we split up? I don’t belong here, I’m not Asgardian. I don’t want this responsibility, I’m not qualified, I don’t want to do this.”

Thor’s heart sank and he let out a sad sigh, finally sitting on the soft sand, his hefty stomach making it hard to keep his balance while he crouched. He’d done it again. He’d thought only of what he wanted and hadn’t consulted you. He’d upset you, ruining your evening.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, tipping your chin up to make you look at him. “That was thoughtless and selfish of me, I should have consulted you before announcing my plan. Today has been trying for you, and you were already anxious and upset. I’m truly sorry for burdening you further.”

“I know you didn’t mean to Thor, but I’m so scared and sad.”

“Oh my love, no. I really am such an oaf,” Thor said sadly, pulling you into the small amount of lap he had left. If he kept on like this, he was going to really struggle to hold you like this soon.

He wants to kiss your lips, to kiss away all the hurt and worry he sees in your eyes, to kiss it better like his mother used to kiss his and Loki's scrapes and grazes. But he lets you bury your face in his shoulder. All he can do is cuddle you while you cry, chest heaving against his, while he rubs little circles onto your back, mumbling apologies all the while.

“I’m so sorry. I never meant to upset you, to make you scared or anxious. I can see that I was mistaken, even though I only meant it as a good thing, as a compliment to your character and your intelligence. I truly know of no other in the whole of Asgard more capable than you, not even Brunnhilde,” Thor explained. “You are wise for one so young, and far more learned than any of us when it comes to this land we find ourselves in. Please, allow me to apologise unreservedly for the hurt I’ve caused. Allow me to make it right, allow me to pick another to serve in your place.”

You're so silent, shaking in his arms. It hurts Thor in a way he’s not felt since his father banished him. What if he's finally gone too far? What if this is the thing that pushes you away from him?

It scares him more than the thought of Thanos returning once more.

“A trial,” you said softly, as you raise your head.

“Pardon?” Thor asked.

“Until the end of the year, I will serve for a trial period. But if at the end of that time, I still don’t want to do it, then you must replace me, without any reservations.”

“Of course, of course. Are you absolutely sure?”

“No,” you admit. “But I am willing to try. I trust you. I trust you not to force me into anything I can’t handle. I’m humbled that you and your people have accepted me, and are prepared to give me this chance. I know it’s a great honour. So I will try to repay that trust that you have, I will try to serve Asgard, even if it doesn’t come easily to me.”

“No one who seeks power or has it come easily to them should ever be allowed to wield it,” Thor noted, rubbing his nose against yours. “Thank you, my love for agreeing to try this. I will honour your request should you change your mind at any point. I admit, I was scared that I had lost you, that my foolishness had driven you away.”

“You’ll have to do more than that to get rid of me,” you laughed wetly, wiping your face on the back of your hand.

“That’s good news, although I hope never to test that theory,” Thor told you, relieved. “Do you wish to return to the hall? I’m sure you could persuade me to have some more wine and sweet treats. As you can see, I am not quite at capacity,” Thor teased, moving your hands under his tunic to touch his taut tummy.

“I think I would like to head home. I’m emotionally exhausted and I just want to faceplant into your tummy and go to sleep.”

“Also an excellent plan,” Thor admitted, standing up with your still in his arms.

“I’m not too tired to walk,” you tried to insist, looking down at your bemused dogs as they trailed alongside the gentle giant carrying you.

“I know that, I just wanted to hold onto you some more.”

Thor’s going to be extra affectionate for the next little while, still reeling from the feeling of almost losing you. Now he finally has something to lose again, he’s resolutely determined not to let it happen.

That summer was scorching.

“It’s as hot as hell out there,” you proclaimed one afternoon, collapsing onto the settee, sweat running down your face.  

“But Hel isn’t hot,” Thor observed, his head tilted to the side in confusion like an overgrown Labrador puppy. Geri and Freki mirrored his pose from where they lay on the floor.

“What do you mean it’s not hot? Isn’t it supposed to be full of fire? To burn the sinners? That’s what they taught us at school.”

“Ah, is this from one of your Midgard stories?”

“No,” you said indignantly, before softening. “Well, I suppose so. But a lot of people take them very seriously.”

“Hel is on Niflheim. It is full of cold, mist, and ice. It is where my father imprisoned my sister. You mean it’s as hot as Muspelheim outside, yes?”

“Which one is Muspelheim again?” You’d tried to follow Thor’s explanations of the universe, had even tried to learn the Asgardian language with him. You weren’t stupid, but you were no Jane Foster, either. It was hard to unlearn many of the things that you thought were facts.

“The one where I was captured by Surtur,” Thor explained, wincing a little at the memory of how Asgard had been destroyed.

“The fire demon guy?”

“That’s the one,” Thor said, wandering off to the kitchen to grab you a drink of water. Handing you the glass, he sat down next to you, removing some of the strands of hair that had stuck to your face with sweat.

“How’re you feeling about tomorrow?” you asked, once you’d finished gulping down the water, giving yourself brainfreeze in the process.

“Quite nervous,” he admitted. “And you?”

“Nervous for you, I suppose.”

Tomorrow was the anniversary of New Asgard’s founding, and a day of celebrations were planned. Traditional tournaments and games, feasting, drinking, dancing. But it was also to be the day when the results of the vote would be announced.

After the census, there had been a consultation. Every adult Asgardian had been asked their thoughts on how they wished to be governed. These answers were collated, and a vote held. Every option was there and the Asgardians had to rank them in preference. If none of the options received over 50% of the vote, then the least popular one would be eliminated, and those who had voted for that option would have their second preference counted. On it would continue until an option received the requisite amount of interest. It wasn’t a perfect system, but you all hoped it would lead to an outcome that most people were vaguely in favour of.

Thor and Brunnhilde had agreed, both publically, and privately to honour the result, whatever it was. You worried for them both. There were plenty of outcomes that neither of them particularly desired. Some of Thor’s friends, visiting New Asgard for the celebrations, had kindly agreed to count the votes, as neutral outsider.

Thor was doing a lot better, although he still had days where he wobbled. Taking responsibility for some of the smaller things, especially the animals, had given him more purpose. You didn’t want it all to be undone by the result.

“Perhaps we should go out for dinner tonight,” you mused after a while, your hand resting on Thor’s. “We could walk into Tønsberg, get away from everything.”

“Yes, that could be good.”

STOP HERE IF YOU ONLY WANTED THE PLOT NECESSARY BITS. IF YOU CONTINUE AND THEN BITCH ABOUT THE KINKY SHIT, THAT’S ON YOU. I WARNED YOU.

Thor had been working on his anxiety, venturing a little further each day with the dogs, or riding on one of the horses. He regularly made it into Tønsberg now. There was one restaurant in particular that had caught his eye. A place where you can eat as much pizza, sour cream and salad as you want. He wondered just much pizza he could eat.

That was the thing that he’d noticed, now that food was becoming a pleasure again, not a means to distract from his feelings. He enjoyed eating. Not just in the way that most people enjoyed tasting something delicious. There was something erotic about it, the cocktail of pleasure and pain as he pushed his stomach to its limits. Yes, he definitely wanted to find out how much pizza he could eat. He’d even heard they did dessert pizzas now, although he wasn’t sure if the restaurant did those, or even if he’d like them.

It’d probably be like how you’d described deep-fried Mars bar and ice cream to him: They took a bunch of things I love and turned it into something I hate.

Thor wondered if you enjoyed watching him eat, helping him to eat. He hoped you did, suspected you did. You always made a little too much, brought back an extra little treat, ordered too much then shared, or more accurately, gave it to him. He’d seen the way you looked at him when you thought he wasn’t paying attention. Sometimes he’d push out his stomach a little more or pretend to scratch an itch, moving the hem of his top up to rub the flesh he knew you wanted to touch. It was worth it for your reaction, every time. Widening eyes, rosier cheeks, a smile that told him how much you loved him. Then, of course, there had been the feast. You kneading and feeding him at the table.

Yes, you definitely enjoyed it.

For a long time, he’d felt like his fat gut was something to be ashamed of, that made him unworthy of the affections of another. And maybe you were the only one, maybe you were a cosmic anomaly. That didn’t seem right, but even if you were, of all the trillions that existed, now, in the past, or in the future, you were here in the right place, at the right time, to love him.

That felt good. It felt different. And he realised that what he had known in the past was lust, awe, fear. It was far better to be loved than to be feared, though anyone sensible would still exercise caution.

It hadn’t been easy, to accept this version of himself - when you spend over a millenia with roughly the same body, it takes a while to adjust. It’d be a fine day indeed when a person was judged on what they did, not what they looked like. But for now he would settle for having someone not be repulsed by his body, but actually attracted to it.

Your insistence on touching him was uncomfortable at first. It chafed at the edges of his esteem and confidence. But now it was familiar, something he welcomed, something he sought. His hand would move yours to his stomach when you were sat together, holding it there. He always asked if you wanted to join him in the bathroom, to lather him up, and gently apply lotions. The majority of the time, he fell asleep as the little spoon, you holding onto him as though he was the most precious thing in your life. Even though they woke him up, he found your sleep twitches endearing, the way your fingers tried to press and grab his hairy tummy as it rounded out in front of him.

In fact, the only time he really got to be the big spoon was during your period. He had, in his defence, offered to use his powers to rid you of the inconvenience, but you liked the reassurance of knowing that you weren’t pregnant. You had, however, allowed him to ease some of the side-effects. During that time, you practically begged him to hold you, to be the big spoon. I like it when you press your stomach into the small of my back, you told him, it’s like a warm, squishy cushion to ease my pain. He didn’t like that you were in pain but was glad to be of help. He hoped his fingers resting on your abdomen soothed the cramps he knew you felt, but kept to yourself. Perhaps one day his fingers would rest there and bring comfort to his unborn child?

***

You’d taught him how to use Google, and he’d looked up when the restaurant was least likely to be busy. Being in crowded places was getting easier, but Thor still preferred to avoid them. Most Norwegians tended to eat earlier, so the restaurant was fairly quiet when you arrived just after 9pm.

Sliding across the dark brown leather seating of the booth, you began looking at the drinks menu.

“Why does friend Hulk get his own drink and I do not?” Thor queried, pointing at a brandy cocktail. Looking at the little picture printed in the menu, you can see why they’d named the green drink after Banner’s alter ego.

“Well, it’s not named after you but I think this is pretty close,” you countered, indicating the Dark ‘n’ Stormy.

“I am not dark.”

“No, no you are not. But you do like your storms,” you said, with a smile. “Or there’s this one,” you added, showing him the Angel Face.

“You flatter me far too much, my love,” Thor said, taking your hand in his. “This one is you,” he decided, pointing at the Flirtini.

“Very good,” you laughed. “Any other cocktail matches you can see?”

“This one, the Red Russian. That is Agent Romanoff. The Brooklyn, that is Captain Rogers. Long Island Iced Tea is Stark.”

“I understand the first one, but not the other two?”

“Those are the names of the places where they are from.”

“Ah, I see. I thought this was more appropriate for Steve Rogers,” you said, showing him the Old Fashioned. Thor laughed, long and hard at that one. It startled the few other people in the restaurant with you, but you didn’t mind. Thor had been so stressed lately, you’re just pleased to hear him laugh again, to see him relax a little. You decided to up the ante a little bit and earn your match with the Flirtini.

“So, bear,” you said softly, so he had to cock his head towards you to hear you. “I was thinking after the dinner, we could try these three,” you smirked, spreading the fingers of your free hand to point at the Sex on the Beach, Slow Comfortable Screw Against the Wall, and the Screaming Orgasm.

“Only three?” he grinned. “I think this one is relevant to your interests,” he said, moving the hand he held underneath his shirt while gesturing to the Hairy Navel. That earned a laugh from you, not as loud as Thor’s but just as mirthful.

A quiet, but pointed cough from the end of the table drew your attention to your server. His name badge said ‘Tor’ and you wondered if he realised who your dinner companion was.

“Can I get you any drinks?” he asked.

“A Flirtini for me, please,” you answered.

“And a Dark ‘n’ Stormy for me,” Thor added. “Tell me, how does this pizza buffet work?”

“Well, there is a pizza bar over there, behind me,” Tor said, gesturing. “You just take a plate and serve yourself, you can have as much pizza, salad and sour cream as you like for 134 kroner. It’s only our most popular pizzas but there’s something for everyone.”

“And there is no limit to the amount you can have?” Thor clarified, and that was when you realised why you were here.

“No, we just ask that people don’t take more than they can eat. Oh, and the kitchen closes at 10:30 so that we can close at 11. So yeah, go right ahead and I’ll bring your drinks over to you in a few minutes.”

With that, Tor turned on his heel and went to the bar.

“I see why we’re here,” you smirked at your lover as you made your way over to the pizza. “You’ve got your work cut out though,” you added, showing him your watch.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Thor said, beginning to think this was a bad idea.

“You want to see how much pizza you can eat. A lot more than I can, that’s for sure.”

You moved along the pizza bar, assessing your options, looking at the little signs in front of each of the cheesy wheels. Cheese and tomato, ham and pepperoni, ham and mushroom, spicy chicken, Thai chicken, beef and béarnaise, meat feast, chorizo and Ventricina, cauli truffle, vegetarian, beef and onion, BBQ chicken, Parma and truffle. If this was just the most popular ones, you were intrigued to see just how extensive the full menu was. You shoveled a couple of the more interesting slices onto your plate, added some sour cream to dip the crusts in, and grabbed a token amount of salad.

Both you and the drinks were at the table long before Thor. He had a plate in each hand, with a mountain of pizza on each. It was a wonder he hadn’t lost any slices.

“I wanted to try them all, so I got two slices of each,” he said, by way of explanation, your shocked expression not as subtle as you’d hoped.

“Did you get any sour cream?”

“Oh yes. I put some on every slice before I stacked them up.”

You wondered how he was going to taste the different flavours if they were all slathered in sour cream. It didn’t matter, as long as Thor was happy, that was the important thing. Your plate was empty but you were content to drink and watch the man next to you munching away on his stack of slices. You’d seen competitive eaters, inhaling their food, they could barely be tasting it. Thor wasn’t slow but you could tell he was savouring each slice. A purr when his tongue met a salty slice of pepperoni, a moan as hot mozzarella melted in his mouth, a satisfied smile as he bit into a portion heavy with sour cream. The textures, aromas, the heat of the jalapeños combined with the cooling richness of the dairy. He was focused on what he was eating, enjoying it as more than just sustenance. He was making love to his senses.

Your cheeks were warm, and it wasn’t just a flush from the alcohol. No, you were enjoying watching Thor enjoying his meal. It felt wrong, it felt dirty, voyeuristic, even, to feel aroused by this. You had to wonder, did pizza really taste that good to him, or was it something more?

Chancing a glance at Thor’s lap, you could see his erection pushing up against his underbelly, and being pushed away by the soft swell of his belly. Thor was so engrossed in his food that he didn’t notice your wandering hand until your fingers danced over the prominent bulge.

“Enjoying yourself?” you asked, an eyebrow arched teasingly.

“Ye-yeah,” he responded, stopping with a slice partway to his mouth. You took his other hand and moved it to your mouth, sucking his index finger while maintaining eye contact.

“What about now?” you asked once you’d released him.

“You’re making this a lot harder.”

“What, this?” you replied, applying more pressure to his crotch.

“Yes, no.” It was fun to watch Thor when he got flustered like this, torn between his desire to maintain decorum and his more carnal desires. “You’re making it a lot harder to focus on enjoying my pizza,” he finally managed.

“Ah, I see. Well, it must be quite cold now,” you said, eyeing the last few slices. “I’ll get us some more.”

Thor was glad for the respite. Between you and the food, he was extremely turned on. If it weren’t so public, he’d ask you to do something about the erection he was sporting. For now, though, he settled for undoing his trousers, giving both his tummy and his cock a bit more room.

“They just brought out a new, cheese and tomato, I thought you’d like to enjoy it while it’s hot,” you said, sliding a plate with five slices in front of him, the cheese bubbling slightly.

“That’s half the pizza,” Thor noted with a frown.

“You snooze, you lose. I wanted the best for my big man. I think you’ll enjoy it a lot more when it’s fresh and hot,” you said, touching his tummy under his shirt. “You wanted to see how much pizza you can eat, and I want to help. I’ll get you a few slices at a time so that it doesn’t go cold. You can tell me when to stop. Oh, I brought you some sour cream to dip the crusts in and I ordered some more drinks. It must be thirsty work eating all that pizza.”

The feel of your fingers pressing into his still pliable flesh, as you ate your slices, spurred him on even more.

“Y/N, there’s something I need to explain…” he started.

“Shh. You eat your pizza. I think I know what it is.” Thor looked at you confused but shoveled another slice into his mouth. “You’re enjoying your food, I know you are. It’s just like at the feast. It’s arousing you, I like it.”

“You do? Even though it’s weird, even if I get fatter?”

“Shh, shh. Let me bring you another plate, do you have a preference? I’ll tell you exactly what I think when I get back.”

“Um, may I have some more of the Thai Chicken please?”

“Certainly.”

Thor fiddled with the hem of his top and gulped hard on his drink, terrified about what you might say. It was one thing you enjoying his larger body, but you might have a very different opinion about him enjoying eating and actually enjoying his size. He enjoyed the size difference between you, he felt powerful, owning his space, and if he was honest, he was beginning to really enjoy his softness, how sensitive he now was in places.

One of his original two plates was slid back in front of him, with two slices of Thai chicken and three of ham and mushroom on it.

“There were only two slices left, so I thought I’d bring you something else as well,” you said by way of explanation. Tucking his hair behind his ear, you brought your lips close and began to tell him your answer.

“What you do is up to you, it’s your body. I’m just happy to see you happy, to see you enjoying yourself. However, if you’re happy like this, if you enjoy your food and maybe get a bit bigger, I’m certainly not going to complain. Not just because that would be rude, but because I’d enjoy it. I mean, you know how much I enjoy this tummy of yours.” Your hand returned to its previous position, to emphasise your point. “I definitely wouldn’t be upset if there was more of it for me to admire and play with.”

You moved back a smidge, to see how Thor was taking it. He was trying to remain calm, to eat his pizza, but his heated cheeks and heavier breathing let you know he was enjoying your words.

“Well, you know how much I enjoy it when you press your weight down on me, I think that’d be more fun with a bit more weight behind it. Or how about when you take me from behind, think about all that extra power to pound into me with. Think about how small I’ll look in the mirror when I take you into my mouth. I like the thought of your bigger belly bouncing on top of me, jiggling beneath me, or just being extra cushioning for me to cuddle into. My big, strong, soft, sex god.”

Thor trembled next to you, trying to resist the urge to throw you on the table and fuck you right there. He was on his penultimate slice, so you took one of the empty plates back to the pizza station. You could sense the stares from the people who’d noticed your frequent trips but, fuck ‘em. It was an all-you-can-eat buffet, and that’s exactly what you, or more accurately, Thor, were doing.

“Beef and béarnaise, for my beefy bear,” you said, sliding the plate in front of the blushing god. Nobody had touched that pizza since you’d got him the cheese and tomato, so didn’t feel bad bringing him the remaining eight slices. You left him in comparative peace for this plate, gently rubbing his belly and checking out the restaurant’s menu on your phone.

“How’re you feeling?” you asked as he neared the end of this particular round.

“I’m feeling pretty tired, it’s a bit of a struggle, but it feels so good. How much longer do we have?”

“35 minutes. You’re doing really well,” you encouraged. He was starting to feel full, less doughy under your fingertips. The buttons on his shirt were certainly running into difficulties and you feared their relationship with the soft, denim garment would be short-lived. You were curious as to why Thor had chosen a slim fit shirt in the first place but chose not to comment. It was a pleasure to see all of his soft curves on display outside of the bedroom.

“I think I can manage some more. What were you looking at on your phone?”

“Oh,” it was your turn to blush. “The restaurant has its nutritional info online, I was seeing which pizzas were the most calorific, just in case you wanted a little push.”

In truth, Thor didn’t know exactly what calorific meant, but he could tell this was something that interested you. You’d eagerly accepted his little (ok, big) kink, he could indulge yours.

“Well, why don’t you bring me some. I always like to push myself,” he said, adjusting his position so that his stomach no longer pressed into the edge of the table but rested upon it instead, a generous slither of flesh revealed where his shirt failed to cover him. “Maybe another of those stormy drinks as well, please.”

You almost tripped over yourself in your hurry to bring more food and drink to your full-bodied lover, rich and satisfying, to be enjoyed slowly like a fine Shiraz. Thor laughed a little at your eagerness, it was endearing how you wanted to please him, to take care of him. He hoped you took care of yourself with the same enthusiasm.

Three slices of ham and pepperoni, and five slices of Parma and truffle made their way back with you. Shortly thereafter, Tor dropped off another Flirtini for you and a pitcher of Dark ‘n’ Stormy.

“I wanted to make sure you were well hydrated,” was your answer to Thor’s look of surprise. Admittedly, the cocktail probably wasn’t that hydrating, but Thor had asked for it, so you just made sure that he had enough. You sipped on your drink, watching him battle on, determined to beat the pizza. It was a very different opponent to one he’d find on the battlefield, but Thor had set himself this challenge and he wasn’t going to back down. The staff were watching you nervously, concerned you’d make them wait all night, but you would be gone at eleven, no problem. As Thor began to slow down, you noticed him glancing between your phone and the remainder of the pizza.

“What is it? Are you ok? You can stop if you want, it’s ok,” you worried at him.

“No, no. I can do this. Can you get me what is left? You might need to help me eat them, but I can do it,” he insisted, chest heaving as he panted through the last slice.

Dutifully, you went to gather up what was left, balancing them carefully on two plates. You weren’t entirely sure how you would help him eat them, but he was single-minded in his task, and there was nothing you’d be able to do to stop him. Once Thor had set his mind to something, he was hard to reason with. You either had to get out of the way or hold on tight until he was done.

The pitcher was balanced on top of his taut tummy, shirt stretched dangerously tight around it, as Thor sipped his cocktail through a straw.

“Is that all that is left?”

“Is that all?” you asked incredulously. “I’ve got you three each of the chorizo, BBQ chicken, and cauliflower, two slices of vegetarian and meat feast, and four of the beef onion. That’d be more than enough for most people, are you sure about this?”

“Absolutely. I’m not most people. Asgardians are known for their feasting.” The pitcher was set back down with a thud.

You couldn’t really argue with that.

The first few slices went down well, but then he really began to struggle, gulping down his drink to try to rid his mouth of the cloying cheesiness. Your fingers traced over the swell of his tummy, trying to soothe him.

“That’s good, that helps. Feed me?” he pleaded.

“Ok, you make yourself comfortable and I’ll help.”

You stacked up two slices of the same flavour, bringing them his mouth, and chewed through them, less thoughtfully than before, as he massaged his aching tummy. He was a sweaty, gassy mess, with cheese and sauce stuck in his beard, but he was very pleased with himself when he finally finished the last slice.

“Are you impressed?”

“Very. You managed 69 slices,” you giggled.

“What is funny about that?”

You leaned in and whispered it into his ear. That wasn’t something you’d tried yet, and tonight certainly wasn’t the night for it, but it was definitely something to try another time.

“Finish your drink, I’ll go pay,” you told the full and flustered thunder god.

He was more than happy to finish the pitcher, he needed something to help him cool down. He hadn’t known there was a name for what you’d described, but he definitely liked the sound of it.

***

In the end, it wasn’t the buttons, but the fabric itself that capitulated. After you’d settled up, you’d found Thor sitting awkwardly with this arms across his waist, cheeks flushed fuchsia.

“Are you alright?” you asked, concerned that the pizza had, in fact, beaten Thor.

“My shirt…” he mumbled, moving a hand to show the gaping hole to the side of the placket, allowing a sizable chunk of flesh to be on show.

“Ah...hug me from behind as we leave, I can cover you,” you suggested. It was a slightly awkward exit, Thor pressing into your back. You thanked the staff and eventually made it into the street. “Perhaps we should take a taxi, get you back home quicker?”

Thor mumbled his agreement. It was a fairly quiet evening, so ordering one was pretty straight forward. Ever the gentleman, Thor went to open the door for you.

“Oh, love, could you hold my bag for me, please?” you said with a pointed look at his torso.

Never had he been gladder to hold something in his life. A shield would’ve been preferable, would’ve covered more, but he had to work with what he had.

***

Safely home, Thor was glad to unbutton his shirt, breathing a sigh of relief. He was lucky his jeans were almost painted on otherwise, he might’ve lost them on the journey, stomach spilling out of them.

“Hey, Y/N. Do we have anything sweet?” he called from the kitchen, where he was feeding and fussing the dogs. It was pretty tricky to bend down to their bowls, but he just about managed it.

“Erm yeah. I baked a couple of cakes for tomorrow, why?”

When you got no response, you decided to put some music on, content to let Thor do his own thing. Some Deep Purple while you slumped on the settee, letting Loki slither over you.

It was the second song, Hush, when Thor reappeared, dancing into view with a plate in hand, generous slice of cake on top, and a fork in the other, swaying along to the music. You couldn’t take your eyes off him. The dogs were dancing around his feet, trying to join in, and even the snake seemed to be eyeing him up as he moved remarkably gracefully towards you, swinging his wide hips in time to the music, stomach bouncing along in front of your face. Your mouth didn’t know whether to go dry or to salivate everywhere at the sight before you.

He eased himself down next to you, abused cushion sinking beneath his weight.

“I fancied something sweet after all that pizza,” he said. “This is an excellent cake, my love, you’re very talented.”

“It wasn’t exactly meant for you, but I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” you answered, a little sad that the honey cake you’d worked so hard on was now missing a decent wedge.

“There’s still another cake, it’s fine,” he replied with a smile. “Asgard will still get to sample your handiwork.”

“Can I get you anything to drink with that?”

“Maybe some milk?”

Milk? What about a milkshake, you wondered to yourself. Thor clearly was intent on pushing himself to his absolute limit, so why not help him further?

He gave you a slightly reproachful look when you approached with the biggest glass you could find, filled with your concoction. Thor had wondered why you hadn’t taken so long, having finished his cake, and what you were using the blender for. Now he knew.

You’d blended together whole milk, peanut butter cup ice cream, a generous dash of bourbon, chocolate chips, and chocolate syrup. It was topped with whipped cream peak coated in chocolate sprinkles. A metal straw poked out the top.

“Thank you,” he said, accepting the monstrosity. You hadn’t made him a full-on freakshake, but there was certainly a lot to take in. Thor sipped it cautiously, he didn’t want to get brainfreeze, balancing the glass on top of his over-full belly. You curled up next to him, careful not to jostle or apply too much pressure, kissing the flesh that jutted past the open fabric of his shirt, rubbing gentle circles into his swollen gut.

“You did this on purpose,” he observed around the half-way mark.

“You wanted milk, you wanted something sweet, you wanted to push yourself. I’m just helping you get what you want,” you replied with a grin. “You don’t have to finish it, but it’d be a shame to waste it.”

That was what spurred him on to finish, even though his body was pleading for him to stop. He really enjoyed how full he felt but this was definitely the last thing he was going to have.

“I love how big and round you are,” you commented, fingers delicately tracing over the mound of his stomach. “I can’t wait to get you to bed.”

Thor’s cock, which had never become less than half-hard, immediately sprang back to life. He gulped down the remains of the shake, a horny, panting mess.

“I absolutely cannot eat another thing,” he gasped.

“Oh, very good. I am impressed. Rest here a moment.” You took the glass, the cake plate, and fork to the kitchen, before grabbing a flannel from the bathroom.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, mucky pup,” you said, tenderly wiping away the worst of what was caked around Thor’s mouth and in his facial hair. “How’re you doing?” you asked, cupping a soft cheek in your hand.

“I think I would like to lie down for a bit, I’m quite tired,” he admitted. You couldn’t blame him, just watching was tiring enough. You stood up and offered him a hand. Thor didn’t really need you to pull him up, he was more than strong enough to do it himself, but he appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

“Go get comfy, I’ll do the washing up, let the dogs out, and join you in a bit,” you told him, groping his bum as he shuffled past. “Hey Thor,” you added.

“Yes, my love?”

“If Captain America has America’s ass, do you have Asgard’s ass?”

“I think we could find a smaller one to represent us as a people,” he noted, blushing a little.

“Aww, but I like this one. It’s so shapely and round.”

Thor rolled his eyes with a grin and lumbered off to the bedroom, keen to free himself from his clothes.

***

When you eventually joined Thor in the bedroom, you were surprised to find him still awake, albeit barely. His clothes were in a messy pile to one side, but that barely registered, because sprawled on top of the duvet was a very aroused, naked thunder god. He’d unbraided his hair so that it fanned out behind him on the pillow like a halo. One arm was behind his head, the other rested on his rounded tummy.

“I thought you were tired?” you queried, looking down at the dozy Asgardian. “I was expecting you to be asleep, not putting on a show.”

“Well, I was hoping you would take care of me, give my belly a little rub,” he replied with a grin.

“Only your belly needs taking care of?”

“Ok, maybe some other bits of me might like some attention.”

You rummaged around in the bedside table until you found your dry oil spray. Pumping it liberally, you made sure Thor’s belly was well coated before you settled down with your head on his chest, kissing and licking a nipple, while your hand smoothed over his stomach. Gently rubbing and kneading, you took your time, worshipping your way down to the soft underbelly where he was most sensitive. You avoided touching his cock for as long as possible, but it was hard to ignore, the head nodding against the underside of his rounded abdomen.

“Ah,” he hissed as you brushed against his erection. “I would much prefer it if you used your mouth for this part.”

Giving his tummy one last circular rub, you rolled away from Thor and moved to the very end of the bed, positioning yourself by his feet. You took one foot into your hand and began to knead it, pleased to see that the pumice was working. Thor writhed in your grasp, desperate for you to give his cock attention, but you wanted to string things out. You kissed your way from his ankle to his thigh, ignoring his erection, before massaging his other foot and repeating your journey up that sizable leg.

“My love, please,” he begged.

“Please, what?” you asked, knowing he couldn’t see you smirking.

“Please give me some release.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean.”

“Please...pleasure me, with your mouth.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that?” It was mean to torment Thor, yes, but also worth it to hear the increasing desperation in his voice.

“Please, I’m begging you, please. Please could you just suck my cock,” he whined.

“Oh! You mean like this?”

There was a strangled cry, then, oh fuck, yes, repeated above you as you took him into your mouth. You started slowly, licking and flicking your tongue around his head before gradually moving further down. Propped up on your elbows, you massaged the tops and sides of his packed gut, head gently butting into his underbelly, nose nudging into his soft hair as you moved up and down his length. You knew he wouldn’t last long, had seen how excited he already was, but it was still a surprise how quickly you felt his thighs trembling beneath you. His cum was thick, almost as thick as the milkshake you’d made him, and you swallowed it down. Making sure to clean him with your tongue, Thor gave an involuntary shudder, his cock now far too sensitive.

You pulled away, content to fall asleep next to the exhausted Asgardian, chest panting and stomach heaving from the exertion.

“My love?” Thor managed to huff out.

“Mmm?”

“I have one more request.”

“And want is that?”

“I want to taste you.”

You shuffled up the bed to kiss him, pressing into his sticky, soft, pink, marshmallow lips. His facial hair tickled as you deepened the kiss, but you didn’t mind. Drawing back, you took the time to admire Thor’s face. He looked happy, content. His smile was warm, his eyes sparkled, his brow was less creased, more carefree.

“That wasn’t quite what I meant,” he admitted, hurrying to add, “not that it was bad! It’s just I wanted to, uh, eat you. Eat you out.”

“I thought you couldn’t eat another thing?” you teased.

“For you, I will always make an exception. None of the wonderous tastes to cross my lips this night shall compare to yours.”

You suspected that might not strictly be true, but you didn’t have the heart to tell Thor that.

“I fear I may not be able to move from this position. You shall have to sit on me,” Thor sighed with mock melodrama.

“I think I can agree to that,” you grinned. After all, it wasn’t every day a god invited you to sit on their face. You straddled Thor and held onto the headboard, lowering yourself slowly, making sure to support the majority of your weight with your knees. Thor began to lick you, slow and languid strokes of his tongue like you were the sweetest dessert, made only for him. You slowly began grinding your hips back and forth, trying to get him where you wanted him. After the way you’d teased him, it was only payback that he make you wait, but you were eager for more.

Now that he’d had his release, Thor was far more interested in taking his time. A powerful hand moved up to grab your left hip, keeping you in place, while the other hand reached up to massage your breast, pinching your hardened nipple. Thor could feel himself getting hard again. How could he not, when everything was you? All he could taste, all he could smell, the feel of your thighs against his soft cheeks. The overwhelmed, urgent little noises you made, and when he looked up, your breasts bouncing above him, that blissed-out, happy look on your face. All of it was for him, only for him. He was the only one who got to see you like this, to make you feel like this.

And he fucking loved it.

When you came it was hard, insistent and drenching. It was like turning his face to the heavens during a thunderstorm of his own creation. Thor definitely preferred this position. His height, in fact, his size in general, meant lying down between your thighs wasn’t the easiest position. But this. This was good. His lips on yours, lovingly kissing. And if he was honest, he liked how it made you the one in charge. Every roll and slide of your hips let him know how much you enjoyed what he was doing, there was no second-guessing here. He was your plaything, your means to carnal bliss, and he couldn’t give you enough.

You’d tried to be restrained during your first orgasm, biting into your arm, but the second one had you positively screaming. The dogs were alarmed, barking and scratching at the bedroom door, but it didn’t matter. Thor released his hold on you and you slid off to the side, face-planting into the pillow.

“I did a good job, yes?” he inquired.

“Mmm, yes. Thank you. Sleep now,” you said, as much to him as the pillow.

“I’ll be right back, my love,” he said heaving himself up. “I must reassure the dogs...and perhaps wash my face.”

***

Geri and Freki soon calmed once they realised all was well. Thor washed his face thoroughly and returned to the bedroom, setting a pitcher of water and glass on the bedside table. He’d opened all the windows, yet it was still absurdly hot. Not that you seemed to notice. You’d rolled and wrapped the duvet around you like a burrito, one leg hanging out. Thor climbed in beside you, careful not to disturb you. No need to spoon you, you’d find your way to him soon enough. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever had such a thoroughly satisfying night. Not that he’d be able to enjoy nights like this too often, he didn’t want them to lose their wonder, but it seemed a fitting way to spend it, to indulge himself, on what might be his last night of reprieve before the burdens of a king were his to bear once more.

Thor had told you the majority of his conversation with the Valkyrie. He’d left out the more ‘space-magic’ parts of it all, and the bit about the heir. Those were problems he’d need to address later.

You’d agreed that a consensus was needed and had offered to help, something that Thor was incredibly grateful for. It was overwhelming, he just wanted to hide away from it all. But in his heart, he knew this was who he was. He was the king of Asgard. He had been raised from an early age to fulfill that role. Yes, he had failed at what he was supposed to be, but maybe that was the point. Because the more he talked to you, the more he learned about Midgard, he came to realise that his father’s rule probably wasn’t something to emulate. It hadn’t been that great of an experience for most of the populace. They’d had no say in anything, just sent off to fight wars they had no stake in. Hela had been a power-mad tyrant, bent on conquering all of the realms, but who had made her that way?

A census was taken of Asgard, to see who exactly had survived and was still present. Thor hadn’t realised that there were so few Asgardians left. He should’ve realised, really. After Hela, Ragnarok, the massacre on the Statesman, it was a wonder that anyone had survived.

He had cried, seeing the number. 4,155. One-tenth of the population of Tønsberg. He’d commanded armies greater than that.

And you had held him, stroking his hair and listening to him. You didn’t offer advice, or try to tell him that it was ok. You just listened, and he was grateful for that. More grateful, still when you had buried him under fluffy duvets and blankets and brought him hot drinks, and bowls of hearty stews. Comfort food, you had called it.

Comfort was exactly what he needed. What he came to realise was that he couldn’t find that at the bottom of a bottle. He had tried for so long to be this strong warrior, able to carry any and all burdens. But that wasn’t true. He had failed at being that because it was who he thought he was supposed to be, not who he was. There was nothing wrong with who he was.

There were still a lot of bad days, but the balance was slowly shifting. He could feel himself smiling at more things.

He was so proud of you, the way you were trying to help him, to help Asgard. He wanted to help too. At first, he just helped financially. He got that new mattress and found that he slept better now that his weight was properly supported. He didn’t wake up so sore and so tired. And although there was no longer a dip forcing your bodies together, he was pleased to find you spooning him most mornings, your gentle hand rubbing circles onto his stomach. He particularly enjoyed it when your hand would accidentally brush against his morning wood. It was his favourite way to wake up. The thing that warmed his heart the most though was when you would grab around for him in your sleep. You’d fitfully reach around until you made contact with him. As soon as your fingers sank into the soft flesh, you’d immediately still. After all of the horrors he’d lived through, he was glad to be a source of comfort.

Of course, it wasn’t just his own home that he purchased items for. Midgardian tech had arrived, and you had taught them all how to use it. Now that most of Asgard could look things up on the Internet, it made explaining this planet to them much easier. His favourite thing had been when you explained video calling. He’d seen you do it and had thought it was marvelous, to be able to talk to your friends across the planet. He’d been disappointed that it didn’t work for contacting people on other planets yet, but he supposed in the grand scheme of things, Midgard had only learned about the other realms comparatively recently. And given their experiences, he couldn’t exactly blame them for not wanting to interact with the rest of the galaxy.

The video calling meant that he could keep in touch with his friends, now that the Avengers were no longer together. Banner had taught him some breathing and visualisation techniques to practice when things became too much. Rogers talked to him about what he had learned from the support group he ran after the snap. Barnes talked about Wakanda and goats. How caring for those animals had helped with his recovery.

In hindsight, he probably should’ve talked to you about the goats.

“This is Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjóstr,” he’d said proudly, pointing to the two goats bleating away in his garden. He’d picked them up while you had been explaining the different peoples of Midgard to the Asgardians during one of your lunchtime sessions.

“Tann-what-now?” had been your response.

“Do you not like them?” he asked, disappointed.

“No, no. I just figured you would get a pet snake because I know you really like them.”

***

You’d not been as calm when he did get a snake. He hadn’t realised that other people didn’t like snakes as much as he did. You were still asleep when he’d brought the grass snake in, having found it in the woods, letting it slither over you. It flicked out its tongue to lick your cheek and that’s when you’d stirred.

He’d never seen a human, apart from maybe the two supersoldiers, move so fast. You’d bolted out of bed, sending the snake and the covers flying, dashing past him. The initial screams of panic had turned to screams of pain and he’d found you hopping on one foot.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, genuinely confused at your reaction.

“There was a fucking snake! In the bed! And then I caught my toe on the fucking doorframe!”

“Do you not like Loki?” he asked, picking up the disorientated snake. You’d hobbled off to the bathroom, a string of obscenities leaving your mouth as you went, slamming and locking the door behind you.

Thor had gone to his laptop to see if anyone was online to explain what had happened.

A lot of people are scared of snakes, Thor. Especially when they’re not expecting them to be on their face, Banner had explained.

Maybe naming the snake after your brother, the one that tried to invade her planet, didn’t help either.

“Y/N?” he’d called through the bathroom door. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise. That was thoughtless of me.”

“It’s fine...just please warn me next time you decide to adopt a random creature.”

“Can Loki stay?”

“I guess. As long as it doesn’t try to destroy New York.”

A couple of ravens, a flock of chickens, plus some horses soon joined the menagerie, but you’d drawn the line when he suggested adopting a wolf. So he’d got two dogs, Geri and Freki, instead. Wolfhounds were close enough to wolves, right?

It felt good, being able to care for the animals. And if he was feeling particularly sad, and you weren’t there to comfort him, he would lie down and stroke one of his animal companions until he felt calm again. He still missed Asgard, his family, his life before Ragnarok, but this one wasn’t so bad.

***

It had been your suggestion that Thor could use his powers and his strength to improve New Asgard. He’d been confused at first, wondering how thunder or using Stormbreaker could help. But the more he thought about it, the more he realised that his calloused hands could help to build things, not destroy them.

The trees and flowers bloomed in abundance. Crops grew at an accelerated rate, livestock bore more young, and the sea contained more fish. He focused his powers on making New Asgard a fertile place. It was fitting, he thought, all this new life springing up where they had chosen to settle, to create a new life for Asgard.  

Brunnhilde had mentioned facilities they needed, homes, a school, a library. Those were things he could help with. He used his powers to convince the trees to grow strong, to grow quickly, before cutting them down with Stormbreaker. He always ensured new ones grew to take their place. Once the other Asgardians saw what he was doing, they joined in to help. That was just as well, he was no carpenter. But he could chop and carry. His strength had never gone away, but some of the muscle definition had returned.

That’s not to say that he had lost weight. No, on the contrary, he might even have gained some more. You’d taught him to cook some of his favourite foods, including pizza, and he enjoyed making them. Some days it was hard but there was something satisfying about eating something that he’d made.

He enjoyed making pizza the most, and not just because he enjoyed eating it. What he enjoyed was how you’d slip up behind him when he was kneading the dough, your hands dancing up beneath the soft cotton of his top to knead his belly, cheek pressed against his back. He looked up other foods to make that involved kneading, just to feel you there behind him, kneading away at him.

“Home-cooked foods are the best comfort foods,” you told him one day as you pressed your fingers into his full stomach.

“Why is that?” he asked. He knew you were right, he just wanted to hear your reasoning.

“Because they’re made with love. It’s giving a gift of love to yourself, in a bowl or on a plate.”

But he knew that the real love wasn’t in the way he chopped vegetables or the way he stirred broths. In was in the way you looked at him, the way you listened to him, the way you touched him.

How you said, Thank you for dinner, each time he cooked for you.

You hadn’t told him yet, not with your words, but he knew that you loved him. He could see it growing there, no matter how you tried to stop it. To you, it was a weed, a weakness growing in your heart. To him, it was a beautiful flower, determined to thrive despite the adverse conditions.

It was the May Day feast when you finally said the words he longed to hear.

A mead hall had been constructed - the idea had come from the man who ran the tavern, Leifr - and Thor was more than happy to supply the materials and do the heavy lifting. Leifr didn’t want his establishment to be ruined again this year during the feasts, and Thor couldn’t blame him. He knew what a mess the feasts could cause. The hall was used for other things though. You had taken to hosting screenings of TV shows, documentaries, and films, to try to explain Midgard to the Asgardians. For their part, the Asgardians found portrayals of themselves in Midgardian media to be most interesting. They delighted in telling you everything that was wrong with Stargate.

This was your first feast, Thor wanted it to be a special occasion for you. He had spoken to Lorelei and sourced the materials to create a dress for you.

On the morning of the feast, he woke you up with a cup of tea and some toast in bed, stroking your hand as you ate.

“I have a surprise for you,” he explained, producing a satin blindfold from his pocket.

“Oh, is it that kind of morning?” you’d almost purred at him, your fingers teasing up his thigh.

“No...not that I don’t want to,” said hastily, just in case you thought he didn’t want to make love to you. “It is a present. Something I’d like for you to wear today.”

Intrigued, to let him tie the blindfold over your eyes. Was it a necklace? No, he had picked you up, was carrying you somewhere. It had to be something bigger than a necklace. He set you down and gently removed the covering from your eyes.

“Oh my god, Thor. What is this?”

Hanging in the bathroom was an enormous forest green dress. Gingerly you extended your fingers towards it, soft and silky, just like Thor’s hair. Delicate lace, the same shade of green, covered the bodice, comprised the off the shoulder sleeves, trailed down the full skirt.

“It’s a beautiful dress, for a beautiful woman. Do you like it?”

He had agonised over this dress. The colour was more Loki’s style than his, but Lorelei had assured him it would be a flattering colour on you. He wanted to create a dress that reflected the spring - it was a spring feast, after all - and green had seemed the logical colour.

“Like it? I love it, Thor. Thank you, so so much.”

You threw your arms around him, pulling him into a deep kiss. He almost decided to carry you back to bed, but he knew there was a lot he needed to do today.

“Why don’t you take a bath? I have a few things to take care of,” he whispered against your ear.

“Don’t you want to bathe with me?” you asked with a mock pout.

“We have a lot to do today, darling. I bathed before you woke.” He wanted to join you, of course he did. Nothing could be better than feeling you caressing his skin with bath oils. But there were more surprises he needed to prepare.

While you were in the bath, Thor sat in the garden with Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjóstr. His fingers deftly plucking flowers from the lawn, thanking them under his breath. He had been practicing with some of the women and was determined to make you a flower crown and necklace, to showcase you as a spring beauty. The old people of this land had believed that his father was responsible for bringing spring. That wasn’t true. What was true was that you had brought spring to his heart, warming it after what had felt like neverending winter. Like his heart was ruled by Jӧtunheim.

You had almost wept as Thor had braided your hair, decorating it with the flowers, and draping the necklace over your soft skin. The off-the-shoulder dress has been a good idea, he decided, and not just because of how it showed off your cleavage. He laced you into your dress, his heart swelling with pride at how beautiful you looked.

“I have lived for many years, traveled to many planets, danced with many women. None of them could compare to you,” Thor said, caressing your cheek. “I have witnessed the birth of stars, but their light pales in comparison to you. I have seen the Infinity Stones, but their beauty and their power is nothing to that which shines if your eyes. I have drunk the finest wines, tasted the most succulent fruits, but it is your lips that I crave. The most exotic flowers are so plain when stood next to the blush that blooms on your cheeks, and their scent cannot compete with yours. There is no silk softer, in all of the nine realms and beyond, than your skin against mine. I have heard words of love in many languages, but they mean nothing. When you ask me how I am, when you comfort me from my nightmares, when you sigh in contentment against my chest, there are no lovelier sounds than these. Y/N, I love you. I have never been more certain of anything.”

That was when you had cried. You didn’t feel particularly beautiful, tears and snot running down your face as Thor held you to his soft chest. That was when you knew that you were done for. The last bit of your resistance had been chipped away. You had fallen in love again, after so long. This gentle giant, reluctant ruler. He was the one who had made you feel like you were worthy of love again. You hoped that Alex would’ve approved.

Thor soothed you, his hands running down your back, the odd juxtaposition of his axe-calloused skin against the smoothness of your dress. He knew these weren’t tears of sadness, he’d shed enough to know what those were like. These were tears of relief, of something finally being let go, something that had held you back all this time. He felt a little bad for ruining your makeup but he was sure that you could fix it.

Pulling away from him at last, you saw the damp mess you left on Thor’s top.

“I’m-I’m s-s-sorry Thor,” you sniffled at him. “That was. I didn’t mean to. I just…”

“It’s ok, it’s ok. It was just too much wasn’t it?”

You nodded, still unable to find the right words to say. You knew they were there, somewhere, but there was a disconnect between your brain and your mouth.

“I meant what I said, every word,” he said, with a smile. “Go clean yourself up, I should get dressed too.”

***

Thor, too, had opted for green. You had secretly hoped that he would dress like that pinup art you’d seen, of a woman painting with flowers covering her modesty. His tunic and trousers were a much earthier green and brown, as though he had grown from the ground on which he stood. Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjóstr came with you, for the children to pet. Geri and Freki came too, eager for any scraps they might receive under the table. You had scrubbed your face, carefully reapplying your makeup. Your eyes were red, as red as your lips. You hoped nobody would notice.

As Asgard’s mightiest warriors, Thor, Sif, and Brunnhilde were barred from the tournaments and games. They were more than happy to officiate, to judge the winners, and generally mingle. Some of Thor’s Avenger friends traveled to New Asgard for the festivities, and you were looking forward to meeting them.

The day passed by quickly, and you were careful to temper the effects of Asgardian drink with plenty of water. When it came to the feast, you were in awe of how much food there was. As much as possible had come from New Asgard, but even with Thor’s help, there was no way enough could be grown to feed that made people.

“Sit! Sit wherever you wish, all are equal here in New Asgard,” Thor shouted as he opened the doors to the great room. Taking you by the hand, he led you to a seat in the middle of the room.

“Is this ok? Don’t you want to be on the edge in case it gets too much?” you asked him. A lot of progress had been made, but large crowds could sometimes still be a problem for Thor, evoking too much of the battlefield.

“No, no. This is exactly where I want to be, with my woman by my side and my dogs by my feet. Too much of my life was spent sat separate from my fellow Asgardians. I wish to be among them.”

Throughout dinner, whenever he had a hand to spare, you felt Thor’s hand on your thigh, seeking reassurance, and you covered it with your own. It was a pleasure to see him so happy, enjoying himself and enjoying all of the food and drink there was on offer, fully in the moment instead of mindlessly consuming to drown out the voices in his head that told him he wasn’t good enough, that he was solely to blame for the horrors of the past. And, of course, you enjoyed the way his stomach bloated as his gorged on tender meats, creamy cheeses, and rich cakes. He was still going long after you had had your fill. The ale was beginning to take its toll and you let your fingers wander over to his leg, trailing up his thigh. The first surprise was when you discovered how hard he was. Thor choked on his drink when you brushed over him, but nobody else noticed, engaged in conversation, eating and drinking. The second surprise was when you reached his waistband. You could feel him trying to suck in his stomach as the material dug into him. That wouldn’t do, so you wiggled around until you managed to unbutton him, feeling the soft, warm flesh cascade forward.

“What’re you doing?” he whispered, face matching the wine in his goblet.

“Helping?” you whispered back. “You didn’t seem very comfortable.”

You were right, Thor had to admit, it hadn’t been comfortable. But now he was very aware of how much he’d eaten, his stomach pressing against the table. He put down the slice of honey cake with a resigned sigh. You hated seeing him upset, so you began to knead his stomach gently, just as he liked, and picked up the slice.

“Are you sure? You seemed like you were enjoying this,” you asked, bringing it to his lips.

“No, no. I have eaten too much, more than my fair share.”

“But it’s such a small slice, and it seems like you have room. What harm could it do?”

How could he refuse you? He wasn’t sure why he was so aroused, but he thought it was something to do with eating so much, and you feeding him didn’t less that feeling. First, it was the cake, but slowly other things made his way to his mouth, via your hand, bite-sized pieces of whatever was nearest to your eager fingers.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you asked, as Thor licked some icing off your fingers, the two of you now completely oblivious to your surroundings.

“Mmm,” he nodded, sucking hard on your chocolate coated digits. “Are you?”

“Very much so,” you purred, looking as though you wanted to ride him right then and there at the table. Which to be fair, wasn’t exactly far from the truth. A sharp elbow to your ribs from Brunnhilde reminded you of where you were, causing the blood to rush to your cheeks.

After dinner, some Asgardian musicians began to play and many others danced in a space at the far end of the hall. You perched on what was left of Thor’s lap, counting down until it was socially appropriate to depart, so you could take Thor home and feel yourself under his weight.

Quill and Wilson discussed music with you. Barnes, with his roguish grin, had swept you onto the dancefloor and tried to teach you the dances he’d practiced as a young man. Barton offered to teach you, and the other Asgardians archery. They were all very attractive men, no doubt about it, but you only had eyes and hands for one.

Leaving the hall was no easy feat. Everyone wanted to talk to Thor, or pet the dogs, or both, but eventually, you made it outside, the cool air waking Thor from the food coma he was stumbling around in. It was a clear night, so you walked along the beach, Thor explaining the different stars and constellations to you, the goats and dogs, running around the two of you.

“This place is beautiful, Thor,” you said, looking out to sea. “Almost as beautiful as you. I bet lots of people get engaged here, it would be the perfect place.”

“I wish you could’ve seen the old Asgard,” he whispered against your ear, trailing kisses down your neck and across your bare shoulder, feeling you melt into his touch.

Between the sighs and moans as he kissed you, that was when you said it. The perfect ending to a perfect day.

“I love you, Thor.”

It’s the first time that Thor’s been back since he left with the Guardians, and he’s brought them with him to New York for the celebrations. He’s even convinced Valkyrie that New Asgard would be alright for a few days without her.

And by extension, she’s brought you.

Thor was terribly sorry to have missed your wedding. By the time a message got to him, it was already too late, and Peter’s birthday wasn’t long after. He’s looking forward to meeting you now, though.

Quill has been plying everyone with space booze before they even left for the bar, so young Peter is already a little pissed by the time the posse rocks up to the bar where they’re celebrating.

You’re already there. Happy collected you from JFK and dropped you off, taking your stuff to your hotel.

Being royalty certainly has its advantages, like being able to travel first class. There was even a shower onboard, so you had an opportunity to freshen up before you arrived, rather than wearing the same clothes you’d travelled in.

“Your majesties,” Thor yells, bowing deeply in front of you at the table. The others begin to nervously curtsy and bow, unsure of what to do.

“There’s no need for any of that,” Valkyrie tells him with a smile. “I never bowed to you, you shouldn’t bow to me.”

“Queen Y/N, it is an honour to me you,” Thor continues, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. He’s bigger than you imagined. Taller, with muscular limbs, and a plump stomach straining against the buttons of his shirt.

“The honour is all mine, to finally meet the mighty Thor,” you tell him.

Security finally stops checking Peter’s ID and the birthday boy bounds over, wheeling Steve’s wheelchair a bit too enthusiastically.

“Slow down, kid,” Steve shouts. “I’m over a hundred years old.”

Between Thor and Valkyrie, you’re introduced to everyone, although of course you know who most of them are, either from watching the news or hearing your wife’s stories. Maria Hill sits next to you, and she’s one you didn’t previously know, but she very enthusiastically asks you all about New Asgard, and the conversation flows easily.

Sam orders a round of shooters for everyone, already deep into the party spirit. There’s not been much to celebrate over the last few years as the world rebuilds, so people tend to go all out.

The little glasses look like an Irish flag, making Steve smile. He wonders what his parents would’ve made of that?

“Man of Spiders,” Thor calls across the table to Peter. “I heard it is tradition to have the number of drinks for the age that you’re turning. What number are you up to?”

“I’m not sure, Mr Thor, sir,” the merry birthday boy responds.

“Please don’t try that,” you say to your wife. “I don’t want you to die.”

She laughs. It’d take several of the attendees a very long time to drink their ages, although it’d be somewhat wasted on Bucky and Steve.

Things start getting out of hand when someone decides to order absinthe, ‘because it’s green like Bruce.’ 

It gets worse when Wanda suggests that you all offer your best life advice for Peter, although you doubt he’ll remember anything you say. He’s being propped up by Happy at this point, and it’s only a matter of time before he’s escorted from the premises.

“By this sword,” Valkyrie yells, brandishing her weapon as the entire bar falls silent and stares, “you must know, all things will come and then pass. Live your days like the last.”

“Hey, lady!” the security guard screams. “What the hell are you doing? You can carry something like that in here!”

“The hel I can’t,” Valkyrie tells her as you bury your head in your hands. “I'm a king and she's my queen, bitch,” she says, waving the sword dangerously close to your neck.

“Ok people, time to go,” Maria orders, clapping her hands.

Thor wanders over to the staff trying to smooth things over with a hefty tip and an explanation of Asgardian customs. They eventually agree not to call the cops if you all leave now and the staff can take selfies with him.

“You really are the worst,” you observe in the cab to your hotel. “I can’t take you anywhere without you getting into trouble.”

“They’re not going to do anything, never were. Nobody would be stupid enough to try to arrest a table of heroes,” she tells you. “Even if we weren’t powerful, I can do what I want, diplomatic immunity. 'Cause I'm a king yeah, and you're my queen, bitch.”

“I’m not sure that’s quite how it works,” you mutter under your breath.

“It is when the US wants Asgardian tech,” she tells you with a smirk.